#hozier x you

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Talk

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

Pairing: fem reader x Hozier

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

Word Count: 3.2k

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

This party sucked.

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

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

As if the giant could ever go unnoticed.

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

Of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you drive here?”

You shook your head. “Car service.”

“Great. We can take my car then.”

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

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

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

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

Your stomach was in excited knots.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confused, he looked at you, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Revealing the intricate…shapewear…you wore underneath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m close.” You whimpered.

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

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

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

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

Jesus Fuckin’ Christ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Well I’m glad you did.”

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

That party sucked. But you were glad it did.

---

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

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

#hozier fic #hozier fluff #hozier smut #hozier oneshot #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier fanfiction #hozier fan fiction

[padfootagain]

The Car Trap

Hi!!!!! Here I am again, back to my old antics! Yes, I’m adding one more person to my masterlist. Yes, I am going to hell for this, and you know what? I’ll have such a great time!

Anyway, no one asked for this, except for me, as I was desperate for some Hozier fics, and couldn’t find any new ones anymore! So, here we go! Hope you like this, let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, angst to fluff! Friends to lovers, snowed-in… in a car… *hihihihihihhi!!!*

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

Word Count: 7282

Hozier’s Masterlist - Main Masterlist

This trip was a disaster.

A fucking, outrageously terrible disaster…

The weather was terrible, for a start. And that was a statement made with an Irish reference, which was saying a lot. It had been raining so hard you had to stop the car for a while as you could not see the road ahead at all. Then it was time for so much wind that your fingers were cramping over the strength used to hold the wheel. Four hours later, it was getting dark, the sun already setting and the sky heavy with clouds that blocked all sunlight. And it was snowing.

Fucking snowing.

Great. Wonderful. Lovely.

Oh, but if only the problem was held by the capricious weather… no… no, this was but a part of the issue. You could even say that this was the top of the iceberg, just a tiny fraction of the shit you were buried under.

Because your phone had died. But then again, you had no signal anyway to get the help of a friendly and absolutely annoying GPS; and in the passenger seat by your side, your best friend was struggling with a fifteen-year old map that was so out-of-date that it might as well have not existed for the help it got you…

You were lost. You were fucking lost, in the middle of nowhere, while it was getting dark and snowing and there was nothing manmade in sight to ask for help.

Wonderful. Truly, wonderful.

Oh, and that was without mentioning that the best friend in question was also the man you had been in love with for years but had never dared confess your feelings to.

Outrageously bad, that road trip, really…

Andrew picked up his phone to get some more light, his glasses perched haphazardly on his nose as he tried to decipher names printed on the large map splayed across his laps; hair held back in a low bun, allowing you to see his focused features.

“So?”

He merely hummed in response, a long finger following a dark line.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” you insisted.

“None whatsoever,” he shook his head.

He sat back in his seat, before rubbing his eyes.

“I mean… we’ll end up crossing a village at one point if we keep going along this road,” he sighed. “I don’t have a better plan for now.”

“We might have to stop at one point, though. The snow is getting heavy.”

“I had never envisioned dying from the cold in the middle of nowhere on some random Irish road…” Andrew joked, his tone almost contemplative, and you couldn’t refrain a chuckle.

“And with you! Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m dying with you, of all people.”

“Why not? You don’t want to see me dying?”

“I don’t want my last moments to be shared with someone as annoying as you.”

He tried to throw back some witty remark, but his laughter was too much to handle.

He had pushed back the seat as far as possible, of course, in an attempt to accommodate his long limbs, but even in this position, his legs were not fully extended before him, his knees hitting the dashboard at every bump of the road.

You forced your gaze to go back to the road again, squinting your eyes to see through the heavy snow that fell now, instead of lingering on his legs.

God… you were so damn ridiculous…

His quiet rumble of a laugh finally died out, but a smile remained set on his features, even though his tone was serious as he spoke again.

“We can still turn the engines on every once in a while to get some heat.”

“Won’t that drain the battery or something?”

“If we don’t do it too much, it should be fine. Besides, it’s not minus twenty outside, relax. We’ll be fine.”

You merely nodded, falling, as always, for the safety in his quiet voice and the warmth of his tone.

Besides, it was easier to believe in the certainty of his voice, in its soothing sound, than to face the snow falling more and more heavily outside, the night creeping over the distant mountains, right beyond the green fields. Their silhouettes were almost made invisible now by the low light, you could only guess their shadows. Despite the headlights, you could barely make out the stony walls on each side of the road, mostly devoured by ivy and thickets. You had slowed down your pace, driving slowly in fear that a wild animal would suddenly jump in front the car, or that you would miss a random house set by the road.

It was also easier to focus on the silly story he was using to quieten your mind rather than to mention the reason behind this trip across the countryside.

You were leaving.

You were leaving Ireland to settle in Switzerland for a job. Or well, nothing was fixed for now, but you had an amazing opportunity. A first trip to the country to meet your future boss in person was planned for the following week, and at the end of these three days spent in Geneva, you had to sign your contract. You would then have about a month to find a place and move there.

So, you and your best friend had decided to enjoy a little road trip together. Driving all the way to the other side of the country. Staying at an Airbnb near the western coast. Enjoying four days together spent by the sea, the cliffs, and an awful lot of chips and beer.

You had been puzzled by Andrew’s reaction when you told him about your new job. He had seemed… unphased by it.

Of course, with his career, he was often away, and you were used not to live close to each other for long periods of time. Still, you were always one of the first people he visited whenever he was home. And while he stayed in Ireland, you spent most of your time together. As if he wanted to soak in as many moments as he could before he would leave again. And yet, when you told him that you would move to another country, he didn’t even blink. He gave you a smile, congratulated you, offered you a warm hug, and that was it. He asked about the job, about the place where you would live… and that was it. No disappointment in the thought of you leaving. No sadness at the thought of not having you around. No heartbreak whatsoever…

But then again, you were a fool for hoping that he would feel this way. Because he was… Andrew. Absolutely-lovely, amazing-hair, siren-voiced, hilariously-witty, unbearably-gentle Andrew. You had been friendzoned a few weeks after your first encounter, and you had no reason to believe that his feelings had changed. Actually, this new job, you took it as an opportunity to forget him. Move on. And not only because many miles would separate your homes, but because you weren’t leaving on your own.

Another one of your colleagues, Tom, had been approached by the same company as you had. He had already accepted the offer, and he was thrilled when he learned that you were leaving for Geneva as well. You knew he had a crush on you. He was pretty obvious about it. If he had never crossed a line, it was clear that he wanted you to give him a chance. And who knew? Perhaps this new beginning, with another man that you quite frankly found great, could mean you finally moving on from your stupid crush on your best friend. A new start, in another country. After spending a few weeks getting used to this new place, this new corporation, this new workplace… perhaps you would give Tom a chance. You desperately needed to forget Andrew, after all…

Of course, you didn’t know that you were completely, utterly wrong… about everything. That Andrew wanted to cry at the mere thought of you leaving. That he held you too tight and for too long that afternoon when, bathed in the neon light of your kitchen, you told him you were moving so far away from him, because he didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes. He didn’t have the right to hold you back. He was but a friend to you, and friends needed to be supportive, and this was such a great opportunity for you, and… and he was only your friend.

Only your goddamn friend. As if Andrew hadn’t longed to be much more than that after a mere week spent in your company. But you had met before he would leave, touring for his second album, the timing was all wrong. He couldn’t ask you out for a couple of dates just to get you attached to him, before he would disappear for months on the other side of the planet. That wasn’t fair. He wanted to do things the right way. So, he kept his distance at first, unwilling to get too attached himself. But then, when he came home months later… you weren’t single anymore.

The fool… he had lost his chance. And over the years, the two of you had built such a great friendship that he didn’t want to take the risk anymore. Besides, he was certain that you didn’t see him this way. You had been in relationships, he had been in relationships… you had never showed any sign that would make him feel that he was more than a friend to you. Even when he tried to get you jealous, at the beginning, right after your break-up… but it didn’t work. The lure fell into the water in a deafening defeat, and he had made up both his mind and heart. You weren’t interested. He didn’t blame you. With his chaotic lifestyle.. who in their mind would settle for that?

Did it stop Andrew from still being in love with you, even after all this time? No, of course it did not. And the thought that you wouldn’t be home with him anymore…

He looked away, through the window, just to hide the tears that rose to his eyes all over again. He rested his elbow against the cold window, his lips to the back of his hand, biting lightly in the skin to calm down. He had no right to try to hold you back… no right at all… Was it your fault if he was enough of a fool to fall for his best friend? The cliché was almost too much to bear…

When he turned to you again, though, he couldn’t help the warm, fond feeling that invaded his chest at the sight of you. During the moment of silence you were both bathing into, disturbed solely by the wind and the tires over the frozen road, the night had almost conquered the last remnants of sunlight that lingered there, held against the eastern riff of the mountains. The headlights and the dim lights coming from the headboard were enough for him to see your features, though. They were enough for him to long to brush that strand of hair behind your ear, to lean across the car to kiss your cheek, to feel the warmth of your skin, even if for just a second, against his lips…

God, he didn’t want you to leave. What would he do if you left? When would you see each other? Never… If he spent so much time touring and you weren’t home…

God, he would move to Geneva with you if you asked. Even if it were to keep him as a mere friend, that was how badly he needed you in his life…

“Andy… I’m not sure I should keep driving…”

Andrew shook himself out of his thoughts, forced his attention back to the road ahead. You could barely see the road at all, as it was slowly turning white, just like the patches of grass between the road and the low walls…

Andrew shook his head.

“We can’t just stop in the middle of the road either. Just… drive slowly. Let’s try to find somewhere to park.”

You nodded, frowning in your focus.

You kept on driving for a while longer. The night was stark black when you finally found a small space by the road where you could safely park. There was still no house in sight, though… not that you could have seen anything beyond a five meters radius anyway…

You turned off the engine, let the lights go dark. Andrew turned on the light of his phone again.

“You should save some battery,” you argued.

“Got plenty, don’t worry.”

“So… now, what?”

“Now, we wait.”

“And if it keeps on snowing all night? Should we try to get some sleep?”

He merely nodded, setting his phone between the two of you to shed some light all over the tiny space of your car. Andrew reached behind him to get your coats from the backseat.

“We should put these on while they’re still warm.”

You didn’t complain when Andrew unfolded your warm coat, holding it up so you could easily slip your arms inside; nor did you stop him when he straightened it around your frame, reached for the zipper, and closed it for you.

And perhaps it would have been wiser for you to do so… but then again, you were human.

You were still trying to regulate your heartbeat while Andrew was putting on his own coat.

And for the first half-hour, everything was easy. You turned the engines back on for a few minutes when it got too cold, but in such a weather, you were worried your car wouldn’t start with a low battery. After all, it wasn’t exactly brand new.

“What if we get stuck in here?” you asked, worrying about the snow that didn’t give any sign of stopping.

“We’ll freeze to death, probably. At least the cold will preserve our bodies.”

“Good news for the police officer who’s gonna open the door. The smell won’t be too bad.”

“Exactly.”

“How long do you think before they find us?”

“Oh… at least a few weeks, if it snows enough.”

“Don’t you think anyone would notice a car covered in snow by the side of the road?”

“Not if there’s enough snow on it.”

You were the first to break, unable to be serious any longer. And Andrew’s laugh soon found yours, a deep rumble shaking the air around you.

“We won’t get fully snowed in,” Andrew reassured you as your laughter receded, in favour of the hushed quiet of winter. “Don’t worry. Besides, we’re not going to stay here all night. We’ll just wait until the worst of the storm passes. I can drive the rest of the way, if you want.”

“I can keep driving. I think I’ll try to take a nap while we wait though. I need to focus.”

Andrew merely nodded as an answer, adding a soft humming for good measure, before he would offer you a warm smile. He reached for something in his pocket, and put on a beanie and some gloves.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” he added, shifting to get more comfortable, the seatbelt since long discarded.

You tried to do the same, sliding the seat back to get more room to move around. Your eyes settled on Andrew’s features one more time before they closed.

But there was no way you could fall asleep. Beside your troubled mind, you were getting uncomfortably cold again. Enough for your teeth to chatter for a moment, until you tightly set your jaw.

You felt warm skin brush the back of your freezing fingers, heard the low, unapproving humming that Andrew let out at the touch.

“Take these, Y/N.”

You blinked your eyes open, while Andrew was already pushing a glove into your palm.

“You’ll be cold,” you argued, but you were met with a fond glare.

“You are cold.”

You gave up, took the gloves he offered. So large around your hands, the wool soft and still holding the warmth born from his own skin. You tried to stop him from planting his beanie on your head too, but failed.

“You need to stay warm! You’re a singer! You can’t catch a cold!” you tried to argue, but Andrew was already pulling the wool down to cover your ears.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine. Besides, you’re the one who’s always cold.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! Who wears a woollen scarf in June?”

“It was cold!”

“You could turn into an ice cube if left unattended.”

With a great sense of maturity, you stuck out the tip of your tongue, making him chuckle.

It was better, but you were still cold, and so was Andrew now. He was shaking slightly, rubbing his hands together, burying his mouth and nose in his woollen grey scarf to warm it with his breath. But when he tried to shed some light outside again, the snow was still too heavy to drive safely.

“I can’t feel my fucking toes,” he complained, but there wasn’t much that you could do.

Except that you could. It was stupid, probably ineffective, but you were too cold to think straight.

“What if we hugged?”

Andrew let out a laugh.

“I like the sentiment, but that would hardly warm my toes.”

“Isn’t sharing body warmth a surviving technique?”

“Do I look like I would survive in the wild?”

“No, you would either bump your head in a branch so hard you’d knock yourself out to fall right into an endless pit… or you would be spotted by lions from miles away, you and your long limbs…”

“Exactly.”

There was silence again, for a couple of minutes, and you didn’t dare to break it. Instead, you let your eyelids fall again. He had refused to hold you, it was speaking volumes. What if you had made him uncomfortable? What were you expecting anyway? You were just a friend…

A gentle tug on your sleeve made you look up at him.

“Come here.”

“What?”

“We’re both cold, come here. You’re right, body heat sounds like a good idea.”

You joked in an attempt to hide the way your heart jumped in your chest.

“We both know you simply like to be held. Even by me.”

“Anything if I can avoid losing my toes.”

You wished you could claim that the manoeuvre that led you to lie with Andrew was a graceful one, but it truly wasn’t. After bumping into every surface possible and hitting your head against the ceiling twice, you were, however, finally secured in Andrew’s arms.

You moved around a little, trying to get comfortable, but in the tiny space of the passenger seat, there was nowhere for you to lay but on top of him.

If your nerves were getting the better of you at first, you couldn’t help but unwind as Andrew wrapped his arms around your frame, engulfing you within his embrace, pressing you closer to him, even though it didn’t seem possible.

He closed his eyes as he breathed in the sweet scent of your shampoo, but you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice either the way his heart sped up under his ribs, the way his breath caught in his throat. You never seemed to notice. Andrew reckoned that he was pretty obvious, although he did try to hide it all, but you never noticed anything. He couldn’t hide it, though. Even if this would lead nowhere, even if he didn’t stand a chance, he couldn’t help it. Loving you. In all the years he had known you, he had never been able to help it. Perhaps that was what love was all about. Loving beyond reason. Loving even when he wished he didn’t. Loving, and hurting, and having no regrets about it. Hurting, and being willing to go through all this pain all over again, for just a moment more…

He heaved a sigh without noticing, his eyelids lifting to be faced by a wall of darkness spotted with white snowflakes. He was ridiculous. You were leaving, that was the final proof he needed to be certain that he was nothing but a friend to you. If you felt anything for him, you wouldn’t be leaving… right? He had not left. He could have moved to the US a thousand times over, but you were in Ireland. Of course, you weren’t the only reason for him to stay, but you were easily the most important one, the one that carried the most weight.

What was the point of going home after a tour or a long recording session, if home wasn’t where you were?

Pathetic. That was what he was, pathetic…

Besides, you deserved better than what he could offer. Waiting for him for months on end? A constant back-and-forth between nations, a life stuck in a suitcase? No… no, you deserved better than that. Better than what he could offer you. Better than him…

And you were leaving. Final proof…

He held you tighter, and almost released it all in a breath.

Don’t go. Please, don’t go…

“Andy?”

He merely hummed in response.

“I’m pretty sure this is doing nothing to keep us warm.”

“I think it helps.”

“We’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Are you offering a game of strip-poker or something?”

You didn’t look up at him, face still buried in his shoulder, and yet he knew you were rolling your eyes.

“I must be crushing you.”

“You’re breaking all my bones, indeed.”

You tried to move away, but his hold tightened, and he looked down at you with confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving your life? Avoiding you to be crushed to death?”

