#andrew hozier byrne parted fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deathmybride · 7 months ago

Text

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ the earth from a distance | andrew hozier-byrne *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ship: andrew hozier-byrne x fem!oc

warnings: references to death, alienation

summary: Gráinne moved to Dunbur to escape her past, to live quietly and write, and wallow in all the grief she had acquired. Andrew has other ideas…

word count: 3663

a/n: dedicated to my beloved @ath3nasgard3n who came with me to see bogfather in concert and held me while I SOBBED to Abstract (Psychopomp), even though she had never listened to hozier before that night.

Also, the setting for this fic is the Old Wicklow Head Lighthouse in Dunbur, which is now a BnB that you can stay in.

How to pronounce Gráinne and Máire

It began, as all good love stories should, with the death of a stranger. This time, it was the old lady who lived in the disused lighthouse by the battered shore, dying as the leaves turned to copper. I had lived in Dunbur for almost a year by that time, I never saw the heather part for any cars that might wind along the gravel path to the sea- but, then again, I was not watching for them. Either way, Lady, my poor MX5 was not built for such terrain and I could feel the scrub catching in sods under her chassis all the way down to the grass flat that had been designated as parking.

My gumboots squelched on the sopping turf as I hopped out, squinting at the pallid sun that tried so hard to reach me through the permanent duvet of cloud. It was a nice day by County Wicklow standards, no rain, minimal mist, and nearly, nearly sunny. The only reason to rug up was the damn wind billowing off the sea. I caught a gaggle of county gents eyeing Lady with appraisal while their wives loaded their cars with salvaged kitsch.

“She’s a beauty.” Mr Mulligan, the butcher- the most confident of the group- spoke up, peering out from beneath his tweed flat-cap with a face far too chipper for an estate sale.

“Ta.” I nod in thanks. “She’s old enough to order a pint.”

“What year?”

“‘99.”

“Ah, excellent year.” He said. I supposed it would be true if cars were like wine. “You’re a fine driver to get her up the back ass of nowhere, o’er all this shite.”

“Ta, just dumb luck, I reckon.” I moved to step away, but he cut in closer.

“We got ‘em lil’ cutlets in at the shop, I know they’re your favourite.”

“Ah, ya can’t fuckin’ get a word outta this one without him sellin’ ya some gobshite.” Mr Ronan, the newsagent spoke up with a roll of his eyes.

“Ahh, rev up ya bastard!” He aimed a light smack at his friend, and soon they were in playful fighting stances.

I took their rough-housing as my cue to retreat, finding their high spirits quite macabre and feeling grateful that the old lady’s family could not see them over the shallow rise.

The sale itself took place over the hillock and down in a scoop of grass a little ways away from the lighthouse. The townsfolk picked over fold-out camping tables laden with knickknacks and books, and a sparse supply of farm equipment and furniture on tarps nearby. I resolved to steer clear of there since Lady wasn’t known for her boot space, and I did not feel like calling in a favour from someone with an appropriate vehicle for the countryside. There was a dull hum of conversation hanging over the scene, and as I approached I must have murmured ‘hello’ and forced a smile for half a dozen of my regular customers. A few young men in black coats seemed to be dealing with the sales; grandsons of the deceased, I assumed.

I started with the books, finding a Folio Society copy of The Divine Comedy for a relative bargain,and- to my surprise- a few of Anne Rice’s Christian novels. I had little luck with anything else and was about to give up and go home, but something more caught my eye. It was a teddy bear with fur like lush, green grass. It had a curious face, with dark eyes and wide, brown nose that matched the brown on its paw-pads. Around its neck were four bells on a chain, each a different autumnal shade. Immediately taken by him, and spying a toddler staring at him with hungry eyes and grubby hands, I decided I couldn’t live without him and snaffled him up. The bells jingled pleasantly, and the fur was silky in my hands.

“Alright?” Someone sidled in beside me- Sue- the dumpy older woman who worked at the dingy smoke-and-gun shop down the street from the cafe where I worked.

“Hi.”

“Quer’n windy out, ain’t it?” Her eye contact was intense and probing.

“Aye.” I kept it brief. Once you got her talking, she wasn’t likely to stop.

“Cute.” She pointed to the bear, raising her brows. Her curiosity read phoney. “Bairns at home?”

“No. He’s for me.” I giggled in embarrassment, but she did not appear to be listening.

“Look at all this shite, would ya?” She picked up an admittedly hideous angelfish paperweight made of blue glass, sneering. “Hard to imagine such a proper woman would fill her gaff with this much cheap junk.”

“Mm.”

“You couldn’t move in that place for all the stuff.”

“You been in there, then?” Shit, she’s got me asking questions...

“Well,” She fiddled with her straw-blonde pageboy hair, suddenly self-conscious. “No, but you know that’s what its like, I mean look at it all.”

“Mmhm.”

“You know, I sold her fags.” She lifted her chin, prideful, yet almost disapproving. “Seven packs, each week on a Tuesday.”

“Maybe that’s what got her.”

I regretted the words as soon as they escaped my mouth, smiled tightly at her aghast expression and made a run for one of the young men dressed in black. This was a sad town, I reminded myself. A sad town, with sad gossip, and sad old ladies who die alone in bleak, majestic places full of items haunted by memory. What do I care if Sue starts spreading rumours?

The man served me quickly, seeming distracted. I wished him well and expressed sorrow for his loss. He thanked me in a robotic way, as if this were the hundredth time he was hearing those sentiments that day, and gave me a paper bag for my books. I took my cue to leave, hiking up over the rise to my car. As I went, my eyes strayed to the lighthouse. It burst up from the earth like the trunk of an enormous tree, though it lacked the natural curvature of wood, instead taking the form of an eight-sided prism. Ringed around the top was a deck with a railing just visible from such a distance. My feet slowed, suddenly intrigued by the memory held within the stones. I cast about a furtive glance. Nobody around, and all the patrons out of sight behind the slope. A closer look couldn’t hurt anyone, could it? Without another thought, I made a break for it, trying to walk swiftly without appearing to be hurrying in case the eyes I felt boring into me were not just a figment of my active imagination.

The gorse and heather grew all the way up to the base of the structure, which stretched high up above me in six tapering sections. I tilted my head back, I shielding my eyes against the glare. It was so tall, yet not even the domed top could scratch at the clouds. It was too windy to see the mist settle low enough to swallow the top, yet the idea of such a sight was glorious in my mind’s eye, like a tower from a fable. I wandered around the base, picking my way across the brush, until I came to the door. It was enormous and fortified, and appeared to be locked. I pushed on it hard, expecting nothing, but it swung in with a creak and a great feeling of resistance.

The surprise drew a gasp from my lips as I slipped inside. The inside seemed tiny in comparison, with low ceilings yellowed by years of indoor smoking. The inner walls were rounded, rough with crackled plaster and faded yellow wallpaper hanging off in sloughs. The air smelt of mildew and damp, and I noticed that the window at the rear was open in an attempt to flush out the smell. I crept over, laying my feet lightly. There was a book laying face down on the sill and a pair of reading glasses folded beside them. A chill ran over me at the realisation that these people may still be using this space.

Get out of here Gráinne, what the hell are you doing? I scolded myself internally as I abandoned my package of books and made a beeline for the stairs. You stupid woman, they’re gonna catch you! Sue’s probably told them all you spit on their grandmother’s memory by now!

The stairs ran openly up the walls of each floor, and I found myself gripping the iron railing as I climbed. They creaked and popped as they took my weight, the sound amplified by the empty stone interior. I saw that the second and third floors were as empty as the first, each showing signs of water damage and decay. The fourth floor was home to a frankly enormous four-poster bed that took up almost the whole room. The fifth floor appeared to be a bathroom, while the sixth was a kitchen. I was out of breath by the time I reached the top, and I had counted 109 steps from the ground floor.

As I bent over, holding my knees while I caught my breath, I noticed that in the corner there was a pull-down attic style door that hung open invitingly. It looked a tad rickety, and the fact that it was open at all should have read as suspicious, but the climb had taken a good five minutes and I’d be damned if I would leave without seeing the view from the very top. Gritting my teeth, I took the final climb, white-knuckling the rail as I popped my head out into the brightness. The wind howled against my ears, cutting through my beanie. I blinked my dry eyes against it, peering through my lashes and rubbing furiously against the sting.

“Hello, miss.”

Such a cheerful voice had never struck such terror in a person. A shock like falling galvanised my blood and before I had time to register what had happened, I had sprinted backwards down the stairs and stood frozen at the bottom. A beat passed, then he appeared, kneeling at the top of the trap door like a gargoyle: a young man with a soft face and a nest of dark hair poking out from beneath a knitted beanie. He seemed to be suppressing a smile, and when he spoke, it burst across his face with a giggly laugh.

“I see you down there.”

“Sorry!” I blurted out. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” He put a hand over his heart in an old-fashioned gesture of sincerity. “I didn’t mean to frighten ya.”

“N-no, I shouldn’t be up here anyway, I…”

“Well, strictly speaking, no you shouldn’t. But I left the door unlocked, and if it wasn’t you, it would be someone else.” He tilted his head, offering a kinder smile than I deserved. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I-” I took a deep breath, trying to swallow my stutter. “Thank you for… understanding.”

He shrugged.

“S’alright. People get curious. It’s not like there’s much left to steal, anyways. Unless you think you can get that bed frame down the stairs.”

“I-I don’t think I could, no.” A nervous giggle found its way into my voice.

“Alas, neither can the movers. She’s a beauty though, ain’t she? Though I think I’ll have to burn some sage before I sleep in it. I’m not the creepiest thing in this place, I’ll tell you what. Banshees and spooks in every corner.” He seemed amused at my wide-eyed confusion. “You may need to sage the bear too. I think I see Aunt Máire’s ghost peepin’ out through its beady eyes.”

“Right…” He raised an eyebrow as I held the bear close to my chest.

“Sorry, I’m just messin.’”

“I know.” I said quickly, taking a tentative step back, eyeing the stairs. “Well, I’m gonna…”

“What? You’re not coming up?”

“I-I shouldn’t. I’ve already basically broken in.”

“Nonsense.” He shook his head, his smile almost exasperated. “You’ve climbed all this way, surely come out and have a look. I don’t mind, I promise. I’m invitin’ ya.”

In that moment it occurred to me that this was a stranger- albeit a kindly and handsome one, but a stranger nonetheless- and we were in a very secluded spot. He could be anyone. He could want anything. I felt my phone pressing on my leg from my jeans pocket. He put his hand up in surrender.

“I won’t twist your arm about it, but the door is open if you like. I’ll let you get on, or would you like me to walk you back down?”

“No.” I left myself no more time to think on it. After all, it was the middle of the day, and the folk at the sale could see us standing by the railing. “I’ll come up. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

He moved aside obligingly, offering a hand to help me up. It seemed rude not to accept such an offering, and I could not say I regretted it. His hands were huge and soft, his grip firm but gentle. He kept hold of me for a beat longer than he needed, meeting my gaze with eyes narrowed against the glare. He was gorgeous up close, with down turned moss-green eyes that resembled those of a creature far older than any human, half hidden beneath thick, dark lashes. He smiled as he stood up, and as my stare dropped to his cherub lips I noticed his close cropped beard was auburn in the watery sunlight. He rose up, and up, and up, and soon he was towering over me like a beech tree.

“Wow, you’re tall.” I had to shout over the roaring wind.

He laughed. A husky sound that made his shoulders shake.

“Aw, and you’re such a tiny ting, I feel like I owe you a couple inches.” Instantly, he blushed. “That’s not what I- uh- oh, forget it.”

He tore off his beanie and buried his face in it. Bubbling up from the depths of me, for reasons unknown, was some of my old sense of humour.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Ugh, inappropriate, missy!” He swatted at me with his beanie, then sniffed in mock offence. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Hey! You’re the one who started on about all your inches…”

“And I do have a few.”

“See what I mean? Unbelievable.”

He rolled his eyes, then contained himself no longer and let loose his infectious laughter. Soon enough, I was in bits. When we could both hold a straight face, he leaned in and offered me a handshake.

“I’m Andrew, by the way.”

“Gráinne.”

“Gráinne” He leaned in as he spoke, the sound softening as it passed through his mouth. The ‘r’ rolled gently like the crest of a wave into the breathy final syllable, and the name I once found so masculine and harsh sounded like a prayer to my ears. “Borrowed name for an English girl.”

“Not borrowed,” I sniffed, suddenly protective of the name I once considered an unflattering mouthful, and embarrassed at my obvious lack of an accent. “I’m a quarter Irish on my father’s side, if you believe in splitting yourself into fractions. It’s my great grandmother’s name.”

“I apologise for my rudeness.” Again, he put his hand on his heart. I had to stand close to hear his soft tone as the gale whipped my face. “I was only surprised. Gráinne isn’t such a common name these days, which is a shame ‘cause I find it quite beautiful. Do you speak any Gaeilge?”

I shook my head, heat marring my cheeks.

“If you fancy learning, I’m your man. These courses…” He shook his head. “They teach you how to speak it, but they can’t help you with the feeling.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” I would be lying to myself if I denied the thrill of excitement I felt at the prospect of getting to know him in some small way.

“I certainly hope so.” He took a step back and gestured broadly. “Such a view is surely incentive enough.”

I looked around, realising that in my fascination with this sprite of a man, I had failed to take in my surroundings. One one side, the prairie hills rolled gently out toward the horizon, marbled in a thousand shades of green, brown, bronze, even pink and yellow where the gorse and wildflowers grew dense through the grass. Clusters of trees and scrub broke up the smooth flow of the turf, crosshatched with paths carved out by hares and foxes. Further out, I saw a sparse gathering of cottages, and an ivory freckling of sheep over the surrounding hillside.

We wandered the circumference of the deck, looking down first upon the rows of reliable utes, and one fragile sports car; then, at the people milling around the tables like tiny crabs on a beached porpoise. Finally, we regarded the stark, white shape of the new lighthouse and control centre; unnatural, yet homely against the shore. Down there, the brilliant tapestry of colour gave way to grey stone that formed jutting structures along the shore, growing smaller and smaller until they reached the small stretch of beach that must have been made from gravel, or even coarse sand. The sea there was deep grey, roiling with pale breakers that threw up jets of foam as they crashed against the rocks. Above the water, yet still strangely beneath us, grey gulls wheeled on the wild wind. Their cries carried over the roar of the sea, reaching us on a breath of sharp, briny air. I inhaled deeply, feeling the spirit of this ancient place come into me, cold and fresh.

“It is… beautiful. Do you mean you’d teach me up here?”

“If it was a bit less windy, yeah.” He scrunched his nose. “Otherwise, I’m renovating the kitchen in the next few weeks. Once its done up and not so decrepit we could use that.”

“So, this really is your place, then?”

“Aye. And about a hundred acres worth of peninsula. The workers at the new lighthouse have right of way, of course, but whatever. It’s a good deal.”

“Wow,” I allowed myself an awed gasp. “You inherited all that?”

“Well, my cousins did.” He itched the back of his neck, as if about to confess to an embarrassing fact. “They were gonna put it on the market and split the money, so I said I’d buy it sight unseen if they come down to help me clear out all the stuff.”

“Wow. How can you afford all that as such a young age?”

“I’m older than I look.” He admitted with an awkward laugh. “But younger than my soul, ma says.”

“You’ve been here a few time before?”

“More’n a few, I’d wager.” He turned his glittering eyes to me. “You don’t seem new either. We’ve probably met before, once upon a time.”

“You’d think I’d remember someone like you.”

“Ah, I’d say the same about you.” I did not miss the redness on his cheeks. “Memory is a fickle thing. Anyway, I can afford this place because I lead a charmed life. I work hard, yeah, but luck has so much to do with it. You collect your share of four-leafed clovers growin’ up ‘round here.”

“You’re from Dunbur?”

“Newcastle, up the coast a ways.”

“I might have driven through on my way to Dublin.”

“Might’ve.” He checked his watch. “Sorry, I better get back to the vultures.”

He strode over to the stairwell, and I took it as my cue to follow.

“Oh, you can stay up there as long as you like.” He assured me. “Just make sure you lock the door on the way out.”

“Oh, no, I better go home myself. Dinner to cook, laundry to do…”

“It never ends, does it?”

“Mm-mm.”

We made our way down, moving quickly as he took two stairs at a time. He reached the ground before me, but I found him waiting for me with an amused look on his beautiful face and my book bag under his arm.

“Sorry, I forgot about your poor, tiny legs.”

“Rude.” I tried to take my bag from him, but he was already digging through it.

“What have we got in here… The Anne Rice novels, very nice, and oh! The Divine Comedy! Have you read it before?”

“No, never.”

“You’ve got to.” He handed it over with gravitas. “Do not let this gather dust. Read it, it’ll change your life.”

“I will.”

“Good.” He glanced over his shoulder as we stepped outside, pulling the enormous door closed behind him. “Alright, I’ve gotta run, but it’s been lovely to meet you.”

“You too.” I was about to let him go, but I wanted to see him for just a moment longer before he dissolved like mist. “Oh, Andrew?”

“Mm?”

“I’m… sorry, for your loss.”

“Thank you, but I never really knew her. She was the black sheep of the family, a title I’m happy to inherit. One day, I’ll tell you all about it.” Gently, he tapped my elbow with the back of his hand, a gesture that set my skin alight. “I’ll see ya round, Gráinne.”

