#Hozier | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crumblinggothicarchitecture · 2 days

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Hello! I’m curious to know if you listen to Hozier? Since his music also gives literary and it’d be interesting to know what you think!

Hello! Thanks for the ask

Hozier is wonderful! I love him!

I think he's incredibly creative, and he clearly knows how to write! He also clearly knows so much about the history of music, art, international politics, and so much more. There's nothing I admire more in an artist than some real intelligence. It shows in his command of the language. I've been listening since "Take Me to Church" went viral. I was absolutely in tears listening to that for the first time.

One point I've been thinking about lately is the way he wrote "Nina Cried Power" and how it's different from the way someone like Taylor Swift name-drops in her music.

The point here is that Hozier has immense respect for the people he mentions in the song, his obvious knowledge and respect for these people is ever-present. He thematically connects them from the perspective of their own lives into the message of the song. Meaning that it is the type of song they would co-sign. It's so moving for this very reason, it's like the people in his song are singing with him. In "Nina Cried Power" he's clearly using southern-inspired gospel-esque blues to sings about the way in which civil rights activists, and those musicians who broke the chains away, sang their activism into life. It's so lovely for him to use musicality stemming from Afro-American culture to sing about the major civil rights activist and artists from the era. He's literally brilliant, and I love his perspective on how the US civil rights movement impacted Irelands own civil rights movement. He's fucking brilliant.

And this line brings me to tears, "And I could cry power/ power has been cried by those stronger than me/ straight into the face that tells you to rattle your chains." He's so compelling both in storytelling and in intercultural dialogue. Beautiful. And how beautiful it is to remind us that no matter the location, your words and actions matter- activism matters. Power is with the people.

What a writer- what a message to send. Especially these days, when so many major public figures are refusing to speak on current events. How important it is to remind the public that there is no real reason to not speak up in times of injustice.

As opposed to Swift who can only name-drop people like Dylan Thomas in relation to being able to self-deprecate. Her impulse towards self-obsession shows in how she even represents the lives of others as ultimately being about her. It shows an immense disrespect and obvious distain for the people she writes about. She clearly only thinks about others when considering some hierarchal form of self-adulation. People are either better or worse than her- however, it is always about her. Dylan Thomas was an incredibly vocal activist and revolutionary spirit in his day, and Swift puts him in a cheap shot about herself? Painful, stupid, gag. Thomas was an avowed anti-fascist during the rise of the most horrific fascist regimes we've ever seen; as such he would be horrified at being eulogized by someone like Swift who lives and breathes money and power. I wish I could go back in time and unhear her besmirching his name.

Dylan Thomas would love Hozier though :) And so do I!

But anyway, I could totally write some literary criticism on Hozier, and you know what- it would be amazing because he is rich texture to dive into. His command of metaphor and mimetic technique is honestly so impressive! That actually sounds really fun and is totally on my to-do list now :)

#hozier #anti taylor swift #nina cried power #activism #dylan thomas #anti facism #ttpd #ex swiftie #toxic taylor swift #taylor swift critical #andrew hozier byrne #wasteland baby #hozier supremacy #fuck taylor swift

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thisphantomlife · 23 hours

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the most beautiful man 🖤

Hozier, The Jonathan Ross Show, September 15th 2018

📸 Brian J Ritchie

#hozier #the most beautiful man

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vi-visected · 2 days

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i just HAD to show you guys this incredible shirt @superpaperclip got me for my birthday. i had to have laughed at it for a solid five minutes upon taking it out of the box and unfolding it. like, just look at it. fantastic.

