writing fluffy hozier rpf for the time being. kinda new to tumblr, we'll see how this goes. requests open and welcome for both my nb!oc as well as general fem!reader!
hey people hungry for teensy hozier oneshots (<500 words), what kinda stuff dya wanna see?
domestic tooth-rotting fluff, comfort/comfort (fem!reader or nb!oc)
flirty flirty suggesive, non-explicit (fem!reader or nb!oc)
light to medium hurt/comfort (fem!reader or nb!oc)
anything with nb!oc
Voting ended onSep 5, 2025
check out my blog for an idea of my writing style!
and if you're so inclined, you can dm me with a specific topic/setting/request! anything that pops into your head (really truly genuinely anything at all) would be inspo for me :) ily thanks for throwing me a bone in my dryspell era
okay yall want the horny and the horny you'll be given!
(bernie sanders voice) i am once again asking for requests. it might/probably will take a while to get to them because i'm literally in the middle of moving countries, but the more requests i get the more i'm inspired to get on my ass and write... and i'd love to know what yall want a little better!
(also to the anon that did submit an ask: thank you!! i think i'll stay writing things not set in a specified time and place for now until i get used to writing again, but i promise it's cooking in the background, stay tuned!)
hey people hungry for teensy hozier oneshots (<500 words), what kinda stuff dya wanna see?
domestic tooth-rotting fluff, comfort/comfort (fem!reader or nb!oc)
flirty flirty suggesive, non-explicit (fem!reader or nb!oc)
light to medium hurt/comfort (fem!reader or nb!oc)
anything with nb!oc
Voting ended onSep 5, 2025
check out my blog for an idea of my writing style!
and if you're so inclined, you can dm me with a specific topic/setting/request! anything that pops into your head (really truly genuinely anything at all) would be inspo for me :) ily thanks for throwing me a bone in my dryspell era
part 2 of "the only heaven i'll be sent to" with my nb!oc :)
this is where my written drafts end, and i see no time to come up with + write anything like this in the near future. so! requests are now open! if you have any for a short tiny oneshots (<500 words ish? my writing self control is shit so we'll see), let me know!
content warnings: brief mentions of afab body, non-explicit allusions to sex
the full-length mirror stands quietly in the corner of his room. in front of it, you drag an appraising eye over your reflection. the green hoodie of his you found at the bottom of his closet fits you almost shockingly well. the fabric’s plush and comfortable, draping nicely across the breadth of your shoulders; the sleeves are comfortably roomy but taper enough to stay put when you push them up to your elbows; the boxy cut allows the silhouette to fall straight down from your shoulders before cinching slightly at your hipbones, the perfect amount of bagginess to obfuscate the lines of your chest and waist, but not make you look like you’re drowning in fabric. plus, you’ve always had a soft spot for earth tones, and this warm forest green is nothing short of lovely. you feel good in this, you realise, and both watch and feel a grin break out across your face.Â
“do you wear this often?” you ask over your shoulder as he’s bending to pull on his socks. bright ribbons of sunlight fall across his face as he looks up and squints at you.Â
“um—no, not at all, honestly. it shrunk in the first wash and i didn’t like the way it fit afterwards. don’t think i’ve worn it in months.”Â
you nod and turn back to the mirror, admiring your reflection once more. you hear the creak of his bed and padding of socked feet as he stands up and crosses the room. a moment later he appears beside you in the mirror, planting a little kiss on your head before stepping back to affectionately watch you watch yourself. you both know he has to leave, and soon, but neither of you are in a hurry to let this morning slip away so quickly.Â
“why? d’you wanna borrow it?”Â
you hum consideringly, turning this way and that. it’s like you can’t look away. your love for baggy hoodies is nothing new, but something about this one clicks in a way you can’t put your finger on. the more you examine yourself trying to figure it out, the more you find yourself drawn to the way you look in it.Â
“maybe.” you turn to him, pursing your lips. “i really like it.”Â
“it suits you.” a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he muses, “i’ve never seen you so invested in an item of clothing before.”Â
“this one’s special.” the declaration is meant to be a joke, but as you settle facing the mirror head-on and continue to study your reflection, your smile grows helplessly. you shrug, almost giddy on the high.
“i don’t know! it just feels good. i can’t describe it, but—the cut, and the silhouette, it’s perfect.”
he chuckles and steps closer to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “i’m glad.” his voice grows softer as he leans in to kiss your temple, his eyes crinkling around the corners as they meet yours in the mirror. “you can keep it.”Â
you lean into his touch, tucking an arm around him as well to slide your hand into his pocket, cozy warm from his body heat. then you decide to go all the way, slinging your other arm around his front so you’re encircling him in your arms, wrapped around him like a koala, nose squishing into his shoulder. you prop your chin on his chest and take a second to relish the closeness: his ribs expanding with each measured inhale, he’s warm and solid in your arms, made softer by the mid-morning light, the faint scent of his body wash from his morning shower still clinging to his skin.