“Bye.”

He waved as he left, the ever present smile still lingering on his lips. He turned to me again when he reached the crest of the hill and waved once more. I waved back, and when he disappeared over the rise, I bounded over to watch him walk away. One more time, he turned, as if he sensed me watching, and lifted his hand over his head.

“Gráinne.” I whispered, trying to match his lilting cadence. “Gráinne, Gráinne…”

I knew then that my name would never sound as sweet again, and wondered how much more exquisite it would be were it to pass from those budded lips in a sigh of bliss.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #unreal unearth #abstract psychopomp

47 notes · View notes

bheegibilli-studioghibli · 1 year ago

Note

I love your writing so much!!!

Could you maybe write where hozier and you just get engaged or maybe finally get married and its the most sweetest thing? Maybe smutty??

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x gn!reader

Summary: Andrew plans out his proposal to you, meticulously laying it out to make sure it’s perfect. And it is.

Content Warning: language (slightly), mostly just a diabetic amount of fluff, use of y/n (i tried to avoid it but it was necessary here)

A/N: oh my god hey, thank you for the request! I made this fic centred more so around them getting engaged and around the proposal, I hope that’s okay. Also, this is just tooth ache sweet fluff, the smut would’ve made it too long. Maybe I can write a part two? 👀

Hydrangeas. You notice the hydrangeas sitting at the dining table, they grab your attention since they are, after all, your favourite flowers but you almost never get them to put up in the house.

“Andrew?” You call out to him, smiling at the thought that he bought them for you.

“Yeah, hun. Oh shit you weren’t supposed to see those” he laughs trying to cover up his complete lack of subtlety.

“Did you get them for me?” You press them against your chest trying hard to suppress the stupid grin spreading over your face.

“No I got them for the poltergeist in the attic. Of course I got them for you” he crosses the room making his way to your side, he held your waist in his arms pressing a kiss atop your head.

“Why though? I mean it’s just a Wednesday” you couldn’t help but be a little surprised. Andrew loved serenading you, whispering the most heart flutteringly beautiful words in your ears and even cooking for you, he treated you like you had descended from the heavens. But flowers were new, it felt nice though the sheer surprise of it all.

“I just wanted to get them for you, I never get you flowers and I know you don’t particularly like receiving them but I saw them today and I thought if you” he gazes down at you, stroking your cheek with his free hand.

“Andrewwww, thank you they’re lovely. I love it” you’re usually a very confident person and you pride yourself in that, but things like these make you bashful to no end. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent. Always smells like home.

You feel his chest echo with his laugh, “oh come on it’s nothing” he pulls your head away, cupping the sides of it to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

“I should find a vase for them, clearly you’ve done a terrible job at hiding them” you tease.

“Okay okay, I wasn’t expecting you to come in here. I do pride myself in my secrecy, thank you very much” he chuckles as you entered the other room to look for a vase.

Shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The flowers were supposed to be a surprise, well not the flowers per se but they were supposed to aid the process of revealing a bigger surprise, the ring. He had been feeling the comforting weight of the ring in his breast pocket for a few days now, not trusting himself to keep it anywhere but right next to his heart. After months of thoroughly coming up with all the possible ways he could propose to you, he has finally crafted a plan. Meticulously going over every detail, to have it be perfect. Today was the day. He was going to ask you to be his. Forever, if you’ll have him.

He had unequivocally been yours since the day you started your courtship, but there was nothing he desired more than to be your husband. It made sense, it made perfect sense.

And he wanted to you to feel the depths of his emotions. How every fibre of his felt intrinsically connected to yours. It had to be perfect, nothing short of it. But he had already fucked up, the flowers.

It’s fine, maybe he can get the ceiling covered in hydrangeas instead. A bouquet? What was he thinking in the first place, it had to be more special than that. He had called up all your friends and his to help him set up the house to look like a dream. After all he might be fulfilling one of his that night.

But he didn’t want anyone to be there when he proposed to you, he wanted to it to be the both of you against the world. He often thought of love that way. Especially the kind of pov e the two of you shared. It was intimate, tender and he wanted to uphold that. They had all agreed only if he promised to call them right after you said yes. If you said yes.

You were surprisingly unaware of the grand plans he had orchestrated. Your friends, back home, painstakingly trying to bring his vision to life. They kept him updated, sending him pictures through your dinner. He was so jittery but he tried to portray himself as if this was just another dinner date, after all he wanted dinner to be just as special. Afterwards, both of you walked a round the canal, hand glued together and laughter echoing through the air. It was lovely, like it always was with him.

Once both of you were back home, you turned the key in the doorway to let the two of you in. As you swung the door open, the sight that met you eyes was of your living room drenched in an aureate glow from the hundreds of flickering candles set up across the length of the room. Before you could take it all in, your eyes travelled up to see bunches of hydrangeas hanging from the ceiling in what looked like another roof altogether. You could see pictures of the two of you hanging in different corners, your first date, your first trip together, the first you went to show. Years and years of beautiful memories creating the timeline of your love. Leading to the centre of the room, where on a tiny coffee stand stood the bouquet you received in the morning, in the ceramic vase you placed it in. Your mouth agape, as you walked further into the room, standing at the centre of it, Andrew following closely behind you. His breath was hitched in his throat, did you like it? Was it perfect? He held his breath, as he let you take it all in.

You turned around to look at Andrew, his face beaming and eyes soft.

He walked closer to you and then stopped right before he could be at arms length. Slowly sinking down to one knee. Oh. Oh. He was proposing. You felt your eyes well up with tears and as your hands flew to your mouth.

“Hey. Y/N Y/L/N, you are the light of life. A beacon of brilliance in what I thought was unbridled darkness. You are a force of nature. The way you carry yourself from your boundless kindness, enchanting smile, your ridiculous sense of humour, your ability to be the heart and soul of every connection you form suffice to I’ve been completely whipped. I love you. I love how smart you are, how you care so much, how you snort when you laugh, that mole on your chin, your incredibly lame puns, how steadfast you are in your resolve. And more selfishly, I love you because you make me feel like the luckiest man to walk the earth. I used to think that I needed someone to feel whole, you made me realise that I am already whole. I’m so grateful to have you, beyond anything I could ever articulate into a song let alone a mere speech. You inspire me to do my best and to be my best. You’ve helped my hone my craft simply by being you. By existing. Alongside me, behind me, leading me. And I love you, for all of it and more. So much so, that I want to spend the rest of our time on this godforsaken planet with you. Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I. I want to be in your light till death do us part, even then no grave can hold my body down because I know I will always crawl back home to you. Thank you for all that you are and all that you have been. Saying I love you is an understatement but it’s what my feeling are down to their most distilled form. I love you and I promise to love you till you let me. Please.

Let me.

Make me the most fortunate soul by marrying me. Will you marry me?”

If it wasn’t for the way you clearly looked down at him right now you would’ve believed that you had become a puddle on the ground. He was crying, you were crying. Your chest filled with the kind of love that cannot be caged, it was as if your heart was gonna burst through the walls of it’s enclosure and nestle itself in his hands. Because that’s where it belongs. You fall to your knees, at the same level as him now.

“Yes. Yes yes yes yes Andrew”

You fling yourself into his arms as both of you fall backwards.

“Really?” It’s as if he couldn’t believe it. Tears now freely flowing down his cheek, vanishing in his beard’s auburn forest.

“Yes you idiot, I love you. So much. More than can I ever fully comprehend. I love you, I want to be with you. Now and forever”

Before you can even catch a breath, you feel his lips crash into yours. Lifting you up off the ground, as his lips engulfed yours. You felt the saltiness of both your tears in the kiss, as he grabbed your face and tasted you as if he was man starved. I love you. I love you. Both of you kept reciting as if it was hymn into each other’s mouths. The intimacy of the kiss was unparalleled and the passion was palpable. You felt his hands cling to your every curve, as if he thought this was dream and he was desperately trying to hold onto it. But it was real, as real as the green hues of his eyes and the mole on your chin. You could do this forever you thought, you are going to be doing this forever.

I loved writing this so much, I just love telling people how much I love them so writing his little proposal speech was really fun. Thank you for the request anon, I hope I could do it justice!

#hozier oneshot #andrew hozier byrne #hozier #hozier x reader #the hoziest #hozier fanfiction #hozier fic #x reader #unreal unearth #omg i love hozier #dividers by saradika

311 notes · View notes

tisanemal · 25 days ago

Text

Take Me To Church – priest!Andrew x OFC

Chapter 4: Be As You’ve Always Been

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Andrew Hozier-Byrne, Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags:

Bisexual Female Character, Forbidden Love, hot priest, Catholicism, Criticism of the Catholic Church, Inspired by Fleabag (TV), POV Alternating, no happy ending, Inspired by a Hozier Song, Dominant Woman, Submissive Man, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Explicit Consent, Oral Sex, Eventual Smut

Summary:

About a woman who already deconstructed her catholicism and who is trying to seduce a priest to “save” him from it, as she thinks. About a priest who thinks he has chosen his life path well, trying to bring his “friend” back to church, to “save” her. Fleabag-inspired priest!Hozier romance and smut. What can I tell you. This is for all the (ex)catholic women <3

Chapter 4: Be As You’ve Always Been

Word count: 5832

Read also on AO3

Fic under the cut ↓

Notes:

Alternating POV starts in this chapter. Enjoy!

Mary

St Patrick’s Day was, obviously, a huge deal. This year it fell on a Friday, and everyone was ecstatic to have a long weekend. Mary’s parents already made intricate plans to visit and be visited by different sets of friends each day, her mother already slaving away in the kitchen. Mary wanted no part in this.

Also, it turned out that Mary’s mother was now a crucial benefactor at the church. Mary had a very harsh opinion about it, one that she wasn’t going to voice in fear of destroying the little pieces of their relationship that they had managed to rebuild.

But, because of that, her parents were invited to a parish St Patrick event; and they wanted to drag Mary along.

She conceded, but the only thing that interested Mary in church now was the priest.

She hasn’t seen him in four weeks, but she thought about him every day. He was a virtual stranger, but she wanted to fuck him and didn’t even feel ashamed. If she had ‘sinned’ by being with another woman, she can also sin by seducing a priest.

To haunt him, Mary picked a cute green sweater that had shrunk in the washing machine, because she liked how tight it was around her breasts.

The weather turned out to be, unsurprisingly, atrocious, so Mary and her parents went to church by car. From the window, Mary observed early celebrators, all dressed in green, already half-drunk and parading the streets.

Mary was glad that the priests chose to hold the event in the church hall instead of torturing their guests with an outdoor barbecue. When she entered, in a cautious distance from her parents, she saw some people setting up a big screen to watch the Dublin parade. The hall was full of shamrock decorations, tables with coffee and tea as well as different sets of cakes that must have been baked by Mrs Johnson, the parish housekeeper. She was a cheerful woman in her 60s, and an acquaintance of Mary’s mother, not worn out at all by having served in the parish for years.

Just by seeing the expression on her mother’s face, Mary could hear her judgment how sweets shouldn’t be served during Lent, about the inelegance of plastic plates, and overall informality of the event. She had heard it so many times, after every minor and major family party they went to. Her mother could just never be satisfied. And her father was just kind of there, nodding along to the parts he listened to.

Mary was glad for having had so much time away from her parents; glad to have gone to therapy, where it took her a year just to deconstruct all the expectations that had been placed upon her and unlearn all the guilt and shame.

There was a dozen people bustling about. Mary looked around in search of Father Andrew. She easily noticed all the priests in the small crowd, by their black soutanes, especially the loud and jovial Father Kevin, rector of this church.

Nevertheless when she finally spotted Father Andrew, her heart almost jumped; he was standing tall above everybody’s heads, in his collar and soutane, which should have made him look collected and elegant, but he somehow managed to look utterly disheveled. He fidgeted with his hands as he noticed Mary from across the room, even though his eyes lit up for a second. She nodded to him, tilting her head to silently say hi. He bowed his head in response.

After a moment, everyone found themselves a seat. Mary’s mother, of course, chose to sit right next to her Favorite Priest and immediately started a courteous conversation with him. Father Andrew was just sitting there, being way too big for the chair, looking incredibly stupid in his clerical collar, letting Mother engage him in some kind of debate. Mary sat across the table from them, listening on a little, but overall uninterested in what was being said.

“… I love your sermons, they’re always so thoughtful. Do you write them yourself?” Mother knew when and how to be charming. Mary was aware of the terrifying fact that she inherited that trait from her.

“Ehm, yes...” Father Andrew blushed. He clearly hated compliments.

Mary glanced at the priest, somewhat amused by his discomfort.

“It’s certainly hard work, to teach others…” her mother continued.

“It is, yes…” he glanced at Mary too, and wrung his hands.

“I know what’s that like, Father Andrew,” Mary interjected, as she sent her mother a diplomatic smile. “I do a lot of teaching at my workshop.”

“Oh really, Miss Mary?”, he wanted her to continue.

“It’s very gratifying to see people evolve with their skills,” Mary said.

The priest gave her an affirming nod. Or perhaps a thankful one.

As the conversation steered into that territory, Mother was less and less interested, slowly reconvening small talk with other guests at the table.

Mary continued: “But that’s not the only job I do. I also fully manage it, take care of advertising, accounts, supplies — the whole thing.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, his voice pensive. “So, you’re an art teacher, artist, businesswoman all in one?”

“You can say that, yes,” Mary smiled.

She minded her parents. They unknowingly acted as chaperons, impeding any kind of flirting she might have wanted to engage in with the priest. She could talk to him, of course, it was even encouraged, but any sort of coquetry was out of the question.

The Dublin parade was starting on the TV, and most guests changed their places to see it well. Mary’s dad moved the chair for her mother to sit on, and then sat on another chair next to her. Mary stayed where she was, her and Father Andrew the only ones left behind.

“Are you… not watching the parade?” he asked her.

“I’ve seen it enough times,” she admitted. “Haven’t you, Father Andrew?”

“Yes, I have,” he sighed.

“It’s pretty much the same every year; but, having a priest all to myself, that’s new for me,” she said with a smirk.

“Is it now?” His expression was somewhere between abashed and flattered.

Mary stood up, and his eyes widened, as if it startled him, as she made her way around the table and sat on a chair right next to him, previously occupied by her Mother.

“By the way,” she started, “it’s not just that small workshop that I’m running. I have a whole art studio back in Dublin, one that I temporarily left, and an apartment, a lot of friends…” She somehow really cared what he thought of her.

“So, a double life, then?” he joked.

“Like yours?” she scolded him, referring to him still not mentioning to her mother that he’d been to the workshop.

He fluttered his eyes and suppressed a smirk.

“Well, speaking of suspicious,” Mary scoffed “you shouldn’t be using those plastic cups. They’re illegal, by the way,” she accused him.

“Miss Mary, please let me explain,” he feigned panicking, “I think these are left over from some picnic a couple of years ago, Father Kevin bought way too many, we’re just finishing them up.”

“I see…” Mary thought for a moment. “You know, people should really care more about the environment. For God’s sake, we live on an island, and the sea levels are rising! Why does nobody seem to be concerned about that?” She tested him.

“Yeah, well…” he said distractedly, looking away as a group of people laughed at something they saw on the parade.

“Wait, you’re not one of those people who deny global warming?” she asked, concerned.

“No, no I’m not,” he reassured her.

“Ok, good. Because I’m really into environment protection. I organize Earth Days in my art studio every year.”

“Oh really? What’s that, exactly?” he asked, all his attention back on her.

“It’s a series of classes and workshops about topics ranging from waste segregation to ocean pollution et cetera. It’s mostly for children, and they are always very eager to learn. But some adults, whew, it’s like talking to a brick wall,” she scoffed. “Wait. Do you meet a lot of people who don’t believe in God, at all?” she drew a parallel.

“Ehm, you'd be surprised,” he exhaled.

“Do you… try to talk them into it?” she tested him again.

“Well…” He scrunched his face. “I’m learning to accept that not everyone has faith.”

Mary nodded slowly in response. “There’s a lot of people who have stopped believing in Church. But they still believe in God, I guess,” she said carefully. “Sorry if that’s blasphemous for you…”

“I…” he rubbed his thumb into his palm of the other hand, “I guess I know what you’re trying to say.”

She gave him a face.

He didn’t elaborate, nor did she. Mary didn’t want to admit, even to herself, that she actually sometimes caught herself praying, in her own, new way. Breaking up with church had left some parts of her empty, and she felt like she filled that void with making art.

“I asked, because sometimes I try to, uh, for a lack of a better word, evangelize people into being more eco-friendly…” He did smile at that. “But there is just,” she continued, “so much resistance sometimes. Not everyone is so open to talk.” Father Andrew kept nodding attentively to Mary’s words. “Some people get so defensive – they take my suggestions as a personal attack. And I just want to make the world a better place,” she rolled her eyes at the triviality of her statement.

“That’s a great goal to have.” He looked at her understandingly; it was almost intimate.

Mary didn’t want to waste time on small talk with him, but she minded that other people were literally just meters away.

So she asked: “Do you think it’s a sin to be anti-ecological?”

He exhaled. “Oh, that’s a good question, Miss Mary. I didn’t really expect…”

“Yeah, I know, it’s St Paddy, we should be getting trollied…” she joked.

He chuckled at that, but continued to answer her question: “You know what? I think it might be… We should be taking good care of God’s creation. And destroying the Earth would eventually hurt us, humans, too. So, yes.”

