angelofsmalldeaath

[angelofsmalldeaath]

Happy 10 year anniversary to "Hozier" By Hozier!!!

[angelofsmalldeaath]

if the heavens ever did squeak, she's the last true mouse piece

[angelofsmalldeaath]

had an idea last night

[angelofsmalldeaath]

Someone draw it 😂🫠

[angelofsmalldeaath]

"is hozier the too sweet guy?" swan upon leda. killing you. jackboot jump. killing you. butchered tongue. killing you. foreigner's god. killing you. empire now. killing you. nina cried power. killing you. cherry wine. killing you. eat your young. killing you. nobody's soldier. killing you killing you killing you killi-

[angelofsmalldeaath]

love seeing hozier ending the forest man allegations that started with new fans from tiktok now that nobody's solder is being so promoted, even with a music video that a smash hit like too sweet didn't even get. if that doesn't say enough about his message as an artist, that goes beyond "decomposing in the woods" i don't know what will. his art is political!! it's anti-war!! anti-imperialism!! anti-fascist!! deal with it!!!

[angelofsmalldeaath]

[angelofsmalldeaath]

I could bring fire from the mountain, you tell me it feels a little colder

[angelofsmalldeaath]

HAHAHAHA DO IT!!

[angelofsmalldeaath]

I just love how Nobody's Soldier is a direct slap to those who walked out during Hozier's concert while he called for a cease-fire. And all those who claim he's too political. Choke on it with all due respect. ^⁠_⁠^

[angelofsmalldeaath]

Hozier and his rolled up sleeves and electric company shirt 😭😍🫠🩵

[angelofsmalldeaath]

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

[angelofsmalldeaath]

- cherry wine is about domestic abuse. it’s now called a cute proposal song.

- too sweet is about seizing the day and ignoring healthy habits in favor of having more fun with unhealthy ones. he’s actively critical of himself in the song. it’s now called a song about thinking you’re superior for drinking black coffee.

- take me to church is about worship as a metaphor for sex. it’s called a religious song.

- eat your young is a song about war and political greed. it’s called a song about sex.

- now, the strongly political message of nobody’s soldier is being ignored in favor of calling it a metaphor for hozier’s relationship with his fans.

when are we going to stop simplifying hozier’s music down to cute little cottagecore bogman forest music? maybe you dont want to hear this but i don’t care. quit listening to hozier for the aesthetic. there’s a reason why empire now, foreigner’s god, butchered tongue, etc. songs with unignorable political messages are among his least popular songs.

[angelofsmalldeaath]

I’m v interested in 27 on the hurt/comfort… also I kinda feel like 26 and 27 could go well together actually…but 27 for sure! 🙏

make a request! prompt lists: hurt/comfort and types of kisses

prompt: #27 – "I'm going to carry you, okay?" ship: andrew hozier-byrne x reader rating: M; MDNI warnings: established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick day, use/reference to daddy kink, use of “baby girl” notes: this started purely fluffy, but once i had the idea, i couldn't resist. hope that it's okay and that you like it!!! ❤️ header from cafekitsune

This morning, you’d had a throbbing headache, persistent cough, and felt warm to the touch. You’d called off work, plunked yourself on the couch, and waved off Andrew’s concerned looks and questions. He had to go into the city today for nonnegotiable meetings, and you didn’t think a bad cold warranted him canceling. You’d stayed in your pajamas, put on your favorite comfort movies, and tried to rest.

But that was hours ago. You’d lost yourself in a movie marathon, and hadn’t been paying attention to the time. It had to be midafternoon based on how the light looked; you figure Andrew will be home soon. You glance at your phone and see a text. 

Hi sweetheart. Hope you’re feeling better. Need to stay a bit later than planned, but I’ll be home before 8pm. Loving you from Dublin. 

“Loving you from here” had started between you years ago – “loving you from the bus”, “loving you from New York City”, “loving you from home”. A reminder that he was always loving you from wherever he was, near or far. It soothed you better than any of the films.

You get up, and notice the new aches that have entered your body. Arms, chest, abdomen, legs. All sore and tired. You make your way to the kitchen, making yourself a cup of tea and some toast. Shivering despite 22 degrees reading on the thermostat, you hold the warm cup and inhale the steam, providing some relief. Sipping on it, you send back a text. 

hiiii! i’m doing okay. made some food, about to lay back down again. don’t worry about me!!! focus on work pls ♥️

Not even a minute passes before you get another message. 

Always going to worry about you. I’ll give you a proper cuddle when I’m home, I promise. Rest up and drink plenty of fluids! 

You smile and send him a silly selfie with your favorite mug. 

all good on that front :-) loving you from our couch!! 

You go back to said couch, flicking on some mindless television. There’s a nature documentary about the Himalayas on one channel, and you watch that for a while as you finish your tea. The narrator is explaining that Nepal is the birthplace of the Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama, when you feel your eyes get heavy. Nestling back into the nest you’ve made on the couch, you let sleep pull your mind under and succumb. 