“I was joking. I’m alright.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s… nice.”

You weren’t sure what to make of such comment, so you remained quiet instead, breathing deeply his scent, feeling it numb your senses.

“I’ve never seen such a snowstorm,” he pointed out, gaze lost into the darkness ahead.

“Me neither.”

“Not in this part of the world, at least.”

“Typical of Ireland to send me the storm of the century as a farewell gift.”

You felt Andrew tensing under you, his voice was colder than usual as he spoke, but you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“When will you leave? For good, I mean.”

“I have a month after this short stay to find myself a place to rent and get to work.”

“But you’ll come back to visit, right?”

“Yeah, of course! I mean… when I’m on vacation. To see my family.”

“Will I get some free housing in Geneva, then?”

“You thief, as usual.”

“You know me. Always the rascal.”

You closed your eyes as he started to rub your back, the gesture gentle and amazingly soothing.

“Aren’t you afraid to go there on your own?”

“Yeah… yeah, a little bit,” you admitted in a breath. “But… at least Tom will be there.”

“Tom?”

“Yeah, you know? My colleague? He’s very nice, I like him a lot. We’re leaving together.”

His tall frame tensed again, you caught the way his breath staggered.

“What do you mean Tom is leaving too?”

You stared into his hazel eyes; these eyes you dreamt of at night, the ones you adored. They had taken the hue of leaves before Autumn, deep green in a ray of sunshine. They always did when tears came to his eyes. And indeed, you were surprised as you fell into his gaze to find it blurred with tears.

“You… you’re leaving with him?” he asked, voice deeper than usual, shaky, vulnerable.

You were aware, now more than ever, of how close you were. You stared up at him, lost in his eyes, and you thought of how it would be so easy to lean up and kiss him, make his frown melt away, shush his worry with your lips…

“I thought… why…?”

You shrugged, unsure of what he meant to say.

“We’ve been approached by the same company. We’ll both move to Geneva.”

“Together?!”

“I mean… at the same time, yes.”

“But you’re…”

So that was it then… you had found someone else again. And this time you were leaving in another country with this man and…

And Andrew had lost you for good.

He was only too aware of how close the two of you were, of how easy it would have been to simply lean down to kiss you. Press his lips to yours, forget you were choosing someone else…

But he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t take it.

Instead of leaning closer, he pushed you away.

“Get off.”

You frowned at the roughness in his voice, the coldness in his tone, and Andrew wished he could control himself, be gentle, the way you deserved, but he needed to get away if he wanted to keep breathing…

“Please, get off me.”

You blinked tears away, and he hated himself for being the cause of such a sight, but he didn’t stop you when you ungracefully pushed yourself back into the driver’s seat. And Andrew watched as you stared at him, expectant, like you didn’t understand that you were breaking his heart in a million pieces…

And he couldn’t take it.

You were so surprised when Andrew opened the door and climbed out of the car that you didn’t stop him. He was already out of sight when you shook yourself enough to grab his phone, the only source of light available, and jumped out of the car as well.

The wind was bitterly cold as it assailed your cheeks, the snow rough and sharp digging into your skin.

“ANDREW!”

You hurried around the car, struggling with the slippery ground.

Above the wind, there was nothing to be heard but your own voice. Betrayed by the night, even this sound seemed to fade too fast to reach anything out of your sight. And Andrew was nowhere to be seen, the darkness too thick for that, the elements howling too loudly.

“ANDREW!”

A thud. A groan. A hiss. You followed the sounds in a hurry, and sure enough, mere seconds were needed to find your friend half-lying in the snow, a hand gripping at the low stone wall.

“ANDY!”

You kneeled by his side, uncaring of the sharp sting of the frozen ground under your knees.

“Are you alright?”

But he nodded, without a word. He seemed in pain, you brushed a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, and he leaned into your touch without noticing.

“You’re okay? What the fuck are you doing?!”

“You’re leaving for him, right?”

“What on earth are you talking about?!”

“TOM! FUCKING TOM!”

He moved away from your touch, but winced as he leaned against the wall. Your eyes grew round in worry, and when you turned the light towards the stones, there were traces of blood there.

“Oh God… Andy, you’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head.

“Let me see…”

But he stood up instead, and you followed close. He was towering you, the way he always did. The difference in height had not been so obvious in the car, but now, he was standing before you in his full, impressive height, and the way he glared made it more intimidating than usual.

“You’re really leaving for a fucking guy you met at work?!”

You frowned, shaking your head.

“Andy, I’m not…”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“Andy…”

“For how long have you two even been together?”

“We’re not! We’re not together.”

It was his time to frown in confusion.

“What?”

“Tom and I, we’re not together. We’ve been approached by the same company, that’s all. Although, if I’m being honest… I might give him a chance.”

“What?”

You noticed how he was out of breath, of course you did. He didn’t seem angry anymore, just…sad. Unbearably sad…

“Well, he’s nice… and… I know he likes me. But… can we go back to the car now?”

“Don’t go with him.”

You stared up at him, his hair messed by the wind as more strands were breaking free from his bun. Snowflakes stained the dark locks with white. Some got caught in his long eyelashes. The biting cold was turning his sharp cheekbones red. In the dim light, you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, even though you could see the lips moving with the vowels, closing with consonants…

“Don’t go. Y/N… don’t go.”

These were words you were longing to hear, and yet, now that he was finally speaking them out loud, you couldn’t take them in.

He had acted like he didn’t care for weeks, and now, all of a sudden, he claimed that he was hurting?

“That’s rich coming from someone who spends barely any time home.”

You knew you were being mean, and you felt guilty as a shock of pain ran through Andrew’s features, enough so to bring tears back in his eyes. Still, you didn’t take your words back.

“That’s not the same. This… this is still my home.”

“This is a great opportunity for my career. This would be a new start. I’m excited about it. And Tom is nice. He likes me. He wants me…”

“You’re saying that like you don’t have a family and friends and people who love you already.”

“You know what I mean. This is a great opportunity, Andy. I want to take it.”

You noticed the way he clenched his jaw, the way the muscle jumped there as he lowered his gaze to the ground, nodding slowly.

“You’re right… that’s a great opportunity. You should take it…”

But instead of you agreeing, he was surprised as you huffed in annoyance, and turned your back to him.

“Get your arse back in the car, come on.”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t understand what you want, Andy!” you hissed as you turned back to him, and he hated the sharpness in your voice, it felt like a knife. “You act like you don’t give two fucks about me leaving for weeks! And now… now you’re acting like you want me to stay…!”

“Of course, I want you to stay! But I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be here for you, and to support you and encourage you…”

“So you’re glad that I’m leaving?” your voice rising into a shout, and his tone matched yours when he answered, making you tremble under his deep, powerful voice.

“Of course not! Are you listening to yourself?! Why would I want you to move to fucking Geneva!”

“Because you didn’t say a thing about it!” you were crying, but you didn’t even notice, too busy letting your feelings out, at long last. “Because everyone else tried to convince me to stay, and you didn’t!”

“I tried to be supportive!”

“Well, I didn’t want you to supportive!”

“What did you want then?!”

“The truth!”

“Well, I don’t want you to leave! Here’s your fucking truth! And I don’t want you to leave with fucking Tom! I want you to choose me!”

He was out of breath now, and as he moved closer to you and the light you still held tightly in your hand, you finally noticed that he was crying as well.

“Choose you?” you asked, confused and slightly calmer, even if your voice kept on shaking. “Why would you want me to choose you…?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

The words were out before he could hold them in; failing this time at this game he had played a thousand times before, every time the words almost slipped out, when he bit his tongue until it hurt so you wouldn’t hear his heart. Your eyes grew round like you were surprised, shocked even, like this was not the most obvious truth in the world, like he had not spent years loving you in secret, leaving traces of his bleeding heart all over the place…

He almost wanted to laugh at you, at your round eyes and parted lips and all that snow caught in your hair and the way he longed to kiss that shock off your face. He didn’t though. Because you took a step back, and he read fear in your eyes, and he realised then that you were slipping away, sand between his fingers although he tried to hold tight.

“Y/N…” he breathed, voice taken away by the wind before it could reach you.

You hurried to the car instead of answering, and he followed you this time, shivering in the cold. And once you were back in the safety of your vehicle, the seats had lost their warmth, and the tiny space between the two of you seemed unbearably vast, a chasm you would never be able to close or cross.

You were both staring out by the windshield, while the snow finally receded. You could start driving again…

“Can you say something?”

“We should try to drive again.”

“Y/N… please…”

But as you turned to him, it was to stare at his palm, not his gaze.

“You’re bleeding.”

Andrew followed your gaze, looked down at his own hand. There was a long cut across the palm, red with blood, darkened with dirt on some spots. In the dim light, it was hard to tell how deep the cut was. It hurt, that was for sure. And yet, he didn’t care. You were more painful than an open wound.

“It’s nothing…”

“Let me see.”

You took off the gloves he had lent you, and Andrew didn’t have the strength to stop you as you gently reached for his hand, cradled it in yours, held it to the light to get a better view. Your skin was warm and soft against his cold one, and the thought that you could hate him, that you could resent him for sharing feelings he knew as unrequited made the tenderness of your hold almost unbearable.

“How did you hurt yourself?”

“I slipped in the snow. Caught myself to the wall. Sharp stone.”

You heaved a sigh, the sound was almost annoyed, but not quite. More like… worried.

“Hold the light, would you?”

He didn’t think as he obeyed, yielding to your will, the way he always did. You grabbed a bottle of water and some tissues from the glove box, and started to slowly clean up his cut. You were leaning closer to do so, and Andrew couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward as well, longing for your nearness, basking in the touch of your hand as it came back to cradle his, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

The breath he let out before speaking again was shaking.

“Do you hate me?”

You looked up, seemed to realize how close the two of you were. You could easily lean up and kiss him, and he could easily lean down and press his lips to yours. Instead, you both remained motionless, perfectly still, merely staring while he waited for an answer you thought was too obvious to be spoken.

“Why would I?” you asked back.

“Because… because we’re friends. And I caught feelings. And… maybe you hate me now that you know that I don’t… I don’t see a friend in you at all. Now that you know that I lied.”

But you didn’t answer, instead, you lowered your gaze again, and Andrew jumped and let out a hiss as you pressed the wet tissues against his broken skin.

“I’m not angry,” you finally reassured him. “I’m just… I don’t really believe you, I think.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you?”

You shrugged, and despite your claim of being calm, the smile that formed on your lips was bitter when you spoke.

“For how long have we been friends? And you’ve never said anything? Never felt anything, until I decided to go away? And now, all of sudden, you’re catching feelings?”

“I’ve never said these feelings were new.”

“You friendzoned me, back in the days. Do you remember that?”

Andrew winced, but nodded anyway.

“This… this was different.”

“Because I was just a friend?”

“Because I was the one leaving. Because it wasn’t fair to ask you out just to disappear for months while I was touring.”

Finally, you looked up again, trying to read something in his eyes, and whatever it was, Andrew hoped that you would find it there. He hoped you could see that he was being earnest, that he meant it, that there was no doubt to have. He had never doubted his love for you, even if he had refrained it. It had been a truth he had relied on for years. With a bit of luck, you might want to rely on it too…

“But then you came back… why didn’t you say anything then?”

“You weren’t single anymore. It was my turn to get friendzoned.”

The ghost of a smile formed on his lips, a soothing offering. But it was sad all the same.

“And after that?”

“After that… you were already my best friend. You… I didn’t want to lose you. And you… you deserved better than that. You deserve better than what I can give you. Waiting around while I disappear for months, what kind of life is that?”

You stopped breathing as he lifted his unharmed hand up to your face, brushing his fingertips across your cheek, the way he had longed to for years.

If his heart was staggering behind his ribs, if his breath was caught in his throat because of this gentle touch of your skin, when he closed his eyes to gather his strength, there was a tear breaking free.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know you don’t feel the same,” he shook his head as he opened his eyes again, falling into your gaze, and he saw there the same tears he tried to withhold in his own eyes. “I know it’s a one-sided thing. I didn’t… I didn’t want to break everything. I’m sorry.”

He was surprised when you shook your head and leaned into his touch, forcing his hand to open so he could cradle your face in his palm, long fingers disappearing into your hair and tenderly brushing your skin.

“God, you’re such an idiot.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow, not daring to move or reply. You started laughing, and he was at a loss.

“We’re both so damn stupid!”

He had to blink to make sure that he wasn’t imagining your movement as you slowly closed the gap between the two of you, as you leaned up to meet him. He was too surprised by it to meet you halfway; he was too taken aback by the feeling of your lips against his to kiss you back. It took him a couple of seconds to process that this was truly happening, that he was not, in fact, lost in one of the many dreams he’d had of this moment. But then your hand was in the mess of his curls, and you were pressing your lips more firmly against his, and he allowed himself to believe that you wanted this as well, that perhaps he had been, indeed, such an idiot for failing to see what was right in front of him, the same way you had missed all of his gestures along the years.

And you wished you could admit to yourself that you were keeping control over the situation, having instigated the kiss, but you melted into his touch the second Andrew responded and kissed you back. His hold on your face tightened slightly, a tinge of desperation held in the gesture. You tightened your hold on his wounded hand, and he responded by twisting his wrist until he could hold onto your hand too. You chased after him as he pulled away, but he left only for a second, just long enough to tilt his head slightly to the side, bettering the angle of his next kiss so he could deepen it. And the second you could properly taste him on your tongue, you lost track of everything but him: the warmth of his scent, the softness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, his curls running through your fingers, the gentle scratching of his beard, and the overwhelming feeling of being kissed by him. The feelings he poured into the intimate gesture… no one had ever kissed you like that before…

When you broke apart, at long last, both of you breathless, blinking the dizziness of the kiss away in an attempt to find back an earthly footing, Andrew pressed his forehead to yours, afraid, perhaps, that if he got too far, he would wake.

“I don’t see you as a mere friend either, in case that was still unclear,” you clarified, tone half-joking, making him smile.

“Right…”

“You’re okay?”

“Just… trying to assess whether I’m awake or dreaming right now.”

Playfully, you pinched his shoulder, making both of you laugh.

“Awake,” you confirmed. “Even your wild imagination could not have pictured the storm of the century as a background for our first kiss.”

“First? Can I have another, then?”

You couldn’t refrain a giggle, gently shaking your head at him, brushing your nose against his in the process.

“A true thief, as always.”

“Of the worst kind only.”

His thumb caressed your cheekbone, soft touch across your soft skin, making your eyes flutter shut as your heart lost its rhythm.

“If you want to take this job in Geneva, we can still make it work.”

You lifted your eyelids again and pulled back, just to fall right into his hazel eyes.

“Just… don’t choose Tom…”

You shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile. Your hands moved to hold his face in both of your palms, to make sure he would keep staring at you as you answered.

“Fuck Tom. Fuck Geneva. I’d rather go on a date with you.”

Andrew let out a chuckle, eyes crinkling as he smiled. Still, he had tears in his eyes all over again.

“You said it yourself, though. It’s a great opportunity for you.”

“I want to stay. If we give this a try, I want to stay.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll be away for months…”

“And you’ll be the one paying for the plane tickets, I’m not emptying my bank account when I’ve got a millionaire as a boyfriend.”

You both laughed, and Andrew nodded, at last.

“Fair enough.”

You were about to speak but didn’t have the time, Andrew was leaning to kiss you again instead, and you couldn’t complain, didn’t want to stop his fall towards your mouth.

He hissed and pulled away too fast though, after mere seconds, looking down at his wounded palm that he had tried to press against your back.

“I should clean this up, and then we can keep on driving,” you proposed, and Andrew agreed with a nod, obediently holding his hand still while you took care of him. He did lean to kiss your forehead a couple of times though, and you were both still quite amazed that he could do it, or that he wanted to.

You would have to get used to it though. After the storm had passed, after you had found your way back onto the right road, after you had reached your destination, there was plenty of time to talk, to confess feelings you had both refrained for too long, for holding onto each other too tightly, for kissing until lips were bruised and numb and yet still willing.

Perhaps, this trip was not such a disaster, after all…

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[daydreaming-in-letters]

Apricity

07/12/2023

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,733

Warnings: rpf, language, alcohol, heartbreak, pining, fluff

Summary: After a painful breakup, Andrew needs the comfort of his best friend.

A/N: I'm going to church tonight, and I brought an offering for the god(s). Hope you like it.

Picture by Daniel Goodman via Business Insider

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

“Last orders.”

The booming voice rolled through the thick, hot air like thunder. It was a wonder they could hear it at all above the music and buzz of voices, she thought, but the bearded man behind the counter looked like the type who knew exactly how to make himself heard. Andrew on the other hand was not a man who raised his voice in conversation regularly, still she shivered when instead she suddenly felt his hot breath waft through her hair.