“Wow, this clerical shit is easy. Maybe I should become a priest?” Mary joked. He laughed a little too adorably at something that was actually quite bitter.

“By the way, can I ask you why you became a priest, Father Andrew?” Mary said carefully, in a lower voice. She still couldn’t believe he was one; she felt like something was being taken away from her, but kept at an arm’s length. And Mary had always gotten what she wanted in her life, and she decided to reach for it again.

“To help people,” he responded immediately.

“Really?” He’s got to be joking.

“Yes. Why did you open the studio?” he quickly deflected.

“I thought what else is worth doing, if not art? And I’m also helping people; they come to the studio to relax, to forget about their problems, and kids sometimes they need to chat or to hear a couple of words of encouragement. What’s great is that art is something that can bring you joy even when you’re doing it badly, when you’re just starting.” She motioned to him. “You made your little bowl, first one ever, and maybe it wasn’t the most beautiful bowl in the world, but it was yours and you learned something during the process. That’s the value of it.”

When she mentioned the bowl, he scrunched his nose a little, as if remembering his embarrassment, but quickly regained his attentive position, as Mary continued:

“While in business — which also makes a huge part of what I do — when you’re doing something wrong, you’re losing money. But you can paint 10 ugly paintings and at least you’ve learned something and practiced your skills.”

“Hmm… that’s… I’ve never thought about it this way, but it makes so much sense. I thought throwing would be easy, but…” he shook his head, “It must have been painful watching me do it, huh?” he joked.

“No, it wasn’t,” she smiled sweetly “you have to start somewhere.” After a moment, she added softly: “We’re all clumsy at the beginning of things.”

Father Andrew’s head was tilted to the side, his eyes a little unfocused. He blinked a couple of times.

“Yes, but then some people make abstract art, that doesn’t require any skills,” he said, matter-of-factually.

“What?! You think abstract art requires no skills?” Mary was almost offended.

“That thing with… painting colored squares. Anyone could do that.” He sounded gently dismissive.

“But you do realize it’s not just the colored square? That it symbolizes something?” She wasn’t going to back down.

“Like what, exactly?” he shrugged, but he seemed open enough to learn.

“Depends on the artist,” she started. “You said squares. There’s a famous painting that is ‘just a blue square’ — or, rather, a rectangle — in the MoMA, and sure, if you just look at the thing without context, you might think this is what anyone could make,” she explained, “but, when you read more, you learn that the artist actually invented a whole paint formula from a new, synthetic pigment, and patented that specific shade of blue*. So yes, I guess you could paint a blue square. But that’s just the final outcome of a bigger process. You could replicate the physical outcome, but would you be able to replicate the process?”

Father Andrew listened intently to Mary’s lecture. He leaned forward, propping his head on his hand. He put his long fingers on his mouth. Did he flutter his eyelashes at her?

“Anyway, people,” she meant him, “tend to dismiss abstract art, but they just don’t know how to read it. Sure, maybe not all of it is that deep, but you should at least be interested why it’s in a gallery, why someone thought it was worth putting there.”

��I understand,” he admitted quietly. “But don’t you feel like everything has already been said?”

“Maybe — by men.” Mary didn’t even try to not sound condescending. He said nothing. “Women still have a lot to say.”

Father Andrew nodded, and a corner of his mouth lifted just slightly, as if he was restraining himself from voicing a thought. She gave him a daring look. “What? It’s not something I’m supposed to be saying to a priest? Have you considered that maybe this is exactly the type of thing you should hear?” She squinted her eyes warily and crossed her legs.

“I’m… certainly learning a lot from you. That’s for sure,” he said under his breath, averting his gaze.

She was a little shocked how he didn’t take that bait. His attitude was so infuriatingly appeasing while she was being so confrontational on purpose. And did he look a little… intimidated by her?

She continued her speech: “Even with religious art — and you see it all the time, everywhere — the artists have demonstrated great skill, but there are still hidden meanings and symbolism that the audience today doesn’t see.”

“Mhm…” he nodded, looking to the floor and back again at her. Mary watched him, in his stupid little priest outfit with his man bun acting all formal but friendly and wondering what was actually going on inside his head. There was no way in hell he wasn’t feeling the same vibe that she was.

“Do you know why Virgin Mary’s robes are often that color — ultramarine?” she asked in a lower voice.

“They’re what?” his eyebrows were comically raised.

“It means that specific shade of deep, vibrant blue,” she explained.

“Oh right… Because… blue is associated with heaven and godhood?” he guessed.

“Yes, but also,” she used her teacher trick of praising a student and adding the correct answer just after, “because that was the most expensive pigment, sometimes even more expensive than gold,” she said.

“Really? And why was that?” He tilted his head.

“Because of its production… they made it from lapis lazuli. Not as bad as purple, though, they made it from slugs,” she digressed.

“Slugs?”

“Yeah, like literally slugs. Super gross,” she chuckled.

“Wait, is this the same blue again?” Father Andrew noted.

“Yes, actually, the very same one,” she restrained herself from adding ‘good job!’. “In medieval times, the real ultramarine could only be obtained from those rare minerals. It’s only in the 19th century that the synthetic alternative was invented…”

“So… you’re trying to say that… we went from the most expensive pigment used to paint Virgin Mary’s robes and now it’s just a cheap, blue square?”

Mary smirked, shaking her head at him. “Well. If you have to put it like that… It’s about the democratization of—”

“I’m kidding, don’t worry,” he smiled so beautifully that it enveloped her with warmth.

She was kind of surprised that no one seemed to be catching onto her; Mary’s mind was racing with filthy thoughts, but everyone around her behaved like everything was totally fine and Father Andrew wasn’t the hottest man on Earth.

They had to put their little conversation on hold, because Mrs Johnson was coming in to clear the table and ‘restock’ the cake.

“Thank God for those plastic plates and cups, I won’t have to wash the dishes!” she said.

Mary and Andrew looked at each other instantly, trying not to laugh — both because of each other’s reaction and of what they just heard.

“Oh hey — free cake,” Mary joked, glad for the occasion to eat some.

There was a comfortable silence, in which they both helped themselves to some cake, refilled their tea, glanced over to the parade and the people in the room who were watching it, talking, having fun. It wasn’t a crazy party, but it was joyous nevertheless. Mary realized, to her surprise, that she didn’t hate to be here.

“Speaking of sweets, I can’t wait for Easter and chocolate eggs. And I can’t wait for spring,” she said. “Winter always wears me out, it’s worse every year.”

“Oh yeah, me too. I just live on the hope it will be warm again. I can’t wait for the summer fruit, for the good weather, to take a hiking holiday,” he said.

Mary scrunched her face. “Hiking?”

“Oh yes, it really makes you feel like you’re closer to God.” He sounded really convinced.

Mary shook her head. “Oh no. I’m a total city girl!”

“Yeah? It’s not the way you prefer to spend your time?” he chuckled.

“Absolutely not. I prefer to just… do something with my hands,” he raised his eyebrows slightly, and Mary quickly corrected herself, “You know, do an art project, paint, throw a couple of plates.” He nodded at that.

“So it really is your passion, huh?” he asked, taking her all in.

“Yes, it is. I also love how there’s a tangible, physical effect of your work. As I said, however clumsy or ugly, it’s still a physical keepsake of the progress you’ve made”.

“Hm. I thought the point was to make the most beautiful art possible?”

“It can be. But not for everyone. Most people who come to my workshops just want to have a good time. And in today’s world, I think we easily forgot how making art, in whatever form, is one of the basic human needs, or even, behaviors. We see it as a marketable skill, and I’m not saying it’s bad, because obviously it enables professional artists to earn a living, but not everybody wants to be a professional. For most, it’s a hobby. And that’s fine. It’s something I’ve learned, doing art myself and then teaching classes, especially teaching someone who wants it to be perfect from day one, you have to earn your progress. And it’s no one else’s, no one can take that away from you. The piece is one thing, but the journey you go through — that’s another.”

“Wow, I… I’ve never heard someone speak so passionately and deeply about making wobbly bowls,” he smiled, referring again to his own clumsy creation. Not once did his gaze turn away from her when she was speaking.

Mary returned the smile, feeling warm all over.

“Well, you should absolutely come to the workshop again. The bowl is already burned, and you can just get it like that, or you can glaze it, it will be fun.”

“I’m sure it will,” he said, voice a little huskier than before.

“If I may ask… why did you come to my class?”

Andrew sighed, as if it was a deeply philosophical question. In a way, it was.

“I guess I…” he hesitated, “I guess I wanted to try something new.”

“That’s a valid reason.”

“My work isn’t exactly… you don’t get that physical effect. Sometimes you don’t really see…” he looked around, “the point to it all.”

Mary raised her eyebrows.

“So the priests also have doubts,” she risked a strong statement.

“Oh, yes,” he nodded vigorously, “all the time.” It didn’t even sound like a huge secret.

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, we doubt all the time. What’s the point of faith, if there’s no doubt? If there’s certainty, there is no more room for faith**,” Father Andrew preached.

“I guess that’s right…”

“You know, even Christ was not certain at the end… My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?***”

Mary looked down to avoid Father Andrew noticing how that quote affected her; it was weird how she felt so emotionally linked to that, after all those years. And it felt weird to conceal it from the one person who could appreciate it best; the priest.

He seemed, on some level, to understand, as he gave her her space.

“Yet people tend to be so certain of themselves…” she pondered.

“What do you mean?”

“I guess it’s a psychological thing, but obviously, every person thinks their opinion is the only right one. Some people think they know everything.” Mary’s words sounded, again, like an accusation.

“Well. I know a lot, but I certainly don’t know everything, if that’s what you were trying to say…” he gently deflected.

She nodded, raising her eyebrows, “Okay. I was also talking about how my old friends would envy my business and say it’s easy money; but they don’t see how much work it takes. At the beginning, I did everything just by myself because I was saving money. It took me a long time, and it was hard work; from business planning, to accounting, to all formalities, studio renovation with my own hands, buying equipment and supplies, and then, when it was ready — I was giving all the classes. I used to work 8, 9, 10 hours a day, every day, including afternoons and evenings, so that there would be a class for any time of the day, for my students’ convenience. But it paid off. I gained a lot of customers, there are kids who started coming there when they were in preschool, and now they’re already in middle. And they still come. I don’t work as much now, because the business grew and I can afford having employees — but it was hard at the beginning. People seem to ignore that.”

He listened to her tirade with unwavering attention.

“You know, some people think that being a priest, you just work on Sunday mass and get the rest of the week off,” he laughed.

“See? That’s why it hurts me when someone is so judgmental. You never know what a person is going through, what’s happening in their private life,” Mary said. “But, I guess, you do?” she asked. He gave her a confused look. “Because you take confessions. So you know what everybody’s got going on.”

“In a way...” he wrung his hands again.

“How does it feel? To know people’s inner thoughts?”

“Well, I don’t really know their inner thoughts. Just the sins they are sharing with me.”

“And how does it feel? Aren’t you sometimes… scandalized?”

“Actually, no. I’ve kind of heard everything by now, nothing really surprises me anymore.”

“Care to share?” she tested him.

“You know I can’t,” he passed.

Mary gave her surroundings a quick glance; everyone was busy watching the parade, some people stood by the buffet far away, some talked. There was no one within an earshot.

“Have you always been such a good boy?” she asked him.

“Ehm… what?” his whole body jolted.

“I don’t know… have you been… naughty as a child?” she saved herself.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “Constantly. There wasn’t a day when I wouldn’t get in trouble.” He laughed, as if relieved.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Climbing up trees, coming home late…”

“Getting into fights?” Mary squinted her eyes. That’s what boys like.

“Not really, that. Maybe got a little bruised but I definitely wasn’t getting into fights.”

“Oh, all right.” She smiled.

“What about you? I’m guessing you have always been an artsy child?” he returned the question.

“Yes, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve always loved to draw; and I made little clothes for my Barbies and even little plates and cutlery — each one had her own set of course — and yeah, if my hands were dirty, it was always from paint.” It felt oddly intimate to share that with him.

“Sounds great. Sounds like you’re really doing something you have a calling for,” he summed up.

“And you? Why aren’t you climbing trees?” Mary joked. She barely even knew him, they only talked maybe three times before this. It felt weird how easy it was to joke with him.

“Because I grew tall enough to be one!”

They both laughed.

Andrew

It was shocking to Andrew how smooth the conversation was going. Usually he needed to know someone well to be this kind of comfortable with them; but with Miss Mary, the topics kind of found themselves, joking was easy, and they seemed to be on the same wavelength.

He felt his heart jump when he saw her; she didn’t need a service of some sort from him, even if he’d offered it to her. There was something freeing in her refusing his help and just hanging out with him for the fun of it, especially today. After months and months on end when none of the relations he’d formed were truly just for himself. Even though it was exactly what he had signed up for until the rest of his days.

Her question about why he came to the workshop really struck him. Why did he do that, indeed. It was the first thing he was doing just for leisure, after his responsibilities left him feeling empty, and like there was no real effect of his work; he wanted to try creating something with his hands…

Truth was, his crisis had started a long time ago and he was terrified that Miss Mary was getting onto him.

There must have been something wrong with him, Andrew thought, that he burned out so quickly. He also felt guilty for envying Miss Mary her passion and joy in career and life.

It’s not that his responsibilities weighed on him too much; it’s just that he wasn’t really helping anyone. Less and less people were coming to mass, and he was still supposed to only act as a formal representative of the church, just doing what he was asked for, and rarely got something in return — not that it was ever something he was supposed to expect, and he knew that.

He wanted to do something meaningful, but all he was doing didn’t seem to matter to anyone. While talking to Miss Mary now, who was outside his bubble, he clearly saw how obsolete his role was.

How, perhaps, he could have been doing some much better work had he chosen a different path.

He often looked at couples getting married, and he envied them so much. He looked at parents bringing their babies to be baptized; he envied the parents, too. They were building a real legacy. What was he building? In a flash, he could be transferred to a different parish, to start everything all over again; he was living for other people, but no one was living for him.

“Oh by the way, are you doing something after this?” Miss Mary asked, and Andrew made a quizzical face. “You know, pub, friends, getting properly drunk?”

He wondered if he should lie.

“I’ll just… say my evening prayers.” He settled on that.

“Oh…” Miss Mary got quiet.

“I’m relatively new here, and I don’t really have any friends — yet. I mean I do, but they are all…”

“Men?” Miss Mary offered, crossing her arms.

“… priests, I wanted to say,” he clarified, and she smirked at him. God, he will need to bathe in holy water after being in her presence. Her little green jumper… “I found it refreshing to talk to someone outside the Church,” he said.

“Don’t you talk to your parishioners?” she jokingly deflected.

“They are the Church,” he reminded her.

He couldn’t help but notice how sad her face looked when they spoke about religion. He imagined how bad she was missing it. He had noticed how affected, or even moved, she was when he cited the Bible. Perhaps Miss Mary wasn’t a lost cause. Perhaps if he can bring her closer to God, he can finally feel like he achieved something. He had hope; she was genuinely moved — a rare sight these days.

Perhaps it was the distance from the Church that made Miss Mary feel it so strongly after she had contact with it again. If that was the case, he felt the thrill of finally making someone feel something more; it was the rawest religious experience one could ever have.

After a short silence, Miss Mary spoke again:

“Well, I’m old but also kind of new. Most of my school friends who live here are now married and have small kids, so they’re not exactly available for pints on a Friday night…” She shook her head. “Is this because it’s your first assigned parish?”

“Yes.” Why did he feel like he was lying?

“So you don’t really have any prior experience with settling in a new place?” she asked.

“Well, I guess clerical school, but that’s different,” he didn’t really want to talk about that, so he asked: “What about you, in Dublin?”

“Oh, I first moved there for college, so I was so fascinated by new possibilities, new friends, some of my classes… it was fun, I went to a lot of parties, too. There weren’t as many opportunities for learning here as in Dublin, but I only saw that once I moved… Anyway… What was studying like for you?” she asked as if it was supposed to be some kind of secret.

“Ehm, not at all like yours. A lot of discipline, praying… self-reflection.” He shook his head to push the thoughts away. “And a lot, and I really mean it, a lot to learn.”

“So what, do you like, know the whole bible by heart?” she joked. Why was he getting this new, giddy feeling whenever she mocked him? If he was totally honest with himself, he had mentioned abstract art earlier only to have her tell him off.

“Yeah, I wish. But no, I don’t,” he admitted, feigning sadness. After a beat, he added: “But there was lot of singing, too.”

“Oh God, that reminds me, I sang in the choir here…” Miss Mary scrunched her face.

“Oh really? Here, in this church?” He was genuinely curious.

“Yes. Badly and briefly. Only for about one year, after my First Communion, I was terrible at it,” she said, not embarrassed by it at all.

“I’m sure you were fine,” he answered.

“No, I really wasn’t. I realized then that my talents were in visual arts,” she added to all the things she has shared about herself this afternoon.

“So, that’s when you learned pottery?” Andrew suddenly wanted to know everything about her…

“No, that came later, in university. After classes, I used to attend a craft studio in Dublin. It was then that I had my dream,” she made a face like she was exaggerating, but he felt she really wasn’t.

“And what was the dream?” His was… becoming a priest. Someone respected. Someone who serves people.

“My dream — to basically do what I do now. Have my own studio for teaching different art techniques,” she answered simply.