#vivi’s personal tag #sir gwaine #hozier #incredible . INCREDIBLE #i’m in love with it

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lifemod17 · 3 days

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🐝🐝 BEEDREW CONTENT 🐝🐝

During some technical difficulties at last night's show in Tampa, FL, Andrew keeps the crowd entertained by going on a tangent about bees

Source: x.com

#BEE LORE!!!#his 'bee ADD' omg i love him #i LOVE how passionate he is about beekeeping the man lit up like a Christmas tree the more he talked about it!!!#bro i could seriously listen to him go on about bees for long periods of time #thank you to whoever were from the crowd that suggested this!#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #beedrew #unreal unearth tour

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defleftist · 18 hours

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“Be wary of any mentality that would make cattle or vessels of women, because that same mentality will make machines and tools of you.”

- Andrew Hozier-Byrne

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deerainy · 3 days

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I just realised that take me to church was canonically out when the season two of Hannibal first aired, meaning there is a chance Hannibal might have heard it play on the radio or something and I headcanon him as a Hozier fan just because I can!!

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #mads mikkelsen #hozier #hannigram #will graham #nbc hannibal #hannibal x will #hugh dancy #will and hannibal #hannibal nbc

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desertpups · 2 days

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Caroline has blessed us once again😭🙌🏼🐶

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #and a puppy!#thank you Caroline

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angelofsmalldeaath · 2 days

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untitled — a.h.b.

cw: mentions of being drunk, alcohol, suggestive content

“you have a good evening?” he fails to stifle a grin and holds her close as she tries to straddle him. it’s awkward—her heels digging into his knee, her dress riding up her thigh. hair stuck to her lip gloss.

“it was fantastic!” she declares, nodding with such excitement that it sets her earrings swinging wildly. “you should have been there, it would have been funner–fuck, more fun. i dunno, is funner a word?”

his grin turns wider, she puts her head on his shoulder and lets him cradle her close. “it is if you want it to be. and who’d take care of you if i got drunk with you, hmm?”

“oh, i’m fine!” airily, she waves her hand away. he narrowly avoids the smack. “just…” she lowers her voice, a hushed whisper, a secret about to be divulged, “how do i take off my heels? the buckles are veryyyyyyy complicated. it’s stupid.”

he can’t control the snort that leaves him then. she looks so adorable—trying so hard to keep her eyes open while so obviously being sleepy. trying so hard to convince him she’s not drunk, when she is, indeed, bladdered.

when he gets on his knees by her feet, she attempts a protest.

“wh—”

“let’s get your heels off you, okay?”

“mmm, and after that?” he feels her hands through his hair, nails against his scalp and the nape of his neck in what is meant to be boldly flirtatious. “what comes off after that.”

if she weren’t so drunk, it would have worked on him.

his hair fall in his eyes when he looks up at her. he can almost predict what he’s going to see—half-lidded sleepy eyes and messy hair and glitter all over her face.

“your make-up,” he deadpans, rubs his thumb over her knee. “then your clothes, and then the blankets. so i can put you to bed.”

she pouts, sticks her tongue out at him and blows a raspberry. “old man! look at you, you’re ready for bed at…uh…”

“midnight? yeah, real old man of me,” he grins.

he lets her try again, trace a finger through his hair and down to his temple and then his jaw. when he closes his eyes and smiles, she traces that too—her thumb over his lips, making his smile grow wider.

“pretty as you are,” he places a small kiss on the palm of her hand, “i need to take you to bed.” and before she can make another little comment, he quickly interrupts, “so you can sleep, you pervert.”

“boooo, boringgggg!” she stands up all of a sudden, his heart picks up when she stumbles, trips over her discarded heels and lands, once again, right into his arms. something about the whole thing is apparently hilarious, it sets her giggling once more.

“d’you wanna know a secret?” she whispers once she's managed to stop laughing, “c’mere, c’mere!”

just to entertain her, he sits on the settee, then carefully sits her down on his lap. “go on then.”

“no, clooooser,” she pokes him in the chest. it barely has any effect, “it’s very very secret!”

he grabs her finger, the one that’s just poked him, and brings it to his mouth to kiss the knuckle. then he leans closer until their noses are almost touching.

“go on, tell me your secret.”