“Shall we take another?”

But he was gone before she could even turn to face him, let alone process his words and form a coherent answer.

“Oh, so no to that,” he misconstrued the confusion on her face as their eyes finally met. “You could have just said so, you know. No need to pull a face like that.”

“What face?”

“You know, the one where your eyebrows knit together just a tiny bit and the corners of your mouth fall a little.”

He tried to mimic her expression and whether he had intended to or not, he made her laugh. And as if that wasn’t enough already, he smiled along, that crooked half-smile of his, almost as if he was surprised anything he did could genuinely amuse her. 

“Andrew, that’s just my usual face. It doesn’t mean anything. Although…”

“Ah, see. Not just your usual face after all then. You can’t fool me, you should have realised that by now. I don’t know why you still keep trying though.”

The slight curl of his lips reappeared for a moment, making him look so very proud of himself. And, for the first time this evening, almost a little happy. Now who was she to take that away from him by telling the truth: that she had been fooling him about her true feelings for months, maybe even years, and very successfully so, it seemed. 

“You’re a grown-up, Andrew. Have a drink if you want another. But—”

The last word had earned her a very dramatic roll of his eyes.

“I knew there was a ‘but’.”

“Yes, Freud, we know, you can look through me like glass, anticipating my every move.”

He chuckled. “Finally you see reason, woman.”

“But seriously,” she could see another remark form behind his mischievous eyes, so she was quick to make her point, “is that wise? Another drink will only make you sadder than you already are.”

“Sad? I’m not sad. I’m angry. Fucking furious to be precise.” 

Mostly with himself, she assumed. In all this time she had known him, he had never held a grudge against anyone for long, if at all. But it wasn’t as easy for him to forgive himself at times. Still, anger was progress.

“Good.” Softly she squeezed his hand and waited until the tension of his sudden outburst slowly subsided. “That’s good. You’re moving into the next phase then.”

He mumbled something under his breath, the sentence impossible to understand against the bustle of the pub. The only word she could identify was “Freud”, enough to help her understand that it had just been another of his sassy retorts. His next words came clearer though.

“If that really is a good thing, why can I hear concern in your voice?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think you would recover from her so soon.”

Andrew had not told her what exactly had passed between them and she didn’t want to pry. She only knew that they had argued, and that his girlfr—ex-girlfriend—had given him an ultimatum of some sort. Whatever it had been about, he obviously hadn’t decided in the woman’s favour.

“Why shouldn’t I?” 

Before she was able to stop herself, she could feel her brow rise, reminding him that they both knew he wasn’t the type that skipped through relationships. The final decision had been made a mere five days ago, a rather short time in her opinion to move into the phase of anger. But Andrew wasn’t her and for all she knew whatever it was that had led to the sudden end of this relationship might have given him reason in abundance to be infuriated. 

“Come on, I only knew her for what? About half a year? It’s not as if she was…” For a brief moment he paused, his eyes resting on her while he tried to swallow the words that had already been forming on his tongue. But it was too late and when he finally continued, his voice was softer than it had been all evening, almost fragile. “…the love of my life.”

Eagerly he gulped down the remains of his drink as if to clean his mouth from its last statement before the glass hit the counter with an audible clink.

“You’re right though. I probably shouldn’t have another one of these. Better call it a night.”

He didn’t even wait for her response, long fingers already busy stuffing his lush bun underneath a grey beanie. She had just slipped into her jacket when he already turned to lead the way. It would be easy to get to the entrance with him in the lead, his tall form parting the crowd effortlessly for them. But he didn’t seem quite as confident in the impact of his height as he hesitated for a moment. She had no idea why, not until she could suddenly feel the warmth of his hand closing around her own. His action startled her, only for a brief second, while her brain was trying to recall a thousand memories at once just to make sure she wasn’t mistaken in thinking that he had never done this before. He hadn’t. Still it felt normal. Easy. Everything was always easy with him. Conversations, silence, laughing, crying — it was all easy. Effortless and comfortable. Natural.

It wasn’t long though before they were met with the cold night air. It hit her hard, almost making her take a step back as, with the first inhale of fresh air, it invaded her lungs. Still it was nothing, an irrelevant fact, drowned out against the much harsher sensation of his hand gliding out of hers. 

He didn’t even need to fully raise the hand that had been hers for a blink of time to make the taxi hold in front of them. But it was enough for the icy air to crawl underneath her clothes and wrap around her in a tight grip. Not even his sweet gesture of holding the door for her combined with the warmth that streamed towards her from inside the cabin could keep her from shaking violently.

And it didn’t stop. Not when the door closed, not when his body pressed against hers in the limited space of the back seat. She was almost convinced that nothing would ever stop this chill, when suddenly his voice filled the silence to state the obvious.

“You’re shivering. Come here.”

And then his arm was there, invading the unclaimed territory of her neck and shoulders to pull her close. It may have been the spirits inside her system, making her needy and weak to his touch. Whatever it was, she didn’t care as she sank deeper and deeper into the unmatched heat that seeped freely from him, directly underneath her skin. She could feel his chest rising and falling so evenly, as if her closeness meant nothing, as if this was the normal way to be. It was infectious, hypnotising her into a state of untainted drowsiness, one last thought remaining on her mind. This was it, not just the normal way to be, the only way to be. Even more so as his lips pressed to her hair, a gesture so tender it made her heart flutter, and she knew that she would never recover from this moment, however insignificant it was to him.

“I don’t think I told you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

His words were mumbled against the crown of her head, almost inaudible above the noise of the car and the blaring music from the radio, but she had heard them and would cherish them forever, sealed inside her heart until her last breath.

For most, they would be the bare minimum after crossing an ocean in a hurry simply because she had known something was off. She always knew, from the fatigued tone of his voice to the slight change of colour in his eyes, from the way he had to force his smile, never quite reaching the full infectious gleam it usually held, his mind anywhere but with her while his fingers kneaded the palm of his hand in discomfort. 

She also knew that it had probably been an overreaction, but she would do a lot more for him than spend her last savings on a transatlantic flight and an overpriced Airbnb, for him, she would walk all the way through the eternal fires of hell and back if that was what it took to make him whole again. He probably wouldn’t do the same for her, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t expect him to, that was not the way love worked.

“Well, first and foremost I came here to whup that woman’s ass for treating you like...well, the way she did. Comforting you was just second on my list.”

Stirred by a deep chuckle, his hot breath wafted through her hair for the second time this night. It was addictive, and dangerous, because it made her want to cuddle in deeper until it was too late to let go. And right now, just for a second, she allowed herself to hope that he might actually let her. Later this night, she promised herself, she would forget all about it. Forget about the soothing warmth he gave her and the light his presence brought to her life, always. It would be hard to erase the memory of a love that had never been and never would, even more so in the cold of an unfamiliar bed, reminding her mercilessly that she was just another foreigner in a city of millions of strangers. In a world where no one truly knew her but one. And even he didn’t know the one thing she so desperately wanted him to know, yet feared to tell him the most.

“We both know that’s not true.” For a second she held her breath, stupidly fearing he had been listening in on her thoughts. “You couldn’t even hurt a fly.”

Technically, he was right, she silently agreed with him while she relaxed in his arms again. But this was about him. And seeing him like this, this gentle, loving, warm soul, defeated by the betrayal of someone he had given his whole heart to—even if he denied that now… To her, that was reason enough for far more than just a firm ass-whupping.

Maybe she should finally listen to the nagging voice inside her head and tell him just that. It seemed simple enough, a few words spoken from the heart and it would at last be out of her system. After month and month of silence it would be out in the open, released from her heart and yet vague enough for him to take it one way or the other. Like a spectator from the outside she felt herself move to leave his embrace, but before she even had the chance to open her mouth, he beat her to it. A strained groan fell from his lips, eyes rolling heavily in their sockets and she thought she might have missed the moment in which she had already made her confession without even noticing, when she realised his agitation had nothing to do with her at all. 

“Oh, come on. Of all the songs…”

Instant relief washed over her, causing a rush to the head that made her feel a little lightheaded. Enough for a cheeky grin to curl her lips.

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t even think about—” he warned, but too late.

“Go on now, go, walk out the door, just turn around now ‘cause you’re not welcome anymore…”

Her voice sounded all croaky and flat and she gave it her all to make it sound even worse. Knowing her absolute lack of talent, she usually avoided singing in public, and it had only ever happened on a handful of occasions, when the alcohol had made her indifferent to the physical pain she caused her poor audience. Andrew had always teased her relentlessly afterwards, but she knew all too well that he found it endearing and very amusing. He couldn’t deny that now, although his furrowed brows might give a different impression, but it didn’t take long until he accepted his defeat and the sweetest of smiles spread on his lips. And after leaving her hanging for another few lines, he joined in.

“I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high and you see me, somebody new, I'm not that chained-up little person still in love with you. And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free. Well, now I'm saving all my lovin' for someone who's loving me…”

They were both belting at the top of their lungs, all the way through the song, and when it finally ended, they fell back into their seats, giggling and panting violently as if they had just finished running a marathon. She was still holding her belly, completely wrapped up in their little cocoon of pure joy when she realised that something was off. She hadn’t noticed at first, but the taxi had come to a stop. It was hard to tell how long it had been standing in front of the red brick row house already, but if the driver’s face was anything to go by, it might have been quite a moment since their arrival. 

He cleared his throat while he held her gaze in the mirror and Andrew’s laughter died away as well. She hated the cabby a little for taking this moment away from her friend and threw him a dirty look. Andy deserved being happy, so much, if only for the length of one single song. Careful to soften her gaze, she turned to look at him.

“Well, I guess this is me then.”

His answer was nothing but a tight lipped smile that left her with a thousand different options of interpretation. She was still trying to work out its meaning when for the second time this night, he took her completely by surprise.

It wasn’t the fact that he reached out for her to pull her in for a hug that startled her, he always did that before they said goodbye, but the way his embrace felt just a little tighter, his familiar scent more intoxicating than usual and the wool of his coat that suited him so exceptionally well unbelievably soft underneath her fingertips. In a mere moment he invaded her whole being, flowing through her freely until she could hear her soul hum in the silence that surrounded them. 

It felt unholy to pull away, the sacrilege petrifying her in her seat, leaving her with no option but to stare at him. She had almost forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. That lush, mossy green, flecked with warm, earthy shades, she wanted to dive into them, and never return. 

And there it was again, that one feeling she only ever had when she was with him. It was hard to pin down, it was not as if she was not complete without him. She was. But she had spent her whole life trying to fit in and with him, she didn’t have to. It just came naturally.

For a tiny moment, it seemed as if he was moving closer again. She noticed his eyes fall to her lips, or maybe she had imagined it. Either way, she couldn’t help herself from doing the same, watching the pink pillows open the slightest bit, a sigh waiting to fall, or a word, but it never came. Instead, a dog barked somewhere nearby and the moment was gone. 

When she looked up, it was unmistakeable that the sadness had returned to his eyes as well. She hated it, hated every second they didn’t shine as brightly as they usually did. She missed the excitement they used to hold, the warmth and kindness they radiated from beneath his long lashes. And her heart broke for him all over again.

A soothing smile on her lips, the palm of her hand cupped his bearded cheek. She wanted to tell him that even if everyone were to abandon him, she would always be there. The words were forming in her mind so clearly, all she had to do was open her mouth and deliver them, but instead she heard herself say, “There is someone out there for you, Andrew. I’m sure of it.”

He returned her smile, faintly, but it was definitely there and it didn’t leave even as he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. 

“Good night.”

“Night, love. I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nodded, and then she was gone. Andrew moved over to the spot where she had been sitting to watch her walking up the stairs. One hand pressed against the leather of the seat, he felt her warmth that still remained, felt his skin soaking it up to let it warm him from the inside. 

She had always possessed this power, to warm him up and thaw his heart, even though he had thought that this time it had frozen for good. But the second he had taken her hand in that pub—whatever had driven him to do so—he had known that all would be well eventually. It had been so right, so natural, to feel her like that, if only he would be brave enough to tell her. But he could never, not as long as there was even the slightest possibility she didn’t feel the same. Because more than loving her in secret, it would hurt to lose her forever. He would rather have her as a friend than not at all because for him, there was no life without her. 

There was no way he would ever tell her, but it was this exact truth that had ended his last relationship. Faced with the choice between her and anyone else in this world, it would always be her. No matter what. There had never been the tiniest chance he could have decided otherwise. 

And now he was surer than ever that he had made the right choice. Maybe this night had made him delirious, he still couldn’t tell. She had been so close, filling first his senses and then his mind with nothing but her until he had let himself believe that this could really be it. His life as it was supposed to be. For a second he had even imagined that she was leaning in, that she wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted to seal her lips with his. 

But even if she had, it was probably only pity speaking. Or worse, she might have thought that he needed a cheap substitute to drown his pain. And nothing could be further from the truth. He had almost been thankful for the bark that had interrupted them, without it he would never have found the strength to pull away and return her abrupt goodbye. Still, it was better this way. By morning he would have forced himself to forget about everything that could have been tonight, he would call her as he had promised and pretend that she didn’t hold his heart. It had always been like that. And it always would be. 

She had almost made it to the door by now. Her steps already slowing while she was fumbling for the keys in her bag. He didn’t know how hard it was for her to hurdle the remaining distance between herself and the door. Especially with all the tears clouding her gaze. She had felt them coming even before the taxi door had closed behind her. And so she hadn’t looked back, afraid he might see. And now that she had almost made it, she couldn’t even find those bloody keys in her stupid bag. 

It seemed like a miracle when she finally closed her hand around the cold metal to bring it to the dim light of the streetlamps. But her triumph had been too hasty, the keys gliding out of her slippery fingers and shattering onto the ground with an ugly clattering noise. 

The frustration set loose more tears, forcing her to fish around blindly for them and when she had finally managed to find them, she fumbled around equally clumsily to find the keyhole. Her only solace was that she had heard the taxi pull away while she had been hunching on the ground, so at least nobody had seen. He hadn’t seen.

“You know, I was wondering,” she jolted upon the unexpected voice, her keys hitting the ground once more as she turned around in a hurry to find him right in front of herself. “When you said someone— Are you crying?”

“No,” she promptly replied, but it was useless to deny the obvious, she realised, as her croaky voice sounded through the silence, fresh tears still burning hot on her cheeks. And Andrew being Andrew, he didn’t hesitate. In the blink of an eye he was there, gentle hands cupping her face and wiping away the salty streams. 

“Why are you crying, love?”

She didn’t answer, her throat sealed by a lump of fear. If she answered truthfully now, she would lose him. And she couldn’t, she mustn’t.

But he knew anyway. It was obvious from the way his forehead wrinkled and his eyes softened upon the realisation. She hadn’t expected the crooked smile though that slowly began to grace his lips. 

“I see.”

His lips were even softer than she could have ever imagined, moving so tenderly with hers. And even though this was happening so fast that she didn’t know if she was awake or dreaming, she felt herself relax in his arms. Letting go of all her worries was suddenly so easy. Everything was easy with him. 

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier rpf #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #apricity

[chernozemm]

infatuation makes your heart race love is quiet. love sets you at ease.

and because most of my pieces are mental screenshots of little scenes in my head, here's the scene:

Crowley was tugged into consciousness bit by bit. The afternoon light slowly filtered in, as well as the hum of music from the other room and the weird angle his neck was at. He was warm and content and wanted to sink back into his nap, but the threads of sleep fluttered away the more he tried. Finally, he took a deeper breath, shifting in the armchair, and cracked an eye open just a sliver. There he was, the angel, sitting at his desk. Had hardly noticed Crowley was awake, engulfed in his task of retouching a damaged page. Looking at his hands, Crowley became aware of the fuzzy warmth covering his own and peeked down to see a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

The feeling hit him so hard he let his head loll to the side, eyes closed. His chest tightened and he just…buckled. Finally came undone under the weight of his love for Aziraphale. Its inexorable, steadfast pull which he had been pushing back against for millennia, it had finally caught him off guard, sleepy and vulnerable and so tired from holding back, from refusing to name it. It was a quiet surrender. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale with the understanding of a man meeting his end and embracing it.

Perhaps he could gently pull the blanket to the side and get up. Perhaps he could cross the few steps to the desk and place a freshly made cup of tea to Aziraphale’s right. Perhaps he would hold his gaze, for longer than needed to answer “Don’t mention it”. Perhaps he would ask him if he would like a scone with that. Perhaps Aziraphale would understand that this was not about the scone at all. And yet, what Crowley was asking of him was also exactly about scones. And tea. And quiet afternoons together. Perhaps the angel would finally put down his sword, too, and the world would let out a breath it had been holding for millennia.

the soulmate to this piece, i guess.