You sleep deep and hard, the kind of sleep that only happens when you’re sick. You wake up to the sound of a key in the door and footsteps you recognize. Your eyes are struggling to focus, and you feel hotter than before as you try to peel off a blanket. Still dazed from the sleep, you try to emerge from your cocooned position to middling effect. 

Andrew walks into the room, and stops short. 

“Are you alright?” He says, and instantly swoops down to place his large hand on your forehead. It must be slick with sweat – most of you is at the point. 

Your throat feels scratchy and hoarse as you whisper, “I don’t think so.” He frowns. 

“What happened to ‘don’t worry’?” Andrew grabs your water bottle and hands it to you. You take a long drink. “Have you been like this all day? Why didn’t you tell me? When’s the last time you took medicine?” You blanch at the barrage of questions, but guiltily know you haven’t taken medicine since that morning before he’d left. Andrew’s brows are furrowed tightly and it’s clear he’s upset. Upset from worry, of course, but upset all the same. 

Before you can respond, you let out a loud, hacking cough and wince at the pain it causes your body.

“Christ. You need to be in bed.” You sigh wearily and sink into the nest on the couch. Andrew gets up then, going into the kitchen. 

You attempt to sit up, but your aching body and high fever make it a slow process. He comes back in a moment later, two paracetamols in hand. “Still down here?” He asks, surprised. 

“Hurts everywhere. Besides, do I really need all this?” In your sitting position, you huff. “I’m perfectly fine. I don’t need to be locked in the bedroom like Rapunzel.” You see him kneel down in front of you before you can attempt (and likely fail) to stand.

“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Andrew’s tone has shifted, and you narrow your eyes at him, trying to parse it out. The tone he’s using has dropped an octave or two, and there’s a layer of seriousness to it that wasn’t there before. It takes you a few second to work it out. 

“You’re going to take the medicine right now. Then, I’m going to carry you upstairs, okay? You’re going to rest in bed, and I’m going to make your favorite food and bring it up to you.” Andrew leans a little closer, eyes on you in a way that is intimately familiar. You open your mouth, a response sharp on your tongue. But he puts his hand on your face again, soft and firm all at once, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Can you do that for me, baby girl?” 

Baby girl. You feel an involuntary shiver run down your back, but it had nothing to do with the fever. It was a term that was only ever used in the bedroom, and only in very specific circumstances and scenarios. For him to bring it out here, in real life, well… it meant he was serious. Meant he wanted you to pay attention, to listen to him, to… do what he wanted. 

And similar to its use in the bedroom, you know he’s doing it with love, with care, and with a clear understanding of what you want and what’s best for you. And besides that, he knows exactly how you’ll respond. Instantly and without question, licking your lips and cursing the way you immediately surrender. The tone, the way his hand feels on your cheek, that fucking name uttered by him… you’re nodding into his hand and pressing a soft kiss to his fingers before you can think twice. 

Damn him. Damn him for knowing you so well, and for knowing how to soften you to see the outcome he wants: Letting him take care of you while you’re poorly so you can rest and recover. 

Andrew smiles at you, but doesn’t remove his hand. “You know the rules, love. Need to hear you say it.” You shiver again, and you know that when you’ve fully recovered he’d have some explaining to do. Talk about what this was and if it’s something you both wanted to have existing outside sex. For now, in your weakened state and yearning for that sense of comfort it brings you, you respond how he wants. 

Your voice is whisper soft, but Andrew’s close enough that it doesn’t matter. “Yes.” Andrew cocks an eyebrow at you, and you feel your cheeks warm. “Yes, sir.” He beams at you, proud at his little trick having worked and pleased to hear you respond to him. 

Andrew hands you the medicine and you quickly take it with a drink of water. Scooping one arm under your legs and the other around your back, he lifts you off the couch. You nestle your head into his neck, breathing in his scent. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” Andrew presses a gentle kiss into your hair as he carries you up the stairs. “That’s my good girl.” You fear you let out a whimper when he says that, entering your shared room and then being eased onto the large bed. “Now. Get comfortable, and I’ll be up in a bit. I’m only a call away if you need anything.” Andrew backs away from the bed, tenderness and love filling his eyes as he looks at you. 

You know his worry will only be soothed by doing something for you, but you’re disappointed at being parted and are eager to be in his arms again. “Hurry up so that you can get back here.” He quirks up a corner of his mouth, and you pout. “I really do need a proper cuddle after all.” 

Andrew’s chuckle follows him up all the way into the hall and down the stairs. 

[angelofsmalldeaath]

Nobody’s Soldier by Hozier is a masterpiece ‼️

[angelofsmalldeaath]

Heaven is not fit to house

a love like you and I

[angelofsmalldeaath]