“so, it’s…it’s…” he sees her eyes go from sleepy to twinkly in a matter of seconds, and then she leans, pressing a kiss square on his lips, giggling away at his surprised face. “gotcha!”

his jaw drops, cheeks flaming from being caught so off guard. it’s not often he gets shy around her—not anymore—but something about the way she looks at him, like he hung the moon just for her, leaves him speechless.

he holds her by the waist so she won’t squirm away from him, still laughing—her lipstick is fully gone now, only smudges of it remain on the corners of her lips, her eyeliner is half smudged and the glitter on her eyelids is all around her eyes. and she is, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s seen in his entire life.

“you’re staring,” she whispers, biting her lip shyly and he can’t resist kissing her again—a small kiss, a real kiss.

“you’re gorgeous.”

“are we going to bed then?” she throws him a clumsy wink.

“we are…” he nods, “so you can go to bed—”

“booooo, boring old man!” she pokes him in the chest again, right over his heart. the adorable crease between her brows is back, the one she thinks makes her look serious and angry.

once again he grabs the finger, kisses the knuckle. “you’ll love me in the morning, trust me.”

“i’ll love you always,” she says as a matter of fact, nodding sagely.

if he could melt right there, he would. instead, he hugs her tight and holds her close, her head on his chest. then he kisses her head, lingering for as long as he can, and carries her to bed.

#no actually i genuinely cannot think of a title for this one #but i didn't wanna keep it rotting in the drafts #if you can think of one...suggestions are appreciated <33 #hozier x reader #hozier #andrew hozier byrne #writblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #andrew hozier byrne x reader #mdni

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hoziergifsdaily · 2 days

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HOZIER — Too Sweet | Official Video

#too sweet #unheard ep #hozier #usersahar #usermusic #hozieredit #musicedit #everythingdaily #hoziergif #gifsbyhoziergifsdaily #hoziergifsdaily #mv #2024

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hoziercriespower · 21 hours

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Hozier in North Carolina - March 12th.

❝ We walk out of Hidden Grounds after ~7 hours and who is the first person we see? Hozier himself!!! Ahhhhhh!!!! If we had sold out, we wouldn’t have had our mini bouquets, we wouldn’t have been down the block from @hiddengroundsilm and Hozier wouldn’t have bought us coffee !!! ☕️🦖🤍 ❞

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #unreal unearth #wasteland baby #eat your young #unheard ep #unheard #musicdaily #musician #2024

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mabelstone · 3 days

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I Could Be Yours

hozier x f!reader

part one of lullabies <3

hi i have risen from the dead... new matt stone will be coming soon i promise!! i've just become infatuated with hozier recently so i had no choice but to devote a new fic to him <3

i didn't proof read because it's bedtime, i will fix tomorrow if there's any errors!! soz

cw: none really... just a shitty boyfriend and drinking. still 18+

word count: 3.5k

“That’s your man, ‘uh?” The deep voice behind me made me jump, forcing me to peel my eyes from Joe and the leggy blonde he was laughing with.

“Stop doing that!” I gasp, clutching a hand over my chest, jokingly punching Andrew in the arm. “But yes. That’s him,” I sigh, wanting to cut the conversation before it had a chance to start. Andrew was far too friendly to be talking to my walking storm cloud of a boyfriend.

“I didn’t know his sister was playing tonight,” he confessed casually, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Which one is she?”

“He doesn’t have a sister,” I shake my head, quirking an eyebrow at the human tower before me. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Huh?” He played dumb, though a soft pink blush tinted his cheeks, looking like he wished he could eat his words.

“Where did you hear that?” I repeated, the room suddenly too hot for comfort, despite Joe's protests that I was dressed like a 'tart,' in his words.

“I’m sure I misheard, hearing’s a bit shot,” he lied through his teeth, and he must be a fool to believed I'd let him play it off.