…you’re getting ideas.Â
you squeeze once to get his attention, tilting your head coyly. “the colour’s nice as well, i have to say. you’ve got very good taste.”Â
“i try,” he replies, clearly amused at your blatant flirting. your stomach does flips when he reciprocates, allowing his gaze to slide down your form appreciatively as the corners of his mouth twitch to hold back a grin. “i think i have a newfound appreciation for green now.”Â
“you sure that’s what’s making me look this good?” you raise a brow as you drag your hand out of his pocket, across the expanse of his clothed back, up diagonally to his shoulder to leisurely massage the muscle there. “i think you just like seeing me in your clothes.”Â
the way his gaze sharpens lets you know you’re onto something. holding eye contact, you hum mock-thoughtfully and begin to walk your fingers up to the nape of his neck, nails grazing the sensitive skin. you both see and hear his breath stutter. “maybe when you come back, i’ll be waiting for you with just this on—”
“—watch it.”Â
you toy with the collar of his shirt as he narrows his eyes at you. there’s a pause as you study each other, daring the other to break first. knowingly, you tilt your head back and let your eyes roam. the warm light brings out colours in his eyes, his hair, that you haven’t had the chance to take in until now. despite his sharp tone you spot the same content joy you ribbed him about the morning after your first night at his place. selfishly, it makes you want to bundle him up and keep him for yourself, or maybe push him back on his bed and show him just how happy you can make him. you picture him flushed, gasping, spread out on his bed loose-limbed and starstruck. if he didn’t have a doctor’s appointment in twenty minutes—
“hey.” he narrows his eyes further, pretending to be above it, but the colour rising in his cheeks gives him away instantly. your answering grin is shameless, as is the wink you shoot that makes him flush even darker. eventually he sighs, long-sufferingly, and reaches for your hand that’s stilled curled around his nape.Â
“it’s not just my clothes,” he begins as he tracks absentminded lines along your fingers. “though that doesn’t hurt. i love seeing you like this.” you watch him, something breaking open in your chest and spilling light as he continues, oblivious. the words flow out of him like he’s finally figured out how to express something that’s been building for months. “when you feel confident in that way, you let yourself shine. it’s like you light up.” a kiss pressed to the backs of your fingers. “i feel like i’m glowing just from watching you.”
you both know he has to leave, and soon. but surely there’s enough time for a feathery kiss to his chest, right above his heart. to prove how much you can make him glow. and to remind him just how much he makes you glow, too.
blurb: short morning breakfast initial ficlet (>1.5k words lmao), post non-sexual adult sleepover
word count: 1,562
it’s a distant clattering sound that first rouses him. he stirs, blinking groggily until the click-click-click-click of his induction coming to life drags him fully from sleep. it takes a second for him to put the pieces together. but once he does, he’s stumbling out of bed, barely remembering to run his fingers through his hair as he lumbers downstairs.Â
“morning!” he hears them chirp as he enters the kitchen and stops dead. they’re standing at the counter with their back to him, efficiently plating up something. pancakes, by the smell of it. he stares mutely as they turn to face him, wearing an apron, his frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.Â
“i hope you don’t mind. i would’ve asked, but since you were dead to the world when i woke up i thought i’d help myself.”
it takes him a second to find his voice, let alone come up with something clever.
“you… you always spoil people like this when you sleep over?”
his voice is rough from sleep, his words not fully enunciated. he catches their eyes sparkling as they turn back to the pan.Â
“oh, you know, only the ones who haven’t done anything to deserve it. something i really need to work on.”Â
that makes him snort as he approaches.Â
as soon as he’s within reach, he slides his arms around them, making them start before they relax into his embrace. something in his chest does a soft little flip when they lean their head on his shoulder, back snug against his chest.Â
“good morning,” they murmur, looking back and up at him, head pushing into his shoulder like a headbutting cat. he kisses their temple, smiling softly, before he very effectively forces them to turn back around by resting his chin on the crown of their head. tightening his grip, he starts swaying lightly, side to side, and smiles soft and warm at their huff of laughter. when he starts humming deliberately to really drive the point home, they attempt to nudge him away with an elbow to his ribs.
“the pancakes are almost done.”
he resists, squeezing them tighter, humming just a tiny bit louder, and can practically hear the fond roll of their eyes before they try again.Â
“there’s coffee on the stove. go and pour yourself some.”
this time a pointed poke to his arm accompanies their words. he grunts and shuffles over to his cabinets to retrieve a mug, benevolently ignoring their muttered “i’m rubbing off on you”.
the first sip is restorative. he can feel the placebo of the taste waking him up before the caffeine even has a chance to hit his system. the satisfied sigh he lets out earns him an affectionate scoff.