Andrew thought about how Miss Mary had all her life put together, every goal achieved, all-round success. She seemed to have that constant fire burning, something that Andrew thought he lacked, because he felt like he was constantly in crisis.

“So, what’s next? Do you have any plans?” he asked as if he had any.

“Actually, yes. I’ve been sending applications all over renowned galleries in Europe to put up my own exhibition.”

“Oh, and to… possibly sell some art? Paintings?” He r world was alluringly unknown to him.

“If there are people who want to buy it, I’d be delighted, honestly. But it’s more about wanting to be seen…” Miss Mary didn’t really finish the sentence, because their quiet moment was interrupted by guests getting up from their seats after the official parade on the TV has ended.

It passed in a flash, Andrew thought it was supposed to be on for another hour…

There was a general commotion of people slowly wrapping up the party. Miss Mary’s parents were paying their respects to Father Kevin, and getting ready to leave.

“Father Andrew, it’s been… really nice talking to you,” she said. “Thank you”.

Oh. His voice got a little caught up in his throat.

“Yes, me too. Thank you for coming, again, Miss Mary” he answered. He really hoped she was being sincere. That she really enjoyed it as much as he did.

Miss Mary saw her parents come towards her, and she straightened up, like she was caught doing something illicit. He watched her leave, already with a sense of great longing, like all the world was going away with her. He felt like they were both a little bit broken, and he guessed this is why the y found an understanding.

He hoped he would manage to seduce her back to church, and that it wouldn’t evolve into sin, because what he was starting to feel for her was so precious.

But, later, at night, visions of Miss Mary plagued him, and he tried to push them away, but he knew this relationship couldn’t exactly be pure.

Notes:

We rarely see the main couple have a long conversation in romance movies or books. That’s why I decided to write a whole chapter when all they do is talk :)

References:

* Artwork: Blue Monochrome, Yves Klein, 1961 ** Film: Conclave, dir. Edward Berger, 2024 *** The Bible: Matthew 27:46 and Mark 15:34

#hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #writers on tumblr #hozier smut #fleabag #my writing

14 notes · View notes

anxiousnightmare · 8 months ago

Text

Hello and welcome to my blog!

A new fanfic writer! Currently only writing for Hozier

Requests are open! Ask Guidelines

Masterlist below the cut..

Andrew Hozier-Byrne

multi-part fics

Late Nights 2 3 (smutish(?), confessions)

one-shots

Tired (fluff)

A Little Help (smut)

Like Real People Do (no pairings, song inspired fic)

#hozier x oc #hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne x oc #andrew hozier byrne x reader #hozier fluff #hozier fanfiction #hozier smut #masterlist #x reader

24 notes · View notes

fics-not-tragedies · 5 years ago

Text

One Day in December: Chapter 1 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

A Christmas fic after the Christmas! Yes, that’s what it is, enjoy Christmas in May! 😂

STORY SUMMARY: At an annual Christmas party hosted by his friends Andrew meets Bianca - a girl that slowly become closer and closer to him as the years passed. Words: 1350; Warnings: none, unless you want a warning for drinking and few curses then you have it; Summary: Andrew meets a friend of a friend of a friend at a Christmas party.

Hozier tag list:

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

December 2010

“Who’s she?” Andrew gestured, nodding towards a girl he had never seen before.

She had short, shoulder-length hair, kind of choppy and messy; but styled that way. She was nursing a beer, the same one for the last hour it seemed because Andrew hadn’t seen her move very much at all. She looked terribly out of place.

“Don’t have a clue” Alex replied, paper crown on his head and beer in each hand, “No wait… she’s a friend of… or wait… the cousin of… someone. Can’t remember just now.”

“Hmm” Andrew assessed her from afar, watching the way she smiled when the person she was standing beside told her what he assumed was something funny. She had a pretty smile, this much Andrew knew, even though he was a few beers in.

“… she’s… American. I know that much” Alex was still rambling on about the girl, “Why? You fancy her? She’s… cute. I’d probably-”

“Don’t-” Andrew laughed, nudging him, “Don’t make it like that.”

“What?” Alex exclaimed, “I was just going to say that I’d go chat her up if I were you. She looks shy enough. Not even you could screw it up too much.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, throwing back his head to finish the rest of his beer, “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“My fucking pleasure, mate.”

“Em…” Andrew grumbled, realizing he did need another beer, and maybe… he could pass by her on his way… offer to grab her another one… and…

Andrew pulled at the neck of his long-sleeve knit, wondering why he decided to wear something this warm in a crowded house full of sweaty, drunk people. He was boiling hot, and he knew his cheeks were ruddy from the beers as well. He saw that she was left by herself, and he made a beeline over… as cool as he could muster.

When he got to her, the person returned and Andrew hung a quick left to narrowly avoid an embarrassing and awkward conversation. Rolling his eyes at his own stupid self, he grabbed another two beers and decided now was as good a time as ever to wait in line for the toilet. It stretched down the entire length of the hallway so he had a while to wait.

He wasn’t there longer than a minute when she showed up behind him; the cute girl with the choppy hair. She was wearing a cute little dress and a pair of antlers on her head. It made Andrew smile. He nodded his head at her quickly, staring down at his Converse. He felt under-dressed, even though it was a house party, he wished now, standing next to her that he at least put some effort in.

“Have you been waiting here long?” she asked him, her voice soft, shy. Either she was trying to flirt with him in her own way, or she was just making awkward conversation to pass the time.

“Em… not too long… a minute or so” he glanced up towards the front, seeing another person leave the room and three girls go in together, “Well… looks like it’s moving fast, eh?”

She nodded, seeming relieved, “Good.”

Andrew laughed a little at that, “Too many ales, then?”

The girl’s cheeks flushed a rosy red, and she ducked her head in embarrassment, “No… actually. Not at all. Just one. I’m… trying to escape that guy that was talking to me” she gestured over her shoulder at the spot where she was standing and the guy that she just left behind.

“That big ugly guy over there?” Andrew made a face in his direction and she laughed, her giggle making him smile.

“Yes” she sighed, exasperated, “he won’t leave me alone, even though I tried to explain that I wasn’t interested.”

“Well then…” Andrew noticed she was empty-handed now and handed her his second bottle, “Take this. You can join me and the other people after we get through this line… if you’d like.”

She smiled and nodded her head, “Thank you. That would be… awesome, actually. I’m Bianca, by the way.”

“Bianca” Andrew repeated and shook the hand she offered to him, “I’m Andrew. Nice to meet you. Cheers, love” he clinked his bottle against hers and they both took a swig.

Bianca’s heart was pounding against her ribs; both excited and nervous to have found someone to talk to. He was a cute Irish boy with messy brown locks, curling in every direction. He looked like all the other 20-year-old boys she knew back home… but they didn’t have the accent. He was a slender and tall thing, with big green eyes and a warm smile.

When they made it through the line for the toilet, Andrew waited for her and escorted her over to his little gang. He went around and introduced all the lads and some of their girlfriends, “This is Bianca. We need to protect her. That ugly guy over there keeps bothering her.“

Bianca giggled, “It’s not that bad… but… I… you’re right he’s an idiot. Help me.”

“Are you new in town?” Alex asked, toying with the beer he had in his hand, “I feel like I saw you back in the college at one of the rehearsals of orchestra.”

“I was at few rehearsals, because one of my friends from here sings in the college orchestra.”

“Oh, you have a friend in Trinity? Which one?” Andrew took another swig from his beer.

“It’s Karen. Karen Cowley.”

“Wow… em, we share one friend!” Alex almost clapped his hands, but the beer bottle was restricting his movements a little bit.

“Don’t worry, now you share all of them with us” Andrew clinked his bottle against hers and gave her a wide smile.

The rest of them laughed and welcomed her, chatting like they’d been friends for ages. Bianca felt for the first time since she’d arrived, like she belonged. All of them were so sweet and nice, but Andrew…

She wouldn’t admit to herself what she felt because… it was silly. She’d only just met him… but… she might’ve been developing a bit of a crush on Andrew Hozier-Byrne.

By the end of the night, or well… early morning… most people weren’t in good enough shape to be driving. Andrew was drunk. Very drunk. And silly. Bianca hadn’t had nearly as much as him, maybe three tops… but he was drinking like a fish all night.

Rory and Cormac were supporting him, helping him make his way out into the chilly December night. Alex and Bianca followed along behind, Andrew’s coat swung over Alex’s shoulder.

“Is he… is he gonna be alright?” Bianca asked him, worried that her new friend was going to most likely have a very rough hangover.

“Oh yeah…” Alex nodded, “He’ll be fine. Does this a lot actually. No doubt he’ll probably get sick on the walk home… probably on the same lawn he always gets sick on.”

Bianca nodded, watching as he stumbled down the steps, despite being practically carried by the other boys, “Wait!” she could hear him shout, his accent getting in the way of understanding what he really said.

“Bianca…” Cormac called to her, “Andrew wants to say goodbye.”

Her eyes widened and she scurried down the steps, coming face-to-face with the drunk boy in the torn purple paper crown and Christmas beads hung around his neck, “Hey Andrew” she smiled, seeing him struggle to make a sentence.

“I just… just wanted to sayyy…” his words were slurred and dragged out and she giggled at him, “Sayyy t-that… it was lovely! Lovely!”

“What?” she laughed and the others laughed with her.

“You!” he shouted, “Lovely to meet y-you!”

“Oh…” she smiled and fixed his crown, patting his head, “Likewise. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, throwing one arm up into the air, pointing towards the sky, “I shall do just that!”

“Alright…” Rory chuckled, and nodded his head at her, “Goodnight… it was very nice to meet you… Sorry about this idiot.”

She shook her head, waving goodbye to the boys. As they headed down the street, she heard Alex shout, “Raine’s gonna be fucking mad!”

52 notes · View notes

lokilickedme · 6 years ago

Link

We're gods and monsters, all of us.

Part 2 of The Taliesin Series is up - Shrine Of Your Lies Chapter 1

(will reblog later with tag list, if you wish to be added please let me know)

#Hozier #Hozier fic #Irish mythos #Andrew Hozier Byrne #part 2 of The Taliesin Series #Shrine Of Your Lies #original fic

24 notes · View notes

notmanagingmymischief · 4 years ago

Text

hi! My name is Nico, but I also go by Apollo! I'm a part-time writer, full-time antidepressant. I am 20 years old, and I can speak English--my first language--as well as French & some Italian. I'm a huge Watcher Entertainment fan, as well as Vera Farmiga, Ghost, and Hozier--there are more, of course. I identify as queer and go by any pronouns (including it/its and xe/xem). Have fun on my shitshow of a blog! <3

Salut! Je m'appelle Nico, mais j'utilise aussi Apollo! Je suis un écrivain à temps partiel et un échec à temps plein. J'ai 19 ans, et je peux parler Anglais--ma langue maternelle--et Français & un peu d’italien. Je suis un énorme Buzzfeed Unsolved/Supernatural fan, ainsi que Vera Farmiga, Ghost, et Hozier—il y en a plus bien sûr. Je m'identifie comme queer et j'utilise tous les pronoms (y compris it/its et xe/xem). Amusez-vous bien sur mon blog! <33

~ Masterlist ~ Headcanon Mondays ~ Imagines Masterlist ~ Rules ~ FAQ ~ Characters ~ Fic Ideas ~ Buy Me a Coffee ~ Wattpad ~

Updates:

Announcements: Ghost Roleplay Server

Newest Fandom(s): Wednesday [Netflix]

Newest Character(s): GLaDOS (Portal 1 & 2), Leah (Stardew Valley), Larissa Weems (Wednesday), Andrew-Hozier Byrne (Hozier)

Current Fixation(s): Hozier, Viktor (Arcane), Silco (Arcane)

Requests: Closed

Latest Fic: I'm sorry, I'm here for someone else; Andrew Hozier-Byrne

Latest Imagine: Imagine befriending Sunny; Sunnydrop (FNAF: SB)

Who I write for most often: Alma Peregrine (MPHFPC)

Currently working on: Adding Shadows To The Walls of The Cage (Hades!Hozier AU)

#navigation #masterpost #mobile navigation #thank you for multifandomfix btw for the base format of this list

106 notes · View notes

longeyelashedtragedy · 5 years ago

Text

2019 fic masterpost

i wrote a LOT this year--this was my best writing year since 2014! let’s round it all up shall we?

macdeau (emmanuel macron/justin trudeau)

late night when you need my love (E)

down the dark hallway together (E)

soft, sensitive (E)

chief of the armed forces (E)

the prime minister’s lap cat (E)

two years (E)

fly faster! (G)

you’re the one i’ll roll the dice on (E)

cantina band (G)

trophy boyfriend (E)

griezmanu (emmanuel macron/antoine griezmann)

forgot something (E)

ça c’est ma dope (E)

what we do in the élysée (M)

doce (E)

ivantoine (ivan rakitić/antoine griezmann)

the ivantoine saga (ongoing series, baby’s first slow burn!)

i might not mind (E)

we don’t have to wait (E)

man of the match, man on the bench (E)

the past is now part of my future; the present is well out of hand (E)

i’d take care of you (E)

traveling suits (E)

rakidrić (ivan rakitić/luka modrić)

the heat of it all (M)

victory rain (E)

four’s company (crackfic featuring sejan aka dejan lovren/šime vrsaljko) (E)

senyera (M)

a song of ice and fire/game of thrones

watch someone bleed (arya stark/jaqen h’ghar, M)

continue (arya stark/jaqen h’ghar, G)

others

columbia correctional institution (riverdale, penelope blossom, T)

claw machine (andrew hozier-byrne/alex ryan, T)

#whoever goes back and leaves me comments is my new hero #macdeau #griezmanu #rakidric #ivantoine #fic saga #WHAT a Year #as you can see griezmanu is the hardest to come up with ideas for #can't wait for the first fic of 2020!#oh and of course #taxpayer funded lube

21 notes · View notes

fics-not-tragedies · 5 years ago

Text

One Day in December: Chapter 5 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

Words: 3630; Warnings: few slightly smut-ish bits, and if you want a warning for drinking and smoking then you have it; Summary: In the next year both Andrew and Bianca are finally alone and the tensions gets unbearable.

Hozier tag list:

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

December 2014

Bianca was late. Very fucking late.

The party started over an hour ago, and she was hurrying down the sidewalk, the heels of her boots scuffling and catching on patches of ice.

“Yes. This is all I need this year. To break my neck on my way to the party” she muttered to herself, pulling her big, cozy faux fur coat tighter as the night’s chill stung her cheeks and legs. Perhaps she should’ve chosen a longer coat, but… nothing else went as well with the dress she’d selected specifically for the occasion . Despite the fact that the air was so cold and she surely had a nose redder than Rudolph’s… it would be well worth it when she got there.

This year, she was prepared.

Word was that Andrew was single; had been for months.

It was really all speculation… rumors people had spread about him, but she spent the last few weeks seriously holding on to the notion that he really was. Because amazingly… so was she.

She giggled to herself as she got closer and closer, the cars lining either side of the street around the bend reminding her of how late she really was, “Parties never start on time” she reminded herself.

But it wasn’t just that… it was the fact that she wanted to spend as much time with Andrew as humanly possible. That was… if he still wanted her the way he seemed to last year.

She skipped up the steps, sneaking in quickly to be greeted by the warm rush of heat. They had the fire going; she could smell the delicious scent already. She passed the mirror in the foyer, noting the bright red nose as she predicted, and willed it to go away lest she ran into him immediately. Other than that; everything looked alright. She was greeted by friends as she rounded the corner, and she said quick hellos before skirting off down the hall to the coat room. She waved to someone just as she got to the bedroom, slipping the buttons on her coat while she crossed the threshold.

She halted dead in her tracks when she spotted the figure standing at the foot of the bed; his head bent as he searched his pockets for what she could only assume was his lighter, noting the cigarette dangling from his lips.

Andrew glanced up, sensing the presence of someone else in the room other than himself. His eyebrow cocked as he realized who it was and a smirk curled at the edge of his lips, the cigarette hanging on for dear life.

“Bianca” he breathed, standing up straight and shaking back his shoulders.

She gasped softly, telling herself to shut her mouth so she didn’t quite so much resemble a dead fish, “Andrew…?”

Here she was thinking she was prepared to tackle her years-long crush after a devastating last years season… when he goes and shows up like that. Had he looked like that a few months ago? When was the last time she’d caught him on tv…?

Andrew’s eyes sparkled, the devil in them as he drank her in. Well… it wasn’t so much drink as it was devour. Bianca shifted under his heavy gaze, something igniting inside her that hadn’t quite been there the last time they were in a room alone together.

“Mmm… Good to see you, love” he drawled, his tongue licking at every word as it tumbled languidly from his lips, “I’m going out for a smoke… care to join me?”

But…

“Um…” she squeaked softly, and she bit her lip, really wishing she hadn’t sounded like that just then, “Yes. Yeah…sure.” she tried to maintain her cool, but her mind screamed I just got here and it’s freezing outside but I’d honestly follow you anywhere.

Andrew chuckled at her reaction, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding door not-so-cleverly concealed by a row of floor-to-ceiling blinds, “C’mon… there’s no one out here…”

Bianca had to remind herself to use her feet to propel her body forward. That’s how it works when you walk, Bianca… one foot in front of the other. It was hard. He was so gorgeous. Not that he hadn’t been before, but this was…. this was… When had Andrew Hozier-Byrne become so sexy?