“Andy," I faced him now, trying to force him to meet my eyes he was so desperately avoiding. "Who did he say that to?”

“That woman,” his voice sounded pained, as if he were almost ashamed to tell me. He was too smart, he could read me, and if anyone could read the room, it was him. I just went quiet, his warm calloused hand placed on my shoulder, feeling like it might burn a hole in my dress. “You deserve better,” he professed sincerely, pulling that horrid face at me, the type you pull when you feel really sorry for someone.

I huffed some pathetic excuse of a response, forcing my eyes to the ground. There seemed to be a magnetic pull, forcing my eyes back to Joe, hurting my own feelings again and again. I can’t recall a time he’d ever looked that interested in me. Not unless he was trying to bed me, which was usually after a stressful day at work or after a massive fight.

“If you were my girl, every man and their dog would know. You’re too good for him,” his voice was warm, like being pulled from a frozen over lake and straight into an oven. His Irish brogue more apparent than ever, and I cursed myself for the way my heart leapt in my chest.

He just slipped past me onto the stage for his set, unaware that he just made me feel nearly every emotion in the span of two minutes.

“That’s not even a real job,” Joe scoffed, shaking his head indignantly like he always did, as if everyone were beneath him. He’s always looked down at others for as long as I’ve known him. His Napoleon Complex makes him feel like he’s six foot eleven, when in reality, I barely have to tilt my head to kiss him.

I bit my cheek to suppress an angry concoction of insults, swallowing it down and opting for, “so my job isn’t a real job?”

“Babe,” he groaned, one soft hand slipping off the steering wheel onto my thigh. “You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just not very manly, is all. He should be doing something that’s not just for chicks.”

“He’s a carpenter, actually,” I lied, arms barricaded across my chest as I tried to focus on the London Bridge we were rolling over. “Manly enough for you?”

“Could you relax? Jesus Christ…” he pulled his hand from me quicker than he placed it there, sighing emphatically. “You gettin’ your period or something?”

“No!” It was my turn to scoff now, turning to face him. His stupid face was contorted like it always was, as if he’d smelt something rotten. “You’ve hurt my feelings, Joe.”

“Oh, everything hurts your fucking feelings,” he seethed, hooking a turn so sharp I just about fell into the driver’s side. I muttered under my breath, gripping onto the handle at the top of my door, as it was highly likely I was going to need it for the rest of the trip. That’s my Joe. Sickly sweet when you first meet him, then cold and sharp when he drops the act. “I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this shit.”

“Excuse me?” I straightened up, my stomach twisting in that familiar nauseating knot.

“You. Your shit,” he rolled his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time, turning his head to me, deadpan. “Constantly starting arguments, whining about everything. You’re exhausting me.”

Then the rest of the entourage strides in on cue. The searing pain in my throat, the tears prickling into my eyes. The shame and embarrassment that pummel me like waves in a storm. Oh, God, the embarrassment. I feel my cheeks glow red, and suddenly the chill of late Autumn is comparable to a sauna, and there’s not enough air in the passenger side to satiate my lungs.

“Don’t cry,” he groans again, refusing to look at me again. And suddenly, I’m twelve again, trying to cry silently in my father’s car. Sigmund Freud would be laughing in his grave right now. “I’m sorry," he sighs, reaching for my leg again. I jerk away. "Shouldn’t have taken it so far.”

Though his apologies are just words at this point. I’ve walked this road too many times to not know any better. The rest of the ride home is silent, my knees pressed into the passenger door, trying to focus on anything but the fact that I will probably never leave. I will board this train wreck until he beats me down to nothing.

"He just has this weird infatuation for you. A blind man could see it," he tsked, shaking his head as if it were my fault. "And you just egg him on. He's a proper knob."

"He's the knob? What'd you think of your sister's set, hm?" I seethed, silently letting the tears fall as if I were in some sappy drama.