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #myart #hozier's first light has chemically altered my brain and this is kind of the emotion i wanted to put into this piece #yanno? you look at your loved one and just know with immense gravity that youre GONE youre so whipped its not even funny anymore

[weasleywrinkles]

everybody say thank you to hozier for murdering the good omens fandom once again. First I think I'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three, you're too sweet for me and then But who wants to live forever, babe, you treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate? SIR. SIR COME ON. Crowley got tits over arse drunk fairly recently and trauma dumped all over you again, didn't he?

#thank you for the brainrot though #hozier lyrics #too sweet #good omens #crowley #good omens brainrot #every hozier hit is crowley-coded #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable divorce #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #ineffable husbands

[pucksandpower]

Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

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[eraenaa]

Bittersweet

Inspired by the song "Too Sweet" by Hozier

Feyd- Rautha x Lady Reader

Summary: As the Na-Baron's proposed bride, you were simply too sweet for him and his bitter being. You were too innocent and pure to be tainted by the blood-stained hands of the Harkonnen heir.

Warnings: Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, Mature, 18+, P in V sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Overstimulation, ¿Slight Rejection?, ¿Softer Feyd-Rauth?, Not Proofread

Word Count: 4,607

They say you were of great beauty and good breading, all things needed in a wife. Feyd-Rautha never sought out a love match; all he needed was a wife whose womb was suitable for taking his seed and producing his heirs. He saw meeting you as a dire chore, having to travel to your planet and seek out and court the girl whose task could be reduced to a simple broodmare. Feyd-Rautha grimaced at the bright sun on your home planet, a planet that resembled ancient Earth before it ultimately met its demise. Your father, the duke, stood with his duchess to greet and welcome him. He turned to your mother, a small fake smile on her lips as she was trying hard not to let her distaste show as she saw the man who they planned to marry her daughter too. Sickly pale and hairless, far from the standard of beauty your planet had. 

“Na-Baron, welcome; we hope your journey was well,” your father greeted. The Na-Baron let him continue on with pleasantries as his eyes searched for you, whom he was tasked to court and marry. He wished to know if you were truly as beautiful as all had praised you. He wanted to deduce if you were somewhat worthy of all of this trouble he must go through. “Come, let us escort you inside, my lord. My daughter waits for you there,” He heard the duke say, and the Na-Baron felt annoyance at your self-importance, not even bothering to greet him as he had landed, having him be the one to come to you. He somewhat made up his mind that you were a spoiled child of one of the great houses. Covered in frills and frivolity. That whatever beauty they talked about and praised you for was just a cover to hide the fact that you were a tempestuous, spoiled brat who would certainly be a difficult wife for any lord. 

Feyd-Rautha hid his confusion and annoyance as he was led to a place surrounded by greenery and colors that stung his eyes foe be was used to the bleakness and darkness of his home. “My sweet,” The Na-Baron heard your father call, and that is when he finally noticed you. Your back was turned from him, hair that he had none cascaded down your back and reached your waist that was cinched inside the bodice of your color-filled gown. Feed clenched his jaw and felt his breathing stutter as you finally turned your direction to him. Turning to the call of your father with your bright eyes searching for his frame and pink lips parted, you had a flower in your hand, your fingers rolling the delicate stem. 

“Na-Baron, may I present you, my daughter,” Your father said and urged you to step closer. You licked your lips and curtsied lowly before the heir of house Harkonnen and your possible husband. “Welcome, Na-Baron,” You said lowly. Feyd was never one to be phased, especially not stunned, but that was the precise state you had placed him in. He thought the praises they gave of your beauty and nature was an exaggeration— they talked about you as if you were a propaganda, a savior, a goddess of beauty. And now, the heir of House Harkonnen understood their words and saw they spoke truth in every syllable uttered. 

You grew more nervous with each moment the Na-Baron did not reply to your greeting. You felt rather unnerved with each passing moment he stared you down with his blue eyes, his plump yet pale lips parted as he assessed your frame. You swallowed thickly and turned to your father for some sort of comfort, but he, too, did not know how to take the Na-Baron’s silence. “My lady,” the Na-Baron finally rasped out, your skin glowing with gooseflesh at how his voice sounded— it was a sound you had not heard before, something different and interesting. All together, the Na-Baron was different and interesting. “I shall leave you two to talk and get to know each other better,” Your father said, and you willed your heart to calm as the intense stare of the Na-Baron was undoing your composure. 

“How… how are your travels, my lord?” You asked after a pause of silence, the Na-Baron wanted to roll his eyes as you had the same trite question as your father. However, he still replied. When there was silence after his answer, he watched you fiddle with your fingers and unconsciously bite your lip as you thought of another topic of conversation. “Would you like a tour of the castle, Na-Baron?” You asked, and though Feyd had little to no interest in architecture and was actually quite tired from his travels, he still felt himself nod and walked beside you as you guided him through your home. 

Feed listened to your sweet voice that sounded of harmonious melodies. Telling him of the history of your house and the decor the castle keeps. Noticing how your voice would grow slightly higher when you spoke of something that was of much interest to you. He also noticed how all who passed the two of you would bow in respect and you would offer them your sweet smile with a wave of your hand or a greeting on your lips. It should annoy him that when stood next to you, his imposing and intimidating demeanor seemed to be outshined by your charming and pleasing self. 

You two paused by a mirror, a painting atop of it, which you explained the meaning of in great detail. Feyd-Rautha caught your reflection, the two of you of stark difference. There was quite literally an aura of lightness exuding from you, the sweetness in your voice, the innocence and naivety in your eyes so entirely different against the darkness he exudes, the black that stained and hardened him. Feyd-Rauth could not take his dark eyes from your lips, the way they moved as you spoke, how you would lick them when you paused from speaking, giving them an irresistible sheen and making them look more pink and evermore kissable. 

The Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha never had the urgent desire to kiss anyone before. Yes, he had his darlings and concubines, but ever since he acquired them, he had never once kissed them first. When they started to grow slightly comfortable around him, they would kiss his lips, eager to make him kiss them back, but he never did. He did not find any sort of pleasure in kissing them. But with you… just by the look of your lips, all he wanted to do was grab your flushed cheeks and feel your mouth against his. “My lord?” You called as you had noticed that the Na-Baron was staring far off into the mirror, unresponsive to your previous calls. “Na-Baron?” You asked and gently took hold of his arm to asses if he was truly well. 

Feud felt his whole body tingle as you placed your touch atop his armor-clad arm, a concerned look on your face that he had never been the receiver of. “Are you well, my lord?” You asked with a concerned tilt of your head. “Y-Yes,” He stuttered, what had you done to him? The ferocious and fearsome fighter that he was now far gone as you blessed him with your gentle touch. “I apologize; I may have droned on for too long… I shall escort you to your chambers so you may find rest,” You said with slight embarrassment. Lowering your gaze to the floor and removing your hand from his arm. Feyd did not know how to perceive you… you were demure yet somehow confident. You were genuine, yet not at all of you could be read and deciphered by him. 

The Na-Baron once again followed you as you led him to the guest wing of the keep. His eyes were steadily at your frame, the way your hair swayed and bounced at every step you took. How you left behind a trail of your scent in the corridors, the Na-Baron greedily inhaled it and felt himself turn warm with a further push to his desires. As you had led him to his chambers to let him rest, you curtsied before him once more, the Na-Baron catching the most tempting view of your bosom. His mind and body were screaming at him to pull you into the chambers and have his way with you. To show you new dimensions of pleasures and ruin that he was certain you had never had before. But the Na-Barom did the genteel thing to do and gave a bow before watching you walk away and finally retire to his own chambers to rest. 

When the next morning came, the Na-Baron found you in the gardens once more. You kneeling by a structure that houses water with a statue in the middle of it. He curiously leaned forward to inspect what you were doing. He watched as your fingers pushed floating flowers, and a small smile grazed your face. He stepped closer, announcing his presence in the reflection of the water. He expected you to grow startled; he was waiting for the fear to come to your eyes, but he was taken aback as you turned to him with a pretty smile upon your lips. The Na-Baron swallowed thickly as he felt his heart stutter at your smile. He never thought he had one— a heart, that is. But now it announced itself greatly as it throbbed loudly in his chest when you stood and stepped closer to him. 

“I hope you had a good night’s rest, Na-Baron,” you said in your genuine tone. “I—I did,” Feyd clenched his jaw; he was stuttering again. What had you done to him? How could you have dismantled and discombobulated him with just a smile and your honey voice? “Would you care to join us to break our fast?” You asked and glanced toward the direction of the laid-out feast for the morning. The Na-baron gave a curt nod, and you led him towards the table where your parents were approaching. 

Feyd gave them a nod as they greeted him whilst assisting you into your seat. He was truly doing the most here, being obliging to you and your kin just so the courtship would be a success and he’ll finally gain a wife and a womb. Feyd listened in to the chatter between you and your parents; you were truly quite talkative. If it were anyone else, he would have grown annoyed with the incessant blabbing that he would cut off their tongue. But somehow, with you, he did not mind it. He actually found it endearing, and he wouldn’t mind for his future days to be filled with your voice. Feyd watched as you filled his cup with a dark, steaming substance. “Would you like sugar and cream, Na-Baron?” You asked and Feyd eyed curiously the liquid in his cup. He did not even know what it was, and you were offering him other substances to put on it? He declined and raised the cup to his lips. Surprised at how he quickly grew fond of the bitter, dark liquid. He watched as you added three cubes of sugar and a dollop of cream to your own cup, altering the bitterness the Na-Baron relished in. 

When the meal ended, you half expected that the Na-Baron would disappear with your father and discuss business; you were surprised that he was once again by your side. “Shall we continue on with the tour?” He asked, watching as you slightly frown. “Are you certain, my lord? I… I was afraid I had bored you yesterday with me droning on about the histories,” You say and feel your stomach fill with butterflies as the lord offers his arm for you to take. “No, I found it quite… educational,” He said and oddly felt his cold blood run warm at the smile that bloomed on your lips. You were quick to oblige his request, and his ears were filled with the soothing melody that was your voice. 

Though your voice and presence were soothing, there was a pestering feeling inside the Na-Baron. With every moment you kept your arm on him, your smile pointed towards him, and your innocent eyes looking up at him, he felt entirely guilty—guilty and torn. Were you truly the one he was meant to marry? You? So pure and innocent, a pretty little flower that would wilt under the dark, harsh sun of Geidi Prime and its heir. He could not take it upon himself to be the one to ruin you— he could not be the bitterness that seeps into your sweetness. 

As he sat across from you during dinner, a glass of bitter liquor in his hands, he had made up his mind. He could not be so cruel to be with you— you had turned his stony being soft for you and you alone. He wanted you, yes. Greatly so. With every moment spent in your presence, all he wanted to do was to take you and make every single inch of you his, but he placed great restraint upon himself as he could not tarnish your innocence. Perhaps in a few years, when the naivety of youth is gone in your eyes, and the sweetness in you has finally been diluted. Just not now.  

Feyd knew he should keep his distance, but he humored himself and escorted you to your chambers. “Good night, my lord,” You said, peering up at him. As always, he was silent. In others, you would find their silence unsettling and off-putting but with the Na-Baron, you found peace in his silence. Serenity, no matter the warnings your mother repeated at how violent and harsh Harkonnens were. There was something about his difference that attracted you greatly, which horrified your mother when you admitted to her that you developed a liking towards the young lord and how you would not be opposed to that if a match was struck between the two of you. 

You watched as his lips parted, and his dark blue eyes would trail between your orbs and your lips. You were hesitant as to where the scene would lead; you did not know if you should disappear into your chambers or stay rooted in your spot and wait for what would transpire between you and the Na-Baron. A long stretch of silence came, and you finally decided to move, a tad embarrassed as you had hoped that he would lean in closer and possibly kiss you… you have had the thought countless of time today. You let out a breath and turned away but ultimately were pulled toward Feyd-Rautha’s direction and finally felt his plush lips against yours. You tasted the bitterness of the brandy he had during dinner along with the cool taste of him… you feel cold hands cradle your cheek and the back of your head to keep you and your lips steady against his.

Feyd was proven correct at just how sweet you were. You were tooth-achingly sweet, inside and out. He pulled you closer and licked your bottom lip, expecting resistance, that your sensibilities would return pulled away. But you only let out a quiet moan and let him snake his tongue in. Feyd Rautha felt himself strain harder against his trousers, his hand that cupped your cheek trailed lower to your neck then down to your bosom. You gasped and pulled away, surprised by the immediate action. Feyd was dismayed himself as he gambled too much. He should not have dared to be so bold and quick to show all of his desires. “My lord, I…” you say in surprise, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Eyes were flashing with a warning but deeper desire behind it. You breathed heavily as the Na-Baron backed away and stomped off, retiring to your room confused and filled with need. 

The following morning came, and Feyd’s mind was made. He could not succumb to his desires and ruin you further. He was selfish, and his mind was muddled with want when he dared to kiss you and feel you against him. He knew if he spent another moment in your presence, his control would falter, and he would finally take what he had desired the moment he saw you in the gardens. “We respect your decision, my lord, however unfortunate it is,” Your father spoke as the Na-Baron stood in his study. The sun had barely risen, and the Na-Baron was quick to speak with his host and bid goodbye. “The treaties shall still take place, but a marriage is no longer required, my lord.” The Na-Baron stated, giving the agreement as a consolation for your planet. He watched as your father nodded his head. “I shall call on my daughter for the two of you to bid good bye,” Feyd wanted to protest, cowardly as he had hoped to leave your planet without another glance at you because it would make everything all the more harder. 

You frowned as your father broke the news to you and your mother. You turned to the woman who birthed you and saw the relief in her eyes, urging you to say your goodbyes so the Harkonnen heir could finally leave. You chewed on your lip as you could conclude by the abrupt departure and change of mind of the Na-Baron. You entered your father’s study, and he quickly left to give the two of you privacy. 

You stood by the wooden door, head hung low, and could not take it upon yourself to look at the man you had hoped to be your husband. “Goodbye, my lord, I… I hope you enjoyed your stay,” you said lowly, and Feyd clenched his jaw as he heard the hint of melancholy in your voice—melancholy that he was the reason for. “I have. Thank you for your hospitality, my lady,” He said and felt his body being pulled closer to you. A pull that he himself could not hinder. He stood before you and took your chin between his rough fingers, urging you to look up at him. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, guessing your startled state the other night is what had led him to the decision. If not that, it was because you were not as chaste as he may have wanted for a wife— that you were ever so enthusiastic to kiss him and let him hold you. Perhaps he thought you untamed or promiscuous which is the reason for his sudden departure. You licked your lips as he made no reply; you shielded your gaze and backed away, his hold on your chin gone. “My lord, if this is about last night, I—“ Feyd clenched his jaw as his mind made him remember the way your lips danced with each other, the way it felt to hold your soft frame against his. “It is not.” He gritted, and you immediately stopped speaking, sensing aggravation in his tone. 

“Then, may I ask what is the reason?” You asked, wanting closure for the disappointment. You listened in to his strained breathing, your eyes catching the way his fists clenched along with his jaw. “I cannot marry you… I cannot be the one to ruin you,” He whispered the last part, his rasping voice struggling to utter the words. You tilted your head in confusion, “What? I do not understand, my lord,” You said and Feyd took in a harsh breath. “You are too pure— too sweet for me. You are not suited to be in the harshness of Geidi Prime let alone be a leader to it.” He said harshly, guilt coming to him as you stared at him with slight fear and offense. “You are too innocent and… and good for someone like me; this is for the best, my lady.” 

You frowned at his words, “You cannot think me to be so delicate,” You defended yourself. The Na-Baron scoffed and shook his head, “You are delicate. You are like those flowers you are greatly fond of— just one wrong thing, and you’ll wilt. You will not wither away in my hands,” He stated, and you felt your lips twitch at how he compared you to flowers. “Is that it? You think I’m weak and too kind?” You asked and observed the way the Na-Baron nodded. “Then I am the perfect match for you, do you not think?” You said, stepping closer. 

Feyd-Rautha was at a loss for words. “If I am weak… I would need someone strong to protect me… someone who is known to be the most skillful warrior in the universe… someone like you,” You whispered and dared to take hold of his cold hand. The Na-Baron felt his heart announce its existence once more, loudly thrashing inside his chest. Your scent invades his senses and makes his knees weak. His gaze turned from looking into your enchanting eyes and then to your luscious lips. “If I am too kind, then I would need someone fearsome so people would not take advantage of me and my good nature… I would need someone ruthless as they say you are,” You whispered, pressing your bodies closer, making him see that you, too, desired him. You feel his length straining against his trousers and perfectly settle upon your stomach, your cheeks going flush at the look of great wanting in the dark eyes of the Na-Baron. 