She fastened her coat back up, smoothing out the front like that made any difference at all. He pushed the slider open through the blinds and held them back for her to walk through. The cold hit her again full force and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep the heat in. They were blocked in by a series of tall shrubs; quiet… secluded.

Oh…

Bianca heard the flick and click of his lighter behind her and she turned just in time to catch him lighting his cigarette. She swallowed thickly, the scene before her like something out of her wildest dreams. His hair was… well it was shorter than it was last year, but now it was much fluffier and much curlier, like he used a fucking curling iron. The dark jean jacket was layered over a flannel shirt, and somehow… this was like a completely different person.

“God, it’s freezing…” he commented with chuckle, shoving one of his hands deep inside the pocket of his jacket. The collar stood up straight, shielding his neck from the cold, the scarf that hung there barely providing any warmth.

“It is” Bianca smiled softly, unsure now just how to act in front of him.

“I won’t keep you long… just wanted some company” and he flashed that same gorgeous smile she fell in love with, but this time his teeth were much straighter and whiter.

Suddenly it wasn’t so cold outside anymore.

“It’s fine… I don’t mind it…”

“So how you’ve been… you look really good.”

Bianca’s cheeks burned, and she burrowed deeper into her jacket, “Thanks… um… you do too” he just smirked in response,. “I’m… I’m doing well… can’t believe we’re already back here again.”

“I know…” he exhaled, the cigarette smoke an opaque cloud as it mingled with the night air, “Seems like forever but… also not.”

She dug into the pavement with the heel of her boot, “Yeah… you um… you seem… different, maybe?”

He laughed outright, “Different bad or… different good?”

“Different good” she assured him all to quickly.

“It’s the fame, baby” he waved his head like he was in L’Oréal shampoo commercial and laughed loudly. Andrew smirked watching the color rise up on her cheeks, loving the way her nose turned all red out here. He wanted to kiss it. To kiss her. He noticed how hard she was shaking, and took one last drag before flicking his cigarette. He couldn’t talk to her out here like this.

“C’mon love, let’s get you back inside.”

“Oh thank God” she sighed with relief and they smiled at each other before heading back in. Andrew removed his coat, his eyes on her as she took hers off as well.

“Speaking of people looking different…” Andrew drawled, his eyes trailing up her body. She was wearing a dress again, but it wasn’t sweet and it wasn’t cute, and there were no heart tights to be seen; as much as he’d loved them on her. She wore a tight cobalt blue mini-dress that hugged every single curve of her body… the curves Andrew had never really had the chance to see before, “You look… good, like…”

Bianca actually glanced down to see what she was wearing again, as if she’d forgotten after hours of contemplation. When she looked back up, Andrew was still checking her out and she raised her eyebrow at him, waiting for him to look her in the eyes.

“Thanks…” she replied cooly, her confidence coming back now that she was getting used to whatever this new version of Andrew was.

Andrew bit his bottom lip as they stared each other down, that uncomfortable sexual tension humming between them again.

“Wanna get a drink?”

“Yes, definitely.” She breathed and the two of them went to join the rest of the party.

Bianca had never seen Andrew so outgoing before. It was so effortless between the two of them, the flirting at an all-time high.

He loved the way her hazel eyes sparkled when she laughed, and he loved the way the little tendrils of her toffee-colored hair slipped out of the low knot at the nape of her neck. Most importantly, he loved that she was here again; even if nothing happened… he just wanted to be around her.

“Are you gonna dance with me, or…?” Bianca grinned, when another good song boomed through the speakers.

“Absolutely not” Andrew chuckled, sipping his beer, “But you go ahead. I don’t mind watching.”

“Noooo…” she giggled, leaning her shoulder on the wall beside him, “I feel silly doing that… can’t dance alone.”

“Well, good. You can stay here and talk to me, then” he breathed deeply, turning his body so they were facing each other. His eyes drifted across her face and down her body and then back up again.

“Don’t look at me like that” she murmured, a teasing smile on her lips, her eyes batting flirtatiously.

“I’m gonna look at you any way I want” Andrew growled lowly, his eyes falling to her full pink lips, and then back to her eyes again.

Bianca swallowed hard, stepping in a bit closer, mesmerized by his gaze.

The tension. It was back. Thick. Heavy.

“D’you wanna get-”

“Yes” Bianca replied almost immediately and Andrew raised his eyebrows at her rapid reply. She slipped her hand in his and they pushed through the bodies in the living room until they passed through the entryway with the mistletoe and into the long hallway, “Where should we go?”

“Coat room. Only one that’s kept open” Andrew replied, nodding down the hall.

Bianca nodded, too excited to think of a plan b. This was happening.

They crept in, and Bianca immediately checked the master bathroom to see if there was anyone lingering about. Andrew was just clicking the lock on the main door when she came to stand beside him again and he looked to her with a twinkle in his eye.

“No one needs their jacket just yet I’m sure”

She nodded her head in agreement and it took Andrew a half a second before he had her pinned up against the door, his body towering over her. Bianca giggled at his eagerness and Andrew chuckled at his own excitement, “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“Four years.”

“Yes” he laughed, his throat tight at the thought of all the bad things that had happened, “Wait… before we do this… you, em… you’re not seeing anybody… right?”

She bit her lip, shaking her head, “No… you?”

“No.”

“Good” she said firmly, an intensity blazing in her eyes. He marveled at how dark and dim they became when she was in a particularly sexual mood, the amber surrounding her irises burning bright.

Andrew pressed his body closer to hers, licking his lips, his eyelids heavy and dreamy. Bianca was melting. He closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. When he opened them, a smile graced his lips before he leaned in, his mouth hovering over hers.

“Kiss me” she breathed, the both of them hanging in the moment. Andrew paused for only a fraction of a second before his lips crushed against hers. Her mouth was soft, and warm, and inviting… and Andrew kissed her long, and slow, and with a deliberate sense of purpose; wanting to remember and cherish this particular moment long after it was over. His tongue licked at her, tasting her, the fruitiness of the cocktail she had earlier making her mouth extra sweet.

Bianca lifted her arms standing on her tippy toes, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him close. He groaned into her mouth, pressing his hips against hers, her back now flat against the door. Bianca’s stomach knotted and tumbled, his lips more perfect than she’d imagined. The amount of times she thought about how they’d feel were too many to count, and her heart was singing for him. He kissed her hungrily now, his belt buckle digging into her side as he covered her body with his.

“God love…” Andrew breathed, only pulling away for a moment to catch his breath. He kissed at the corners of her mouth, his hands sailing up her back and coasting down again to hold tight onto her hips. She was everything he’d dreamt about and he kicked himself for being an idiot for the past four years. There was the small matter of a girlfriend at the time, but if Andrew was being honest with himself, it was Bianca that had always had him hooked.

“Andrew I’m sorry…” Bianca breathed when his mouth descended to her chin and down her neck, where he planned to spend a very long time exploring.

“What…?” he looked up, his gorgeous brown eyes like melted chocolate, liquid and hazy.

“I’m sorry for last year” she confessed, the way she’d hurt him had torn her up for a year; and she thought about him more than she was willing to confess.

“It’s fine, love” Andrew whispered softly, his thumb caressing her lip, and he swooped in to steal a few more quick pecks, “You did the right thing, and… I, em, I wasn’t in a good place. But…” he pressed even tighter against her if that were possible, “I am now.”

“A very good place” she confirmed, pulling his face close to hers once more. She was going to kiss him until his lips were good and raw.

Andrew smirked, teasing her before they locked lips again. Bianca’s eyes fell closed, falling victim to his prowess, his confidence, the assureds in his actions that hadn’t been there in the past. Their lips seemed a perfect match; sliding and teasing, tasting and pulling; and he captured her full bottom lip between his own. He sucked and nibbled, drawing moans and whimpers from deep within her.

“You’re perfect…” he husked between playful nips, “I could kiss you forever…”

His hand slipped down her waist, his fingers lingering just above the curve of her ass.

“Keep going” she giggled against his mouth, when she felt him hesitate. There was no need to take it slow; surely they were comfortable enough now to just dive right in.

Andrew leaned his forehead against hers, the curls falling into his face tickling her skin, “Alright…” he chuckled, nervous on the inside.

Bianca didn’t know what sound it was that escaped her lips, all she knew was that when Andrew’s hand squeezed her ass, she arched her body into his as a silent plea for more.

“You like that?” he teased, grabbing another fistful, feeling her body twitch, her leg lifting in response.

With her knee at the side of his calf he was invited closer, much closer, and the heat that burned and crackled between them felt so intoxicating now. Bianca’s hands slid down his neck. He kissed her again, his nose bumping against hers, making her giggle.

“Shhh…” laughter danced on the edges of his whisper when he kissed her cheek and down her neck again. His fingers sunk into her thigh, holding it to him while his mouth wreaked havoc on her neck. He licked and sucked along her collar bone, his nose gliding across her soft skin, inhaling the scent that was completely her.

Bianca’s hands trailed down his chest, counting the buttons down his shirt as she went, wondering how quickly she could remove it if she were given the opportunity. His waist was thin and firm, a little bit of softness at his hips. He had a kissable kind of body, one that she’d surely thought about naked… mostly after the night he’d placed his hand on her thigh. She had dreams of him in that maroon sweater, how his hair would stick up from the static when she pulled it over his head. And then what his chest would look like underneath, and how desperately she wanted to cuddle up to it.

Her arms wound around his waist beneath his jean jacket, the checkered shirt warm from his overheated skin. She loved it on him, but she wanted it off, wanted to see his arms, to feel them around her. Andrew paused when he felt her trying to push it off his shoulders, a determined pout on her lips. He gazed at her curiously, dropping his arms to his sides to help her with her mission. It fell to the floor with a thud, and she grinned at him, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

“Just want me naked right here don’t you?” He teased, his voice dark and thick like velvet; his arms facing palms up at his sides.

“Mmm… yes…” she hummed as her fingers skimmed along his skin, pushing the flannel down his arms, tracing the tattoo on his bicep and down, down, down the veins of his forearms until she could entwine his fingers with hers. She pressed her lips to his chin quickly, aching to adorn him with her kisses the way she’d always wanted to, “C’mere you…”

Bianca tugged him closer to her again, her lips smooth and wet as they pressed against his, her tongue teasing him before she kissed up that sharp jaw of his, to his ear where he moaned happily as she sucked on his earlobe, “Oh… you like this…” she whispered, her fingers gripped tight on the edge of his shirt.

Andrew wound his arms around her, hugging her close, needing her pressed against him while she had her way with him, “I’ve had dreams about kissing you all over…” she cooed. He was adorable and sexy and her mind felt fuzzy as she tried to absorb every second of this moment. She was disappearing into him, their bodies like liquid as they melted together, finally acting on all the tension they accrued over the years.

He was torn; simultaneously wanting to throw her on the bed and ravage her, but also wanting to hold her in his arms and kiss her slow until the sun came up. Oh, but couldn’t he do both?

There was a loud banging on the door that startled the two of them; their intimate little moment interrupted. They were so very lost in the idea of exploring one another for the rest of the night that they’d almost forgotten where they were.

“Shit” Andrew hissed under his breath.

Bianca grinned up at him, blinking her eyes dreamily at the flush of his cheeks and his messy hair. The pounding continued and Andrew fixed his shirt, then scooped his jacket up off the floor, his eyes on hers as he slid it back on.

Her lips were red and swollen at his doing, and there were more tendrils falling out of her hair then there had been before. He gazed at her with adoration and a strong feeling in his gut that this needed to continue.

“This… could be a horrible idea… but… we could do one of two things…”

Bianca raised her eyebrows, excited to hear what her options were, despite the incessant pounding at the door.

“One… we could ditch this party, and you could let me walk you back to yours and hopefully invite me up” he grinned, quite pleased with himself for being so bold as to suggest a tryst with the gorgeous girl standing before him; because it certainly wasn’t something he did often.

“And two?” She purred, her eyes dancing golden brown as the amber radiated from the irises with delight.

“And two” he echoed, “We could just head back out there, grab a drink and listen to shitty renditions of shitty Christmas tunes for the remainder of the evening.”

Bianca whistled, “Wow. Tough choice.”

Andrew raised his eyebrow as he waited on her response. The pounding on the door getting on his nerves, “Hey! Pack it in! Give us a fucking second!”

“Fuck off” he heard the person on the other side grumble and they both burst into laughter.

“One. I choose option one” Bianca cried breathlessly, and Andrew threw his arm around her waist, kissing her quick.

“Thank god, fuck. Grab your coat, darling.”

The nervous knot in her stomach was replaced by an excited flurry of butterflies, and they fluttered and swooped as Andrew helped her with her coat. He slipped his hand in hers when they were both properly dressed, and they dashed out of the room and past the persistent asshole who told them to ‘fuck off’ once more as they sailed down the hallway.

Bianca’s feet scurried to keep up with Andrew’s much longer strides, and she bowed her head, biting her lip as she avoided eye contact with the other partygoers. She couldn’t care less what they thought as they pushed past them, she just wanted to think of Andrew and only Andrew as he pulled her towards the front.

“It’s four streets up and one over” Bianca explained while they stood on the front steps, Andrew hurriedly buttoning up his navy coat, wrapping the scarf tighter and popping the collar up to shield his ears.

“Gonna be a long walk, then” he huffed with a grin, his warm breath sending smoke signals like love letters into the starry night sky.

“I could keep you warm” she chirped, her cute little smile warming him up almost instantly.

Andrew grinned at the rosy red her nose was already turning, and tapped it once before he linked his arm with hers, “C’mon, honey… let me take you home.”

29 notes · View notes

fics-not-tragedies · 5 years ago

Text

One Day in December: Chapter 8 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

This chapter is second to the last and I hope it’s a good one!

Words: 3669; Warnings: some nice gentle smut; Summary: Another year Bianca and Andrew decide to ditch the annual party.

Hozier tag list:

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

December 2017

Andrew sat in the car, head back against the seat, waiting. He texted her earlier, just to confirm that she’d definitely be there. It was ridiculous that they wouldn’t just meet someplace else instead of the stupid party… but neither of them really made the effort to suggest another option. Besides, she was right; it was kind of tradition…

The tour was over. He was done. Promotion for this last album drained him, and he was exhausted. The minute he got back to his home in Wicklow, he slept. And slept. And then slept some more. And when he thought he couldn’t possibly sleep anymore… he did. It was a solid ten days before he fully emerged from his post-tour coma; and the first thing on his mind was someone; someone who deserved far better than how she was treated. He thought about the texts he and Bianca had sent over the last two years, and it made him sick to his stomach. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like he was actually going to be physically sick; and so he did. He splashed cool water on his face after he’d thrown up what little contents his stomach contained, and stared long and hard at his reflection in the mirror. He looked worse for wear, despite the endless hours of sleep these past two weeks.

Sitting in the car now, he squinted, brow furrowed, as he thought back to that day nearly a month ago now, when he sent his first text to Bianca in over three months. His neck felt hot even now, thinking about how weird and awkward it had been. He knew she must have felt as strange as he did after all that time; and she was terribly short with him the first day or two.

Andrew didn’t care at all, he embraced it actually, willingly accepting her icy cold one or two word responses. She started to warm up to him again after a little while, and they went back to texting one another on a regular basis. The last conversation they had was about meeting up again; and so here Andrew sat.

He got there early and waited, music quietly humming in the background as Andrew thought about Bianca and what she was going to look like this year. He hadn’t seen her in over two years, and he’d done nothing but dream about her and what she must look like now. The last time he’d seen her, he was a much different person; and he was positive she was too. He thought about her face when he’d said goodbye that January; heading back out on tour. It was like all the color and light was drained from her pretty face and it tore Andrew into a million pieces. He remembered lying in his bunk on the bus, picturing that expression over and over and over again.

They broke it off not long after.

Andrew absentmindedly felt around for his cigarettes and lighter, hoping it would calm his nerves. He was excited of course, but terrified he’d screw up all over again. He knew what he wanted from her and he hoped she wanted the same.

His phone buzzed across the dash, and he snapped it up, reading the message.

I’m just around the corner.

Andrew froze, she was nearly there. He typed a quick ‘alright’ and pulled down the visor to check himself out one last time. He didn’t look amazing, but he did look better than he had and that was good enough. He fixed his hair back with the palms of his hands and took the cigarette from his lips, exhaling a deep breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

He ducked his head spotting a figure walking from the direction he knew her loft was located, and watched her for just a moment before he got out of his car. She was wearing a dress. Always a dress. And her tights had a pattern that he couldn’t quite make out, and she was wearing her fur coat; the same one she’d worn that last Christmas. His heart swelled when her face came into focus, and he closed his eyes trying to calm himself before he opened his door and got out.

He could hear the clicking of her heels on the pavement, the crunch of the gravel beneath her soles, and for some reason it took him straight back to two-thousand-and-ten when she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

“Hey you” he called to her, his voice thick and heavy as it sailed across the bitter winter air. It echoed off the deserted pavement, his car too far away from the party for the noise to interfere.

Bianca looked around, trying to locate where his voice was coming from. He was dressed in nearly all black, probably looked like a shadow to her. When she spotted him, her face lit up. The smile that stretched across her face as she approached set Andrew in motion and he met her halfway. He didn’t even stop when he reached her, he couldn’t.

“I’m just gonna hug you… not even gonna ask…” he murmured as he leaned in to threw his long arms around her and hugged her close to his chest.