We didn't speak for the rest of the night, Joe slamming his car door, storming inside to lock himself in our bedroom. I washed my face in the kitchen sink and fell asleep on the couch in the small hours of the morning.

Joe didn't come to my show tonight, opting for the local pub with his work mates. I can't lie and say I was upset about it. Another thing I couldn't lie about is how Andrew's words played on a loop in my head for the rest of that night and all day today. I know he was just saying it to comfort me, but is it sad that I've never been so flattered?

"Hey," I smiled, the condensation from my breath hanging between us as I walked up to Andy. “Thought you were quitting.”

He was leaning against the brick wall outside the bar, a halfway smoked cigarette to his lips. He looked nice tonight. His usual unruly curls framing his face so perfectly, two layers under his dark denim jacket. He grinned infectiously as always, never once tearing his eyes from mine as he shrugged, “I’m no quitter.”

“Shut up,” I groaned, finding my spot beside him, now pressing my back to the cold bricks.

“So, where’s Jake tonight?” Now his eyes were fixed on the busy street before us, his arm brushing mine each time he’d put the cigarette to his lips.

“It’s Joe,” I corrected with an eye roll, though there was no malice in my expression. “And he’s watching the game with his mates. We’ve barely spoken since last night.” My heart ached a bit at the reminder of what he’d said to me on the drive home. You’re exhausting me. If his wish was for me to rethink the past five years, he certainly got it.

He gave me that pathetic poor you look again. "Come on. I'll buy ya' a drink. I insist."

"Who am I to deny you?" I grinned, following close behind him as he stubbed his cigarette out under his boot, holding the bar door open for me.

He ordered himself a whiskey on the rocks, a coconut margarita for me. We slid into a small booth at the back, the walls practically vibrating from the drunken chatter and the obnoxious drum solo on the stage.

"She's busy tonight, eh?" He half shouted across to me, leaning over his drink.

"I know, right? I've never seen the place like this," I agreed, taking in just how alive the atmosphere was tonight. "Remember me when you're famous."

"You're not easy to forget. You remember me!" He grinned at me, taking a large swig of his drink. I couldn't tear my eyes from his Adam's apple bobbing with each sip, his eyes dark in the dim lighting. I felt extreme guilt, forcing my eyes anywhere but his direction.

He must've sensed it. This man could read me like a book. Thankfully, he steered the conversation smoothly, "what're you playing tonight?"

"Oh, no. I'm not singing tonight," I shook my head, polishing off my drink in a sip a little bit too big for my mouth. "Want another drink? My shout."

"Why aren't you singing?" He ignored me, pulling a face that screamed, are you mad? "If there's any night for it, it's tonight."

"Honestly, I just want to get pissed and be the observer for once." I smiled sweetly, hoping he couldn't see through the facade. "What're you singing then?"

"An original," he smiled coyly, eyes faltering.

"Oh, Andy! How exciting," I cheered, genuinely happy for him. He'd shown me some of his poetry, and with such a beautiful voice, there's no possibility he could go wrong. "You're going to blow the roof off. This calls for another drink."

"As you wish," he grinned, holding eye contact as he finished off his glass, the faintest pink tinge to his cheeks.

When I made my way back to the table, my heart sunk a bit when I saw a girl leaning against our table giggling, tucking thick red locks behind her ears. He was laughing too, body language practically begging for more. I might be exaggerating. Why did I even care? I am in a committed relationship.

Funny, he looks just as amused as Joe did last night.

I made my way to the table, sliding his drink to him.

"Hi, I'm Harper," she smiled wide, a beautiful array of pearly teeth on full display.

"Lovely to meet you. Y/N," I smiled back, unable to look at Andrew. "I'm gonna go watch the show. I'll leave you to it."

I turned my back just as he was about to protest, sipping at my drink as I kept my word, finding a seat before the stage. I couldn't really focus on the music though, my mind reeling over what Joe was up to. He hadn't even texted or calls. His location was off too. I grabbed another couple drinks, bumping into Andrew when I made my way back to the stage.