“If I am too sweet… then I need someone bitter to balance me… I need someone like you, my lord. I want you.” You whispered, slowly going to the tip of your toes to indicate you wished for the kiss. The Na-Baron got the hint and smashed your lips. Your lips fervently danced against each other, the Na-Baron kissing you as if you were the air he needed in his lungs. “You want me?” He breathed as you both parted for air. “I do, Na-Baron.” You said. Truth in your tone. You feel wetness pool between your legs at the growl that left his throat, his lips meeting yours once more. You guided his hand to cup your bosom, just as he had wished to do so the night before. You moaned against his lips as he kneaded your chest through the soft bodice of your gown. 

You feel him guide you to your father’s desk. Perching you upon the stable wooden table and placing himself between your parted legs. Your breathing heaved as his lips were placed on your neck, the Na-Baron biting your flesh and soothing it with his tongue. You turned your head to the ceiling as you felt him hike up your gown, his cold hands leaving fiery heat with each touch. “Say it again,” Feyd demanded as his hands squeezed the plump flesh of your thighs, the heat from your core radiating and calling for him. “I want you, Feyd… I need you, please,” You pleaded and placed your lips to kiss his neck, soft lips kissing his pale flesh, teasing the ball on his throat. 

Your eyes widened as the Na-Baron pulled away, watching in shock as he went to his knees and placed his strong hold on both of your thighs, urging them to part further so his lips could be met with your cunt. You gasped as you felt him push aside your small clothes and lick your slit with his talented tongue. “So fucking sweet,” he groaned and buried his head in your needing cunt. You bit down hard at your lip as the moans you wanted to spew would surely be heard by those who stood and passed outside. “My lord,” You cried as you felt him sucking upon your pearl and his cold finger teasing your entrance. “Feyd… please!” You pleaded as you wanted to feel more. The Na-Baron hummed and obliged your request, placing a finger in your tight cunt. You hear him spew out fouled words and praises, amazed as he watches your wet cunt squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You take my fingers so well, my sweet… now let us see how you’ll manage when it is my cock.” You whimpered as he abruptly stole his pleasuring fingers away as you were on the verge of climax.  

Your eyes were hooded with lust as you watched the Na-Baron greedily suck your essence from his fingers. You felt the urge to close your parted legs to seek out friction at the way he undid his trousers and set his manhood free. Your lips parted as you saw the whole of him, throbbing and pink… the head of his length releasing sheer grayish beads that indicated how much he wanted you. Feyd growled at how shamelessly you looked upon his length, want, and lust, the only thing evident in your eyes. He smashed your lips once more and positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock gliding between your glistening folds. He pushed his way in, and he heard your sharp intake of breath, and whimpers of pain quickly followed. “This what you wanted…” Feyd gritted. A thin sheen of sweat all over his body at how you clenched tightly around him. “Yes, this is what I want.” You said, trying to prove to him that you were not as delicate as he had made you out to be. 

It took a moment before he was fully sheathed inside you. Both of you already panting. When Feyd slowly moved, he watched as your face contorted in pain, kissing away the tears that fell from your eyes as he took away your innocence. Feyd hissed as you clenched around him, finally feeling pleasure, your mouth spewing out sweet moans and calls of his name. “Look at you… my sweet, little wife, so pleasured by my cock,” The tears of pain turned to pleasure as you feel your peak quickly building up again. Feyd claimed your lips and bit down harshly to draw blood, curious to see if even your blood was as sweet as your being; it was. You moaned against his lips as your peak found you, your wetness doubling along with your sensitivity, but that didn't phase the Na-Baron.  He only continued to pound at you at a pace that would surely leave you unable to walk and sore for days to come. 

“Feyd, please…” You pleaded for something you did not know. All you knew was you were about to come once more, ready to cry out the name of the man who provided you with such blinding pleasure. The Na-Baron could usually last for hours, but with the way you clenched around him and how you sweetly moaned and called for his name, it was a miracle that Feyd had not spilled his seed the moment he pushed the head of his cock inside you. “Will you come again, my sweet? Will you come around my cock again?” Feyd hummed as his thumb circled the pearl in your cunt, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. 

“Yes…yes— oh yes!” You cried as you came, clamping around the Na-Baron’s length so tightly that he, too, joined you in your climax. His dark seed filling you and taking root. You two breathed heavily, Feyd hunching over you, who was perched upon your father’s desk. “Still too sweet and pure for you?” You asked in between breaths, watching as Feyd-Rautha wickedly smirked as his bitterness seeped into you and how his hands had tainted you. Perhaps he did need sweetness in his bitter life.

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #dune part two #austin butler #harkonnen #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #dune x reader #house harkonnen #great houses #na-baron harkonnen #hozier #too sweet

[rafeandonlyrafe]

almost sweet music

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only, smut, thigh job, clit rubbing, brief tit play, childhood friends to lovers, kinda somnophilia?

your eyes are open, but they might as well be closed as you look at nothing but pure darkness. you shift ever so slightly, pressing further into rafes hold.

it's not the first time you've shared a bed. he's been your friend for years, and you used to have sleepovers every weekend before your bodies developed and it became awkward.

you would still occasionally fall asleep in rafes bed, usually when the movie he picked to watch was too boring, or when you were waiting around for him and ended up taking a nap enveloped in his scent.

tonight is different. even when you share a bed, rafe never cuddles so close to you like this. yeah, you'll wake up with your head on his chest or a leg slung over his, but rafe is pressed right against your back.

his chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but you can't tell for certain if he's asleep or just relaxed having you against him.

you close your eyes, relaxing back into his hold. his soft breath fans over your shoulder, barely covered by your tank top strap.

you're about to fall asleep when you feel something poking you. your eyes open again, wider this time as rafes hip press forward.

his obvious erection grinds against your ass, slow movements fooling you into believing rafe must be asleep still, body acting on its own, much like yours does when you seek him out in your sleep.

rafe let's out a soft moan, then a mumble of your name, and now you're certain he must be awake since you've never heard him sleep talk before.

his hips begin to move faster, like he's testing out how far he can take it before you wake up. how much movement will it take for you to stir, testing how much he can get away with.

you stiffen for a brief moment before relaxing again. you squeeze your eyes shut as you try to keep your breathing regular. you don't want rafe to stop. 

to others, it's been a clear (and long) game you've been playing, both pining after each other while claiming to just be best friends. this is the first time rafe has shown any clear evidence to you of his sexual attraction. what you don't see is his longing looks whenever your back is turned, or the way he's quick to go after any guy who looks at you for a little too long.

you let out a silent curse in your head. of course he's only doing this because he thinks your asleep as he moves faster against you, barriers of fabric in the way but not stopping his light moans, almost sweet music against your ears.

you wonder how long he's been pushing up against you before it woke you up. you consider your options. sit here silently, let him cum in his pants, or take action, show you're awake, and change your life forever.

you're done with the game as you reach down, startling rafe as he lets out a curse, but you simply pull your shorts down along with your underwear, revealing your bare ass as you spread your thighs, pussy on show and already starting to get wet.

you wait for rafe to continue. when it's clear he won't, you reach behind your back to pull his cock out of his pajama pants.

rafe follows your motions, taking your lead and going as far as you will allow as you rub his cock through your folds before closing your thighs around him.

“keep going.” you say. 

the words is all the encouragement rafe needs as he begins to thrust, the slick between your thighs growing as he pushes against you.

a hand that was holding you close to him travels to your pussy, rubbing you with a single finger, the pad rough against your sensitive clit.

the sound of slapping skin is a telltale sign of what is happening in the dark, as rafes hips meet your ass with every thrust.

you long for him to press into your cunt, but you know you need to have an actual discussion about what this is before allowing him to fuck you properly. the thighs will have to do.

rafe rubs faster, with a clear purpose as his cock swells. you can tell he's not far off, and the pure excitement from finally being with rafe also has your high growing.

you press further into his chest as your thighs squeeze together as tight as you can force them, letting out a moan when rafe spills, cum spurting through the gap onto the bed sheet.

he leaves his cock to soften between your legs as his finger keeps working on you, free hand coming to grab your chest over your shirt, hand possessively gripping your tits until your back arches, a strangled moan leaving your lips as you cum.

rafes hands disappear from off of you. you turn to face him, but can't see his expression.

“im-im sorry.” his words are enough for you to pinpoint where his mouth is as you lean in, pressing your lips together in a heated kiss.

“we can talk about it in the morning.” you say, tucking yourself back into his side. “we will cuddle and sleep and be in a much clearer headspace.”

rafe hesitates for a second before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a soft smile on his face as your breathing returns to normal, not allowing himself to fall asleep until he hears your gentle snores.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @akirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @edszn @theoraekenslover

#yes the title is a hozier song but the actual song doesnt fit the fic alkjfds #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe imagine #rafe one shot #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot

[youwerelikeanangel]

#im still. processing and screaming you know the drill. #hozier #eat your young ep #eat your young #x

[irishyuri]

strength and magic 

#merlin #bbc merlin #merwaine #gwaine x merlin #sir gwaine #merlin emrys #mergwaine #my art #i listened exclusively to hozier the whole time i worked on this if that tells you anything #FUCK them kids (drawing chainmail) and fuck you too (drawing swords)

[my-love-is-sunlight]

Too sweet (for me)

Law x strawhat!reader

gn reader + fluff

100% inspired by Too Sweet by Hozier the moment he dropped this I knew I had to write something about Law from it so here you go, I even incorporated some of the lyrics

Trafalgar Law doesn’t get it

How were you able to slip into his mind so carelessly and without notice? Law had never envisioned himself liking someone as sweet as you

For starters you were a strawhat, already on the wrong track, but alongside Robin, you were of the ones Law tolerated the most since you were usually more introverted and took things seriously, which made him start gravitate towards you

Big mistake

Surprisingly he found out your quiet facade was something reserved for strangers, once you warmed up to his presence everything changed

You looked after him, bringing his black coffee when he stayed up all night in the library, urging him to sleep at normal hours and enjoy his time at the Sunny. You opened yourself completely for him to devour all details facts and antics of yours. Your presence filled every room he sat at, listened to whatever he had on his mind, or stayed in a blissful silence if he needed you to

Law had taken notice you were strong and handled yourself in the battlefield just fine, another reason he saw you as one of the most competent strawhats, but even though a lot of people feared you, you remained kind, bright as the morning, soft as the rain, sweet as a grape

You had become Laws favorite sweetener, he became addicted to every inch of you. He’d drink up every look you’d graced his way like neat whiskey, every word like his favorite melody and every touch he wished it to tattoo it on his skin, always waiting for your frame to appear through every door he encountered

But most importantly, you kept telling him to live right

To take down his tall walls, to speak up about the matters that roamed in his mind and heart, to stop indulging in bad sleeping habits and overworking himself to exhaustion, a task no one seemed to fill in his life, he was a Captain after all

There was no shame in being soft, sweet and tender, you always seemed to try and tell him

Yet he wondered how had you managed to keep yourself like that, brightening his and your crews days, after all, life has had its way with you too

And he couldn’t handle it

Who would’ve thought, the surgeon of death feeling threatened by a silly feeling

It ate away at him, the way his heartbeat accelerated whenever you were at least in the same table, his stomach turning at every look he stole whenever you smiled or laughed, or the rosy pigment that painted his features at the mere thought of you

He felt like a deer in headlights. Still Law couldn’t help but to follow you around the Sunny like a stray cat, reaching for you in any situation he was able to keep you closer, craved your presence and to hear your melodic voice ring in his ears, and whenever you said his name? Heaven couldn’t compare

He wondered how fast had this happened, he didn’t notice all the affection he was harboring for you until he couldn’t backtrack, he thanked whatever god was out there that made you so oblivious, it seemed like everyone on the ship noticed the way Law and you glanced at each other and how you would spend your days sitting together in every room but you

But here he is now, under the moonlight staring down at your twinkling eyes that could easily be mistaken for one of the stars above you, his hand traveling to the back of your head before he gives you a look as if asking ‘may I?’ to wish you answer by doing the sweetest thing he could ever thought of

You smile and stand on your tip toes collapsing your lips in his, ending his endless pining as you melt into each other like you were meant to be like this

Trafalgar Law doesn’t get it, when he tastes the sweet sugar of the chocolate drink you had that evening on his lips and doesn’t mind it at all, even if he takes his coffee black every morning

He could even say, he loves it

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

I’ve been listening to Hozier since his debut album I even saw him live and got a shrike tattooed on mu arm OF COURSE I was gonna write this and the first thing that popped into my mind was Law so here you go. Sorry it’s short uni has been eating me alive

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #law one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #trafalgar law one piece #law imagine #trafalgar law imagine #too sweet #hozier #x reader #one piece

[padfootagain]

When We Were Lying

Hi! Here is another Hozier fic! Had a lot of fun with this trope, as always, I hope you’ll like this little story! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none… a bit of strong language and an awful lot of longing? Fake-dating AU

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

Word Count: 10055

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Sorry… what?!”

Andrew was blinking at you. There was something unnerving in his frown and the intensity of his stare, but you had to bear it. After all, you had no other choice.

“You’re the only one I can ask to do this with me…”

“I’m absolutely not doing that!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?! Why not?! Do I really have to answer that question or have you found back your sanity?”

“Andrew…”

“I am not going to lie to your entire family at Christmas just to save your stupid arse!”

“But I said ‘please’…”

“Y/N!”

“Andrew!”

“This is a terrible idea! I’m not doing that!”

He stared at you as if you had lost your mind, and in all fairness, perhaps you had… for a part at least. Why else would you be sitting in your best friend’s comfortable sofa, in the middle of his large and yet welcoming living room, asking him to lie to your family and pretend that you were together? Only for a day though, just for the traditional meal on Christmas, the boring and tedious lunch on the 25th where you exchanged gifts and stabbing remarks with your least favourite members of your family.

Not that you were not used to face this tragedy on your own; if your arse of an uncle had been the only obstacle to overcome this year, you would have emerged with flying colours. But this year was different. It was different, because your cousin Samantha was coming with her boyfriend… aka your ex-boyfriend. The one she had slept with ten months ago. The one who had betrayed you and broken your silly heart. The one you wished you could put laxatives into his drinks, or pierce his tires, or put some very strong pepper into his tea… Something Machiavellian like that…

But as your chances of poisoning his food at the Christmas lunch were limited, you had to settle for plan B. Which was simple enough: convince your best friend to pretend to be madly in love with you, so you would not have to bear any comments from your family about your broken heart and the fact that you had been cheated on by your fucking cousin Samantha… and perhaps, with a bit of luck, you could also make your ex, Craig, jealous.

A brilliant plan, if there was ever any. Only, Andrew didn’t seem to share your optimism.

“You’ve lost it, this time,” he went on, eyes wide, aghast as he slowly shook his head.

You couldn’t blame him for thinking this. Especially given the fact that your feelings for him would probably end up being a problem. But despite your silly little crush on him… who else could you ask such a favour to? The two of you had known each other for years. He was your best friend, you were ready to do anything for him. No one else would accept…

“Andy… I know I’m asking a lot…”

“This will never work. Beyond the fact that this is pure madness, it will never work! Your parents know me! They know we’re not together!”

“Friends get together all the time!”

“No one will believe us. And you know me, I hate… PDA and stuff like that… I can’t… even when it’s real, I struggle with that stuff. I can’t fake it.”

“On the contrary, that’s great! Cause then, we don’t have to act too much like we’re together, and we can just blame it on your well-known aversion for PDA!”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N, but this time… it’s a no. I’m not doing that. I’m not playing fake-boyfriend for you.”

You heaved a defeated sigh.

“And I thought you would kill for me.”

“I’m a pacifist… a punch across the jaw is the best I can do.”

“Lousy friend.”

“Fuck off! You think you asking me to lie to your entire family is better? Just so you won’t have to hear them complaining about you being single? You think that’s not worse?”

You saw the way his expression saddened when yours did, when the tinge of playfulness left your features. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“Why is it so unbearable anyway, huh? You’ve forgotten how my mother can be? I’ve got that refrain sang to me all the time too. It’s not so bad.”

You bit on your lip and lowered your gaze before answering, holding back tears that came blurring your vision of Andrew’s soft carpet.

“Craig and Sam will be there. Together.”

You didn’t need to look up at him to know he was clenching his jaw.

“I don’t… I don’t want to have to face that on my own. I’m not sure I can…”

You barely had time to brush a tear away that Andrew was holding you close, arms wrapped tightly around your frame. And you let him pull you even closer, until your ear was pressed against his heart, until he could drop a tender kiss to the top of your head. He heaved a sigh.