Bianca closed her eyes and melted right into him. The knot in her throat felt thick and her stomach churned, but he was here, and he was real and that was all she could ask for.

He didn’t let go. Andrew held her for as long as she would allow, the two of them in the middle of the empty street, snow flurries flying around them.

“Are you crying?” Andrew asked her softly, “Because I am.”

Bianca laughed, the words catching on their way out, “I can’t help it.”

Andrew could feel the wetness seeping through his shirt to his chest and he sighed, squeezing her even tighter if that were possible, “I wanna look at you, but I don’t wanna let you go.”

“You can hold me and look at me” her muffled voice suggested and it made Andrew laugh.

“I suppose I could” he drawled and brushed his lips across the top of her head before leaning back a little and ducking his head to get her to look at him. Bianca lifted her head from his chest, her eyes glassy with fresh tears, her nose red, “Ah…” Andrew smiled, “I could swim in those eyes of yours…”

It was true. He thought about it a lot… getting lost in the pretty shades of her hazel irises, the amber and the olive and the mahogany. It was true, he thought about them enough to differentiate each color completely.

Her cheeks burned, her eyelashes fluttering against them. Bianca could feel his fingers pressed into her shoulder blades and the small of her back, and she wanted to scream at him; ‘don’t ever let me go!’

“So how are you?” Andrew asked her softly, the deepness of his voice resonating through his chest and into hers.

“Right now? Perfect” She smiled up at him, her arms still wound firmly around his back.

The wind spiraled up around them, blowing her hair across her face, and he frowned in concentration as he sorted it all back out again. The snowflakes were caught in her toffee-colored bob and in her eyelashes, and she looked like the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. “Before this though, how were you doing?”

“Good. Normal” she eyed him curiously, “What about you?”

“Not that great” he admitted almost immediately, with a small chuckle, “But let’s not get into that right now. Because… we’re together.”

Andrew honestly felt better than he’d felt in he wasn’t sure how long, and his lips ached with the very strong desire to kiss her…

“Should we, um…” Bianca gestured towards the direction of the house with a nod of her head, and Andrew glanced at the festive decorations and the bright lights and the happy people coming and going; the loud music thumping…

“I…” Andrew didn’t really want to go now that he was with her, “… don’t know if…”

“I don’t really wanna go anymore” Bianca blurted, looking up at him again, “Do you wanna come back to mine?”

Andrew nodded his head and Bianca mirrored him with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes. Andrew walked her back to his car, opened the passenger door for her, and reluctantly let her go. He was going to be beside her in a second, but he was feeling hopelessly attached.

It was quicker than walking, but they had to take more streets to get there considering Bianca always took shortcuts, cutting across yards. They drove in silence. They both knew what was going to happen once they got there, and the sexual tension in the car was at an all time high. Andrew parked his car on the street just outside her flat, and the two of them walked up together.

“You’ve changed some stuff…” Andrew commented, taking note of how adult and how put-together everything was. All the art she’d once had leaning against the wall on the floor was now hung, and her books shelves were organized and she had her little kettle on the oven, and all the things he remembered so clearly were all in their little place.

“It’s been two years” Bianca murmured quietly, glancing at him as she headed for the stairs to her lofted bedroom. Andrew followed her slowly, his feet shuffling hard and heavy on the steps. He watched her legs in front of him, the way her dress shifted and caught on her tights. His fingers itched, his lips still aching…

When he reached the top, she was stood in the middle of the darkened room, her tiny bedside lamp providing a dim glow behind her. She was waiting for him, and it took Andrew a stride and a half to reach her, the two of them melting into one another.

“Andrew…” Bianca whispered, the ache in her voice sounding equally as desperate as he felt.

He took her face in his hands, admiring her for what seemed like the longest moment in history, until he finally touched his lips to hers. It was soft and sensual… a gentleness in Andrew that she didn’t think he possessed any more.

Andrew groaned into her mouth, the sweetness of her lips a taste he hadn’t realized he’d missed so much. He’d forgotten; forgotten what she felt like, what she sounded like, the way her lips moved against his. And like a silent agreement had been made, they began stripping one another out of their clothes, pulling back to assist, and giggling a little when something stuck or someone had trouble with a tricky zipper.

That was Andrew.

His fingers trembled so hard when she’d turned in his arms to reveal the long silver zipper down her back, that he got stuck and nearly gave up, “Why can’t it just happen like in the films?” he muttered a bit defeated, and Bianca faced him once more, a teasing little smile on her lips.

“It’s alright, look” she grabbed the hem and pulled the whole thing over her head, leaving her standing there in her bra and tights.

Andrew swallowed hard, feeling strangely like he was reliving their first time together all over again, “Well, that works.”

She bit her lip as he advanced on her, kicking off his boots and pushing his jeans further down his hips. He wrapped his arm around her back, and helped her lay back as gently as possible, resting his knee on the bed for leverage. Bianca’s body hummed, her skin dotted with goosebumps as she watched him crawl over her. It felt like a dream and she felt like crying, but she didn’t, she couldn’t because he was really here. And she’d keep repeating it to herself as long as she had to.

Andrew took his time.

He let his lips and his hands explore, rediscovering her body and all the things he’d fallen in love with and was forced to walk away from. Andrew’s fingers tickled the sides of her breasts and down the flanks of her body while his lips whispered kisses down her sternum, grinning at the way she sucked in her stomach. He hooked his fingers inside the waistband of her tights, the pattern still unclear to him, and he sat back, inching them down her legs. She lifted them, helping to kick them off, and when he tossed them aside, he sat there, his gorgeous muddy eyes raking over her body.

“You should take those off” Bianca whispered leaning up on her elbows. She was completely naked and he was still in his boxer-briefs; soft grey ones that left very little to the imagination.

“Alright… em, yeah…” Andrew said thickly, his deep voice echoing through the loft.

Bianca shook at the sound. Andrew stood up, prepared to just yank them off and kick them aside and be over and done with it. But Bianca was already inching towards the edge of the bed.

“I wanna do it…” she whispered, like maybe she was afraid to say the actual words aloud. She slid her legs over the side of the bed and Andrew stepped in between them, shivering at her fingers as they brushed against his thighs.

Her eyes followed her hand as it crept across the front of him, her fingertips only a little hesitant as they stroked him slowly through his briefs.

Andrew groaned low in his throat, almost growling at the feeling. He was throbbing hot and thick and ready for her, and the touch of her hand on him could’ve easily tipped him over the edge. But this wasn’t the first time, and he was much more prepared. He watched her as she stroked him, fascinated by him and what she knew was waiting on just the other side of that heather grey material.

Bianca wasn’t going to get into all that just now, but her throat felt tight at the idea of doing it later. Instead, she just leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his stomach just below his navel as her fingers dragged his briefs over the curve of his ass and down his legs. She could feel his cock brush against her when she freed it, and her body was suddenly on fire, remembering how good he’d once felt inside her.

Andrew watched her as she sat on the bed again, inching backwards, radiant in the dim room, like a beacon; a blazing bright signal he’d been chasing on somewhat of a misguided course for far too long. His stomach had been knotted up and anxious up until this point, but now, as he crawled back over her again, covering her mouth in another deep kiss, he felt at ease. Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Andrew pushed himself inside her, the moan in his throat catching as he sank into her. Bianca whimpered a bit strangled, and Andrew searched her face with concern in his eyes.

“Are you alright, Bianca?” He whispered, holding himself steady on his forearms.

Bianca placed her hands on his cheeks, and nodded, “I just forgot…” she whispered back shyly.

“Forgot what?”

A pretty shade of pink crept up her neck to her cheek, “How good you felt.”

“Oh…” Andrew laughed softly, bowing his head a bit embarrassed but he didn’t know why. He shifted a little and Bianca moaned again, “What?”

“Andrew…” Bianca sighed, “I’m okay. I just… you can keep going. I promise I won’t break.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, he began moving his hips into her, sliding in and out so easily. She felt like a dream, like a dream he had so many nights before. It took him a moment to get into a groove, but when he did, Bianca melted into the bed, her leg wrapping around his calf as he thrust into her.

“Oh baby…” he whispered against her ear when he felt her arch her back and meet him halfway.

Bianca moaned with each movement, her head fuzzy and clouded, lost in the feel of his hot skin, flush and sweaty and sticky as he moved against her. He felt so good inside her and she squeezed around him, making him groan. He pulled out almost completely, teasing her before he thrust back in and Bianca cried out. He kept doing it, loving the way she sounded when she moaned his name, begging for more.

Andrew sat up on his knees, lifting her hips and watched himself as he disappeared in and out of her. He brushed his fingers down her stomach to her abdomen, his thumb slipping down and pressing against her clit. She moaned, her palms reaching up and planting firmly against her headboard, feeling her stomach and back sweating as she held her hips up for him. Her flat was hot, especially in the loft, and the two of them were glistening with sweat in the soft amber light.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, admiring her and all the pretty shapes her body made as she moved against him. The way her soft pink lips parted and the way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, the spots of red that covered her neck down her chest as the sweat and heat became too much. He leaned forward, kissing her just under her breasts, and then up the middle to her neck, where he kissed her wetly, his nose brushing along her jaw.

“Mmm… c’mere Bianca…” he sighed, his voice thick with lust and emotion, his arms winding around her back.

He lifted her up until she was sitting in his lap, his cock still deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around his back when he got settled, her arms around his neck. He kissed her face all over; her eyelids, her cute little nose, her soft cheeks. His fingers sunk deep into her hips, and he lifted them so she was hovering for just a moment, until he pulled her down hard onto his cock. The both of them groaning as he filled her up again.

“Andrew…” she breathed, beginning to grind her hips into him, riding him, their bodies pressed so tight together.

He held her against him, his fingers splayed across her back as they moved together. He helped grind her into him, guiding her, speeding up the pace to get her going an slowing it down when he thought he might cum too soon. Andrew had experienced a lot of good nights in the last year or so, most of them on stage performing for thousands of people, but none of them felt quite like this. He was lost in the girl he’d been in love with since he was twenty; the very girl that had most likely been the cause of every single breakup he ever had. He’d never told Bianca this, but… she was the only one. She always had been.

Bianca let Andrew move her, and she ran her fingers through her hair, breathing heavily as she writhed in his lap. Andrew hadn’t taken his big muddy eyes off her for a moment, and a smile curled up on her lips as she leaned forward to kiss him.

“I’m so happy you’re here” she mumbled, catching his bottom lip between her teeth and pulling away slowly. Andrew slowed his pace when her fingers slipped through his hair just above his ears, and he felt like crying. There were so many emotions coursing through his veins, his body humming, his mind completely lucid for once. He knew what he wanted. He’d wanted it for so long, and he hadn’t known how to make it work, but he knew he could now.

“I love you” Andrew told her carefully, making sure she knew from the sound of his voice, that this wasn’t something that had just occurred to him in the heat of the moment.

Bianca’s features softened, and she stopped moving, tilting her head as she gazed at him, “You love me?”

Andrew nodded slowly, his brows furrowed as he watched the way her expressions changed, the way the colors in her eyes melted, the pretty amber dissolving into the the mahogany like whiskey, “I’m not just saying it… because…” he gestured down between them, “I think… em, I think I’ve always known… but… em, it weren’t ever the right time… but…”

“Andrew, I’ve loved you since the moment I met you” Bianca interjected, her voice raw and overcome with emotion.

Andrew’s eyes widened, glassy and tingly when he saw the tears in hers, “Let’s not cry, alright?” He laughed, brushing the first tear he saw trickle down her face, “I’m never going anywhere ever again. I’ve belonged to you since that first night.”

Bianca covered her face with her hands, willing herself to stop the tears from falling; but this was all she’d ever wanted. Years of pining for him, and he’d loved her all along.

“D’you know… that first Christmas… I, em, I didn’t shut up about you the whole ride back to my folks house?”

Bianca was laughing into her hands and Andrew tilted his head, pulling them away. Her nose was a little red, and he cupped her face in his hands, loving the way she fit so perfect, “Really?” She whispered, angry at herself for falling apart during such an important moment.

“Yeah… the other guys told me they couldn’t wait for me to pass out. Then when we went on tour, and I must’ve talked about you for few months straight” Andrew grinned fondly at the memory.

She smiled, blinking the tears from her eyes, and falling against his chest. She pressed her lips to his neck, kissing him softly.

Andrew rubbed his hands up and down her back, “I’ve always loved you, Bianca.”

27 notes · View notes

fics-not-tragedies · 5 years ago

Text

One Day in December: Epilogue 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

Now I’ll celebrate that once again I finished something! Thanks for sticking with me through this story, in May, because why not.

Words: 1252; Warnings: none, unless you want a warning for alcohol drinking; Summary: Next New Year’s Eve was a great opportunity to a new beginning for Andrew and Bianca.

Hozier tag list:

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

December 31st, 2020

“Ready, love?”

Bianca looked at Andrew as he came down the stairs. She was ready before he was, coat on and everything. Andrew smiled when he looked up, finally spotting her. She stood at the landing, clutching her little bag; a bit of her pale gold dress peeking out beneath the fur coat he loved so much, “Well, don’t you look lovely” he murmured, her eyes lighting up at the compliment.

She was glowing.

“Thank you” she hummed, touching her hair with the tips of her fingers, making sure the delicate pins she used to hold it back were still in place. She felt lovely and surprisingly, not nervous at all, “That jacket….” she smiled fondly at the jean jacket, reaching forward to pull the collar up around Andrew’s neck, “It’s cold out… gotta stay warm, baby.”

Andrew smiled at her, his muddy eyes light and soft in the glow from their little Christmas tree in the corner.

“Got my scarf” he whispered as she tucked it in under the lapels, her fingers grazing the cozy maroon sweater.

She gasped softly, wondering why he chosen that particular one for the evening.

“Wanted us both to have a new memory of it” he explained, as if he could read her mind. And by now, he practically could. Three years they’d been together, splitting their time between Dublin and Wicklow, falling deeper and more madly in love with one another. Close enough to finish sentences, and sometimes even thoughts.

“Good thinking” Bianca swallowed, trying hard not to cry.

Andrew’s thumb brushed her cheek, “No crying tonight, love. No need for it.”

“Even if it’s happy tears?”

“Hmm… maybe…” he winked at her, “Do we have everything?”

She looked around and nodded, “Yeah, I think so…”

Andrew took her hand in his, “Alright then, let’s get going… don’t want to be late…”

Bianca pulled the collar of her coat up tighter around her neck as the cold winter wind blew at them. They’d decided to walk; it wasn’t very far, but she was thankful that her legs were at least protected by her black tights. The heels of their shoes clicked along the icy pavement, neither one of them talking, but feeling the nerves and excitement settle in their stomachs.

“You nervous?” Andrew murmured to her, feeling her heart beating fast against his arm as she clung to him.

Her laugh sounded like tinkling silver bells carried on the wind, “I wasn’t before, but now…”

“Same” he chuckled, seeing their destination in the distance. “Nearly there, love.”

Alex was waiting for them outside, looking ever-so-handsome in his winter coat; his dress shirt and tie peeking out at the neck. “Well look at you two. Most attractive couple I’ve ever seen.”

Andrew laughed softly, and Bianca inhaled deeply, sighing out her shaky breath, “Hi, Alex.”

“Hi, love” he leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then over to Andrew for a hug.

“Ready to go in?”

“My dear, there sometimes seems to be old bridges breaking between you and me… Never fear, we may let the scaffolds fall confident that we have built our wall” he whispered into her ear, squeezing her hand a little tighter than he should.

“Heaney?” She asked him and he just nodded silently.

“I’m so incredibly thankful that we found each other year after year. Every December, Bianca” Andrew drawled softly, just loud enough for their small little party to hear, “You’re the one I want to love completely and forever.”

Bianca made a little sound in the back of her throat, and the four people in the room laughed softly, Andrew once again reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes, “Happy tears” she mouthed to him, and he squeezed her hand tight again, his own eyes brimming with emotion.

The officiant smiled at the young couple, and nodded her head.

“Bianca, do you take Andrew as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this from this day forward?”

She nodded her head, smiling as she felt Andrew’s thumb brushing back and forth over her wedding band, “I definitely do.”

Andrew chuckled, no good at staying serious when it was his turn.

“And do you Andrew, take Bianca to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward?”

“Oh love, I do.”

Bianca giggled, her cheeks turning bright pink, bouncing in her heels now with excitement.

“Bianca and Andrew, you have expressed your love to one another through the commitment and promises you have just made. It is with these in mind that I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

“C’mere you…” Andrew murmured, his smile far too big to conceal as he pulled Bianca close, his hands instantly cupping her face. She sighed as his lips pressed against hers, soft and gentle before he dipped her back just a little, “I love you.”

The officiant and Alex clapped as they wait for the two of them to come up for air. “My god, you lot were my absolute favorite pair of the night.”

The two of them smiled so wide; eyes sparkling, and hearts full. “Thank you so much,” Bianca beamed, Andrew’s eyes never leaving her, “This was a last minute decision.”

“Yeah but it took us a fucking decade…” Andrew muttered and Bianca elbow him in the ribs.

“Good luck, you. Go celebrate!”

“Oh my god!” Bianca cried when they exited the building; Cormac and Rory waiting for them on the steps of city hall.

Rory brandished the flask from inside his jacket like always, “This is the original one. From the very first night you two met. It’s my gift to you both.”

