#But then the voices say: you are not the exception. you will never learn your lesson

[astrolook]

Chiron: Because Therapy Wasn’t Expensive Enough Already

Chiron, aka the “Wounded Healer,” is that one astrology placement that drags your soul through the mud but lowkey turns you into a wise sage (or a really expensive therapist’s client). Whatever house Chiron lands in is where life hands you lemons—except you’re not making lemonade; you’re writing a memoir about your suffering. BUT, this wound isn’t here to destroy you. It’s here to shape you into a master healer in that area of life.

Chiron in the 1st House (Identity Crisis Central)

Feels like everyone sees the “wrong” version of you.

Might attract partners who project their insecurities onto you.

Struggles with confidence—undervaluing yourself until one day you wake up and realize, Oh wait, I AM that person.

You feel like you need to prove your existence. The glow-up happens when you realize you don’t have to be anything other than yourself.

Chiron in the 2nd House (Money Trauma & Self-Worth Rollercoaster)

Might attract people who challenge your self-worth (ouch) or partners who make you question your financial stability.

Feels like no matter what, you never have “enough.” But once you stop equating your worth to a paycheck, financial stability finds you.

The wound? Feeling like you need to earn love or success. The healing? Realizing you’re valuable just as you are.

Chiron in the 3rd House (The Overthinker’s Special)

Struggles with communication—either you overshare or feel unheard.

Dating involves writing mental essays before sending a text.

Feels like your voice doesn’t matter. You might avoid speaking up in professional settings, but your words are actually your power.

Gaining self-worth? Learning to trust your own thoughts. Your ideas do matter, and you don’t need external validation to prove it.

Chiron in the 4th House (Home? Never Heard of Her.)

Deep-rooted family wounds make intimacy feel like both a dream and a nightmare.

Might attract partners who feel like “home” but in a trauma-repeating way.

Emotional baggage seeps into your work. You crave security but might self-sabotage when things feel “too good.”

You heal when you build the emotional foundation you never had—on your own terms.

Chiron in the 5th House (Creative Genius with a Side of Imposter Syndrome)

Love life feels like an emotional battleground.

Fear of not being “good enough” in romance. Attracts partners who mirror this insecurity.

SO much creative talent, but that little voice in your head says, “Who do you think you are?”

You people deserve joy and self-expression. Stop dimming your light to fit in.

Chiron in the 6th House (Burnout + Perfectionism = Yikes)

Over-giver energy. Attracts partners who lean on you emotionally but struggle to give back.

Might feel like work defines you. Learning that productivity doesn’t equal self-worth is the ultimate aha moment for you.

Stop trying to be “useful” to be loved. You’re enough even when you’re resting.

Chiron in the 7th House (Relationships: The Crash Course in Healing)

Oh, boy! Romantic wounds galore.

Attracts partners who reflect past traumas until you finally break the cycle.

Collaboration struggles—feeling unseen in partnerships. The key? Finding your own voice.

You should learn that love doesn’t have to hurt to be real.

Chiron in the 8th House (Shadow Work or Bust)

Deep fears of betrayal, abandonment, or being “too much” in love.

Might attract emotionally unavailable partners.

Feels like financial security is always just out of reach. But once you embrace your power? Financial transformation happens.

Your intensity is your gift, not your curse.

Chiron in the 9th House (Existential Crisis, Anyone?)

Might feel disconnected from people who don’t “get” your way of thinking.

Feels like you don’t know enough. The truth? You’re more than capable—you just need to trust yourself.

Stop waiting for permission to follow your own path.

Chiron in the 10th House (Career Struggles & Public Image Woes)

Feels like you have to “prove” your worth in love.

Might attract partners who challenge your status or career.

Fear of failure. Struggles with stepping into authority, but the world needs your leadership.

You’re not an imposter—you belong at the top.

Chiron in the 11th House (The Outsider Complex)

Struggles to feel like they truly belong.

Friends or partners might make you question your value in social spaces.

Feels like success is tied to being “accepted.” The truth? Your uniqueness is what makes you irreplaceable.

Lesson? Stop trying to fit in when you were meant to stand out.

Chiron in the 12th House (Spiritual Wounds & Hidden Pain)

Tends to self-sacrifice in love.

Attracts people who take more than they give—until you learn to set boundaries.

Feels drawn to healing professions or creative outlets but struggles with self-doubt. The key? Learning to trust your intuition.

You are not here to be invisible. Your depth is your superpower.

🔥 Chiron is messy, but it’s also where you level up. Once you embrace the wounds, they stop running the show—and you become the healer you were meant to be.

🔥 Where’s your Chiron, and how has it shown up in your life? Let’s talk about it in the comments!

Curious about what the stars say about your life, love, and destiny? DM me for a birth chart reading, and let’s unlock your cosmic blueprint! 🔮✨

[buckleyflower]

93 please ☺️❤️

93. “Where would I even go?”

Eddie left in his truck with that stupid, stupid U-haul that will haunt Buck’s sleep for the foreseeable future at least three hours ago, and Buck can’t bring himself to leave Eddie’s house.

He shouldn’t have come inside in the first place, but then he went to get the car keys from his pocket and touched Eddie’s house key, the one that Eddie gave him for emergencies, and thought that, well, this is an emergency.

He is already missing his best friend, the best friend he is in love with, and who… probably is the other half of his heart (and not because half of his heart is his— the other half of his heart is Christopher).

So he sits on the couch where he has spent countless nights on and wishes that life didn’t suck. Because this is it, right? This is his life, and it sucks. And it will always, always hurt. Everyone leaves him and he has learned to live with that.

Except that he doesn’t think he will ever learn to live without Eddie, he doesn’t think he knows how to exist without Eddie, and he doesn’t want to learn to, he doesn’t want Eddie to be one more thing he has to learn to do without.

So he goes inside and falls asleep on that couch, eventually, between exhaustion and a few tears, and prays that when he opens his eyes next, Eddie will be there to offer him a beer.

So hours go by and he is still sleeping, only to be waken up by the shrill sound of his ringtone about three hours later. He should have put his phone somewhere else than right beside his head, actually. But he just fell asleep while scrolling through his photo gallery. It’s not his fault.

The screen lights up with Eddie. His name, his photo, his— voice, eventually.

“Eddie?” He slurs, rubbing his eyes in the process.

“Buck, where are you?”

Eddie sounds frantic, breathless like he’s run a marathon or through three flights of stairs, Buck doesn’t exactly know. He knows that his own heart is beating like crazy.

“I— I’m on—” fuck, how does he say this without sounding crazy? “I’m on your couch,” he blurts out. Then, “No, I mean, it was— well, if you actually move then—”

“Buck!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m at your place, why?”

Buck couldn’t catch a full breath even if he begged his lungs. He goes with the flow. He tries to think of the most rational option. “Did you forget anything?”

“Did I— yes, fuck, don’t move, I’ll be right there.”

He is so confused. What could Eddie have possibly forgotten that guaranteed him coming back in such a hurry?

He waits and waits and waits and remains as still as humanly possible on Eddie’s couch, moving only when he hears the sound of a car pulling up.

Then he checks the time. Where has Eddie been for the past three hours?

“He— hey,” he stutters when Eddie opens the door with his key and approaches him.

“Buck.”

Eddie looks a little bit crazy, to be honest. His hair is a bit disheveled and there are some drops of rain on his chest. He stands there without moving or talking for so long that Buck fears it’s a trick of his own mind. Until he moves and crashes into Buck so violently that Buck has to take a few steps back to stabilize himself, before catching up and hugging Eddie back.

He was missing his best friend merely minutes ago and now he is holding him like his life depends on it.

“Eddie?” Buck curiously asks, while his heart still beats like a jackhammer.

Eddie, in response, buries his face in Buck’s neck and inhales, as if this was the first time he has breathed in ages.

Buck feels a shiver down his spine. This has never happened, he has never felt the ghost of Eddie’s lips on his own neck and this is fucking unfair because Eddie will leave again and he will— wait, why has Eddie come back? To hug him a bit tighter before he leaves?

“E— Eddie, what did you,” he swallows down a lump in his throat, “forget?”

And that makes Eddie pull back, and Buck expects the moment to be over, this hug to become yet another memory he’ll cling to for the rest of time (he knows he’s a bit dramatic, yeah), but Eddie takes his face in his hands and Buck gulps so hard his throat hurts.

“Ed—” he can only mumble before Eddie presses their lips together.

It’s so much of a shock to Buck’s system that he doesn’t realize what’s happening at first. He stays as rigid as a block of steel.

Then, when Eddie is about to pull away, he drags him closer, one hand behind Eddie’s head and the other one behind his back, wishing he could fuse them together. And he kisses Eddie back, and it lasts barely ten seconds before the gentle pecks on Eddie’s lower lips turn into a full make-out session, desperate and hungry against the front door of Eddie’s house.

Buck can’t believe that this is happening, that this, too, is his life. So when they eventually have to pull away, he can’t help himself.

“Eddie, I— uh, what—” he stammers, but Eddie just shakes his head and kisses him again.

“I was— I was— I think I was halfway to Arizona.”

Eddie is shaking, Buck realizes. So he takes Eddie’s hands and squeezes them. “It’s okay,” he promises. “What’s wrong?”

“There was—” Eddie tries. “The radio— it was— it was, uh— there was that station you always wanna listen to and I hate that and—”

“Eddie.”

“I love you, Buck, okay? And I— I don’t want to listen to any other radio station, and I don’t want to go to Texas and I don’t want to miss you,” Eddie finally manages to say.

Then he gets their foreheads to touch, taking Buck’s face in his hands again, and sees Buck’s misty eyes.

“Where would I even go without you, Buck?” He whispers, weirdly steady for someone who’s about to change his life forever.

“I don’t wanna live without you, okay? I— I’m sorry but—”

Buck cuts him off with the best kiss of Eddie’s life. “I love you so much, so much,” he cries, before hugging Eddie’s middle and hiding his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“I’ve already called my parents,” sometime later Eddie says. “Told them we’re gonna pick Chris up soon…” he mumbles in Buck’s ear. “That okay?”

Buck can only nod in response, partly because he can’t even get his brain to formulate a coherent sentence, partly because why would he not be okay with that? He gets to have his heart back in one place again.

Life is great.

—

(Eddie was at Buck’s place but Buck was at his) Hope you like it. Thanks💓

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

I guess this is another what if/continuation.

Tommy felt ridiculous on checking in on Evan. But the guy hadn't answered his phone since letting Tommy know that he was being discharged from the hospital and his girlfriend, Ali, would be taking him home.

Tommy tried to not feel a pang of jealousy at that. He knew Buck had a girlfriend and was straight. Yes, he was an "ally" but it sort of stung since Tommy thought they had clicked when they first met in Evan's hospital room.

He thought Evan liked him, but it was clearly wishful thinking on Tommy's part. A part of him knew he should just be grateful that Evan still wanted to be friends with him after Tommy had told Evan that he was gay.

(Carla was weirdly supportive of Tommy being friends with Evan still, "I just think Buck and you could learn a lot from each other." She had told him nonchalantly after he had told her he felt weird continuing their friendship with all the Abby and looming feelings Tommy had for Evan.)

He knocked in Evan's apartment door, "Evan?"

No answer.

"Hey, Evan? Are you in there?" The fear and worry got to him, Evan wasn't answering his calls or texts and now he wasn't answering. If Ali was with him, then surely she would answer the door.

It was daring and infringing on Evan's personal space but he was genuinely worried; Tommy checked to see if the door was locked.

It wasn't.

"Evan?"

He had never been to Evens apartment, but he wasn't expecting the large airy industrial loft. He took a moment to look around the dark apartment, there was hardly any light in the kitchen except the light coming from the large windows that showed off DTLA.

He turned to his left and saw the soft glow of an orange light before he hear Evan's voice- it was rough and bordering on mad. "You know, most people would take the hint and leave me alone."

Tommy could hardly be upset at how cold Evan sounded, he was too worried about Evan. The man looked dejected and upset- his blue eyes red shot and his face blotchy.

"What happened?"

Evan sniffed, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. He let out a scoff that broke down into a sour sounding laugh. "Ali broke up with me."

"She what?" Tommy sat down on the table across from Evan, careful to leave space for where Evan was resting his cast covered leg. "Like now?"