“Could you still come? As a friend?” you asked, voice trembling even if you didn’t want it to.

You hated being like this. Fragile. Crying. Not over the betrayal. You wanted to wave a perfect life at your ex so he would see all that he was missing, until he regretted everything. It was petty, but true. Instead, you would be the one sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a couple of weeks, trying not to throw up nor cry while you witnessed your ex and your cousin playing perfect couple…

Andrew heaved a painful sigh.

“I’ll come.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean… I’ll do it. The whole crazy plan. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend for the day.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him. There were traces of annoyance in his gaze, but a lot of tenderness too as his eyes met yours, hazel irises turning greener in the quiet light of a late afternoon.

“Really?” you asked, voice shy even though you craved for confidence.

“Really. But you’d better make sure that your mother still loves me when you break it to her that we’re not together anymore! I’m not giving up on her amazing lasagnas, not even for you.”

“I have the recipe, you know?”

“Your mother’s taste better.”

“Fucker!”

“Don’t insult me, or I’ll take everything back and let you deal with this bunch of assholes on your own!”

“Sorry!” you quipped, hiding your face into his chest again, and you heard him mumbling some complaints, playing grumpy, but you knew better.

You were smiling as you listened to his low voice lulling you back into a soothed state. You wondered how he did that. How a mere hug and some whispering were all it took to calm you down, to make you feel safe all over again, when you were so damn insecure all the time.

You lost track of your own thoughts when his large hand came to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close.

And you were glad that you could explain a lack of PDA in front of your family, because there was no way for you to survive a whole day with the man you secretly loved holding you like that…

“Do you hate me? For being selfish and dragging you into this?” you asked him, voice muffled by his woollen jumper.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Even if I called you to get rid of a body with me?”

“Erm… As long as I’m not the one cutting it into pieces.”

You both let out a chuckle.

“I’ll make sure to stain your carpet with the blood of my victims.”

“Now, that would make me hate you, for sure.”

“I knew you’d choose your carpet over me.”

“Yeah, but what a carpet it is!”

“It doesn’t make you lasagna though…”

“I only like your mam’s.”

You smiled, but remained quiet. You were serious again when your voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over your two entwined frames.

“Seriously, though… I’m sorry I’m asking you this. I just… I just don’t see what else I can do. I don’t think I can stomach seeing the two of them as a happy couple while I’m still… desperately single. A real loser…”

“Stop talking about yourself like that,” he admonished, voice genuinely annoyed. “I hate it when you do that. You’re… you’re amazing, Y/N. More than you realise. And Craig and Samantha are terrible people. So… stop blaming it all on yourself. They can rot in hell.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in heaven and hell.”

“You know what I mean.”

A pause while you smiled, wool tickling your cheek.

“Thank you.”

He rubbed your back, gesture soft, taking his time.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You owe me so much…”

“I thought you said ‘don’t mention it!’”

“Don’t mention it, my arse…”

You laughed at him, you couldn’t help it. As Andrew and you walked together down the lane leading to your parents’ house, you couldn’t refrain your laughter. Andrew looked nervous… like the day he had met your parents for the first time, years ago.

“Stop acting like they don’t know you. My family adores you.”

“That’s until they learn I’m lying through my teeth.”

“You’re an infamous liar, anyway.”

“Hey!”

He faked outrage, making you laugh even more, and this time, he couldn’t refrain his own smile.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this…”

“Me neither. You must have lost your mind, too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and sealed his lips again. There was something almost sad on his features for a second, and you wanted to ask if he was alright, but you were already in front of the green door.

“You ready?” he asked instead, an encouraging smile adorning his handsome features now, the cold of December making his cheeks and nose redden.

And you had to struggle through missing heartbeats to nod your head. He looked lovely like this, hair in a half-bun, some curls still free, hair tied only to keep the strands away from his face. He was wearing the grey beanie you adored, chin buried in a huge matching scarf…

“We’ll be fine,” he reassured you, all traces of playfulness or annoyance gone from his warm voice.

“Let’s make Craig so jealous he’ll choke over some pudding.”

You both chuckled, and Andrew nodded, lovely crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes as he kept on smiling.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You took a deep breath before knocking.

There was no turning back.

You glimpsed at Andrew one more time as you waited for your mother to come and open the door, and you thought it truly was the worst idea you had ever had, to ask Andrew to do this… Andrew, of all people. If he was the only choice, he also was the worst one. You simply hoped you wouldn’t have to fake too much… because your heart sped up at the mere thought of holding his hand…

What an idiot you were, getting yourself into so much trouble… at what point had you imagined it was a good idea to ask the man you secretly loved to be your fake boyfriend?!

Your thoughts were interrupted though, as your mother finally appeared. You grinned at her as she hurried to give you a hug.

Andrew had barely closed the door behind him that he was receiving a warm hug as well.

“Ha! Andy!” your mother welcomed him, making him laugh. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long.”

“It has indeed…”

“And finally! You two came to your senses!”

You frowned, but didn’t have time to ask your mother what she meant. Instead, you were pulled into the whirlwind that was your family.

Andrew remained close to you, and you were not surprised. There were plenty of people gathered in the large living room, several generations together in the warmth of your childhood home, and Andrew wasn’t too good with dealing with so many people. When you turned to him to offer him a gentle smile, one he immediately offered as well, he seemed a little uncomfortable, hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, head slightly bent, as to appear less tall than he truly was, a desperate attempt at hiding. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, such a stark contrast with the confident musician he was each time he stepped on a stage.

You introduced him to the members of your family he didn’t know (including your terrible uncle, who didn’t fail to be rude, hence living up to his reputation). And everything was going fine, except perhaps for the uncontrollable burst that sparked through your heart and chest every time you called Andrew your boyfriend. You pushed to the side the longing that washed over you at the thought that you wished the word could be true…

But it wasn’t the right time for such consideration. After years spent as Andrew’s friend while harbouring feelings for him, you had grown amazingly talented at hiding the love that coursed through each of your cells every time you saw him, or heard him, or thought of him…

But that was not the right time for such thoughts. Indeed, a new couple was just entering the room…

… and suddenly everyone was quiet.

Samantha and Craig seemed to not notice the sudden silence, or else they were simply very good at hiding it. You couldn’t control your expression as you winced, turning towards the window.

But you were surprised by Andrew’s touch, as he reached for your hand. Fingers shy at first, barely the ghost of a caress across your knuckles. When you leaned closer, fingers searching for his too, he intertwined them together, and as you turned to him, he gave you the warmest smile. A silent gesture to tell you it would be okay.

You were even more surprised when he pulled you closer, a gentle tug at your joined hands. You had discussed, before coming to your parents’ house, the boundaries you needed to respect for today. Holding hands was okay. Touching arms, hair or a waist was okay. You had not discussed kissing, but you reckoned that it was a clear no. An arm around the other’s shoulders or back was good too.

But now, Andrew was pulling you gently closer until you were settled against his chest, and he bent to softly kiss your hair, lips lingering on the top of your head for several seconds. The gesture was so tender, you had to close your eyes…

And then his lips were gone, leaving behind the quiet sound of a kiss and their warmth. When you opened your eyes again and looked up at him, Andrew was blushing, but he was smiling too. And there was something in the way he was looking at you…

“Y/N! How good to see you!”

You turned towards Samantha, hence interrupting your train of thoughts, perhaps for the better.

You forced a polite smile, but didn’t go as far as to completely hide that you weren’t happy to see her.

“Sam! How are you?”

“Good! I’m good! What about you?”

She only then seemed to notice Andrew’s presence by your side, an impressive performance, given his height and the fact that you were still leaning into his chest…

“Oh, hi! Hmmm… Andrew, is it? I remember you! You’re Y/N’s friend!”

“Boyfriend now, actually,” you corrected her, and you were amused by the look of surprise on her face.

“Oh! Congratulations! Good for you!”

Around the room, conversations had started again, filling up space once more and giving you at least some privacy… although you knew it to be but a relative truth. Your relatives who stood closer to you were probably listening closely, unwilling to lose any crumb of the conversation and drama that might ensue.

Behind Samantha, Craig finally greeted you, more uncomfortable than his girlfriend was. He grew even more uncomfortable when he offered his open hand to Andrew.

“Good to see you again, Andy.”

You hated that Andrew had to let go of your hand to shake Craig’s, but his fingers found yours again as soon as the greeting was over. It was rare to see Andrew with a clearly forced smile on his face, he was generally better at hiding his discomfort, a habit of always being polite.

“Craig,” followed by a nod was the only greeting Andrew gave your ex, and you recognised protectiveness in the way he moved slightly closer to you, placing himself between you and Craig.

And you felt a little guilty for the sense of pride that you got from that gesture, knowing you shouldn’t be reading anything even remotely romantic into it… but then again, you were but human. And humans always liked dreaming…

“How are you two doing?” Craig asked, and you nodded.

“Good, we’re both doing good. You?”

“Oh, we’re great! We’re planning on going for a trip for our anniversary, don’t we, dear?” Samantha went on, turning to her boyfriend, who merely nodded… rightly uncomfortable.

“Amazing!” you managed to get out between gritted teeth.

“And for how long have you two been together, then?” Craig asked, changing the subject quickly.

“A couple of months,” you answered, a detail you and Andrew had agreed on.

“So, it’s still the honeymoon phase, then,” Sam nodded knowingly, although you weren’t sure what kind of knowledge that was…

“It’s pretty new,” you nodded.

“How lovely! But… I thought the two of you were friends,” she went on, acting confused.

“We were,” you confirmed, and when you struggled to continue, it was Andrew’s turn to step in.

“And now we’re more than that.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, and again, you noticed the way he was blushing.

Craig nodded his head, and you saw how he was frowning, the kind of expression he wore when he was upset over something.

“It’s funny that you were friends for so long and then all of a sudden… you decide to be more,” he spoke with a tinge of venom in a tone he tried to turn honeyed.

You looked for an excuse, but Andrew was the one to answer again. And you were taken aback by his words… and even more so by how earnest they sounded, although… although he could only be lying.

“We… we’ve spent a long time tiptoeing around that line. I think… we’ve had feelings for a while for each other. I guess we were simply afraid to lose everything we already had if we gave this a try.”

“And what decided you to give this a try, then?”

“I don’t know. Some courage, I guess.”

“Or an opportunity,” Craig proposed, making you frown. There was an insinuation behind his tone, and you didn’t quite know what to do of it.

Andrew seemed to understand better, judging by the way he clenched his jaw, slightly tightened his hold on your hand. He remained quiet though, refusing to rise to Craig’s challenge.

“These things can take time, you know?” you added, trying to pull the conversation away from the glares Andrew and Craig seemed keen to throw each other, a silent battle of thunder and storms. “Where are you planning that trip of yours?”

It was too easy to centre the conversation back onto Samantha, nothing surpriseing, though, considering her character…

Lucky for you, you were soon called by your mother to help in the kitchen.

Or actually, it was but a limited reprieve you were granted. It took your mother only a couple of minutes to bombard you with questions, while she made you cut some carrots, sunlight streaming on your hands from the window set above the sink as you worked. It enlightened the orange stains that slowly grew across your fingers while you dodged your mother’s queries, struggling to remain calm while lying. You thought you would be better at it, but as you peeled the vegetables, their forms made slippery in your hands, you were losing your footing, feeling increasingly guilty as the lies passed your lips again and again.

A first date in a quiet restaurant.

A piece of carrot thrown in the sink.

A first kiss in front of your door, as a tender goodbye, one that lingered in reluctance to part.

A blade slipping too fast.

No, you were not planning ahead for now, just taking things as they went, as they formed.

No, there was no words of love yet, don’t be ridiculous! It’s only the beginning…

“The beginning!” Your mother scoffed, throwing a potato in the sink, alongside your colourful pieces. “The man has been looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for years! You’ve been stealing glances for so long… I don’t even remember when it started! It’s not the beginning, dear. The two of you have been in love for years. It is only a logical continuation.”

She frowned as she looked at you, finally lifting her gaze from the brown pile of peels.

“You’re okay?”

You were startled by her question.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I don’t know… you seem… almost sad.”

You couldn’t hold her stare, and you fought every bit of instinct in you to avoid recoiling from her touch as your mother, in a sweet gesture, rested her hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry yourself over Craig and Samantha. And before you ask, I wasn’t the one who invited them.”

You nodded, as if you were reassured, as if she was right about the cause of your worry, had aimed straight at the knot of your problems.

She hadn’t. And you were perplexed as you realized this too. Because you had thought that seeing your ex and your cousin together would be unbearable, and it was, indeed, a painful sight. But it was hurting your pride more than your heart, a sting at your ego rather than a tear at your soul.

Instead, the images you summoned in a fake reality with Andrew were the ones destroying you. Because these details, these anecdotes, these stories you made up for your mother were ones you genuinely longed for.

A quiet date in a restaurant you loved. A kiss bathed in streetlights. Hands holding that didn’t want to let go…

This was a terrible idea. A terrible… terrible idea…

“Andrew! Come here, lad! Give us a hand with these, would you?”

You felt his presence by your side before his hand appeared in your vision, reaching for a vegetable, getting to work without any protest or arguing. He would lose anyway, against your mother, and he knew it.

You chatted together for a while, conversation smooth and easy, as always with him around. You almost forgot that all of this was fake when Andrew leaned closer, as if he longed for your nearness. You reached for him before you could think, leaning closer as well, until your arms touched as you worked, the ghost of a touch that was enough to set your heart ablaze…

God… this was such a terrible, terrible idea…

You barely noticed your mother as she moved around the kitchen, until she reached for Andrew.

“I’m so happy for you,” she spoke in a smile. “After all this time… I’m glad the two of you have finally worked out all the things that kept you apart.”

She disappeared before you could speak to her, ask her what she meant. When you turned to Andrew though, he was blinking tears away.

“Andy? You’re alright? What’s wrong?” You asked with sudden worry in your voice, but your friend shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just… Erm…”

But he grew quiet, shrugged. You tried to guess, but were pretty sure to miss the mark when he reassured you again.

“Is my mother bothering you?”

“No! Of course, not. It’s weird lying to her, that’s all.”

There was something more to it, but Andrew interrupted you before you could question him further.

“Besides… we have another problem. A more important one. That’s why I was looking for you.”

“What is it?”

“Craig doesn’t believe us.”

“What?”

“He pulled me aside and told me he knew we were faking it. That he was going to tell everyone.”

“The son of a bitch!”

“My thoughts, precisely.”

“What did you answer?”

Andrew shrugged.

“That he was being ridiculous.”

“And?”

“That he was merely being jealous over the fact that he had let a woman like you slip between his fingers like a moron.”

You tried to hide the grin that formed on your lips at his praise.

“Nice… going all in on the ‘make him jealous’ wagon, I see…”

He took a moment to answer, voice less confident than his usual tone when he spoke once more.

“Just the truth…”

You ignored his remark, and you didn’t get why the same tinge of sadness made his hazel eyes greener again, the same way they had earlier that day…

“What can we do to convince him?” you asked, eliciting little more than a shrug from your friend.

You heaved a sigh, your carrots now all cut in the sink. Game over…

“Let’s see how all this unfolds,” was your only solution for now.

“And if he tells your family?”

“We’ll see, Andy. We’ll see.”

The meal was over. The gifts had been given, the kisses and thankful glances had been exchanged. It was time to settle in with some board games, for those willing, while others nibbled on some pastries and chatted in sofas and armchairs. The last remnants of cakes lingered in porcelain plates while coffee, tea and hot chocolate were being served. You laughed when Andrew picked up your warm beverage before you had a chance.

“Are you drinking my cocoa?”

“I’m trying it out. Just to be sure. In case of poison or something like that.”

You both laughed as he took another sip, humming in delight.

“You could have asked for a hot chocolate instead of tea!” you admonished, but didn’t try to take the cup from him, too happy to see him smiling to even think about it.

God, he could steal the entire beverage, as long as he kept on smiling like that… happy, and soft, and welcoming, calling for a smile of your own to answer his…

“Tastes better when it’s yours,” he laughed, all mischief and cheekiness while he looked at you and drank a third sip, a tiny one, just to get on your nerves.

The charm was broken though when one of the children running around bumped into him and made Andrew spill a little bit of chocolate across his chin. You burst into laughter.

“Well, that was… hot,” you teased while Andrew tried to hide his mouth and chin with his hand, looking around for a napkin of some kind. “Literally, I mean. It must be hot. Graciously so.”

“I hate you,” he glowered without any animosity in his gaze, making you laugh harder as you finally handed him one of the paper towels set on the coffee table.