“you are really not a morning person, are you?”
he only hums in response as they emerge from the kitchen, balancing two full plates and a glass of juice in their arms. taking a plate, he mutters a soft “thanks” as they both take a seat. he hopes the word comes across as fond as he feels, watching them eagerly douse their pancakes with honey—christ, they even managed to find that, rifling around his cabinets—before tucking in.Â
as he eats he can slowly feel himself coming back to life. the fresh pancakes and coffee settle pleasantly in his stomach. they’re good, the pancakes, a homely, subtle kind of sweetness to them that pairs well with his bitter coffee. he wonders if they used honey in the batter.Â
when he looks up, they’re watching him intently, a mischievous gleam in their eye.Â
“what?” he asks, swallowing his mouthful, holding eye contact and trying to ignore the flush that’s surely rising on his face.Â
they hum. then they take a sip of juice, exaggeratedly slowly, clearly amused and intent on playing it up. he catches himself smiling at their cocky expression before shaking it away.Â
“’s just interesting.”
“what is?”Â
they simply hum again, eyes still fixed on him, as he reflexively sips his coffee. not in a way that makes him feel cornered, or at fault. the warmth in their eyes leaves no room for that. he finally averts his gaze as he puts a name to it, cheeks flaming. he’s self-conscious. he can barely handle their scrutiny when he’s operating at full capacity, and he’s only been awake for thirty minutes. how is he meant to deal with this?
“i’ve just never seen you like this.”
his eyebrows raise, prompting them to elaborate.
“you’re usually so…” they trail off, narrowing their eyes at him and leaning back in their chair, and he feels himself flush even harder.
“...thoughtful.”Â
he can’t help the surprised laugh that escapes him. “you make me breakfast in my own home after you spend the night, and you’re calling me thoughtful?”
“well, that’s why this is the exception,” they shoot back, folding their arms over their baggy shirt. “you always put everyone else around you first. it’s like it’s built into your dna—i don’t think i’ve ever had a moment with you when you weren’t looking out for me. even last night…”
they look away as they shrug one shoulder up, something grateful and warm in their eyes that turns the gesture bashful instead of coy. his heart clenches with hope at the sight. they clear their throat before meeting his gaze again, their lips twitching into a mischievous grin.
“i always had you down as the breakfast-maker, but i guess your horrible sleep schedule cancels out your status as a gentleman.”
he huffs, throwing his hands up with a grin he tries valiantly to hide.Â
“i do usually make breakfast, let it be known—”Â
“you’ve barely said a dozen words this whole half hour!”Â
he opens his mouth to argue.Â
“you just grunt and sigh and trudge around looking for coffee. or cuddles.”Â
he closes his mouth after that, because they’re right.Â
in more ways than they know.Â
as they snicker at his silence and bite off another forkful of honey-soaked pancake, he wonders, not for the first time, if they know how easy this feels. how much his feelings of self-worth were previously staked on comparing himself to heteronormative societal standards and pleasing his partners in strictly straight relationships. there was a time when he prided himself on being the breakfast-maker, the one to hold open doors, the one to be attuned to his partner in bed. but while he still believes in being attentive and thoughtful in a relationship, it’s been a while since he’s identified as straight, even longer since he’s felt fettered to the rules of what makes a “good man” in the eyes of society at large. some of them they directly pointed out (“so i’m supposed to just sit there and wait for you to cross the car and open my door?”), some they’ve unpicked unknowingly, tugging on threads that had begun to fray in previous relationships but had never been examined this closely. he wonders if they know how easy it could’ve been for him to never reach this kind of introspection. how grateful he is that their relationship has begun changing his view of himself so deeply.
“you’re staring,” they point out, and he shakes himself for the second time this morning. the smug twinkle in their eyes pulls a grin out of him before he can help himself.
“you’re stunning,” he replies easily, and then sees them tense, just for a moment, before slowly relaxing as they lean forward.
he watches their smirk morph into something more solemn and follows suit, resting his forearms on the table, because he adores their earnest side just as much as their flippant one. their gaze dips, and he can tell they’re sounding out the words in their mind before saying them out loud. he treasures the care that radiates from them.
“thank you. for last night.” they say, voice low. “you don’t know how much that meant to me.”
“no need to thank me.” he lays his hand on the table, palm up, and they immediately grip it in theirs. his heart leaps at the ease of the gesture.Â
“there’s no rush,” he repeats, slowly, so they can hear the sincerity behind his words, see it behind his eyes. “we’ll take it at your pace.”
a small nod, and he squeezes. their gaze flicks down to their joined hands before they intertwine their fingers, softly brushing their thumb over the back of his hand. he inhales silently. then he dares to jest.
“i can’t have you revoking my gentleman status just yet.”Â
a smile spreads across their features, small and raw and hopeful. he thinks it might be the most breathtaking one he’s ever seen. the tender mood doesn’t evaporate, just like he’d hoped—instead their eyes return to his and they both take a second to just breathe, to stare like lovesick fools as they take in the full scope of what they’ve found in the other.Â
he dares to make a wish in that moment. in this room that has never felt more like home, smelling of coffee and pancakes and honey. he imagines a shutter going off in his mind’s eye as he squeezes their fingers, capturing this moment forever. so that even after he has to stand up and unravel their fingers, the light in their eyes remains.