"Yup." Evan nodded, his voice rough as he tried to avoid looking at Tommy. "She-uh, couldn't live with the fact that I'm a firefighter. I guess it freaked her out that she could lose me."

Tommy grimaced at that, it was something he had noticed in the past with his teammates and their exes. People loved scars on firefighters, it just freaked them knowing how they got them.

"Can't say I blame her." Evan admitted, he tried to pull a smile for Tommy's sake but Tommy could see the grimace still. "This is a lot for anyone, I know I'm a lot without my leg in this stupid cast."

"Hey!" Tommy gently touched said leg, "You're not a lot." He reminded the younger man pointedly, "You're going through a lot right now, you didn't ask for your leg to get crushed by a freaking firetruck." He sighed, watching as Evan leaned back in the couch. "Who's going to help you now?" Tommy asked after a few seconds of silence. He couldn't help but notice the stairs that more than likely led to Evan's bed and the bathroom that was clearly in the main floor.

"What do you mean?"

Tommy raised a brow at that, his mouth opening slightly. He figured he didn't need to clarify here. "I mean, you're currently using crutches and you live in a apartment with stairs." He looked up at the loft, "A lot of stairs." He shook his head, "is your sister planning on staying with you?"

"No." Evans confused face was staring to worry Tommy now, "She'll drop by, but I'm probably just gonna sleep on my couch, y'know, since the kitchen and bathroom are down here."

"Uh huh." Tommy pursed his lips, the logistics sounded...fine. "What's your plan for getting your clothes and stuff from your bedroom?"

Evan paused at that, clearly annoyed and not having thought out that far yet, "I can hop upstairs if I really need something or I'll ask Maddie or Bobby for help when they come by."

Tommy had a bad habit of keeping his head down and staying quiet. It was mostly out of fear and self preservation because when he did open his mouth during the most inopportune times he would end up saying the most out of pocket and random stuff like...

"Or you could stay with me."

The cat was running out of the bag now.

"Er- wh-what?"

Even Evan looked as confused as Tommy felt.

"Not like forever type of-" Tommy shook his head, hoping to start over as he paused to reset himself, rubbing his neck nervously as he tried to find the words all while his stomach was interested in bringing up his lunch again. "I have a house, it's a one story house, so no stairs to deal with and I have a guest bedroom with its own bathroom. It's a shower stall, so you wouldn't have issues getting in and out."

It was bold to assume Evan would even entertain the idea of Tommy's request since they had only known each other for five days.

There was a carton of milk in Tommy's fridge that Tommy had had longer than this...friendship?

"You don't have to say "Yes", obviously....I just don't want to leave you here. Especially since the first few days are the hardest and you're gonna be on pain meds for a while."

Despite thinking Evan would be weirded out, Evan looked thrilled and relieved- a weird mixture of aww and feelings hit Tommy hard in his heart. Evan looked so adorable, blushing as he smiled hard at Tommy. "You would let me stay? I mean- I-I wouldn't mind. It's just taking care of me might be a lot. Im probably gonna complain about my leg when im not loopy on those pain meds."

Tommy chuckled, patting Evan's leg, "After what you went through, you should be able to complain."

That got Evan to laugh, he was already looking and sounding bright to Tommy's ears.

It suited Evan well.

(This crush was gonna drive Tommy crazy.)

"It's just- I should probably pay you rent or something."

Tommy eyed the loft, "I don't even want to know what you're paying rent for this place, keep your money. I just want you to focus on getting better. At least when you're staying with me, I don't have to worry about you falling down multiple steps just so you can change your shirt."

Evan still didn't look fully convinced, "I don't know, Tommy. I- I wouldn't be in the way? I mean, we just met. You're gonna get sick of me real-"

"I don't think I could ever get sick of you, Evan."

Tommy didn't have the rationale to wince or over think about how sincere he sounded. He didn't even want to know what he looked liked while saying it.

Because Evan's reaction was worth it. The younger man seemed to flush all over, his eyes dilating as his mouth dropped open for a bit.

Tommy couldn't help but linger at Evan's lips.

"Y-yeah. O-okay." Evan licked his lips, Tommy could have sworn Evan's eyes dropped to Tommy's lips, but that was definitely wishful thinking. "It would probably be easier to stay with you then here right now."

Tommy had to get back to being rational and logical about this.

"Exactly." He stood up, "I can pack a bag for you and then we can head home? Maybe pick up some dinner on the way, we can pick up some Thai food."

Evan's relieved and grateful smile had Tommy grinning back like an idiot. "Sounds great."

"Great." He clapped his hands together, "Just point me to where you keep your luggage."

Thirty minutes later Tommy was helping Evan get into his truck.

It was definitely a stupid idea to have his crush stay with him, but Tommy couldn't help but feel incredibly giddy as he and Evan talked throughout the car ride to the restaurant and then to Tommy’s house.

Maybe this could be the start of a beautiful friendship...once Tommy got over his crush on Evan.

[foxnikki]

*enters breaking everything*

Resquests are open!!

Nikki, Nikki... Could I ask for Izo and Killer (separately) with a gn/nb s/o who clearly has a bias towards them?

Like, some crew member gets hurt and s/o scolds them for being careless, but with Izo/Killer, s/o is like "my love, are you okay?? 🥺🤜🏻🩹" (the fist is supposed to be a hand holding the band-aid 💀)

Maybe you don't even realize that they CLEARLY have favoritism??

Headcanons pls <3

It's totally fine if you don't wanna write it!!! 💗

— XOXØ, Meli

𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚

They never really understood your behavior at times: the only thing they were sure of was that you took care of them without complaints. Ah, if only they knew they had favoritism!

Pairing: Izou x gn!reader, Killer x gn!reader [separately] Genre: fluff a/n: this is a really cute idea for a story, thanks for the request ♡

izou

Oh, to say that he was scared at the idea of ​​you taking care of him at first was an understatement. Or rather, it would have annoyed him quite a bit, on the other hand he had heard that you had a particular way of taking care of the wounded, and saying taking care seemed like a funny way of saying that while you were taking care of them you repeatedly complained that they had to be more careful. Izo didn't want to hear any complaints.

He had once injured his arm during a battle, but Marco was already busy treating the others, so he had to go to you even though he didn't want to. You disinfected his wound, stitched it up and bandaged it, all this in silence. The only thing you said was at the end, when you gave him a pat. “Here you go" you told him.

It was a pretty calm situation, though maybe it was just because it was the first time he'd come to you, he thought. Oh, how wrong he was.

The next time the wound reopened and he had to return. That time you talked more. “You should be more careful, you know?” you told him, and your voice sounded worried rather than annoyed. "I care about your health..." Izo started to think that the others were exaggerating and said that you were quite aggressive in your ways. How could I be, if you were nice to him?

Sometimes he would even just show up to talk, and you seemed more than happy to listen to him. Of course, he didn't pay attention to the fact that he was probably the only person in the crew who was given that treatment.

Seriously, if he finds out he has favoritism he might find an excuse to get hurt more often.

killer

He was already used to Kid and his outbursts, so when he learned that the crew's new doctor was a rather aggressive guy he didn't pay much attention to it at first. Then one day he saw you with his friend and, oh my god, you were literally scolding him for getting hurt. It was definitely worse than he thought.

The first time he came to you he had a similar if not lighter treatment, you muttered annoyed about how your companions weren't paying attention to what they were doing. Well, at least you didn't yell at him.

One time he saw you bandaging up Bubblegum and, he would say, you were literally crushing his arm. For once he felt lucky.

The second time was a quieter visit, you simply disinfected his wound and put a band-aid on him while humming under your breath. When you finished you said your goodbyes and you gave a smile. He didn't know why but he felt reassured by this gesture, maybe after all you could be kind. Then, you were the doctor, and you just wanted your companions to be well, even if you had your own ways of doing so. Well, maybe he was an exception.

Yet he doesn't pay much attention to the fact that he has a favourite, and perhaps it's for the best. If he found out, he might tell you to treat others the same way because, as he says, he doesn't like favoritism... even though he probably does it himself by giving you the plate with the biggest meal.

© ꜰᴏxɴɪᴋᴋɪ on tumblr - do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform. Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

all aboard the angst train! ominis finds out from sebastian that he and mc are courting and goes to mc like what the hell i know you love me what are you courting sebastian? and mc just says I want a family I want children you will never give that to me. it's best for us to stop now before we really hurt each other. choo choo the angst train is leaving the station!!

What We’ll Never Have | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

this was just... so much pAIN. my HEART.

Words: ~2,200

Tags: Post Hogwarts, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort

Sebastian had been fidgeting all evening, a nervous habit he’d never quite shaken. Ominis had learned long ago to recognize the tells—shifting weight between his feet, the repeated cracking of his knuckles, the way he rapped his fingers against any available surface.

He knew Sebastian had something to say long before the words left his mouth, but nothing could have prepared him for what he finally said.

"I just thought you should hear it from me first," Sebastian had muttered. "She and I are courting."

Ominis had stood so still in that moment, his fingers curled around the rim of his tankard, that he might have been mistaken for a statue.

"You're what?" he’d asked, though he had heard perfectly well.

"Courting," Sebastian repeated, as if the word wasn't a knife twisting into Ominis’s ribs. "It's nothing dramatic. We just… figured it makes sense."

Ominis didn't even remember leaving the bar, his mind roaring with thoughts he couldn’t quiet. And now, here he was, standing outside your flat, barely aware that his knuckles had rapped against the wood until he heard the latch slide free and the door swing open.

A pause.

He knew you were looking at him. He knew, in that way he always knew you, that you understood why he was here, that you were already bracing yourself for the confrontation neither of you had ever been brave enough to have.

"Ominis," you greeted, your voice careful, neutral.

That only infuriated him more.

He shoved past you. The scent of parchment and tea clung to the air, but there was something else beneath it—something distant and wrong. It was the awareness that this was no longer his place to be, no longer a space where unspoken words could linger between you two, waiting to be plucked from the air like ripened fruit.

When the door clicked shut behind you, he turned sharply, his voice low but unrelenting. "What the hell are you doing?"

You sighed. "I take it you saw Sebastian.”

“Oh yes, I saw him,” Ominis snapped. “Had a very illuminating conversation, in fact. Imagine my surprise when my best friend tells me he and you—” His voice caught, and he hated that it did. He swallowed hard. “You are courting.”

Silence.

You didn’t deny it.

Instead, you said, “We’re happy, Ominis.”

He laughed, sharp and humorless. “You think you’ll be happy. But you and I both know that’s not the same thing as actually being happy.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t say ‘you’re wrong’. And that silence spoke louder than anything else.

"I don’t understand," Ominis said, turning toward where he knew you stood. "Why are you doing this?!"

"It’s what makes sense, Ominis," you said, so softly, so gently, like you knew this would wound him and yet were trying to dull the blade.

Makes sense.

Such a simple phrase. So small and neat, as if it could explain away everything that had come before it—the glances you and Ominis shared across dimly lit rooms, the conversations that had stretched past midnight, the way your hands always lingered a second too long when they brushed his. The way Ominis had felt you, like a gravitational pull just beneath his skin, and known he would love you until the day he died.

He had spent years—years—telling himself there would always be more time. That whatever simmered between the two of you, whatever hung in the spaces of your conversations, whatever made you linger a little too long, press a little too close, would still be there when the timing was right.

Except now, he realized, the moment had passed without him ever knowing it.

His breath was ragged as he took a step forward, his hands twitching at his sides. “Sense?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re choosing him because it makes sense?

“I had to make a choice, Ominis.”

He shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” you countered, stepping closer. “And I—” You hesitated, just for a moment, before forcing yourself to say it again. “And I chose Sebastian.”

Ominis let out a quiet, humorless laugh, "You just woke up one day and decided to be with Sebastian?”

You flinched, but your voice remained steady. “It wasn’t like that. It's not like I decided on a whim. You act like Sebastian and I didn't talk this through first."

Ominis stilled. This was planned. Considered. You and Sebasrian had discussed it, picked apart the logistics of it together, laid out the path forward.

Of course, you wouldn’t have rushed into something blindly. You had always been measured, deliberate. You thought through your choices, weighed them carefully before committing. And you had done the same with this.

Ominis felt his stomach turn but he forced himself to breathe through the pressure mounting in his chest. "How long?" His voice was sharp, brittle. "How long have you been considering it?"