On the other side of the room, people were playing a board game, but you felt better like this. Just you and Andrew chatting around a cocoa, or what was left of it. No one was truly paying attention to you, or so you had thought… among the five people who were casually chatting in small groups around the coffee table, it was easy to notice that all around the room, if gazes were directed towards your small group, it was to stare at Andrew and you.

Was Andrew aware of that scrutiny? Of the gazes fixed upon you?

“You’re okay?” he asked, frowning slightly, and you wished you could ease the crease between his brow with a brush of your thumb.

“Sure. I’m fine. Just… I think people are kind of watching us,” you added in a whisper no one could eavesdrop, leaning closer to him in the process.

He hummed, slowly nodding.

“Yeah, I think we’re kind of… the new thing.”

You bit your lip before making your next request, and you were surprised to notice that his eyes lingered on your mouth until you spoke.

“Is that okay if we act like…?” you left your question suspended in mid-air.

He nodded again, in silence, and there it was again, the flash of pain turning the hazel into full green…

You noticed the sharp intake of breath he took before finally speaking, the way his eyes narrowed just a little, for a second, while he hesitated… but then the words were out all the same, making his pale cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“Can I… tug that strand of hair behind your ear?”

You struggled to swallow and nodded, it was your time to be silent, you couldn’t trust your voice.

He was leaning closer when he lifted his arm towards you, shifting to be facing you, both of you sitting on a sofa that was too comfortable and too familiar for you to feel this tensed, almost frightened.

“You’re sure that’s alright?” Andrew asked again, and this time you let out a faint yes along with your nod.

Frightened wasn’t the right word though. You weren’t scared at all, in fact, you felt absolutely safe with Andrew sitting so close to you, your bodies almost touching, but not quite, just far enough to leave you longing to close these gaps. Slowly, his hand was lifted, all the way up to your face, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He was staring at you, something that went beyond softness, beyond the usual tenderness his gaze adorned when it fell on you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, guess what it meant. But then again, his thumb was brushing your cheek, and the ghostly touch made you too dizzy, anyway.

He leaned closer, unbearably closer, until his lips were next to your ear, his fingers moving to hold your face in place, palm cradling your jaw.

“Can I… Can I kiss your cheek?”

You were certain that your heart could not take more of this, of his intoxicating cologne, of the warmth of his skin across yours, of the delicate breath fanning across your ear…

You reached up for something, anything to hold onto, and your fingers met his woollen jumper, attached themselves to it as if holding a safe line.

“Yes, you can,” you answered despite your shaking voice and the fact that you had no air left in your lungs whatsoever.

Your rational brain wanted to remind you that this was not real, that it was all for show… but the world had vanished the second he had leaned closer. No… no, before that. When he had stared at you in this gentle way, when his hand had risen towards your face. You couldn’t even remember that you were at your parents’, in fact, you couldn’t remember your own name. Your entire world was being rewritten because this man was holding you close, a palm cradling your jaw while the other found its way to your waist; because he was moving slowly away, only to come back closer than ever, lips resting on your cheek. You closed your eyes the second his lips found your skin, their warmth coursing through your entire frame it seemed, his beard slightly tickling you, just enough to make it all the more endearing. He lingered there for what anyone would consider too long, but when you thought he was about to pull away, his lips merely hovered above your cheek, close enough for you to feel their warmth still, and the hurried breaths he exhaled. And then he was kissing your cheekbone again, and again, and with each resting of his lips upon you, you tightened your hold on his jumper, your free hand coming to rest right against his heart, in the end…

You both jumped at the sharp sound of something falling, glass breaking. As you turned, you noticed that someone had dropped a glass of water to the floor. Nothing too bad, your father was already heading towards the kitchen to clean up the mess that was made. Craig didn’t have a drink.

Before you could analyse the situation in depth, though, Andrew was turning his attention back onto you, and you had no choice but to look at him again too. You remained perfectly still for a moment, hazel eyes meeting your gaze in an unreadable expression, his hands still on you…

And then you both realised how close you were, how easy it would be to just lean a little further and to close the gap between your lips…

And you pulled away in a jolt, startled by your nearness, like two teenagers caught red-handed by an adult.

Andrew cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his dark jeans, shifting like he didn’t know what to do with his own body all over again.

“I should… help clean the mess…” you mumbled, stuttering slightly, while Andrew was nodding and humming, averting his gaze.

You did just that, hurrying towards the table and picking up pieces of broken glass while your brain remained stuck on the feeling of Andrew’s beard on your skin, the softness of his lips, the way he held you closer…

Your heart was still pounding, your breath catching in your throat every now and then; in fact, every time you thought about his fingers slipping to your hair…

“Let’s throw all these away, darling,” your mother told you, nodding towards the shards in your palm.

You stood straighter without a word, headed for the kitchen…

… to fall face to face with Craig.

Wonderful…

“Sorry about the glass,” he said, breathless for some reason.

“Oh, you’re the one who broke it? Don’t worry about it, my parents have plenty of those. As long as you didn’t cut yourself…”

“I did, actually.”

You took a closer look, and indeed, he was pouring cold water onto a cut across his thumb. Nothing worth worrying about, but it would be quite painful and bothersome for a few days, still. The cut was long and clean, if not too deep.

You had walked closer to inspect the wound, and you didn’t notice the way he stared at you.

“It’s not too bad, but it must hurt.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just waiting for it to stop bleeding.”

“You should press something on it, then.”

You handed him a napkin, which he rolled around his finger as he thanked you. You finally noticed that you were alone in the kitchen, that everybody else was still in the living room either chatting or cleaning up the mess Craig had made.

“Actually, I… I wanted to talk to you, just us…”

You silently encouraged him to continue, but you were taken aback at the passion and hurt in his eyes when your two gazes locked together.

“I… Is it serious? With Andrew, I mean?”

“Yeah… yes! Of course, it’s serious. Why?”

He shrugged, but you saw the way he clenched his jaw.

“It’s just… you’ve been friends for years… why now?”

You shrugged, feeling uncomfortable now… and you blamed it on a lie, but you knew it was because of the longing that was stuck in your heart, and had been dormant there for too long for you to count.

“I don’t know… the timing was always wrong. He wasn’t single, I wasn’t single, he was touring, I was busy… we kind of… were never on the same page, you know? We… our lives never managed to align.”

Slowly, Craig nodded.

“But this time, your lives are aligning?”

“Yeah! I mean… we’re both single, both staying in Ireland for more than a couple of weeks… we… we both want the same things.”

“And what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That ‘thing’. Whatever it is that you want, what is it?”

You struggled to swallow, looking for a lie, an answer, anything to say. And a weight fell on your chest as the earnest answer flashed before you, taking the shape of two hazel eyes, unruly curls, soft-spoken words and an infectious laugh…

You thought you wanted some revenge. To make Craig jealous, for him to regret leaving you… but the truth was, you had wanted another man all along. And you still couldn’t have him. It was only a game of pretence.

What a terrible idea, this whole fake-relationship scheme…

Craig took a step closer to you, bringing your bodies so close, as you looked up at him, he was but a breath away.

“What do you want? Why are you with him? Of all people, why Andrew, and why now? Do you want to know what I think about all this?”

You frowned at his tone, crossing your arms before your chest, a glare starting to cover your features.

“Oh, enlighten me!” you replied with challenge in your voice.

But Craig didn’t back down. He only leant closer.

“I think you’re trying to make me jealous. I think you’re not over us. I think that deep down, you still want me. And you turned to your best friend as a rebound. But you’ll be tired of him in a couple of months.”

You shook your head, but your ex still went on.

“Look, I know that what I did was horrible, okay? I… Samantha was a mistake… but we could still have this. You and I, we… we were great together.”

You scoffed, taking a step back, shaking your head some more in amazement. The guy had balls, you had to give him that, at least.

“A mistake you’re about to celebrate your first anniversary with…” you replied, tone acidic and bearing no regrets for it.

“Y/N…”

“No! I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but you’re wrong, that’s for sure. I… you cheated on me! With my cousin! How could you possibly imagine that I would want to give you another chance?!”

He heaved a sigh, and you thought he would give in, but he didn’t, on the contrary. This was only the first round.

“So what? You’re bringing Andrew here and playing perfect couple just to get under my skin? To make me pay? To show me what I’ve lost?”

You looked for something to say, but couldn’t deny the plain truth.

“Because I already know what I’ve lost, okay?” Craig went on, tears shining in his eyes. “I know that. I don’t need you to pretend to be in love with someone else to see that.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could have walked away, but it felt good to let the truth out. A day spent telling nothing but lies, it was a relief to reveal the truth, even if it was but a fragment.

“You’re wrong. I love Andrew. In fact… I’ve loved him for years.”

He frowned at that, but you went on, a tear escaping your eyes that you didn’t even notice flowing down your cheek. You had been lying to yourself for a long time, pretending that all this made sense, that it was alright, that you were happy and content as Andrew’s friend. In truth, you were anything but happy, anything but content. And today, pretending to be his, pretending that he was yours… it only showed you more clearly that this was what you wanted. What you had always wanted. What you couldn’t have, perhaps, but what you needed.

It was a confession spoken to Craig, but made for you.

“I’ve been in love with Andrew for years. I’ve had relationships because… I wanted to forget him. Thought I could. Thought it was nothing but an infatuation, then nothing but a crush, and then nothing but a meaningless unrequited love that I would get over quickly. But the truth is, you were the band-aid, Craig. And he’s the one I’ve always wanted. And you know what? You’re right. Coming here with Andy today I… I wanted to come with him because I didn’t want to have to face you and Samantha on my own. Didn’t want to have to bear everybody’s stares and pity thinking I was the poor victim of a tragedy… And I wanted you to see that I was fine without you. That I deserved better than the way you treated me. That I… That I was worth keeping, and loving. But I… at the end of the day, if this afternoon has shown me anything, it’s that I don’t need you. I don’t want you. And I don’t give two fucks about you and Samantha. So… let’s be cordial, as we must, as you’re still part of the family for as long as you’ll be dating my cousin, but… I’m over you, Craig. I’m over all of this. And if there is one thing I want in this world, it’s Andy.”

Before Craig could say anything, before you could even process his reaction, you were storming out of the room. Or at least, you tried to. Because you had taken but a couple of steps towards the door, when Craig held you back, holding onto your wrist.

“Really? Is that how you feel?” he asked, clearly hurt, but also unmistakably angry. “I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you. You and Andy? I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. You’re faking it. You’re lying now and for what? To hurt me?”

You didn’t say anything, instead, you merely broke free. Walked out of the kitchen, angry and annoyed and not thinking straight but with a decision taken anyway…

“Andy?”

When you looked around, he wasn’t on the sofa anymore.

“Yes?”

You turned around again. He was right there, by the table, wet napkins in hand, as he had clearly been helping cleaning up the mess your ex had made, standing not too far from the door to the kitchen, your mother by his side while everyone was turning towards you.

He frowned slightly as you hurried towards him, making a bee line to reach him, not caring that everyone was staring at the two of you. Instead, you didn’t think, forgot about the world, focused your attention on Andrew and his unruly curls and the confusion in his hazel eyes, and the way his lips slightly parted as you approached. And then, you took his face in your hands, pulled him down and rose to your tiptoes to meet him halfway, and you kissed him.

You crashed your lips against his, nothing graceful in the gesture, but desperation pouring from every inch of you. You were taken aback though, by the quiet huff he let out, your brain finally kicking in again, and thinking that this was crazy, a terrible idea, and more than anything else, highly inappropriate…

… but Andrew quickly recovered from the initial shock, and before you could pull away and profusely apologise, he had dropped the napkins that hit the floor in a thud, and his arms were wrapping around your frame, pulling you to him. You felt his eyelashes brushing your skin as he closed his eyes, leaning into your kiss, moving his lips over yours to compliment your own movements. And if he was more graceful about it, softer than your rushed gesture, he poured such passion into the kiss that your knees grew weak, and you rested your weight on him, leaning into his chest.

It was over too soon, though, interrupted by the sound of someone – probably one of your parents, or your pain of an uncle – clearing their throat. Andrew was the one pulling away, clearing his throat as well as he took a step back, although one of his hands remained at your waist.

He was blushing when you opened your eyes. And you suddenly wanted to leave. To just go and disappear and pretend like you had not broken the best friendship you had ever had and that the man you loved would not hate you from now on for kissing him like that and that you had not humiliated yourself in front of your entire family…

But as you were about to speak, Craig was hissing from somewhere behind Andrew, making him turn around. Before his attention was pulled away from you, you noted the way Andrew was looking at you. Intensely, a little stunned too, like he wasn’t sure that it had happened, that you had truly kissed him, and yet, like he was searching for answers in your eyes…

But then he turned to face Craig. He had barely turned towards him, though, that your ex was grabbing Andrew by the collar, and pushing him against the nearest wall, Andrew’s hand leaving its resting spot on your hip in the process.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Craig shouted, the whole room too stunned to react while Andrew’s back collided with the wall, a hollow sound ensuing and making a couple of framed pictures shake with the strength of the impact.

“Get off me!” Andrew merely replied through his teeth, struggling to break free, but fighting had never been his strong suit…

“You fucking BASTARD!”

“Craig!”

The first people were finally reacting, hurrying to pull your ex away, but he kept them at bay, trying to keep on pushing Andrew against the wall.

“You were just waiting for your turn, you son of bitch! Dickhead! You were just waiting to get a chance to fuck that bitch!”

Andrew’s expression hardened, and this time, when he reached for Craig, it wasn’t to pull at his hands, but to grab the collar of your ex’s shirt and violently pull as well.

“Don’t you fucking dare insult her like that!” he growled, with such anger and threat, a tone you had never heard on his voice before.

“Both of you, stop!” your father ordered.

“Stop this! What are you doing?” you added, tugging at both their arms, but none of them seemed to care.

Instead, Craig went on, pushing on all of Andrew’s buttons…

“I can’t believe she did run straight into your bed like a whore…”

Before anyone could react, Andrew was pushing Craig away with so much force that he stumbled backwards and fell down.

For a second time, the whole room was too stunned to react, while Craig staggered back to his feet. Andrew moved away from the wall, and as your ex stood straighter again he was glaring at him, jaw tightly clenched. You had never seen so much wrath on his features before.

But it wasn’t over. Craig threw Andrew only one look before he was bending over and running to him, tackling him and making him fall back easily. You gasped at the loud sound of Andy’s head hitting the tiles.

Too stunned to move, Andrew didn’t even try to avoid Craig’s punch, and he got hit straight across the jaw. Thankfully, hands were then pulling Craig off of Andrew. You didn’t care though. You didn’t pay attention to your father and one of your aunts pushing Craig into the kitchen while shouting at him. You didn’t notice your cousin hurrying to join him, clearly worried. All you could do was to fall on your knees by Andrew’s side, holding onto his shoulders and gently shaking him while he blinked, clearly disoriented.

“Andy! Andy, you’re okay? Can you hear me?” you asked in a rush.

His unfocused gaze finally found you, and he blinked some more. You thought he was about to faint.

“Andy! Stay with me! Are you alright?”

Your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks. He took hold on your right wrist, touch firm and yet gentle still.

“Y/N…”

“You’re okay? Andy?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re sure? How’s your head? Do you feel dizzy?”

“A little bit. I’m okay though.”

“Really?”

Slowly, he nodded. Your mother appeared by your side, asked Andrew how he felt as well. His answer was to slowly sit up. He looked exhausted, all of a sudden, paler than usual, but there was no cut across the back of his head, merely the beginning of a bump.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

You helped him to his feet, your mother checking that he was unharmed too.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised, but your mother was quick to dismiss it all with a wave of her hand.

“It’s not your fault, dear. Let’s seat you down on the sofa for a moment.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine.”

Samantha walked out of the kitchen, crying, and you wondered why. Or actually, you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to stay for a minute longer in the same room as either her or Craig.

“Actually, I think we should go,” you interjected, and Andrew nodded.

“No, please… Craig is going to be kicked out, don’t worry about him,” your mother argued.

“No, really, I… I want to go home. Please, I want to go home.”

You were on the verge of tears, and so you turned towards the hallway, followed by your mother’s protests, along with some of your other relatives’ kind words. But you wanted to run now, disappear and leave all of them behind. You were tired of being looked at… you needed to be on your own for a while.

Meanwhile, Andrew was remaining silent. He only spoke to apologise once again to your family, clearly ashamed. You left before Craig could be let out of the kitchen, and were close to running to your car.

You climbed in, Andrew following suit in the passenger seat. You drove on, heading for home. You should have taken Andrew to his house, but you didn’t even think about it. The thought never came. You simply headed home, and Andrew didn’t protest, even though he obviously recognized the road you were taking.

Only when you arrived before your building did you realise that Andrew was still here, the ride had been filled with nothing but silence.