"Y/N," he reached for my arm, a sincerely apologetic tone to his voice. "I'm sorry for earlier, that was rude."

"No it wasn't," I replied a bit too quick, brushing off the apology. "You're single, you can do whatever."

"I meant having someone at our table," shit. Was that the wrong thing to say? Their margaritas are always too strong. "I was enjoying just having you and I time."

"No worries, there's always next time," I smiled sweetly, though really, I just wanted to get in the nearest cab, pack all my shit at home and move back to Bristol. "You're nearly on! I'll be front row." I turned away again, finding my way back to the nice girls I made small talk with earlier.

Sure enough, Andrew was up within the next fifteen minutes. The announcer, somewhere hidden backstage spoke, "please give your warmest welcome to our absolute favourite, Andrew Hozier-Byrne!"

He walked onto the stage, acoustic guitar hanging from his neck as he awkwardly made his way onto the stage, adjusting the microphone to his height as he did each night.

"Ehm, this song is called I Could Be Yours," he offered a tight lipped smile to the crowd, a few cheers heard here and there. "Thanks guys."

I couldn't help but grin at his shyness, the complete opposite of how he was with me.

I could be soft and sweet, I could be hard and loud.

I could be everything you'd ever need somehow.

Why don't you hear me sing out from the lost and found,

I could be yours, I could be yours, I could be yours.

He seemed to be scanning the crowd, probably for Harper, meanwhile all eyes were on him, basking in his glory. As if he were rain in a drought, not a single soul in the audience not mesmerised by his syrupy voice. Myself included, wide eyed, the epitome of awe.

Why don't you try on me? Why don't you take me home?

I'll match the colour scheme of your bedroom walls.

Oh, take a dose of me, it doesn't hurt at all.

I could be yours, I could be yours, I could be yours.

His skilled fingers danced along the strings, his eyes, when not scanning the crowd focused on his measured movements. To say I was moved was an understatement. His voice thick and sweet as honey, his eyes shining under the stage lights, the hypnotic effect he had on the crowd. Unlike anything I had ever experienced.

Then his eyes found mine. It was almost like nothing existed in the same realm as him and I. Just us.

Oh God, I'd benefit from your sweet tenderness.

Oh, thank God, it could've been, 'cause nothing comes from it.

That'd be a helpful thought if I could remember it,

but I could be yours, I could be yours, I could be yours.

"Thanks," he nodded awkwardly to the crowd, eyes leaving mine as he did the stage, the audience cheering and clapping.

I couldn't put into words the feelings I felt if you held a gun to my head. No doubt my eyes glistened back at his, tears of joy swimming at my waterline, completely estranged from last nights'.

"He was looking right at you!" One of the women I'd met shouted over the cheers, shaking me by the shoulder. I just hummed some response, smiling and beelining for the exit.

The bite of the outdoors was a stark comparison to the warmth of the bar, my nervous system seeming to reset instantaneously. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. 8:45pm. I told Joe I wouldn't be home til midnight and not to wait up for me.

It was wrong to feel this way about Andrew. He was my friend. I had Joe. Even if we had our rough patches.

My phone buzzed wildly in my hand, and when I checked the caller ID, I nearly didn't pick up.

I sighed. "Hello?"

"Hey," Andrew spoke loudly over the drunken chatter, a few good one mate, and, good on ya's here and there. "Where'd you run off to?"

"I, uh, had too much to drink," I lied through my teeth, kicking at the gravel beneath my feet. "I'm just heading home."

"Oh..."

"I'm out the front," I piped up, not wanting him to think he caused this. Or that I was running away. Because I was not. Right?

He hung up and shortly after, his tall figure emerged, his shadow reaching me before he did.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "Great song, Andy. Really beautiful." I meant it.

"Oh, yeah. Thank you," he smiled, looking down at his boots. "How're you getting home?"