You hesitated.

Ominis felt something cold settle in his ribs. "How long?"

"...A while."

Ominis let out a slow breath, his hands curled into fists at his sides. "But why him? You could have picked anyone else. Anyone. Some Ministry official, a bloody Healer. Of all people, why my best bloody friend?!"

You exhaled sharply. "Because he’s my best friend too, Ominis."

"You don't love him though!"

The words were out before Ominis could stop them, raw and sharp, edged with something dangerously close to desperation.

You exhaled, slow and measured. “Yes, I do."

“No, you don’t.”

"Maybe not in the way you mean, but we will learn—”

"Is that honestly what you think?” Ominis interrupted, his voice low and fraying at the edges. “You think you can just learn to love him like that?”

“Yes.”

Ominis shook his head, laughing bitterly, though nothing about this was funny. “You can’t force love.”

“I’m not forcing anything,” you countered. “It might not ne romantic love but that doesn’t mean it’s less.”

“It’s not real,” Ominis bit out.

“It is,” you said, voice thick with something unreadable. “It’s real in the ways that matter. It’s trust, it’s choosing someone because they’ll be there at the end of the day. It’s knowing that we’ll make each other happy, even if it isn’t some grand, burning thing.”

Ominis shook his head again. “You’re settling.”

You flinched, and for a fleeting moment, Ominis felt something like satisfaction. But then you exhaled sharply, something flashing in your eyes. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have waited.” Ominis argued, throwing his hands on the air.

“For what?” you snapped. "You say what Sebastian and I have isn’t real but at least we acknowledge it."

Ominis stiffened.

"At least it’s something named, something that isn’t hiding in the dark," you continued, stepping closer, your frustration mounting. "At least we’re honest with each other."

Ominis felt like he had been struck.

"You think you get to stand here and tell me what is or isn’t real?" You shook your head. "I waited, Ominis. I waited for you."

His stomach twisted, but he stayed silent.

"For years," you emphasized, your voice trembling now, edged with something like grief. "Years, Ominis. Hoping that one day you’d—" You exhaled shakily. "That you’d just say it. That you’d choose me."

His throat tightened.

"But you never did."

The words hung between you, the weight of them pressing against his ribs, curling around his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

"You never said it," you whispered. "Not once."

Ominis swallowed, his hands shaking now. "I—"

"You let me wait. You let me sit in that silence, let me hope while you stood there, doing nothing." Your voice broke, just slightly. “and after all that time, after years of waiting, you have the audacity to come here and tell me this isn’t real?" You scoffed, shaking your head. "What Sebastian and I have might not be what you think it should be, but at least it's something."

Ominis swallowed hard. He had spent his entire life being careful. Measured. Controlled. He had learned restraint before he had learned kindness, had learned to bite his tongue before he had ever learned how to wield it. He had spent years—a decade—walking this impossible, agonizing line with you, balancing on the edge of something neither of you had dared to name.

But standing here, knowing you were choosing someone else—choosing Sebastian—when he knew you loved him, when he knew, down to his very bones, that this wasn’t just some unrequited fantasy, that you had spent just as many years aching in silence as he had…

It broke something in him.

His breath shuddered as he stepped closer, close enough to feel the warmth of your skin, the uneven rise and fall of your chest.

"Fine." His voice was sharp, ragged at the edges, but he didn’t care. “You want me to say it? Fine." He let out a sharp breath, his voice rough with something raw and unrelenting. "I love you."

The words hung between you, vast and consuming, but Ominis wasn’t finished.

"I love you," he said again, the confession pouring from him like a wound finally splitting open, ten years of restraint breaking apart in an instant. "How many times do you want to hear it?"

You sucked in a breath, your lips parting slightly, but he didn’t let you speak.

"How many times will it take to change your mind?"

Your hands trembled at your sides, your whole body going still, but he knew—he knew—that this wasn’t news to you.

He took step forward, his voice hoarse now. "I know you love me too."

You shook your head once, a small, broken movement. "Ominis—"

"Don’t lie to me." His voice cracked on the last word. "Don’t.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your jaw tightening, but you didn’t deny it.

Before he could think better of it, Ominis's hand lifted, fingers brushing along the line of your jaw before he cupped your cheek.

Your breath hitched beneath his palm.

Ominis exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now, softer, but no less desperate. "Tell me I’m wrong."

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me you don’t love me." His thumb ghosted over your cheek. "Tell me, and I will leave. I will let you go. I will walk away, and you will never hear another word of this from me again."

Silence. A silence so heavy, so vast, it felt like it might crush him. Because you couldn’t say it. Because you did love him and you always had.

Ominis’s breath left him in a slow, aching exhale. "Then why are you doing this?" His forehead almost rested against yours now as tears burned behind his sightless eyes. "Why are you choosing him?"

You swallowed. Your hand lifted slowly, curling over his wrist, as if you meant to pull him away, except you held him there instead.

“I want a family, Ominis,” you admitted, voice barely more than a breath.

Ominis's grip on your cheek slackened, the certainty that had carried him through this breaking apart all at once.

Ominis had never wanted children.

In all the late-night conversations between you that had stretched toward dawn, in all the quiet moments when the world had felt like it existed only for the two of you, he had admitted it freely. He had sworn, sworn, that he would never be a father. That he would never bring another Gaunt into this world, never risk continuing a bloodline so poisoned, so irreversibly rotted with cruelty, that he feared any child of his would inherit it, that they would open their eyes and see the world the way his father had seen it.

He had vowed it.

Because the truth was, Ominis didn’t know what fatherly love was even supposed to look like. He didn’t know how to be a father. Didn’t know what it meant to be the kind of person who could raise a child properly.

But now—now, standing here, the truth of it lodged itself deep into his chest: you wanted a family, and from the very start, Ominis had always refused to give you one.

"I don’t want to wait forever for something that will never happen," you murmured, your voice heavy with something close to grief. "I don’t want to wake up years from now and realize I let the chance slip away because I was waiting for you to change your mind."

Ominis exhaled sharply, his breath coming out ragged. "You think I wouldn’t have tried?" His voice cracked, something desperate clawing at his throat.

You pressed your lips together, and when you spoke again,your voice wavered. "That’s the problem, Ominis. I don’t want you to try. I want you to want it."

Ominis stepped back suddenly, his hand falling away from your cheek like the finality of it had just settled in his bones.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "And Sebastian does?"

You swallowed hard. "He—" You hesitated, just for a second, but that second was enough. "Yes, he... wants a family. A life that I want, too."

Ominis let out a bitter, shaking breath. "A life you wanted with me." His throat ached with the weight of it, with the unbearable truth of knowing that you had imagined this future—children, a home, a life filled with warmth—and once upon a time, you had pictured him by your side.

But not anymore.

[beargyufairy]

And the voices say

"You are not the exception”

“You will never learn your lesson"

[genuflectx]

Maaan I love the optimistic advice "keep practicing and you'll get better at art" as much as the next artist, but it always rubs me the wrong way when that evolves into "just keep practicing and you WILL 100% succeed and CAN get into the industry."

It changes from good general advice to implying you're just doing something wrong if still haven't "made it" yet. Not in the industry? Well, you just haven't worked hard enough, obviously, as if there aren't plenty of other factors that play into "succeeding” in a highly competitive industry like art.

Don’t let advice that’s supposed to be encouraging turn into something discouraging 😭

[chattybugette]

Reminder that Gabriel is not canonically above akumatizing a pregnant person

[whogirl42]

Not Crowley listening to Foolish One by Taylor Swift post s2😭

[planetsandthefates]

i thought castles crumbling made me crumble into pieces but foolish one revived me and then punched me in the gut

[tojicide]

SNIPER, SNIPER! ☆ LEON KENNEDY

summary. in leon’s line of work as a contract killer, weaknesses weren’t an option. luckily, he’d eliminated his… all except for one.

warnings. fem! reader, hitman! leon, ex! leon, re4! leon intended. discussion of murder, guns, bullets, etc. a loooot of blissful ignorance, porn with some plot, pet names, oral sex ( fem. receiving ), face sitting, missionary, unprotected p in v, creampie. wc. 5.3k.

note. i tend to fuck up a nice “ex who is a raging munch” fic or two saurrrr this is basically my staple now

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Leon isn’t sure why he’s here.

He hasn’t ever bid on a target as sought after as the one that he has now acquired. The target was only described as someone who simply ‘knows too much’ about something they shouldn’t. Vague, he thinks, especially because they remained nameless, genderless, and description-less otherwise. It was odd, for sure, but it was the highest contract that he had ever come by.

As a matter of fact, he’s positive that it’s the highest contract that anyone in his position has ever seen, let alone signed. He’s sure that he’s ruffled a bit of feathers by taking on the job, especially considering that he was still considered fresh meat among the other hitmen that he was distantly familiar with.

Leon preferred to stay out of the unusual politics that came with the underground world, and that meant taking on the jobs that no one deemed urgent enough to complete.

(Plenty of drug dealers, a few sketchy nightclub owners, and an awful bunch of politicians who he is 99% sure put the bounty on their own heads to avoid the scandal that was unearthed about each of them no less than two weeks after they were found with bullets in their heads. He preferred those hits. All men, all guilty of something.)

Nevertheless, he finds himself here, perched on the rooftop of an upscale bar with his sniper rifle angled over the ledge. His scope was perfectly aligned with the entrance of the night club across the street, his right eye narrowed while the other was completely shut.

He sighs, tapping onto his earpiece to communicate with his teammate that was a few buildings over. Alexander.

(Alexander was a tech-nut. He was responsible for ensuring that the coast was clear, that there weren’t an abundance of cops in the area, and that security cameras of the establishment were looped continually in order to ensure that no one could suspect anything more than someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.)

“Reread the target description that was left for me,” Leon quietly commands.

“Aaand what’s the magic word?”

He heavily sighs. For a job like this, he figured that working alone would be the best option, but with the more he learned, the more experience he gained, the people he met—he was proven wrong. A team works more efficiently than a single person, even if the other half of his current team was a bit… annoying.

“Don’t piss me off,” he huffs, shaking his head as he closes one eye to look through the scope again.

Leon can practically hear Alexander’s grin on the other end of the line as he speaks. “Alright, man, jeez. Your g-string must be a bit too tight tonight, but that’s alright, I’m in no place to judge you.”

Before the blonde can even react to that unsettling quip, Alexander continues speaking, only this time, he does what Leon asks of him. “Bounty, bounty, bounty… where is the darn thing? Oh yes, here it is. Okay, it says that the target will be wearing a blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks tonight…. and that’s it.”

Leon hums, mulling over the very few words that were left for him by the person who had posted the contract in the first place. He’d never killed someone based on the description of an outfit alone,  but then again, he’s never gotten paid this much for sending a bullet through a random guy’s brain. He’ll take it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, turning off his ear piece to drown out the voice of the male on the other end.

It feels like hours pass by in which all he does is stare at the entrance, watching as each attendee leaves the establishment periodically. Each time he saw the color red, he’d perk up, only to find that they were wearing jeans, or they were wearing a white blazer, which only left him feeling more annoyed as time went on.

And then, the door opens. He can practically feel the air flee his lungs as he taps onto his earpiece out of instinct. A blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks.

“Ooh. Pretty. We guessed wrong, didn’t we?” Alexander speaks through the earpiece, which causes Leon to raise a brow.

“What’re you…” his voice trails. His blood runs cold, his palms begin to sweat, and his eyes blow wide. “Holy… fuck.”

“I know right? Not only is she a woman, but she’s miiiighty fine,” his teammate speaks, his voice oddly humorous for the given situation. A moment of silence passes, and Alexander continues to talk, but he can’t hear a damn word.

Leon freezes like a deer in headlights as he watches you emerge from the dim nightclub with a man’s arm slung around your shoulder, though that hardly taints how angelic you look tonight.

Your hair frames your face so beautifully, so soft and feminine. The tip of your nose was flushed given the crisp night air that you’ve just stepped into, your smile was wide and toothy as you walked beside a man that he didn’t recognize.

You’re gorgeous, is all he can manage to think right now. It’s the first time he’s seen you since the moment the two of you broke up six months ago, and you look even prettier than when he pictured you each night to fall asleep. He dreamt of you often, but his lovesick mind was no match for imagining the beauty that you possess.