“You should come in, I’ll take a look at your jaw.”

Indeed, a bruise was forming under his beard, colouring the sharp angle of his face with yellowish hues.

“It’s nothing. Nothing broken.”

“Please, come in. Please…”

You stared at each other for a moment, but he yielded, nodding, at long last. You waited for him to climb out of your small car, and he held on the door before closing it, wincing as he unfolded his tall frame.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just… a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“You need to go to the hospital?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it was just a punch.”

“And a hit on the head.”

“Thick skull. Don’t you know that already?”

You both chuckled, while Andrew followed you inside your home.

You rid yourself of your shoes and coat, aiming straight for the freezer to get a bag of frozen vegetables there. Andrew was by your side, leaning against the kitchen counter. He didn’t protest when you gently rested the cold bag against his jaw, merely winced at the sharp sensation.

“Thanks,” he breathed, staring right into your eyes.

But you didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, your world got blurred by tears.

“You… are you angry?”

But Andrew shook his head.

“No. No, I’m not angry.”

“You should be.”

“Probably.”

“You… you had to lie all day long because of me, and then I kissed you without your permission and you probably hated that, and then you punched Craig, and you got punched in the face… all because of me. I’m a lousy friend.”

“The worst,” he corrected you, but there was a tender smile on his lips.

“You should be angry.”

“I’m not.”

“You should hate me.”

“I don’t. And I…”

A pause. He seemed out of breath for a second, wetted his lips, before he went on.

“I liked it, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your kiss. I… I didn’t hate it. I liked it. A lot.”

Your eyes merely grew round, and Andrew looked away, averting his eyes. He heaved a painful sigh.

“I told you this would be a terrible idea,” he pointed out.

“I know.”

“And you didn’t listen.”

“I know.”

“And now… what are we going to do now?”

You had no answer to give, you were plagued by this same question yourself.

A moment of silence, suspended in mid-air. Outside, the quiet of cars passing by and the wind flowing through branches and pushing clouds around. Inside, the cold of the bag making your fingers ache, a welcomed burn to distract your busy mind, while Andrew was taking a sharp inhale.

“I heard you, you know?”

His voice was quiet, low and deeper than usual. He blinked, focusing on you again, trapping you into these hazel orbs you adored.

“When you talked to Craig, in the kitchen. I heard you. I was right behind the door.”

“That’s creepy,” you tried to deflect the impact of that revelation with humour, speaking the silliest thing you could have uttered. It still made Andrew break, laughing despite his best effort not to.

“I was sent to put the napkins away. But then… I heard you. Didn’t interrupt. Wanted to know what you would say.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, the ghost of a frown forming a crease across his brow.

“Did you mean any of that? Or was that just… one more lie?”

The bag of vegetables slipped from the hold of your numb fingers and fell, but Andrew stopped you as you reached for it, holding your face in his hands to force you to look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? About me? About us?”

“What does it matter?”

He knitted his brows, tightening his hold on you. You noticed the way his breathing stuttered, grew shallower.

“What does it matter?” he repeated. “Are you serious?”

“You don’t feel that for me. So… what does it matter?”

He let out a shaky breath, almost a sigh.

“Why did you kiss me like that, though?” you asked, tears shining in your eyes but you were determined not to let them fall. Your tone was almost bitter as you questioned him. “On the couch. You kissed my cheek… God, that was so much more than what it should have been…”

He blinked, trying to read behind your words for their true meaning. He didn’t find it, reached in the dark and his hand closed on nothing.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I just… I didn’t mean to.”

“Why did you kiss me like that? That was so out of line…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“Why did you do that?”

Slowly, he shook his head. He looked almost stunned by your question.

“You really don’t know?”

He leaned back against the counter, and pulled you with him, until your faces were so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“You really don’t know?” he asked again.

“I don’t know…”

“Did you mean it? When you said… when you said that you wanted me. Did you mean it?”

“I said a bit more than that…”

“I’m not foolish enough to hope for the rest to be true as well, I’ll settle for a ‘I vaguely like you’.”

It was your turn to chuckle even if you didn’t want to.

“If I answer earnestly, you’re going to hate me for wanting more and breaking our friendship.”

He shook his head, leaning closer, until his forehead rested upon yours. At long last, you reached up, holding on his forearms for support, and to make sure he wouldn’t go away…

You heard him wincing as he spoke, heard it in the way his voice was shaking. You had closed your eyes, and so had he.

“Let’s be honest with each other. Please… I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of denying the way I feel for you, or what I want when it comes to you, I’m tired… I’m tired of letting you slip away. So, please. Please be honest with me. I can’t keep on holding onto some mad hope. I can’t keep on pretending that I don’t… That I…”

He struggled to breathe for a moment, you tightened your hold on his arms but remained there, eyes closed, leaning against him.

“I kissed you like that because… because I wanted to. Because I let myself slip into yielding. Because I couldn’t help it. Because… because it hurt so fucking much to hold you like this, to be close to you in this way, to act the way I have longed for for years under some pretence, under a mask, as a lie… when it wasn’t a lie. When I… I wish it wasn’t a lie. I wish it could be for real.”

He sighed, long and painful and full of hurt, and you reached up to kiss him before he could say anything else.

If your first kiss at your parents’ house had been passionate and quite messy because of it, this one was slow, taking its time to learn each other’s taste and lips and mouth. You had no idea for how long you kissed, all you knew was that, while it lasted, there was nothing else in the world but Andrew kissing you; and that when it ended, you longed for it to start again.

“I meant it,” you whispered, bearing your soul in a confession that was so raw you couldn’t summon anything but a murmur, eyes still closed and lips barely parted from his. “What I told Craig, I meant it. I mean it. I want you… And this whole day has been torture for me too.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t either…”

“I almost said it a thousand times. Never had the courage.”

“Please… have it now, and kiss me again.”

He obliged, without protest or hesitation. You were lost in his embrace all over again, and rested your head against his chest when you eventually pulled away.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice muffled by his cardigan.

“We could go on a date.”

“I want to be wined and dined, just so you know,” you joked, making him chuckle.

“Duly noted. Anything else, for her ladyship?”

“I don’t know… I’m… I’m so fucking scared, to be honest.”

“Because everything is going to change?”

“Because it might not work out. Because… you might leave me, and I might give up and a thousand things can go wrong, and…”

But he softly shushed you, running his hand through your hair.

"Look, I… I’m not going to pretend that I’m not scared to bits by this. I feel like we have so much to lose. But I… I want you so badly. I want you so much, I’m ready to take the risk. We can take things slow, we don’t have to rush through this. I just… I feel like I'm truly myself when I'm with you. I want to be myself when I'm with you. So now, if you're scared, don't call it love yet. But whatever you want to call it, it's incredible, and I'm not going to give up on this. I'm not going to give up on us. I can promise you that, at least. That I’m ready to fight for this, for you.”

He was surprised by your chuckle.

“You’ve fought already. If you can call it a fight…”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean… he was about to seriously kick my arse but I did have a few seconds of manly glory there.”

You both laughed at that, the tension receding as a result.

“Perhaps, at the end of the day, that plan of mine wasn’t so bad,” you joked, making Andrew laugh harder, shaking his head.

“It was definitely a terrible idea. The worst idea you’ve ever had. Look at all the trouble it has caused!”

“Are you calling me trouble?”

“Of the worst kind.”

You were happy about this kind of trouble though, as Andrew was leaning down to kiss you once more, holding you close, unwilling to ever let go.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x yn #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #hozier oneshot #oneshot

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Another Moment's Silence

02/24/2023

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,463

Warnings: rpf, oral (f receiving), mentions of future sexy times

Summary: As soon as the sun rises the next morning, Andrew makes do on his promise from the night before.

A/N: This is the sequel to Moment's Silence, but can be read as a standalone as well.

Picture by Alice Tatham via Instagram

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

She was floating, adrift somewhere in the no-man’s-land between sleeping and waking. She liked it here. It was peaceful and calm. Here, she was the master of her fate, weaving the thread of her own story far from the disenchanting dominion of reality or the erratic rule of her subconscious. 

But then, without warning, a pair of hands found her and began to pull her from that beloved place. She didn’t hesitate to make her displeasure known in an irritated grunt. Still, they were persistent, unrelenting in their caress until they finally succeeded in reminding her of the one ingredient that made her life irresistibly sweet, that she loved even more than the levity of this place.

“Andrew.”

The whisper of his name turned into a moan as his fingers continued their way along her thighs. In her drowsy state she hardly noticed how they were opening her up, spreading her legs further apart with every inch they ventured closer to their destination, towards the scorching heat that awaited at the apex of her thighs. 

Tired hands, almost too weak in the afterglow of slumber, fisted the sheets, tugging clumsily until they revealed a shock of chestnut hair. He was right there, in between her thighs, where she had imagined him the night before. A fantasy come to life. The most beautiful fantasy of them all, almost painfully so when he beamed at her, his eyes sparkling brightly in the dim light.

“Sunrise,” he whispered in his raspy morning voice before his lips pressed into her skin. 

It was only now that she noticed the first light of day filling the room, painting everything in a surreal sheen of golden hues. For a second she let the light distract her, marvelling at the ethereal colouring of her familiar surroundings, but he was quick to capture her attention again. At first there was merely the slight tickle of his beard, teasing her tenderly, but then his nails raked along the inside of her thighs and she was lost. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she heard him chuckle, the scorching air that left his body mixing with the heat that rose from her sex. His mouth so torturously close, yet not close enough. 

He seemed to agree, his fingers told her as much as they found the dark cotton that shielded her from him. Andrew took his time, letting them glide up and down the length of her mound repeatedly. There was no room for hurry in the worship of his woman. 

Worship, torture, in this moment it was all the same to her. She longed to feel him, feel his soft mouth upon her, thorough tongue tending to her ever-growing need. He must have sensed her increasing impatience, or maybe he was losing patience himself. It wasn’t important which exactly it was, the result was equally appealing and gladly received. 

While he kept on teasing her, his free hand snaked around the back of her thigh until she could feel its warmth seeping through the fabric of her panties. For a second she thought he was simply locking her in place. A habit, to keep her from squirming and wriggling away and at the same time to be able to pull her closer, to feast on her at whim. But then she could feel his fingers hook underneath the rim of her panties and drag them aside to expose her to his gaze. 

Andrew hummed in appreciation upon the sight in front of him and while his lips began to move closer, his eyes found her again. They were dark and intense, gleaming in anticipation of her sweet taste and the pleasure he was about to inflict. She could have marvelled at him forever, and at the spark that flitted across his orbs of emerald green, but when his tongue finally found her, her eyes closed, her head sinking back into the pillows with a moan.

She didn’t believe in heaven, but this right here, being alone with her Andrew, joined in sweet devotion, was as close as she would ever get. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, skilled tongue swirling and lapping, applying just the right pressure, in just the right rhythm. 

Obviously he wasn’t satisfied yet with the sweet melody of sighs and moans he coaxed from her, deft fingers using her incapacitated state to glide up her body underneath her shirt and find her breast to tease her pebbled bud mercilessly. 

It didn’t take long for him to join in on her song. He was humming against her as he indulged in the honeyed nectar he had aroused. A sweet song of worship that told of the pleasure her rapture brought him. A rush of heat flooded her core as she recalled the unholy noises he always made when she came on his tongue, how fervently he lapped up her juices in the aftershocks of her high, and how, when he crawled up her body soon after, kissing his way along her sizzling skin to her lips, she felt the unmistakeable proof of his arousal press against her still pulsing womanhood.

“Andrew.”

She almost choked on her own words when she breathed out his name. It wasn’t the only thing she had been wanting to say, but he knew already that she was close, she could tell from the drawn out grunt he unleashed upon her already quivering heat. 

The unearthly vibration surged through her, leaving her desperate as an even greater want to touch him, to see him, to be one with him surfaced from deep within her. With a gasp her eyes flew open, fixing on his once more and she wasn’t surprised in the least to find his hand had abandoned its endeavour on her breast and lay already waiting on her stomach. Gratefully she accepted his offer, grabbing his hand just in time before the first shockwaves took hold of her. She keened his name, hips rising from the mattress on their own to press further into him the same time her free hand dove into his locks to secure him right where he was. And still he had the audacity to raise his eyebrows in a silent challenge.

It was the last thing she saw before her lids fell closed again and colours began to burst on their inside. She was rising, sinking and floating weightlessly at the same time in a rhapsody of pure euphoria. 

Time and space were concepts unknown in the state she was in, and so she only realised where and when she was as she felt the faint touch of his lips on her stomach. Slowly it became more distinct as his mouth wandered along the path she had remembered earlier and soon she felt his familiar form hovering above her. 

At first there was his hair, encompassing both their faces like a curtain, then the heady scent of her arousal that still stuck to his lips and beard like an exquisite perfume and finally his lips, featherlight on her own, but just for a second before she opened up to him and welcomed him inside so he could claim the reward for his ministrations properly. 

“Will you make love to me, Andy?”

She felt his hardened length twitch against her and she wouldn’t have needed to open her eyes to know that he had a mischievous smirk sitting on his lips.

“I will. But let’s watch the sunrise first. It’s far too beautiful to be ignored.”

Before she could protest, he was gone, leaving behind an unpleasant whiff of cool morning air that pebbled her skin in goosebumps. But as soon as he had settled in behind her, he pulled her close against the warmth of his chest and she was appeased. For the moment.

“And then?”

“Then,” he paused, feigning to think hard about her question, “then we could go back to sleep for a bit. Apparently I have a few nights of sleep to catch up on.”

“That you do.” She paused for a second as well. The rules of their little game demanded it. It was only when her hand found his above her stomach and their fingers were neatly intertwined that she asked once more, “And then?”

She could still feel the vibration of his deep chuckle as his lips found her neck. “Then I will make sweet love to you.” Kiss. “And then again.” Kiss. “And again.” Kiss. “Until you are fully sated, my love.”

An unparalleled warmth spread through her whole body as his words began to sink in completely. Her pleasure was his priority and privilege. It had been like that from the very beginning and she knew with all her heart that it always would be. 

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier rpf #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #another moment's silence

[yaksha-lover]

“malleus would just find a way to extend your lifespan.”

what if he didn’t, though. what if it didn’t matter. what if he knew how few years you have left in comparison to his own, and chose to love you anyway. no conditions. no extension of life. no easy way out.

because love is a commitment to him; one to joy and one to suffering, both of which he has accepted as consequences to his choice.

because it doesn’t truly matter; he knows humans are fragile, even the few decades most of them live for aren’t guaranteed. but the same is true of beastmen, of merpeople, and of fae.

the temporal nature of your life and your love only makes him more certain as to his feelings; he’d face a lifetime of ache for a fraction of time bathing in your sunlight.

#he’d go through it again #just to hold you for a minute #sigh hozier / dante’s inferno #you have done it again #just returning to say this and leaving again for a bit 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ #twst x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #twst #twisted wonderland #k.concepts

[delizbin]

You know, he likes her better without all that makeup on

#if anyone knows fanfic where haymitch is flabbergasted by seeing effie without makeup on for the first time please send them my way #I’m just a sucker for haymitch realizing he’s a fool and that was standing before a goddess this whole time #which is with and without makeup on anyway #but he’s just … you know… haymitch #anyway #these two are going to be the death of me #whoever keeps up with the strawberry blonde hair effie trope… i like you #y’all #i’m listening to wasteland!baby by hozier while drawing this #listen to it for a complete experience #fanart #hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy

[martiniluvr]

18+ minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“honey, I laugh when it sinks in / a pillar I am of pride / scarcely can speak for my thinking / what you’d do to me tonight”

there are a million thoughts running through jason todd’s mind as he fucks you — how good you feel around him, how pretty you look with one of your legs over his shoulder, how obscene your moans sound echoing off the bedroom walls — but his favourite is always the way you look when he first sinks into you.

the first few times you fucked him, all he could look at was the sight of your greedy pussy taking him in, transfixed by your warmth and the way he stretched you. after those first few times, however, he thought to look at your face instead, and it was like the planet shifted on its axis. he found your eyes where his had been moments prior, fixed to his cock as it breached your tight hole. he took in your expression, a mixture of apprehension and lust and anticipation, and found a moment to pause and admire your beauty. he noticed the way your lips parted as he inched into you, and when he finally bottomed out, he saw the way your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned his name, pride swelling in his chest. he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“what?” you whined, eyes opening to meet his as he slowly unsheathed himself from you.

“nothin’, ma,” he breathed, a cocky grin still plastered on his face. you gasped as he thrust back into you. “just keep takin’ me like that.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood smut #red hood imagine #jason todd imagine #dc comics #batman #jason todd x hozier world domination