Bianca threw her arms around Rory first, and then Cormac, thanking them for being there; through all of it. She hugged Alex last, and thanked him for being witness to their marriage.

“It was my pleasure, Bianca. Now…” he took the flask from Rory, and held it up, “I want to congratulate Andrew and Bianca, for finally realizing, after some very, very painful Christmas parties and wild karaoke shenanigans, that you two were meant for each other. I’m incredibly happy for you both. I love you. Cheers.”

The flask made its way around again, each of them saying their own little bit.

“I said it before but… I loved you the moment I saw you, Andrew. And I’m happy that in marrying you… I’ve automatically adopted three of the best friends a gal could ask for.”

Andrew rubbed his chin, his coppery beard collecting little flakes of snow that had begun to fall again, “I em… well, there’s to never wondering who we’re gonna be spending New Years Eve with. Cheers” he took a long swig, his arm around Bianca’s shoulders. Smacking his lips when he was through, he looked her face over, the snowflakes in her hair and eyelashes; an absolute angel, “I love you, Bianca.”

The five of them headed down the street to the party that was waiting in the nearest pub, where they drank far too much champagne and covered all the tables with empty pint glasses with the rest of their friends and family. They ate too much cake, and sang along loudly and poorly as everyone took their turn at karaoke. Another tradition.

And when it was exactly twelve o’clock midnight, Bianca and Andrew welcomed in the New Year with their arms around each other good and tight.

21 notes · View notes

fics-not-tragedies · 5 years ago

Text

One Day in December: Chapter 2 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

I’ll post this fic every day from now, no matter if there’s something already scheduled for that day or not.

Words: 2070; Warnings: none, unless you want a warning for drinking, few curses and smoking then you have it; Summary: Another year of Christmas party, another meeting with Bianca.

Hozier tag list:

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

December 2011

Andrew walked into the party, arm around her waist, smiling and nodding at the faces he recognized… even the ones he didn’t.

And here he was, back at the same Christmas party.

“I’m going to get something to drink Andrew…” she smiled and headed for the kitchen.

And then he was left alone… the other guys didn’t arrived yet.

“Look who it is.”

Andrew turned, startled by the familiar voice.

Bianca.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, surprising himself when he leaned in for a hug. The last time he’d seen her was a year ago; when he was being escorted from the party by his mates. Bianca squeezed him tight, beyond happy that he was here again. She’d not had any way to contact him after last year’s party.

Yet here they were.

“I never got to ask you… but I assume you got home alright last year?” she bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. The memory of a very drunk Andrew was still fresh in her mind.

“Oh…” he chuckled, his cheeks flushing a bit. It was funny, he was a year older, but he seemed a little more introverted than he had the year before, “I did. Yes. I was em… very ill.”

“All over the neighbor’s lawn?”

Andrew’s eyes widened, “How did you know…?”

Bianca giggled, “Alex said you probably would.”

“Ryan…” Andrew muttered, glancing around for his tinnier, bass-playing counterpart. But alas, his mates still weren’t there yet.

“Andrew…?” A young woman, probably with Indian roots judging by her looks, suddenly popped up at his side, drinks in either hand, “Who’s this?” she asked, handing him a glass. Her cool grey eyes sized Bianca up, assessing whether or not she was a threat.

“This is Bianca… met her last year” Andrew explained, his smile much bigger than his girlfriend probably wanted to see. But he couldn’t help it… he was genuinely happy to see her again.

When introductions had been made, Bianca stood there awkwardly, not feeling quite as comfortable as she had been when it was just her and Andrew. Perhaps it was the icy cold shoulder she was getting from his girlfriend… which could’ve just all been in her head… but either way… she wasn’t into it.

“I’m gonna… just… grab another drink” Bianca murmured, trying to disguise the fact that her glass was nearly full, but Andrew had spotted it. He glanced at her drink and up to her eyes, silently begging her not to go.

She smiled, tight-lipped and escaped into the kitchen. It was easier this time around; she knew people better, and she lived there more than a year now, so she didn’t feel like an outcast. What she did feel was stupid. Stupid that she thought she actually had a chance with Andrew. That they both just show up this time and everything would be the same as last year… but it wasn’t. And to top it off; he had a girlfriend this year. And she was pretty and she probably most likely couldn’t compete with her.

She watched them through the kitchen doorway, the way her arm was wound around his, and rolled her eyes, gulping down her drink. When she finished, she made herself another, and so on and so on…

Even though Andrew was by his girlfriend’s side the entire night, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Bianca for a moment. He thought about her a lot since last year… more times that he cared to mention. It was a funny thing, a chance encounter…he didn’t think he’d see her again. He’d hoped but… what was he to do about it now? He remembered laughing with her an awful lot last time. But he was with his girlfriend now and he loved her very much.

He found himself wandering the party later, on his own while his girlfriend was chatting with friends. He hadn’t seen Bianca in awhile and… he wondered if she’d left. There was another line for the bathroom, but this time, the people in it were very irritable. Apparently they’d been waiting an awful long time to get in. In his gut, he had an inkling who was behind that door.

“Pretty girl in there… short like… shoulder-length hair? Wearing em… a dress?” A few of them nodded at Andrew’s awful description of Bianca. But it was enough, so he knocked gently on the door, pressing his ear against it, “Bianca? Is that you in there?”

There was a long pause before he heard her croak, “Andrew?”

“Yeah love, it’s me. Are you alright? Let me in” he could hear her groan and he tried the handle, “Bianca… it’s just me… no one else.”

A second later, he heard the lock click and he tried the handle again.

“Hey!” Someone shouted when he went to slip inside.

“Look… she’s feeling ill… give her a break. There’s a bathroom in the main bedroom… use it” Andrew snapped at them before shutting the door behind him. When he turned around, his heart ached at the sight of Bianca all curled up on the floor, “Fuck” he murmured, wondering why he decided to be so heroic.

“Andrew” she whispered, her mascara running down her cheeks, “I… don’t look at me.”

Andrew chuckled, and crouched down next to her, “I’m sorry… I have to. Just checking to see if you’re alright.”

“I’m not” she responded, sighing heavily and attempting to wipe the mascara she could feel running down her cheeks.

“Well… when’s the last time… you booted in there?” He asked her, checking for signs of… debris.

“Awhile ago… I just… I can’t get up and go out there.”

She was coherent and she could speak full sentences, which was more than he could say for himself when he got completely pissed, “Hmm… well… how about I help you? Get you cleaned up?”

“Okay…” she whispered, completely embarrassed that Andrew had been the one to find her.

Andrew got up and searched the little cabinet for a washcloth to wipe her face with. He also found a brush for her hair. He’d never taken care of a girl when they’d been sick before… the guys had all had their fair share of drunken debauchery, but they really didn’t behave like this.

He wet the towel and squeezed it out before crouching beside her again, “Here, I’m gonna just… wipe your face… em, is that alright?”

She looked up at him with her pretty hazel eyes and nodded solemnly. He smiled and held her chin, gently wiping her cheeks and around her eyes. He cleaned around her hairline and the ends of her hair that might’ve had some sick stuck in it, and then across her mouth with the other corner. He felt bad he’d taken all her makeup off but… she looked a thousand times better.

“How’s that? Feel better?” He asked her, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yes. Much.”

“Can you stand up?” He offered her his long arm, and slowly stood with her, helping her smooth out her dress. “C’mon… come over to the sink… we can comb your hair and I think maybe find some mouthwash in the medicine cabinet.”

Bianca took one look at herself in the mirror and gasped, “Oh God… I look awful.”

Andrew frowned, “What? No you don’t.”

“Yes. I do. I’m an idiot” she grumbled something else to herself, something Andrew couldn’t quite hear, but he nudged her.

Hey… if it’s about the makeup… for what it’s worth… I think, em, you look much prettier without it. Not that, em… not that you looked bad before or anything but… just… I can see your freckles now” he grinned at her and she laughed, “And your eyes. They’re a really pretty greenish color, em, kinda like mine.”

“Hazel” she replied, her cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink.

“Right. Hazel. Good color. I like it” they stared into each other’s eyes a little bit too long, the both of them swaying towards each other before Andrew remembered where he was and what he was doing, “Em… mouthwash!” he exclaimed and wretched open the cabinet, rifling through.

Bianca kept swaying, her eyes dreamy and hazy admiring Andrew. He was so soft looking, his fluffy brown curls framing his beautiful face. She found herself wanting to reach out and touch them, and she would’ve had he not retrieved the mouthwash and thrust it in her direction.

He watched and waited while she swished it around and spit into the sink. He handed her the brush and she fixed her hair, fluffing it a little so she didn’t look like a drowned sewer rat. Which was precisely how she felt.

“Ready to head out there?” Andrew asked her softly, after he stopped staring at her in the mirror. He needed to not think about her this way. Not now. Not in such close proximity.

“Yes. You go first.”

He laughed, “Alright. Just… follow me.”

She nodded and he cracked the door open, the line having shortened down to only a few partygoers who looked to be new to the queue, so he felt confident swinging the door back to waltz out. Bianca was hot on his heels as they made their way down the hallway back to the party. He wasn’t quite sure how long they’d been gone for, but the mood seemed to have shifted. He didn’t see anyone he knew as they walked through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Water. You need water” he smiled at her, and opened the fridge looking for a bottle. He grabbed two and opened it for her before handing it over, “Drink some of that and we’ll go outside and get some fresh air, yeah?”

Bianca nodded and they crept out the side door to a little patio. It was no bigger than a few tiles and some dead shrubs the winter had claimed for its own. They both shivered and laughed as the cold air hit their lungs and stung their cheeks.

“Fuck it’s cold” Andrew laughed, puffs of air leaving his mouth with each breath. He searched his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter while Bianca shook and bounced from foot to foot. She drank her water dutifully, feeling much better now in the fresh air.

Andrew raised his eyebrows at her as he took a deep drag and exhaled. Bianca smiled at him in his thin cigarette-style trousers and his button down shirt. Her heart raced, getting to spend so much time with the boy she’d crushed on for an entire year.

Crush.

He was a silly crush and she knew it was dumb… but maybe… he could just be her Christmas boyfriend. The sweet guy she got to see just once a year who was always very nice to her. It could be their little thing, even though he could never know she thought of him that way.

There was a bang on the glass and there was Cormac with his girlfriend and Andrew’s right behind her. The three of them came out onto the patio into the blistering cold, teeth chattering as they interrupted Andrew and Bianca’s quiet little moment.

It was fine now… everyone was nice and silly and bubbly, and even though Bianca and Andrew were no longer alone… she was okay with it. She wasn’t a home-wrecker. It just wasn’t meant to be.

Bianca was grabbing her coat when Andrew popped into the bedroom.

“Hey… I… em… just wanted to say goodbye. We’re… leaving” he smiled, thumbing his hand in the direction of the door.

“Yeah… me too” she smiled, shrugging her coat on.

“Are you feeling better now?” He asked her warily, collecting their coats.

She nodded, “I am. Thank you for… tonight. Thanks for helping me.”

Andrew’s smile stretched from ear to ear, “Anytime, love” he wanted to hug her, and before he changed his mind, he did it. One last time.

Bianca closed her eyes, breathing him in, swaying in place again as she squeezed him back. She giggled when he let her go and he pointed at her.

“Ah! There it is; that smile!” He headed for the door, turning back just before he crossed the threshold, “I’ll see you next year, yes?”

She nodded brightly, “Yes. I think so.”

“Alright. Good. Merry Christmas, Bianca” he grinned, nodding his head and tapping his hand on the door frame.

“Merry Christmas, Andrew.”

22 notes · View notes

fics-not-tragedies · 5 years ago

Text

One Day in December: Chapter 9 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

The last chapter will be posted tomorrow folks! Enjoy this one today.

Words: 2154; Warnings: few smut bits, also alcohol drinking; Summary: This year the pair decided to sing together a Christmas classic before ditching he party.

Hozier tag list:

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

December 2018

“Here…” Alex handed Andrew the flask and Andrew looked at him with a bewildered expression on his face, “Don’t look at me like that… you need it… have some.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and knocked a swing back, “Ughhhhh… God…” he bit back the strong liquid that burned his throat all the way down. Shaking his head, he stuck his tongue out and an icy cold chill whipped up between the cars, between their little circle and and around Andrew’s neck, “Fuck it” he murmured and took another hard swig. It may have burned, but it felt good once it was settled in his belly.

“We’re still doing this, eh?” Rory grinned looking between the two of them.

“Eh… it’s only once a year. Tradition, right?” Alex smiled at Andrew and he nodded his head with a grin.

“Tradition, yeah” Andrew handed the flask off to Rory and checked his phone one more time. It was getting late.

“Oh God!” Rory exclaimed, clutching his throat just beneath his his scarf, “That’s disgusting. Tastes like lighter fluid. Is that what it is?”

Both Andrew and Alex laughed at Rory’s reaction, and Alex defended his choice of liquor, reasoning that it would keep them warm. Which it was, so he hadn’t been wrong, really.

“Fuck it’s cold!” Andrew hissed, digging his hands deep into his pockets. The bass from the party was beckoning them inside, into the warmth and out of the crisp, damp, snow.

Alex frowned, “What’s the deal, mate? Is she-”

“Hey!! You better have saved a sip of that for me!” Bianca’s light, happy voice traveled on the wind, carrying it to the little cluster of lads huddled together, shielded from the wind by the car beside them. Andrew’s head whipped up at the sound, a smile breaking out on his face.

There she is.

Alex and Rory cheered and clapped at her arrival and Andrew grinned like a fool, opening his long arms up wide for her, “Hey you…” he breathed, a cloud of air engulfing them as she melted into him. He wrapped his arms around her tight, hugging him to her so close.

“Sorry I’m late…” Bianca sighed against Andrew’s neck, giggling when he tickled her sides.

“It’s fine, em… we just froze out here waiting for you…” he teased, giving her a pinch and tucking her against his side.

“Froze? What about the lighter fluid?” Alex grinned and Bianca held her hands out in indication that she wanted him to toss the flask her way.

It sailed through the air between the four of them and she caught it before knocking it back and finishing it completely. She gagged, “Fuck me. That’ll put hair on your chest” and then with a grin she added, “Shit… I should’ve saved some more for you Andy.”

“Ha!” He rolled his eyes and nipped at her playfully.

“Alright you two, let’s head inside, shall we?”

And so the four of them traipsed up the steps to the party that the friend they’d all met years ago and couldn’t quite remember how, had been throwing for nearly a decade now.

“Hey, where’s Cormac?” Bianca frowned when they pushed through the bodies and down the hall to the coat room.

“Stayed home with his family” Andrew informed her, holding his arms out to help her remove her jacket.

“Aw. I never thought it was quite as fun when all four of you weren’t together.”

Rory smiled and raised his eyebrows, tossing his jacket onto the pile and unknotting his scarf. It was the same one Bianca had seen him tuck around his neck the first night she met him, “I agree.”

“You can be him for the night Bianca if you’d like” Ryan chimed in, “The honorary fourth Hozier crew member.”

She grinned, “Those are some serious shoes to fill… but I can totally do that.”

Andrew and Bianca let themselves drink a little more than they usually did… seeing as to how now they had each other and there really wasn’t anything to be depressed about this holiday. They’d commandeered the karaoke. They were two hams that were finally unleashing their natural ability to entertain and sang through a barrage of songs. Bianca wasn’t shy and nervous anymore with Andrew by her side, and he’d finally begun to feel comfortable in his own skin. Sometimes getting older and finding the one you were meant to be with had a way of doing that.

“Wanna sing one more with me, baby?” Andrew raised his eyebrow at Bianca, his voice deep as he sang his question, his lips pressed to the mic. Bianca giggled from her perch on the arm of the couch where she sat through Andrew’s last two songs with Alex and then a few drunk friends of theirs who tried to wrench the mic from him in their intoxicated obnoxiousness.

“That depends…” she sang back in the other mic, standing up opposite him, “… what song? because I’m tired and I wanna go hoooooome.”

“It’s an old favorite” Andrew smiled, his face lighting up when he selected the song and the words showed up on the screen.

“The duet version” she felt her cheeks flush, remembering the last time this song was sang here; how sweet Andrew had looked when he sang it. He nodded his head to the screen, indicating that he wanted her to take the lead first. She smiled and rolled her eyes upwards. The key was going to be high for her, and she really didn’t have the voice that belonged on the same stage as her boyfriend. He was the singer in this couple, not her.

Clearing her throat as her countdown began, she chirped the first word, coughed with a smile and started again, catching up.

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful

But the fire is so delightful

And since we've no place to go

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”

She swayed back and forth to the beat as Andrew began his part.

“It doesn't show signs of stopping

And I brought some corn for popping

The lights are turned down low

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow” he sang flamboyantly and loud, making his way over to her and taking her hand. He spun her into his arms and then out all the way again so she nearly fell into Andrew’s lap.

A crowd had gathered.

When Bianca noticed this her face got bright red and she nearly gave up the mic, but Alex pushed her back in towards Andrew. She shook her head as he sang to her.

“When we finally kiss goodnight

How I'll hate to go out in the storm”

He was hamming it up now, improvising and throwing in his little ‘Andrew-isms’ just to make her laugh and she loved it. She adored him and her heart was full. Now came the part when they were meant to harmonize and it didn’t sound great, but they went with it anyways.