Suddenly, Alexander’s voice pierced through his haze, bringing him back to the current scene. “Earth to Leon? I get it man, she’s pretty, very much so. I’d hit that too if she wasn’t gonna die in like… two secs.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he hisses, his voice sounding just as venomous as he’d intended it to. “You aren’t going to lay a damn finger on her.”

“Woah, buddy. Big talk from the guy with a sniper aimed at her head.”

That is the moment in which everything clicks in the worst way imaginable.

It’s you. His target, the person who knows too much, the one who is supposed to die tonight—it’s you.

And then, he becomes acutely aware of the lines that are obstructing his view of you. His scope. The red dot in the center placed strategically on your temple, the bullet meant just for you waiting for a simple pull of a trigger.

Leon shudders, picking his head up. No. Absolutely not. Completing his task was not even a thought in his mind anymore, not if the target was you. His beautiful, sweet girl.

But he couldn’t leave the scene unscathed. It would raise suspicion, possibly even tie him to you in a way that you didn’t need. If he didn’t fulfill the obligation in some way, someone else would. He’d broken up with you to save you from all of this, and now, he’d unknowingly come here to make you familiar with his lifestyle in the worst way possible.

You were walking away, and it’s then that his trained eyes fall onto the man who has his arm draped over your shoulder in the way he used to all those months ago. His heart aches at the mere sight of you looking so happy in the company of another, but it gives him an idea.

Leon looks through the scope again, and within seconds, a loud gunshot rings through the air in the form of a thundering pop.

His jaw tenses as he hears screaming. They aren’t your screams though, because you’re not hit. They’re coming from the man you were with, because Leon has just lightly grazed his arm with a bullet.

He wasn’t insane. He wasn’t going to be killing anyone tonight, even if he desperately wanted to kick the living shit out of the man who is so close to you.

Well… was close to you. He isn’t anymore. Your date is writing on the ground all because of a flesh wound, and you’re standing above him with the most confused and concerned look on your face.

Leon can’t help but think that the man has no regard for you and your safety. For all this mystery man knows, more shots could be coming, and instead of trying to protect you, he’s rolling around on the concrete like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Such a man baby.

“What’re you waiting for? Holy fuck, uh… you still have the shot. Take the shot—”

Leon pulls the earpiece away, turning it off before he shoves it into his back pocket. He didn’t need to be scolded by anyone, let alone someone as useless as his teammate. He’d beat him bloody for how he had spoken about you if he weren’t already packing up his equipment to head over to your place.

He needs to check on you, first and foremost. He also needs to explain himself which was… going to be no easy feat, he supposes.

You don’t find your way home until about an hour later, keys jumbling about as you push it into the slot, twisting it with a tired hand.

To be shot at was not on your agenda for tonight, but being berated by your date for not reacting quick enough to help him evade a bullet you had no knowledge of was certainly not how you wanted to end your night either.

Annoyed, exhausted, and frustrated, you step into your apartment. When you begin to shrug off your coat, your body tenses. No. Fucking. Way.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, your voice rising in octave.

Leon stands from your couch, approaching you with his hands in the air, attempting to show you that he hadn’t come with malice. You knew he hadn't, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him.

“Baby, it’s just me,” he says without thinking, the pet name slipping out before he could have a say in the matter.

“Yeah, I know it’s just you, that’s the problem!” you continue, hanging your coat up on the rack along with your purse. “Are you out of your damn mind? I—”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “I am out of my mind, and you must be out of yours for still keeping your spare key under your doormat. I told you to move it years ago.”

Your brows knit together. “You little— you know what? I’m not even going to entertain that. How about this? You leave, and we forget this happened, yeah?”

“Can’t do that,” he tells you with a shrug, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I need to talk to you.”

“Don’t do this, Leon, not tonight,” you huff, pinching your nose bridge. “I’m not in the mood, alright? I was—”

“Shot at?” he finishes your sentence. He immediately regrets it, pressing his lips into a line to keep himself from saying anything else.

Your demeanor falters at that. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing as you look at him from where he stands across the room. “How do you know that?”

He takes a moment to answer, his mouth opening without any words coming out. It spikes your frustration, so you speak again. “Damn it, Leon, how do you know that?”

Leon holds his hands up again, pleading his defense before he criminalizes himself entirely. “I was the one behind the gun, but it’s not what you think—”

Your jaw drops. “Not what I think? Not what I think? You tried to kill me!”

He shakes his head, his expression falling. “I didn’t, baby. I swear. Just let me explain, and—”

“You tried to shoot me in the damn neck!” you continue, your hand dramatically clasping into the side of your throat.

Leon closes his eyes for a moment, internally bracing himself for your outburst that he absolutely deserves. He opens them again, simply watching as you spew insults his way. He takes them without any hint of irritation.

“What the hell, Leon? Is that what you do now? You stalk your ex-girlfriend and try to kill her? Not only that, you missed. You missed! That’s almost fucking humorous, because how can you try to do something like that and then miss!”

Leon sighs, waiting for a moment to see if you try to continue, and when you don’t, he speaks instead. “I aimed for his arm, not your neck, or anywhere else that would endanger you—”

“Yeah, and you almost blew his arm off!” You’re more than aware that the statement was dramatic, but you don’t need to have any sense right now.

“It was a flesh wound, he’ll be just fine,” he tells you before he continues with what he was saying before. “And I wasn’t stalking you. Not knowingly, anyway. I would never hurt you. Not ever. Your date was just… collateral. I had no choice.”

He hopes that you don’t ask any more questions about that, because he won’t have any answers for you. It was for the better. All you knew was that his job wasn’t legal. It couldn’t have been, not with the copious amounts of money that rolled in while he hardly worked for half of the month.

The less you knew about what his line of work entailed, the safer you were. The further away you were from him, the safer you were. However, those last words now ring hollow.

“Look…” he whispers, taking a step towards you despite his brain screaming at him to leave. He couldn’t. Not when he was the only one who knew of your compromised position. “I know that much has changed between us. It’s my fault, I know it, but I can’t tell you anything more about my job. I just need you to—”

You need answers that you won’t be getting, and that sentiment alone makes you furious. When he gets too close, your hand moves to the leather harness that he has strapped around his broad chest, pulling a sharp-bladed knife from its sleeve. His eyes widen as you hold the blade up to him, his hands shooting up into the air yet again.

“You remember where I put my spare key, I remember where you keep your spare knife,” you taunt, the two of you standing so close now that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Guess we haven’t changed as much as you think.”

He huffs as the cool blade grazes his clothed chest, the metal so close that it nearly pierces his skin. Even then, you ensure that it doesn’t. It’s almost touching how you press such a sharp object to his heart of all places, he thinks.

Your situation is far more complicated than the both of you can handle right now. You have unresolved issues with each other, and that alone must be addressed before you can even begin to scratch the surface of the threats that now face the two of you.

“I still think you’re sexy when you’re mean to me,” he whispers, tilting his head to the side. “That hasn’t changed either.”

Was it the time for his flirtatious performance? Certainly not, but you were putting on a little performance of your own just the same.

You scoff, narrowing your eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

Leon shakes his head, his eyes narrowing just as yours did. “Disgusting? Oh, don’t romance me.”

“I’m not romancing you,” you huff with an eye roll. Your grip on the knife only tightens, but you have no real intention of using it. “I’m threatening you.”

He hardly finds you to be threatening. He’d liken you to an angry cat, but he wouldn’t dare voice that out loud. He’s letting you have your moment, truth be told. “Mm, even better.”

His calloused hand moves to shadow yours, slowly lowering the knife that begged to pierce his pale skin. You let him, which only gives him more incentive to pull it away from your grasp entirely.

He tucks the knife back into his sheath, moving to unbuckle the harness entirely. “Now, tell me. Who was that guy?”

A random guy you met on Tinder. “My future husband.”

You’re just trying to get under his skin now, and judging by the look on his face, it’s working. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you, taking note of that smug grin that stretches over your lips.

He really just wants to fuck it right off you, but he doesn’t make that known. Not yet, anyway.

“Yeah?” he asks, tilting his head. “You gonna let him put a ring on that pretty finger of yours?”

No, you absolutely were not, but you’re enjoying this game. It’s what he deserves after scaring the shit out of you tonight. “Yeah, I am. Thinking about some baby names too, just for safekeeping.”

Leon doesn’t like the thought that you’ve just put in his head, not one bit. His hand finds your left one, bringing it up to his lips as he presses a kiss on your ring finger. “Huh. That’s what you want?”

You tilt your head, noticing how his lips linger on your hand for a moment too long. “You know what I don’t want? To be shot at.”

He hums, giving you a mocking frown. Of course he feels bad about that, but… you both know he hadn’t truly shot at you. Around you, yes, but not at you. His large hands find your waist, his fingers grasping onto the fabric of your shirt and slowly but surely, you find yourself being backed towards your couch.

“Answer my question,” he whispers, his voice now possessing a rasp that it didn’t have before.

You sigh, willingly sitting on your couch, even though you’re doing your best to front as though you’re totally disinterested. “Why should I?”

He shrugs, his lips tugging down as he tilts his head. You watch with blown eyes as he kneels in front of you, his palms gliding over your thighs.

“‘Cause if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

You tilt your head, eyeing him quite intently as his fingers move to the button of your slacks. You shouldn’t be turned on, but you absolutely are, and the damp fabric of your panties that he’s about to see conveys that pretty well.

“Give me what?” you ask, grinning slightly.

“A ring, a baby… both, neither,” he replies, his fingers hooking beneath your waistband. “Lift your hips for me.”

When you do just that, his eyes raise to find yours. He has a crazed look in his eye, one that you’re all too familiar with. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you,” he whispers, leaning in until his soft lips just barely brush against yours.

Your eyes close, and you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you… but he doesn’t. When you open your eyes, you find him grinning. The same shit-eating grin that you love and hate to no avail.

“You just have to say the words,” he whispers against your lips.

You roll your eyes, your hand reaching out to rest on the back of his neck. He was already impossibly close, so all you truly did was hold him there. “I want to kiss you.”

Leon smiles, nodding his head in agreement. “Mm, like I said. Whatever my lady wants, she gets.”

His lips find yours in a searing kiss, his calloused hands smoothing over the soft, exposed skin of your thighs. Your lips move together in a gentle manner at first, as though you were allowing yourselves to get familiar all over again, but you were both quick to realize that gentleness was the last thing you needed.

Your breathing grows ragged as one of his hands cups the back of your head, tilting you just enough so that his tongue could easily slip into your mouth. The kiss was sloppier, messier, much more desperate. It was perfect, in your humble opinion.

He trails kisses down your cheek, jaw, neck… just about anywhere he could as he begins his gradual descent. His hands palm at your breasts through your shirt, and without hesitation, his hands grasp onto the fabric and yank it open. Buttons go flying about your living room, but Leon doesn’t seem to care with the way his face pressed into your cleavage.

One of his hands snaked behind you to undo the clasp of your bra, and the moment he saw a nipple, his mouth was already distracted once again.

“Leon, that was my favorite shirt!” you scold, glancing down at him.

He looks up at you with hazed eyes, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth before he releases it to reply to you. “Was it?” he asks, his reply lacking any care in the slightest.

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him, but your front doesn’t last long when his tongue swirls around your areola. He reaches into his back pocket, tossing his wallet beside you.

“Buy a new one, shit, buy anything you want,” he whispers against your skin, his hands grasping onto your waist. “Tits are so pretty, baby. I missed you.”

“Is that all you missed about me?” you ask, a huff of laughter leaving your lips while his trail down your stomach.

“Absolutely not, no,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric of your panties. He looks at you as he pulls them down your legs, and he presses his warm lips to your inner calves and thighs as he makes his way towards you again. “Missed everything about you.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s corny—”

“Sh,” he tells you, holding one finger up while he uses his other hand to slip one into your sopping entrance. Your walls clench around him, which only forces a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Let her talk for a bit, yeah?”

He hardly gives you a moment to reply before his head dips, his tongue curling up to stimulate your clit before he sucks on it entirely. He unabashedly moans into your cunt, introducing another finger into your entrance simultaneously.

Your head falls back, your hand delving into his hair to hold him impossibly closer to you, even though he seriously would get closer if he could.