"I was gonna get a cab, or an Uber, or something." I shrugged, acutely aware of how breathy I sounded. Beyond tired. I wasn't lying when I said I'd had too much to drink.

"No need, I'll take you." He offered, digging his hands into his pockets and gesturing with his head for me to follow.

"It's okay, Andy, really," I countered, giving him my must sincere smile I could muster. I was too confused right now. Nobody had ever made me feel this way while I've been with Joe. "Get in there and mingle. They loved you."

"I'd rather know you're safe."

I ended up in the passenger seat of his car. He'd kindly put the heater on full blast, though no doubt, he'd be sweating under all those layers. I protested, but he kept fretting about how red my nose was from the cold.

"You alright?" He asked, my head leaned against his window.

"Yeah," I breathed, struggling to keep my eyes open, though my mind was very much awake and racing.

"You've been acting funny, did I upset you?" He glanced over at me, concern written all over his features. Had he always been this handsome?

"It's not you. I'm sorry," I lifted my head to look at him. Tequila and I are not friends. I flipped down the visor mirror to see a tiny it of smudged mascara under my eyes. I wiped it away, sighing for the hundredth time. "Joe just... things aren't going well. I slept on the couch last night. Well, barely. He's just so mean, you know?" I babbled drunkenly, a huge weight lifting after finally telling someone. "He always picks at everything I do. You complain all the time. You put too much salt in this. That isn't a real sustainable job, babe. We never shag anymore... Shag? Isn't that disgusting, Andy?"

I continued my drunken spiel, probably including more details than I should have. Andrew just kept his eyes on the road, sharing glances here and there to let me know he was listening.

The grande finale, "why can't all men just be like you? You would make a wonderful husband, you know. You wouldn't tell your girlfriend she's too lively in bed, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't," he laughed, shaking his head. He looked at me fondly. For once, it wasn't a look of sympathy. It was kind of sad, almost.

"I've said too much, haven't I?" I probably looked like a kicked puppy at the realisation, but one smile from him eased any disconcertion I had.

"Not at all," he sighed, staring at his hands on the wheel. "I have a lot to say. I just don't think I should be the one saying it."

"Well, now you have to tell me," I countered, lolling my head to the side to face him.

"He's a fuckwit," he shook his head, his grip on the wheel tightening. "He doesn't deserve you. Not even a little bit. He's going to fuck it up and won't realise what he's lost until it's too late. And you know what? Good."

He pulled onto the road before my house with perfect timing, getting out of the car to open my door for me. He took my hand in his, helping me out, and thank goodness he did, because I still nearly rolled my ankle. I laughed and let myself fall into his chest, steadying myself after a hearty, obnoxious laugh.

"Oh my God, I've made a complete fool of myself tonight," I sighed, this time it felt like a release, not a breath weighing me down. "Thank you for taking care of me, Andy."

"Anytime at all," he grinned leaning against his car. I couldn't help myself, lurching forward at him, wrapping my arms around his torso. My head barely reached his shoulder, even when standing on the curb.

"I loved your song," I murmured against his chest, pulling back to grab his face. He turned ghost white. "You are my favourite singer. Ever."

His cheeks darkened as he looked away, chuckling softly with the shake of his head.

"Drink lots of water for me tonight. That's an order as your favourite singer."

"Yes, Mr. Hozier-Byrne," I grinned, turning on my heels and heading for the door. The garage door was 1/4 open. Joe must be home early.

I fumbled through my purse for my keys, finding them after what felt like an eternity of great difficulty. I was going in with a good attitude. I was going to sit him down and hash this out. We can fix this. We've been together nearly 6 years, this is just a rough patch.

I walked up to my bedroom, sure my ears were deceiving me. When I opened my bedroom door, I saw red.

omg angst... just hear me out i have good direction for this one. i hope u enjoyed <3

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier smut #andrew hozier

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