“But if you really hold me tight…” Andrew was pointing at himself, like ‘me? are you singing to me?’ And Bianca grinned, nodding her head and playing along. “… All the way home I'll be warm…”

And then he had her hand and he was singing right to her, her voice dying out as he took over.

“The fire is slowly dying

And my dear, we're still goodbying

But as long as you love me so

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow?”

Bianca giggled when Andrew kissed her cheek and squeezed her. Their performance warranted a round of applause and a few whistles here and there. Most of the guests in attendance had witnessed the last few years of their roller coaster of a love story and if they hadn’t been there first hand, they’d heard about it through a friend. It was a small town, good news travel fast, and everyone knew Andrew. Bianca became a local celebrity by association.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this kind of attention” she whispered in his ear, hiding her face, “How do you stand it every night?”

“You’re just not seasoned like I am” he teased her with another squeeze, “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes!” Bianca exclaimed and for some reason, she got the feeling this would be the last time he’d be asking her that question in this house.

“Can you please hurry up?” Bianca called from the middle of her bed, the covers tucked up under her chin.

“What?” Andrew called to her from the bathroom around the corner, “Couldn’t hear you…”

He peeked around the corner at Bianca’s head floating on the pillows, seemingly bodiless beneath the blankets. He snorted, his toothbrush wedged between his teeth.

She grinned at him, her cheeks flushed, her shoulder-length tawny hair in a little knot on the top of her head. “I said can you please hurry up because I’m freezing.”

He laughed again, “Baby… how can you be freezing when-”

Andrew stopped mid-sentence when Bianca lifted the blankets and flashed him her naked body quickly, her mouth an open smile, her hazel eyes twinkling. Andrew pulled his toothbrush from his mouth and threw it over his shoulder. It clattered to the floor behind him somewhere, and Bianca giggled when he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled on top of her over the covers, “Thought you were tired and all that?” Andrew asked her between kisses. He covered her cheeks and her forehead, her eyelashes and the tip of her nose.

“Tired of that party” she laughed as he felt her up through the blankets, squeezing her and tickling her, supporting his weight by leaning up, his knee on other side of her waist, “Can we never go back again?”

“Never?” He murmured, inching down the blankets slowly as he kissed across the tips of her shoulders and her collarbone.

“Ever.”

“Never ever?”

“I don’t wanna go back!” She cried with a laugh as he shimmied the comforter down further, exposing her breasts. She tried to cover herself from the icy cool air of the room, but he nudged her hands away with his nose, and swatted at her.

Andrew chuckled against the warmth of her soft skin, “No reason to really…”

“There isn’t. I only went for you. And now I’ve got you” she sighed happily, sliding her fingers into his hair while his minty cool lips took her nipple into his mouth. He sucked on her slowly, his fingertips and thumbs stroking her sides. Goosebumps dotted her skin and she shivered.

“Pretty sure…” Andrew mumbled through each sinful, wanton pass of his tongue, “It’s I who’s got you.”

Bianca moaned softly, laughing at the tingly way her body melted with that incredible mouth of his, “Either way. Not going back” she combed her fingers over and over through his long locks. He’d cut it over the summer, but it was back to this length again, and when he didn’t tied it, it reminded her of her Andrew beneath the mistletoe in two thousand twelve. So soft, and gentle, and sweet.

“Good” he moaned as he trailed sloppy, wet open-mouthed kisses down her torso, “Can I ask you em, one thing?”

She tugged on his hair when his nose brushed against her, tickling her, “Yes…”

“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” He muttered against the bone of her hip, his teeth gently nipping at her. He looked up at her, kissing her once more before climbing over her and pulling the blankets up around them. He settled between her legs, resting on his elbows beside her head, “Wanna come back with me and spend the New Year in Dublin? I know this isn’t as exclusive as it sounds, since we’re, em, an hour away from Dublin, but let’s change something.”

Bianca raised her eyebrows at the suggestion. She’d only been to Andrew’s once during the summer for a few weeks. She’d loved it.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” Andrew grinned, brushing his nose against hers, “You can stay for as long as you want, don’t have to come running back” he kissed her soft pink lips slow and lazy, leaning on one arm to push her leg open wider for him. He brushed his fingers against her, getting them slick and wet. Bianca moaned, sliding his pants over his hips and ass, snaking her hand inside to wrap around him and stroke him slowly before guiding him inside her.

She sighed when he filled her up, her hands on his ass, holding him against her. He lay there on top of her for a moment, gazing heavily into those pretty eyes of hers. He realized then he didn’t want to have to say goodbye to her anymore every time he left.

“I’d like it if you stayed with me…” Andrew whispered, his lips brushing against hers, “More…permanently.”

20 notes · View notes

fics-not-tragedies · 5 years ago

Text

One Day in December: Chapter 3 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

Words: 2577; Warnings: none, unless you want a warning for drinking then you have it; Summary: Another year both Andrew and Bianca arrived with dates which lead to some drama.

Hozier tag list:

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

December 2012

The following year, Bianca and Andrew arrived at the same time.

Both of them with dates.

The four of them met on the sidewalk leading up to the house, like a showdown. Andrew brushed his hair back out of his eyes and nodded at Bianca, a playful little smirk at the corner of his lips. Bianca beamed in response, introducing her date with so much confidence she nearly patted herself on the back when she walked up the sidewalk in front of Andrew and his girlfriend with the cool-grey eyes.

Her date, a guy she was seeing for a little while, was sweet, and attentive, and pretty attractive… and she smiled up at him briefly before casting her eyes over her shoulder to Andrew. He was peering back at her through his long, curly hair, his muddy green eyes wide and soft. Her stomach flipped despite the pep talk she’d given herself the entire week leading up to tonight.

You have a date. He’s a silly crush. Knock it off.

She squeezed her guy’s arm as they headed to the back room to deposit their coats, thinking about how the last time she was in this room, she was wishing Andrew a Merry Christmas. That year had been sad, and lonely, and… he had made it so much better for her.

“Hey… um… I’m just going to use the toilet for one sec, alright?”she asked her date once she rested her coat on the stacks of others.

“Sure. I’ll wait for you.”

Oh.

“Okay… I’ll only be a second” she assured him, hoping she could just be completely and totally alone for a minute. She slipped into the master bathroom, the one that was generally off limits, but she was respectful and would leave it exactly the same way she’d found it. Besides, she didn’t have to go anyways. She just needed to escape for once second, collect her thoughts.

She stared at herself in the mirror, wrapping her hair around her hand and laying the soft curls over her shoulder, “You can do this” she whispered to herself, trying very hard not to think about how gorgeous Andrew looked. Especially with the longer hair situation he had going on. She had a certain weakness for that look. He was one of the few that could pull it off.

She rinsed her hands in cool water and patted the back of her neck. That’s when she heard it; the distinct drawl of Andrew’s dulcet tone. And the voice of her date. They were talking.

She squinted her eyes and listened for a second; Andrew sounded aloof and friendly and… very Andrew. Taking a deep breath Bianca opened the door quietly, standing in the doorway watching them. Andrew looked like a giant next to her date. He was almost a head and a half shorter and quite small compared to him.

She sighed and plastered a wide smile on her face, walking out to greet them.

“There she is” her date smiled down at Bianca and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Bianca smiled contently, nestling into him, “I’m here. What’re you guys talking about?”

“Anúna” Andrew answered cooly, seemingly undeterred by the way Bianca was wrapped around him.

“I am a fan” her date replied, grinning like an idiot.

Bianca just smiled happily, undeterred, announcing that she was thirsty so she could get herself out of this awkward triangle.

Andrew sipped his drink in the open doorway, tucked against the jamb. He leaned his head back, lost in thought, not even really concerned with why he was left alone again. He actually preferred it that way. Alex was the only one who made it to the party that night out of the boys, and he was off somewhere chatting with old friends, and his girlfriend was mingling and being the social butterfly that she always was.

It wasn’t Andrew’s scene.

“Hey… what’s with the long face?”

Andrew smiled instantly, nodding his head when he heard Bianca’s voice behind him, “Seriously…” she crossed into the open doorway and leaned against the frame opposite from him, “… the Backstreet Boys are playing” she teased, “Their beautiful harmonies on this original Christmas tune should be like… melting your fucking ice cold heart right now.”

“Shut it” Andrew murmured chuckling softly, brushing his hair back again.

Bianca grinned, happy and confident and fueled by liquid courage, “How are you? Other than ya know… anti-social and mopey in the corner over here.”

“I promise you… it’s a party on the inside.”

Bianca made a face, and then the two of them burst into laughter; Andrew’s smile big and infectious, “There it is…”

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

“It’s good to see you.”

Andrew’s eyes drifted over her, perhaps not as subtly as he would’ve liked… but he was watching her all night, hoping for a moment alone like this one. She looked… taller… maybe. Perhaps it was the way her body had taken on a more feminine shape… he wasn’t sure. He just knew that he liked the way her legs looked in those opaque black tights… liked the way they disappeared up underneath that adorable maroon dress…

“Andrew” Bianca laughed and it sounded like tinkling bells. He was drinking, sure… but for some reason, tonight he was feeling… well, he didn’t actually know what he was feeling… But it wasn’t platonic.

“Em… yes, love?” He looked up at her through his long, curly hair, his big muddy green eyes glossy and wide.

“You alright?” She asked him softly, stepping forward a bit. It was dumb, that she knew… but the way he was looking at her… it was the look she was hoping for all year long.

Andrew looked down when her fingers that grasped her glass full of that festive-looking red punch, brushed against the soft white material of his shirt. He swallowed hard, unsure of what was about to happen.

“What about your em…?”

“What about yours?” Bianca countered, eyebrow raised.

Andrew was taken aback by her boldness. Where had this version of Bianca come from? The last two years she was… timid like a church mouse, and now… it was like their roles had reversed.

“She’s… doing what she does best.”

“Mine’s an idiot, so.”

Andrew laughed softly at that, “He is quite dim, isn’t he?”

Bianca nodded, “Yes. And it’s very painful.”

Andrew cleared his throat, “So…”

“So…” Bianca whispered, making the eyes at him. She stepped a bit closer, the space between them now nearly nonexistent, “You do realize what we’re standing beneath, don’t you?”

Andrew cast his eyes upward; mistletoe that he was almost brushing his head against. He didn’t know what else he expected to see up there honestly… he should’ve known. It was so like him to have chosen this spot to idle in all night.

“There are… certain… rules that come with that particular Christmas decoration, aren’t there?”

Bianca’s free hand fingered the edge of his denim jacket, her eyes studying him… admiring him… drinking him in, “There are… and they’re to be strictly reinforced in respect to the holiday tradition.”

Andrew smirked, licking his lips. This was dumb. He was being dumb. Their significant others could walk in on them at anytime… not to mention the other partygoers passing back and forth around them. But if he was being honest with himself… he was thinking about kissing Bianca since the minute he saw her. The way she nursed that beer, so timid and shy…

“Andrew…” Bianca interrupted his thoughts again, her voice soft and sweet.

He looked at her lips; she just licked them. They were wet and shiny and glossy and… his mouth fell open, tilting his head as he leaned into her.

“Mmm…” she moaned quietly, in anticipation of finally feeling Andrew’s mouth pressed against hers; finally getting to taste him like she’d dreamt all year.

For a moment, it was like nothing else in the room existed, and Andrew’s eyelids were fluttering as he got closer and closer and…

“YO!” A loud voice boomed throughout the house; the soft Christmas music cut off and replaced by an echoing voice of some idiot on a microphone.

Karaoke. They were doing karaoke.

It was then that the opening notes of Last Christmas by Wham! began to pulse through the house, rattling practically every bit and bauble, every tinsel and foil decoration strung about.

“Ugh…” Andrew groaned, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

Bianca sighed stepping back, “Well, if that wasn’t a sign…”

Andrew didn’t say anything, he just brushed that beautiful hair back from his eyes again, “I should probably, em…”

“Yeah… um… me too.”

Both of them lingered a second longer before Bianca stood there alone again, watching Andrew disappear into the crowd of people gathering in the other room. She retreated around the corner, pressed her forehead into the wall and covered her mouth to scream into her hand, “Mother fucker” she muttered, banging her head against the wall a few times and then slumping against it hoping no one discovered her and she was left there all night to rot.

“Em…?”

Bianca’s eyes shot open and she turned her face towards the voice, her forehead still planted firmly against the wall.

It was her date. The handsome idiot who was an incredibly good kisser and also fantastic in-between the sheets.

She didn’t even have to ask… his face said it all.

“I don’t know exactly-” he began, his face looking drawn and still wildly attractive despite the way the corners of his mouth turned down.

“Let me explain, I-”

He shook his head, “No. Don’t. I’m just… I’m gonna go…”

“NOTHING HAPPENED!” Bianca suddenly shouted, and he just frowned at her lingering before disappearing around the door.

“But it would’ve” he said simply and then… she was alone.

Again.

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” Bianca shouted, throwing her arms up in the air. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Just… fuck” she grumbled all the way down the hallway to the bedroom with the coats.

That was it. She was done this year. No more.

She threw open the door exposing a couple making out and her eyes widened. “Oh, come-the-fuck-on.”

The couple looked at her, bewildered and skirted around her and out the door.

“Honestly” she threw her hands up in frustration again, eyes towards the heavens. “Really? You couldn’t just… couldn’t just give me a break?”

She growled angrily to herself, digging through the massive pile of coats, throwing them everywhere until she recognized her marle black and grey trench. She hurried down the hall, clutch between her teeth, shoving her arms roughly into the sleeves, avoiding bodies to her left and right. She looked nuts. She knew she did, but she was done. So done.

Andrew nodded his head to the music, the next person to sing even worse than the last. It was mindless entertainment at least, and it kept him distracted. That was until he saw a blur of tawny brown hair and a trench coat whipping around the corner and towards the front door.

Bianca.

He couldn’t help himself. He had to.

His girlfriend gave him an inquisitive look and thinking fast, he tapped his back pocket where his cigarettes were stashed and she nodded once with a smile as he pushed through the partygoers.

The air stung his lungs and bit his cheeks when the wind threw the door open out of his hands and knocked it against the wall beside him. He checked around and saw the huge dent the lock made in the wall, his eyes widening as he rushed out, pulling it shut tight behind him.

“Damaged the fucking wall. Perfect. I’m ruining everything tonight” he grumbled, casting his eyes across the lawn and squinting into the darkness at Bianca’s silhouette retreating past all the parked cars lining the street.

He didn’t know what came over him, but he took off after her, dodging the cars nimbly, his agility and speed coming in handy in this particular moment. It was difficult though; she’d had a head start and she was fast. When he got close enough, he shouted to her.

Bianca stopped dead in her tracks, “Oh no… no. No no no no…” her head fell back and she looked up into the cold, dark blue sky, “Why? Why do you have it out for me?” She asked and heard Andrew chuckle behind her.

“Who are you even talking to?” He drawled, coming to a stop a few feet away.

Bianca slowly turned to look at him, and she wagged her finger as she advanced a few steps in his direction, “No. Don’t. Just… don’t. Go back into that party and leave me alone.”

Andrew’s face fell, his full lips turned up into a pout, eyes confused.

“Really? That look? Come on.”

“What?!” He shouted at her and she just groaned and rolled her eyes, spinning on her heel as she began to march away again, “Bianca! Come on!”

“I’m leaving.”

“What, you’re just gonna walk? It’s too cold for that!”

“Yeah well, maybe I’ll get frostbite and die so I don’t have to show up to this dumb party next year” she cried over her shoulder. Her breath came out in white silvery puffs, clouding around her. She pulled her jacket tighter; it was fucking cold.

“Don’t say that!” Andrew exclaimed, his voice cracking a bit. He cleared it and shouted again, “What will I have to look forward to next year?”

She scoffed, “I don’t know… your girlfriend perhaps?”

“Don’t be like that either! Throw that in my face like that… What about your guy?”

Bianca stopped again and turned, “What? You mean the really handsome, really good looking guy that was sweet and nice and really fucking good in bed? That guy? Yeah well… he left. So that ship has sailed.”

Because I have a crush on you, and I can’t stop thinking about you, you stupid dickhead.

“He left you?” Andrew murmured, the clouds of smoke leaving his mouth somehow much prettier than hers. It seemed to swirl and curl up towards the sky like tiny strains of sugar floss.

Naturally.

“Yes. Because he saw the two of us. That giant nothing that happened? He saw it. So” she sighed, the anger slowly dissipating as disappointment and sadness set in.

“Oh… but…”

“Yeah. I tired to tell him that.”

“Either way… he shouldn’t have left you. I wouldn’t have left you.”

She laughed, brimming with bitterness and spite, “Okay, Andrew. I’m done now. I’m leaving.”

“Can I… can I give you a lift?” He murmured, feeling absolutely awful knowing that he’d remained relatively unscathed by the almost-kiss.

“My house isn’t far. So… no.”

“C’mon Bianca…”

“Andrew.”

“Alright… fine. Go then” he sighed, defeated. He knew he should stop following her now. He was nearly halfway down the street. He almost didn’t say it. He thought twice about it, but it happened like a knee-jerk reaction; coming out quick before he could stop it, “Merry Christmas, Bianca!”

When she heard that, her eyes prickled and she felt the tears welling up, threatening to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t respond. She didn’t wish him the same.

“I’ll see you next year, hopefully?”

Bianca took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest, “Yeah, you probably will…” she muttered only loud enough for her to hear, “Because I’m a glutton for punishment.”

18 notes · View notes