“Sweetest pussy,” he murmurs into your heat, his voice rumbling against your wet cunt that he continued to eat like he would die if he didn’t. “Do somethin’ for me?”

You pick your head up to look down at him, nodding without question. He opens his eyes to look at you in return, pressing a kiss onto your mound before he turns around so that his back is now pressed against the front of your couch, still sitting on the ground.

“Sit on my face,” he suggests, tipping his head back onto the couch cushion.

He reaches for your hand to pull you forward, and you pivot on your knee, your front facing the back of the couch. He lays a light smack on your ass before he pulls you down the rest of the way to make you sit on his face.

Your hand reaches down, clutching onto his hair yet again while you cry out in genuine bliss. His tongue softens as he gives you long, deep licks into your pussy, wanting to taste every inch of you on his tongue.

And when your hips start to rock, he seems to be even happier. Much more incentivized too. He lulls his tongue out of his mouth, flattening it to let you ride his face as you so pleased. You made a mess of his chin, his mouth, his nose—he hardly cares.

(In fact, he doesn’t care. Not one bit. You might even have to pay him to care.)

“Y-You know,” you whine, grasping a bit firmer onto his hair while your hips continue to roll on his tongue, “I’m still mad at you.”

He nods his head, which only stimulates your cunt even more. “Mm, yeah?”

It felt so good. Everything about this was absolutely ecstasy, you can feel your eyes pricking with tears from how stimulated you’re growing.

“Yeah,” you choke out, resting your palms on the back of the couch to brace yourself. “I’m really fucking mad.”

Leon can’t help but grin, his hands brushing along the plush of your thighs. “I’m not too sure, sweetheart. Not with you riding my face like you love me ‘n all.”

“Shut… shut the hell up,” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as your movements begin to grow even more crazed the closer you get to your release. He was right, but that didn’t mean you had to admit that.

“Okay,” he complies, his eyes fluttering shut while he starts to greedily make out with your pussy, feeling the way you pulsate on his tongue. “Shuttin’ me up real nice with this pretty little pussy. Cum on my face too while you’re at it, pretty girl.”

Not nice enough, but you cry out anyway, your head falling while your legs tremble on either side of his head. “I… Leon, ‘m cumming,” you say through an airy moan.

His movements slow as yours do, his tongue eagerly reaping the benefits of its labor in the form of your sweet release. He lets out a content sigh, pressing a few sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

You slowly rise up from his face, and he turns around to face you again, licking his lips, not caring about the rest of your thin slick that coats his face. You chuckle, running your hand over his face to wipe it away.

“So…” he drawls, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You’re still mad at me? Tell me more.”

“Later,” you reply, hooking your finger into the loophole of his pants to pull him closer to you.

With a chuckle, Leon pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly on the floor of your living room. He gently nudges you until you’re laying back on your couch, his hands then moving to undo his belt.

“Ah, I see,” he teases, pushing his pants and boxers down in one motion. He kicks them away before he settles in between your parted legs, his hand pumping his cock.

You raise your eyes from his cock to his eyes, and you give him the most weary expression alive. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you say.

It’s been too long, you were certainly not used to his size anymore. Leon knew it just as well as you did, but he didn’t want to make you nervous by saying that.

His brows knit together as he leans down to kiss you, his fingers moving a bit lower to prod your entrance. “You flatter me,” he says against your lips, his head dipping a bit lower to kiss your neck. “But there’s no need to worry your pretty head, baby. It fit before and it fit just right, remember? I’ll take care of you just like I did then.”

You nod your head, one of your hands cupping the back of his head while the other rests on his strong shoulder. “Okay… yeah, okay.”

He nods too, moving one of his hands to meet the one that you have resting on his shoulder. He intertwines your fingers, pushing your hand back onto the couch while he uses his other one to slide his tip along your folds.

“I promise,” he whispers, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

He always has. Even after the events of tonight, you know that he always will.

“I love you,” you say without thinking. A flush rushes across your face, and you close your eyes in utter embarrassment. (Seriously? A confession of your undying love while he’s actively entering you? Time and place.) “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he whispers, pushing his cock further inside of you until he bottoms out. “Mm… I love you so much,” he replies without a care in the world. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

Your eyes soften at that, and a small chuckle leaves your lips. “Well… that’s good, isn’t it…?”

His eyebrows knit together, laughing softly at your awkward reply. “You’re such a dork, baby,” he whispers, dipping his head to plant a kiss on your lips while he rolls his hips into yours. “A pretty one, though.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss on your lips, and they stay shut, even when he opts to just rest his forehead on yours. “Your dork,” you say, a bit breathlessly with a smile on your face.

“Mhm,” he nods in agreement, a toothy smile stretching across his face. “My dork.”

Such a lovely interaction that you nearly forgot that he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, because the moment he falls silent, your eyes widen. “Oh, God…”

He smiles, kissing your cheek while he continues to thrust inside of you, his cock being swallowed whole by your pussy in a way that made him feel like he was finally home.

“See?” he whispers in your ear, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re taking me so well, pretty. So well.”

That makes you chuckle, but your laugh doesn’t last for long when the head of his cock rams into you even harder. Your hand smooths out along the expanse of his back, dragging your nails back up.

“You’re crazy,” you gasp out.

Leon smiles. “Crazy about you, sure.”

You laugh through an airy moan, tilting your head to the side as your eyes flutter shut. “Sooo corny,” you whisper.

He shakes his head with his same toothy grin, using his free hand to tilt your chin towards him again. His thumb brushes along your bottom lip before he kisses you, and it is just about the sweetest kiss that you could have ever asked for.

“You love it,” he murmurs in reply, a bit breathless as an overwhelming heat pools in his lower stomach.

You shake your head. “I love you.”

Leon clicks his tongue at that, giving your hand a squeeze. “And I’m the corny one?”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh. He loves hearing you like this, so happy yet so utterly ruined by the way he feels inside of you. He knows that the feeling is mutual, which only amplifies how much he’s enjoying this. Having you again.

He softly moans in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Pussy was made for me,” he rasps, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “You were made for me.”

After a few more strokes, he truly begins to lose himself. His cock twitches inside of you, and he dips his head into your shoulder. “Mmh, ‘m gonna cum,” he rasps.

He pulls back, but you only pull him closer. It’s been so long, he hadn’t truly thought that you’d be okay with that. But here you were, his favorite girl. Always surprising him. “I love you, sweet girl.”

You nod your head, wrapping your free arm around his neck while the other gives his hand another squeeze. “I love you more.”

He grunts when your walls clench around his length, his lips pressing a longing kiss to your shoulder. “Cum with me, baby, c’mon. I need it, honey, please.”

You’re in no position to deny him or yourself. Your body trembles beneath him, a gorgeous moan ripping through the air while he buries himself deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his cum while you find your own release on his cock.

The two of you lay there for a moment, out of breath and entirely engulfed by one another. He slowly pulls out of you, pressing a few chaste kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, until he eventually kisses your lips.

When he pulls away, you smile up at him. You chase his lips once more, giving him a tender kiss before you lay your head back down.

“Now, as for why I’m still mad at you…”

note. yeahhh i need him bad in a way that’s concerning to feminism. anywhoooo interact if you enjoyed i rly like writing for him :D thank you so much for reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[charmedimsure]

A WELCOME DISTRACTION || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x reader

summary: Dae-ho helps you learn to play Gong-gi

word count: 1.5k

warnings: squid game stuff, but other than than just fluff

A/N: I got the rules of the game from watching the show, so they could be wrong. I think it's gender neutral but lmk if it's not so I can fix it

It looks like you're going to spend at least another day here. You're going to have to play at least one more game. Despite voting to leave, the majority of people disagreed with you, and now you're stuck here. You may be drowning in student loan debt, but at least your alive, and, if you've learned anything positive from this experience, it is that life is full of opportunities.

You take your food from the masked men and find a small space in between the beds where you can be alone. You don't think you can eat right now, so you put those to the side and sit on your knees, pulling five small stones out of your pocket. When you need is a distraction, and this game could do it.

Across the room, Dae-ho winces as Jung-bae hits him in the shoulder, almost making him drop his milk.

"What?" Dae-ho says, annoyed.

"You're staring," Jung-bae says. Dae-ho gives him a confused look, to which he nods his head in your direction.

Dae-ho looks down at his feet as he feels heat rise in his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jung-bae scoffs a laugh, looking at the former Marine. "Please. You cheered so loud when her team crossed the finish line I thought you're life was on the line, too." Jung-bae laughs at his own joke, Young-il laughing along.

Dae-ho rolls his eyes, finishing his milk and putting the carton down next to him. Sure he thinks you're cute, but this is no place for any of this stuff.

"You should talk to them," a quiet voice says. Dae-ho looks up to see Jun-hee looking at him.

Young-il nods. "She's right. We don't know how much longer we will be alive, you should speak now before you lose the chance."

Dae-ho looks back over at you. You're hunched over on the floor between beds, your back facing him. With a small surge of confidence, Dae-ho nods, standing up. He takes a few steps in your direction before second guessing himself, stopping in place. He nearly falls over as Jung-bae shoves him towards you.

As he gets closer to you, he can hear the sounds of something repeatedly hitting the hard floor, as well as soft curses coming from you.

"Are you alright?" he asks, standing by the entrance to the small alley between beds.

You gasp and look up at him, being too invested in what you were doing to notice someone coming up to you. Acting on instinct, you back yourself closer to the wall away from him.

Dae-ho puts his hands up. "I don't want to hurt you, just wanted to see what you were doing."

You take a look at his face and number. You remember seeing him yelling yesterday with his friend, as if he was a soldier. It had actually made you laugh, which was much needed in a place like this. You also thought he was kinda cute. Getting out of your defensive position, you shyly show him the small stones in your hand.

He furrows his brows and gets closer so he can have a better look, kneeling on the floor in front of you. He recognizes the rocks from the ground of the last game, but has no idea why you have them.

You see his confused look and sigh. "I was trying to play Gong-gi. I've never played before and it looked interesting." You let out a little laugh. "I'm not very good at it, though. I don't even know if I'm doing it right."

Dae-ho gives you a small smile. "I can show you, if you want."

You look up at him with wide eyes. "You know how to play?"

He grows a bit embarrassed and looks everywhere except for your face. "I have older sisters, we used to play when I was little."

Expecting you to laugh at him, he is surprised when you hold out the stones. He smiles and holds out his palm for you to place the rocks in, then moves back to make room between the two of you.

"You have to throw one of the pieces in the air as you grab the others, and you need to grab more as you go. You start with one each, then two, then three and one, then all four. After that, flip them onto the backside of your hand and catch them without flipping your hand over." He takes a deep breath as he rolls of the stones onto the floor. As nervous as he feels with you watching him, he knows he can do it. After all, he did just do it perfectly with guns pointed at him.

He quickly goes through the game, not dropping a single stone. When he makes the final catch and opens his palm for you to see, he finds your mouth open as you stare at his hand in awe.

"That was amazing," you say to him with a smile.

Dae-ho smiles and feels the heat rising to his face again. "You should see my sisters do it, they move so fast you can't even see what's happening," he chuckles, making you laugh. "Besides, I saw you do spinning top before. You wrapped it in seconds and got it to spin on the first try! I was always so bad at spinning top as a kid."

You smile shyly, feeling heat in your face. "It was my favorite game as a kid. I didn't have many toys, so I would play it for hours. I'd try to teach you, but I don't have a top."

Dae-ho smiles. "That's okay." He holds out his hand for you to take the stones. "You're turn to try."

You take the stones from him, scattering them onto the ground between you. You smile as you manage to get each singular one, but when you try to get two at once, you don't catch the stone in time. You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting back on your knees.

"You're doing good," Dae-ho reassures. "Try going for the ones that are closer together, and throw the stone a little higher to give you more time."

You nod at the advice and pick up the stones again. You get the first two, but lose it again as you try to get the second two. Though you get frustrated with yourself, Dae-ho never does, patiently watching you and giving you tips.

It takes more tries than you would like to admit, but you are finally able to make the final catch. You yell out in victory with a big smile on your face, and the man across from you does the same. You get a little shy as you see that your yells have got attention from the people around you, particularly that one judgmental old man who really has no right to judge anyone considering he has more debt than most people here combined.

When everyone looks away, you smile up at the man again as he hold him hand up for you to high-five.

"I feel so accomplished," you laugh, making him chuckle. "Thank you for helping me. It was nice to play a game and not have to worry for my life."

He smiles sadly. "I'm happy I could help. My name is Dae-ho."

You smile back at him and give him your name. "If we both get out of here, Dae-ho, I'll teach you how to get the top to spin every time."

"When," he says. You give him a confused look. "You said if we get out of here, but when we get out of here, I would like that very much."

You smile at him. "I'm looking forward to it."

Dae-ho spots your food sitting on the bed next to you and frowns. "You didn't eat?"

You look at it. "I wasn't hungry so I was saving it. I got so wrapped up in this game I forgot about it."

The man moves to get up. "I'll leave you to eat, then."

"You don't have to leave," you say quickly, making him stop and look at you. "I mean, I don't mind if you want to stay."

Dae-ho smiles and nods, sitting down again, this time next to you. As you eat, you both talk about yourselves, how you ended up here, your lives back home, anything that comes to mind.

"What are you going to do when you get out of here?" Dae-ho asks you when your food is long gone.

You sigh and shrug. "I'll pay off whatever debt that I can, but besides that, I really don't know." You look at him. "What about you?"

"I'll pay off my debts, too," he says. He takes a deep breath before looking at you, feeling his nerves rising. "I also think that I'd like to take you to dinner."

His nerves calm as he watches a smile slowly take over your face. "I'd like that."

Dae-ho smiles. "Then it's a date."

When it is time to go to sleep, Dae-ho can only think about how he is going to do everything he can to make sure the two of you get out of here alive.

[levisjinchuriki]

always will be - toji fushiguro

summary: you know the key to a man's heart is through his stomach. toji is no exception

warning: fluff!!!!!!, kisses

written separately, but can be read as pt. 2 of more to love!

toji had always been intimidatingly fit. his sharp abs, toned arms, and broad chest reflected years of discipline and a lifestyle that demanded he stay in peak condition. it wasn’t something he flaunted—walking around shirtless in his own home was just how he lived. he didn’t think much of it, and neither did you.

after deciding to move in together, subtle changes crept into his life, ones he hadn’t anticipated. every night, he came home to a hot and ready meal. you always made sure it was his favorites, learning his preferences without him needing to say much. and the snacks—that was his biggest weakness. you were thoughtful enough to have something sweet or savory on hand, excusing it by saying “just in case you get hungry later.”

now, as toji pads around your shared home, shirtless as always, you can’t help but notice the differences in his physique. his abs are softer now, the faintest hint of a tummy forming where there used to be none. his arms, still strong, have lost some of their definition.

the late-night snacks you share, the hearty dinners you insist he eats after long days, and the lazy mornings spent curled up in bed instead of at the gym— all of it has added up.

at first, toji doesn’t think much of it. he’s always had a big appetite—one you happily indulge. but over the weeks, the changes become harder to ignore. his pants fit a little snug, and the shirts that once fit comfortably now cling to his chest and stomach.

toji glances down at his stomach, giving it an experimental poke. his finger sinks into a soft layer that wasn’t there before. he grunts in realization, muttering to himself “guess i’ve been slacking.”

but it’s not slacking—it’s comfort. love. the ease of sharing a life with someone who makes him feel whole.

“babe” your voice calls sweetly from the kitchen. “breakfast is ready!”. the smell of sugar and cinnamon hits him as he makes his way to the kitchen. and then he sees it– the biggest, gooiest cinnamon roll he’s ever laid eyes on, sitting proudly on a plate you’re setting on the table.

“you’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you?” he accuses with a smirk.

you glance up, genuinely confused. “what are you talking about?”. cooking for him has always brought you joy.  watching him devour every meal you set in front of him, finishing with a satisfied hum and going up for another serving makes you feel like you’re doing something right. he’s never complained once, and the empty plates he leaves behind are all the validation you’ve ever needed.

toji gestures at his waist, where the elastic band of his sweatpants sits noticeably tighter than it used to. “these don’t fit anymore”.

your cheeks flush. you know full well you’re the reason for the changes, but it’s not something you feel guilty about. if anything, it makes you proud.

“not my fault” you protest, crossing your arms with a playful pout. “you’re the one who goes back for thirds”. your eyes wander over him, noticing how his facial features have softened in the time since you moved in together. his jawline isn’t quite as sharp as it used to be, and there’s a slight fullness in his cheeks now—a small change, one you can’t help but adore.

it’s not just his body that’s softened. there’s a new ease to him, a sense of comfort and peace that wasn’t there before. it shows in the way his shoulders relax when he walks through the door, in the way his laughter comes more freely these days, and in the warmth of his teasing smirk now.

“i think it’s cute” you add softly, your lips curving into a warm smile. you mean it, too. toji might not have the razor-sharp physique he once did, but he’s still the man you fell in love with—strong, handsome, and completely yours.

“cute?” toji raises an eyebrow. “i’m supposed to be intimidating, not cute” he retorts, his deep voice tinged with mock offense. but even as he says it, he knows the truth—he’s gone soft being with you, in more ways than one.

“yeah” you tease, stepping within reach. you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “but you look happy”. 

you’re not wrong. for the first time in his life, toji feels truly content. he doesn’t have to keep his guard up or keep himself for the next battle. instead, he has you, a warm home, and a life that no longer feels like a constant fight for survival.

if it costs him a few extra pounds, he can live with it—because for the first time, it feels like he’s really living.

he smiles, the sincerity in his expression reaching his eyes. “i am happy” he says quietly.

your heart swells at his admission, warmth spreading through your chest. your own smile mirrors his as you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“you better be. or i’ll stop feeding you” you tease after pulling away.

toji’s eyes narrow, his brows drawing together in a warning. “don’t you dare”. 

before you can react, he pulls you into his lap, guiding your back against his chest with ease. his grip tightens around your waist, and you settle into him, feeling the heat of his body pressing against yours. you both share a few playful, soft and lingering kisses before toji reaches for his breakfast. 

he breaks off a piece and offers you the first bite, feeding it to you with such tenderness. his lips hover near yours as he leans in to steal a quick kiss, humming in appreciation of the sweet frosting that sticks to you. 

if you’re being honest– you’ve noticed the changes in him. the extra pounds that have slowly added up, the snug fit of his shirts, the softness in his once-defined features. but it’s not something that bothers you. in fact, it only makes you love him more. the softening of his body is a symbol of the comfort, the safety, and the ease he’s found with you.

you rest your head against him, loving that he’s comfortable with you, comfortable in this space you’ve created together. toji doesn’t have to be the intimidating, hardened man he was before. he’s allowed to relax, to soften in all the best ways.

“i think you look perfect” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

the edge of toji's smirk falters. perfect. it's not a word he’s used to associating with himself. toji knows his scars, his flaws, the rough edges he’s tried to smooth out over the years. perfect was for things he never thought he could have, for people he never thought he deserved.

but here you are, saying it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

toji tightens his grip around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. he doesn’t speak right away. instead, he lowers his head, his nose brushing softly against your temple, as he repeats the sentence in his head.

“you really think so?” he asks, his voice hesitant.

you tilt your head to meet his gaze, your smile warm and unwavering. “of course. you’ve always been perfect to me. always will be".

the sincerity in your voice is enough to ease his worries. he believes you, knowing you'd never lie to him. he doesn’t know how to respond—how to put into words what your belief in him does to his heart.

so instead, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours. he's gentle, even as he deepens it. it’s not just a kiss; it’s a thank you, a promise, and a confession all rolled into one.

“guess i can live with that” he murmurs against your lips, his smirk returning, softer now. there’s a warmth in his eyes, an acceptance of something he’s still trying to believe.

---

a/n: thank you for reading. happy new year!! <3 what are your resolutions this year?

[agirlsguidetolove]

I THOUGHT YOU KNEW

pairings: theodore nott x reader

word count: 0.9k

summary: “i thought you knew?” “you thought i knew we were dating?” “yes!” “how would i know that, nott, you never told me.”

Theodore Nott had dead eyes. That was something you had learned early on in your friendship with the boy; never expect his eyes to tell you anything. But, right now, you couldn’t help but wonder if your own advice was wrong because the look he was giving you in the moment was the farthest thing to dead. Alive.

Theodore’s eyes were ablazed, like you had lit a match in his face just as he had done with his cigarettes the night before. They looked on fire as he glared off at you, standing and chatting with some Ravenclaw boy who had decided to make the stupid of going to a slytherin party and talking to Theo’s girl.

It was a common fact that you and Theo had something, everyone knew. Well, maybe except for you.

Maybe that’s why you hadn’t expected for Theodore to waltz up to you and your new friend and throw an arm over your shoulder, and stand and listen to you too talk, not saying a word.

“Think we should get out of here?” Was the first thing he said to you, well, whispered into your ear, pulling you closer.

“I’m okay here, Teddy,” you said. Theo visible softened, melting into you at the nickname only you were allowed to call him. “You can go, though. I’ll be alright, promise.”

Theo smiled at you as you patted his arm that was wrapped around your shoulder, watching as your attention drifted back to whoever this guy was. He sighed.

“I know,” Theo started before your Ravenclaw friend interrupted.

“Yeah, mate, we’ll be okay,” he said. Theo hardened, dead eyes becoming colder as he took his arm off your shoulder, stepping forward and shoving the guy.

“Was I fucking talking to you, mate?” he spit.

“Woah!” you cut, pulling Theo back with your hand to his chest, “What the hell, Theo?”

“Yeah,” the Raveclaw pants. “What the hell, Nott? Calm down!”

Theodore sneers, glaring harshly ate the boy before hissing, “Fuck off,” and pushing past him and bumping his shoulder aggressively as he makes his way out of the common room.

Staring of at his fuming figure you quickly apologize to the boy before chasing off after Theo. When you find him, he’s angrily pacing through the hallway, running a hand through his hair.

“Theo,” you state angrily. Theo’s head whips to where you stand before shaking his head and choosing to walk away from you and down the hall.

“Theo!” you yell, walking quickly behind him. “What the fuck was that about? Can you wait for a second and talk to me?”

Theo stops, allowing you to catch up to him. You can practically see the steam coming out when he turns to you. “What am I supposed to do?” he asks bitterly. “Just let him flirt with you?”

“What?” you ask, just as bitter. “What are you talking about? Why’d you have to fucking shove, Dylan?”

Dylan. Theodore scoffs, getting madder by the second. He takes a step closer, towering over you. “So I’m just supposed to stand there when some prick is running up on my girlfriend!”

Girlfriend? What the hell was he on about. “Girlfriend?” you question, softer.

“Yes! You’re my girlfriend!” Theodore shouted. He just wasn’t getting it, was he?

“What?” you spluttered. “Since when?”

“What,” Theo got quieter.

“i didn’t know…” you said. “when did we start dating?…o-officially?”

“You didn’t know?” he repeated, incredulous. “I… I thought… I thought you knew?”

“You thought I knew we were dating?” You were getting louder, voice echoing off the walked.

“Yes!” Theo yelled, eyes getting sadder.

“How would I know that, Nott, you never told me!”

Theodore shakes his head, again getting gentle. “Don’t start calling me ‘Nott’ now, angel, you don’t do that.”

“Theo,” you reiterated, taking a breath. “When did we— when did we start ‘dating’.”

Theo looks like a kicked puppy when he says, “Last trip to Hogsmeade. We kissed.”

Looking at the ground, you say, “Just because we kissed doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“To me, it did!”

“You kiss plenty of girls that you’re not dating!” you argue.

Theo scoffs, “They’re not you, now are they?”

“Teddy,” you say, tears quickly forming in your eyes. Looking up at him, he purses his lips, heart breaking in his chest. “Why couldn’t you have just asked me to be your girlfriend?”

“Love, I… I thought you knew, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, hugging yourself with your own arms, still holding in your tears. “Well, I didn’t.”

It’s silent between you both for a moment, nothing but you staring at the floor and Theo staring at you. Theo takes a small step forward, his hands touching where you hold yourself. “Would you?” he says, “Be my girlfriend, if I asked?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, looking up at him, “if you’d ask, you dick.”

Theo chuckles, dipping his head low and putting his lips against yours. His lips are so soft, despite how he tastes like liquor and cigarettes. He breaks apart from you, hand coming to caress your cheek. “Would you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, I would.”

not proof read 🧸

i 🫶 theo nott

[bokunoheros]

"katsuki...!"

CHARACTER: KATSUKI BAKUGOU GENRE: SMUT, angst if you squint TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (katsuki calls you princess once and it’s in mocking), swearing (obvi), hate/angry sex, reader and katsuki are childhood friends (to enemies) to fuck buddies, y’all’re in your 3rd yr of highschool, drool/spit, impact/quirk play, pussy spanking, mentions of blood,  WORD COUNT: 3.6k SUMMARY: you never seem to have a problem calling katsuki by his first name — except for in the bedroom, and he’s finally had enough of it. 🦊’s A/N: this is a repost bc i didn’t like the way this performed the first time // if you’ve read this before, no you havent

     one thing katsuki bakugou hated about you was the way you refused to call him by anything other than his first name—hell, you wouldn’t even call him kacchan, a name he had learned to barely tolerate without popping a blood vessel. 

     another thing he hated even more about you was the fact that whenever you two finally got over your horrid, god-awful sexual tension that the entire class was sick of, was the way you suddenly refused to call him katsuki. no, whenever he found himself fucking you in the dorms while everyone else is asleep, it was all you could do to whimper “bakugou—”, which pissed katsuki off to no end. the bedroom was the one place where you should be calling him by his first name and yet… you completely and utterly refused to do so! simply for the sole purpose of pissing him off and riling him up. 

     “ba–baku—ahh!” you cry as he shoves your face down into the mattress while giving your ass a hard smack. “christ!” you whine, voice muffled by the plush bedding. 

     “that’s not—m’fuckin’ name, and i think you know that, sweetheart.” his voice is overflowing with frustration and condescension as his hips smack against your ass repeatedly, heavy balls smacking against your throbbing clit.  

     “it— it’s lit–literally your name,” you correct him, arching your back deeper and wiggling your reddening rear. “fuck’s got you—ah!—all worked up, huh, bakugou?”

     he feels his eye twitch at your words, and he lets out a deep, frustrated growl before he’s smacking your ass again, this time with the addition of his quirk popping off once his large and very calloused hand came into contact with your bare, sweaty skin. 

     “fuck! goddammit!” you whine, hands desperately grabbing at his black sheets. “baku–gou!”

     “just—say my name fucking properly, dammit!” he demands, panting heavily as he continues to thrust his awfully girthy cock in and out of your snug little cunt. “you never seem to have a problem with it any other goddamn time!”

     “i— i dunno wh–what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” you quip back, turning your head to the side in attempt to look back at katsuki — he doesn’t let you, though, as he shoves your face further into the bed, squishing your cheeks in the process, and you try to fight back against his grasp, but he’s just simply too strong for you to stand any real chance. and that pissed you off like nothing else. 

     katsuki could act the way he did because he had the firepower and skills to actually back his words. this always resulted in him absolutely dominating you in the bedroom, naturally. sometimes, you were able to give him a run for his money, but ultimately, he beat you out everytime, sexually bullying you into submission — physical submission, at least. you always had something nasty to spit out at him, regardless of the position he had you in or how meanly he was fucking into you.

     “sure, bitch,” he pants out, landing another cruel quirk-based impact to the tender flesh of your ass, and it’s all you can do to bite the pillow to keep from crying out. 

     “f-fine then, kacchan,” you smirk to yourself, beyond pleased with your answer. “‘s that bet—aa-ow! fuck! ba–bakugou!” you sob as he brings his right hand down hard against your asscheek, his quirk literally popping off as his calloused palm makes contact with your sensitive skin before he stills himself inside of you entirely.

     “alright—you wanna act like a brat? i’ll treat you like one then,” he says, eerily calm all of sudden. that wasn't like him. not at all. 

     oh, you were in trouble for real this time.

     the realization is slow to dawn on you, but once it does, you find your body moving faster than your brain can process, trying to scramble away from your fuck buddy, just for you to freeze at the feeling of him jerking you back by you hair, pulling you onto your knees and your naked back against his equally bare chest. one strong hand snakes down to between your soaked inner thighs and presses the calloused pad of one finger directly against your achy clit as his dick twitches deep inside you.

     “ba–baku—”

     “nuh-uh, say it properly,” he hisses, suddenly bringing that same hand down against your poor cunt.

     “ah! fuck!!” you cry, thrashing in his grip, hands coming up behind you to tangle into his spikyass hair. “you cunt!” you spit at him, tugging harshly at his roots, hard enough to tilt his head back, and this is where katsuki really begins to lose whatever little patience he had left. snatching your slimmer wrists in one large and rough hand, he pins them behind your back before he goes to bite at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

     “i’m the cunt?” he actually laughs in your ear before bringing his free hand down hard against the mound of your pussy, and you whimper like a bitch, squirming desperately in his grasp. “no, i think you’ve got a couple things backwards, honey,” he chides, voice gruff as a shit-eating smirk spreads across his unfairly handsome face. 

     “fuck, i can’t stand you,” you whine out, still struggling against katsuki’s all-too-tight grip. “l-let go, fuckface!” 

     rather than dignifying you with a verbal answer, bakugou simply strikes his palm against your bare cunt again, thick, calloused fingertips landing onto your puffy clit, causing you to hiss and bite your lower lip harshly to keep from squealing the way you knew he wanted you to. 

     “oh, don���t be like that,” he grunts, licking a hot stripe up your neck before sucking and nipping harshly at the skin there, sloppily laving his tongue over a few particularly sensitive spots before biting down cruelly against them. 

     while katsuki was not a sloppy person by any degree, he was stupidly messy when it came to his behaviors in the bedroom — he didn’t care where his spit or drool got, or even yours for that matter, where he came on you, none of it really mattered so long as he washed his sheets prior to sleeping in them. one thing he couldn’t stand was sleeping in a mess the two of you had made….. which was odd, because that’s often what he found himself doing..! absolutely crashing after fucking you almost to the point of going non-verbal before subconsciously cuddling you closer, just for you to be gone in the morning, like you were never there to begin with. 

     truthfully, he would find his heart aching ever so slightly at your absence before he quickly swallowed down whatever feelings that may have tried to well up to the surface before telling himself to get his fuckin’ shit together and going about his day — usually being the first to wake, yes, even before iida, so he could wash his sheets in private without any nosey extras around to ask stupid questions.

     but back to the topic at hand, getting you to moan his goddamn name!!

     “baku–gou!” you whine, hips squirming as your cunt flutters around his thick cock. “jesus christ!” 

     “huh? somethin’ the matter, princess?” he asks in that ever aggressive tone as the hand that had just spanked your now throbbing cunt comes up to meanly pinch one of your stiffened nipples. 

     “fuck—you!” you spit out, arms straining in his heated grasp.

     “that’s—shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight—exactly what ‘m doin’ right now, and you’re still bitchin’!” he hisses, grip on your wrists tightening substantially — so much so, you were sure there would be bruises in the morning. simultaneously, the feleing of his pelvis smacking against your sore ass as he began to pick up the speed at which he was fucking you had you groaning in pleasure.

     “god–dammit! bakugou!” 

     katsuki could not, for the life of him, understand why it was that you absolutely refused to call him by his first name in bed but in every other aspect of your lives! ever since you two were children, you always called him by his first name — never bakugou, never kacchan, always katsuki, or maybe some other variation of his name like katsu or tsuki if you really wanted to mess with him — so when you two Finally hooked up for the first time at the beginning of your third year of highschool, he definitely noticed when you called him by his surname for the first time since???? he can ever fucking remember. 

     what katsuki didn’t know, however, was that it was just far too intimate for you to call him by his first name as he fucks into you like there’s no tomorrow — for you had maybe have had a small crush on him when you two were in elementary school still, and then you had a massive falling out in middle school due to his, erm, prideful, arrogant, stick-your-nose-up, i’m-so-much-better-than-you attitude and god awful anger issues. 

     and then, once your first year of highschool rolled around, you were horrified to discover that you two would be in the same class together. …if only you could have predicted developing another stupid crush on bakugou, you never would have gone to u.a. — you should have just gone to shiketsu like your gut originally told you to. 

     because now here you were, being absolutely fucking railed during your senior year of highschool by somebody you’ve known most your life who you currently found yourself obsessing over in the worst possible ways. you found that your mind was always wandering to him when it wasn’t preoccupied with something else, and even when it was, it still found someway to link it back to katsuki fucking bakugou! how terrible it is to be in a love-hate relationship with someone you wish could love you back—instead, you were sure katsuki held only hatred and anger towards you, the same way he did with izuku back in their first year and all of middle school. but, ….so much. has happened since then, so surely, maybe, he might feel something for you too? 

     he did, in fact, feel so, so much for you, that he physically could not bear the weight of his emotions—the only way he seemed able to relieve any of them was when he was drilling into you like he fucking hated your guts, and even then, they only intensified and chipped ever so slowly away at his hardened heart that was secretly tender on the very inside because of how you denied him any real intimacy.

     “just say my fucking name, goddammit,” he growls, pulling out of you entirely and releasing your arms for but a moment to flip you around and onto the mattress so that you were laying on your back before grabbing the backs of your knees and simply folding you in half as he looks down between your bodies, lining his thick, throbbing dick up with your drooling slit and bottoming out in one go.

     the sudden change in, well, everything, leaves you disoriented, and just as you go to whine and bitch yet again, katsuki impulsively cuts you off with a kiss, breaking the one rule that he had set up before this whole arrangement began!! 

     “mmmh!” you squeal as the tip of his cock hits your cervix, but your noises are muffled by the way katsuki kisses you — hungrily, like you were a meal he didn’t know he had been craving for years, and he was finally getting to have to it for the first time. 

     in truth…. this was actually bakugou’s first kiss — he could never have been bothered with dating or showing any sort of romantic interest in anyone when that would just get in the way of his goal to become the number one pro hero, and yet…. here he found himself, hopelessly in love with you when he wasn’t even consciously aware of it, kissing you with a startling amount of passion and tongue and teeth. not that he didn’t know how to kiss, per se, he had seen plenty of fuckass movies that featured kissing, and he has to be the best at everything, of course, so it didn’t take him very long to figure out what he was doing. 

     with your legs thrown over his shoulders and spread apart, he was almost laying on you as he fucked into you fluidly, hips snapping back and forth, and it isn’t long before you find your arms wrapping around his neck and reluctantly kissing him back. you had to admit, the feeling of his plump lips felt nice against yours, and you had dreamt about kissing him for so long..! 

     nipping at your lower lip, katsuki’s tongue darts out to lick its way past your slightly parted lips and into your mouth, licking around the insides of your cheeks and over the grooves of your teeth. it’s aggressive and rough and brimming over with passion — everything you had imagined your first kiss with him to be and more. 

     “mmh, katsuki,” you mindlessly hum against his lips, too caught up in the moment, in the feeling of katsuki fucking bakugou initiating a kiss with you!, to realize just how intimate your current predicament was.

     katsuki, however, pauses in all that he was doing as his eyes fly wide open. 

     “what the fuck did you just say?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically quiet, as if he were scared the scene he found himself in would shatter before his very eyes—as if he could break it all, somehow. he was awfully good at breaking things, after all.

     “huh?” you yourself weren’t even aware of what you had said until a few moments later when it actually dawns on you. “oh. my god,” is all you’re able to say as your mind quickly begins reeling with too many overlapping thoughts for any of them to be coherent. 

     without saying anything else, bakugou resumes the way in which he was thrusting into you, kissing you feverishly once more. had he known that a little kiss was all it took for you to call out his name while he fucks you into next tuesday was all it took, then he would’ve kissed you the moment you two began hooking up.

     “b–baku—gou! slow down!” your request is swallowed whole by katsuki’s hot mouth as his tongue slips back into yours, teasingly swirling around your own wet muscle before he begins to suck on it, making you whimper and whine at the combined feeling of his dick pounding into you and this… tongue torture! (it wasn’t, actually—it felt a little too good if you were being honest; so good you were struggling to think.)

     “god–dammit!” he hisses when you call him by his surname again. nipping at the tip of your tongue so hard you swear you can taste blood, he brings one hand down in between your legs to aggressively rub at your pulsing clit. why? why can’t you just say my fucking name! he thinks angrily as he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. 

     “mmh—aa–aah! mmfhgh—” it’s all you’re able to do to moan as your mind melts away while katsuki applies a little too much pressure to your poor little bundle of nerves. “shit–!” despite the firmness of the circles he was rubbing against the bud, it still felt so good—so good that your back arched deeply off his memory foam mattress and you were unable to contain the string of soft moans that left your throat at the sensation. 

     pulling away from the kiss, breathless and a little drooly, bakugou’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks harshly, causing your lips to part.

     “stick out your tongue,” he says gruffly, and for once, you actually listen to him, which comes off as a bit of shock to the man currently on top of you, but he easily plays it off, before taking aim and spitting in your fucking mouth — directly on your already slick muscle!

     “fuck—” he rasps out, watching your tongue retract back into your mouth as you wordlessly swallow his saliva while looking up at him with half-lidded, hazy eyes. as a result, he was physically unable to help the way his calloused fingers moved to pinch at your sensitive clit or the way his mouth quickly reattached to your neck to begin biting and sucking at the skin there all over again. 

     “ka–katsuki—!” you whine as he bites a little too hard, and suddenly you feel something warm sliding down the length of your neck. had he drawn blood? no… surely not…… 

     his hips react on their own at your pitiful cry of his name, and he groans against the column of your throat, teeth now poised over your jugular before he bites down again — much gentler in comparison this time, but still hard enough to elicit a squeal from you. 

     your hands fly up to grip at his hair, burying themselves in his roots and giving a firm tug.

     “say it again,” he growls, pulling off your bruised skin with a wet pop! so he could meet your lustful gaze. ….god, his eyes looked so vulnerable right now; so glassy, with burning red irises and a glassy reflection, you can’t help but comply with his demand. you had never seen him like this before, so raw, dripping with (sweat and) passion as he hovers over you, narrowed eyes boring into yours. 

     “ka–katsu–! –ki!” you cry out when he begins rubbing circles into your clit again after giving it another rough pinch. “fuck! katsuki!”

     “that’s right–!” he grunts out, hips snapping against your as his cock throbs inside you. he’s getting closer to an impending orgasm and he needs you to cum first — it just went with his personality of “having to be the best at everything.” so, by extension, this included sex and his partner’s pleasure. mostly because the first time you two fucked, you absolutely did not get off, which you made very apparent to katsuki, who took it Personally (especially since you had called him useless for not being able to make you cum), and made it his mission to give you at least two different orgasms the next time you slept together—something he was rather successful in.

     now, he had half a mind to fuck you until your creamy little pussy was raw and he couldn’t cum anymore, just so you wouldn’t have a chance of forgetting tonight—the first time you called him by his first name in bed (which would ultimately end up being a monumental stepping stone in your future relationship development).

     pulling him in for another kiss, you whine incessantly as you roll your hips up, cunt fluttering around him as an uncomfortable knot begins forming in your tummy, and you can’t help but squirm beneath him. 

     unfortunately for you and your diminishing bratty resolve, it wasn’t much longer before you were cumming with a cry of katsuki’s name, his first name, as your back arches, pressing your chest flush against his, as one large and calloused hands of his comes to press against the small of your back, holding you in place as you cream all around his achy cock, and before he knows it, he’s cumming too, just barely managing to pull out of you as hot, sticky cum lands on your lower stomach and you groan at the nasty feeling. 

     “jesus—i don’t understand why you can’t just wear a condom,” you complain, panting heavily, unwrapping your arms from around his neck.

     katsuki only rolls his eyes at your complaint before telling you “it’s because he doesn’t like the feeling” of it, when in reality, it was so he could be that much closer to you… whether he would even admit it to himself or not. 

     with a heavy sigh and tired legs, you get up and out of his bed and make your way to his bathroom to clean yourself up before picking your clothes off his dorm room floor and getting dressed and leaving without a word, only sparing katsuki a parting glance as he recollects himself on his bed. 

     he doesn’t understand why his heart feels so goddamn heavy as he watches you leave soundlessly, and it feels like it takes him a million and one years to fall asleep, because whenever he opens his eyes, it had gone from 2am to 5am, and he bitches out a groan before getting up to do his fucking laundry before anyone else decided to get up. as he does, though, he can’t help but think about you….. why? what was it about you that caught his attention? why couldn’t he just ignore these feelings? jesus fucking christ, he needs professional help. 

     and so, katsuki spends the time it takes to wash his sheets thinking of you, much to his chagrin, but… he just could not get you out of his mind, for better or for worse. fuck. maybe he would have to call off this whole ordeal. maybe that would fix him? ….fuck, his head hurts. stop thinking so much, idiot, it’s too early to get caught up in your feelings, he mentally berates himself, even though for him, it was always too early to get caught up in his feelings. whatever.

      after pulling his sheets from the dryer, he silently walks back to his room, passing yours in the process, where he stops and stares for a very brief moment, almost, almost contemplating knocking before he quickly carries on back to his dorm where he makes his bed in record time before going the fuck back to sleep. ….where he still thought about you. god save him.

K. BAKUGOU M.LIST

[fireinmoonshot]

your fiyero | fiyero tigelaar x reader

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader Summary: Ever since Fiyero Tigelaar started at Shiz University, he found himself fascinated by you – the one student who didn't care about him. When he notices you starting to struggle with something, he'll do anything to make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of fainting, falling over, academic stress/burn out Word Count: 2.2k A/N: I've seen Wicked (the show) three times now with the amazing Australian cast that's currently touring and I fell totally head over heels with Fiyero, and then yesterday I saw the movie and fell even more in love with Fiyero and so I had to write for him. I do intend to write more for him, especially if other people want to read more! He's so fun to write for and definitely a challenge compared to some other characters I've written for in the past. I hope you all enjoy! 💗

It’s not difficult to sense the presence of Fiyero Tigelaar behind you as you leave Doctor Dillamond’s classroom, shoving your books into the bag over your shoulder. With the way the students heading into the classroom are staring at someone behind you, it’s quite obvious who they’re staring at. Everyone at Shiz University wants Fiyero Tigelaar. 

Everyone, that is, except you.

���Classes are over, you know?” Fiyero’s voice comes from behind you as you round the corner, heading down the staircase leading to the courtyard. “You don’t have to rush off.”

Irritatingly, the fact that you can’t particularly care less about wanting Fiyero Tigelaar makes himwant you. He usually isn’t the type. If someone doesn’t like him – something he’s actually yet to experience – he would just let it slide. Why waste his energy? But ever since he’d started at Shiz and met you, he’d found himself unable to leave you alone. 

“I know,” you glance back at him over your shoulder. “But some of us actually want to study and spend their time here learning, Tigelaar.”

Fiyero hurries his steps a little so he’s walking alongside you. “Did you miss the part where I said it was my job to corrupt my fellow students when I started here? It’s never too late, darling.” He flashes a grin your way.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, right at the same time you almost miss a step and stumble a little. Fiyero is quick, catching your elbow to help steady you. You don’t look at him as you steady yourself, meaning you miss the look of worry in his eyes.

“Are you all right?”

You clear your throat and shake off his grip. “Consider me corrupted by your presence.” 

With that, you make a beeline away from him and you’re glad to notice that he doesn’t attempt to follow you. You highly doubt that he’s going to follow you all the way to the library. Fiyero and the library have never exactly gone hand in hand. 

~~

The next time Fiyero bothers you, you’re sat on one of the benches by the gardens. There’s a book in your hands and he can see you staring intently at it as he saunters over to you. It’s almost like he’s approaching a wild bird or something, he thinks. If he moves too quickly, he’ll frighten you and scare you away. It’s the last thing Fiyero wants to do.

He’s a few steps away from you when you look up from your book and meet his eyes. His face breaks into a smile as he moves the last few steps and takes the spot beside you on the bench. You turn to look at him, your eyebrows raised. 

“Now, don’t say I’m interrupting your study,” he begins. “That book is most definitely not in the curriculum. And yes, I did actually take the time to look the curriculum up after I saw you reading here the other day, if you can believe it.”

For a few moments, you only stare at him. Fiyero, for the first time probably ever, finds himself actually a little uncomfortable at your unwavering gaze. It surprises him. He’s never the type of person to feel uncomfortable. He’s confident in almost every situation.

You let out a sigh. “It may not be in the curriculum, but you’ve interrupted me nevertheless, Tigelaar.”

“Apologies,” he says, with a small smirk. “Am I corrupting you even more with my presence?”

“Something like that.” You close your book and sit it on the small space of bench beside you. You had actually just been reading the same page over and over for the last twenty minutes and trying to convince yourself to stop overthinking things. 

You had so much studying to do, so much to learn and so many assignments to do and so little time to do it all. It was probably a little counterproductive to be sitting outside, reading a book and doing none of those things, but if you didn’t try and have a break from them all, you were pretty sure you were going to burn yourself out, which was the last thing you needed. It would have helped if you’d actually been able to relax and enjoy your book, though.

“Is it any good? Your book. Not that I’d read it, of course,” Fiyero grins.

You try your best to conceal your amusement. “I’d offer to lend it to you but, as you said, you wouldn’t actually read it so… I’ll keep it safe with me. I doubt the Winkie Prince knows how to properly take care of books if he can’t read them.”

Fiyero gasps jokingly. “I’ll have you know I can read, I just choose not to. I prefer to fill my brain with much more useless things. That way, I don’t have to think. It’s a peaceful way to live, my darling.” 

You shake your head, this time unable to keep a smile off of your face. Fiyero likes the sight of it. It strangely makes his heart beat a little faster. He can’t actually remember the last time he saw you smiling… not that he’s been keeping track. 

“How about you join me?” He offers. “No more studying for the rest of the day and no more thinking? I’m positive I could find something we could do to fill the time.” 

The reminder of studying, however, brings you back to reality after you small moment of joking with Fiyero. You reach down and grab your book before standing up and turning to face Fiyero, who is looking at you with slight concern in his eyes at your sudden movement.

“I can’t,” you say simply. “I’ve been reading all morning and there is a lot I have to do. I’ll see you around, Tigelaar.”

He watches you with furrowed eyebrows as you walk away from him, clutching your book to your chest and heading in the direction of the library. Fiyero shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. He really thought today would be the day he’d win you over.

~~

A week goes by without Fiyero even getting to utter a word to you. He sees you, though, fairly often around the school. In the courtyard, in the library (where he definitely didn’t go specifically looking for you), in history class and in the dining hall. But every time he’s thought to approach you, you’ve disappeared before he could even make his move. It’s on the seventh day when he notices that something is different about you.

You’re coming out of the library, carrying several books and what looks like a stack of papers in your hands when you trip. Fiyero isn’t quick enough to cross the courtyard and get to you in time to stop your fall. He does, however, take off at a run to be by your side as you start collecting all of the scattered pieces of paper and books that had fallen out of your grasp.

“It’s all right, Tigelaar. You don’t have to help me,” you mutter, trying to shove books into your already overfilled bag. “It’s a Friday night. I’m sure you’ve got other places to be.”

Fiyero, truthfully, does have other places to be. He’s been invited to the Ozdust Ballroom by nine separate people today. But how can he leave you to just clean all this up by yourself? He can see just by the look on your face that you’re utterly exhausted.

“I do,” he says honestly. “But I’ll help you with this first.”

He’s surprised when you suddenly stop putting things in your bag and when he looks up, he finds you staring at him again. It makes him uncomfortable in the same way he felt last week when you’d looked at him in a similar way. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Your lack of energy in fighting him is the second thing to make Fiyero realise something is wrong.

After the two of you finish picking up all of the things you’d dropped, the both of you stand. Fiyero opens his mouth to say something when he notices you start to sway. He’s quicker this time, moving to catch you before you fall. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you steady, while his other hand takes the book bag off your shoulder and moves it straight onto his. He’s surprised by how heavy it is. 

“Woah, darling, what’s going on?” Fiyero looks down at you as you blink and push yourself away from him. “Hey, be careful, okay? I think you were just about to faint.”

You shake your head. “I just stood up too fast, that’s all.” You know the words are a lie, and you can tell that Fiyero knows that as well. First, he’d seen you trip coming out of the library, then he’d caught you when you’d almost fainted… you can’t hide it from him. That much becomes crystal clear immediately.

“Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down, okay?” Fiyero begins. “May I?” He gestures to you, asking silently if he can wrap an arm around you to support you incase you fall over again. 

You nod and allow him to guide you just around the corner into the small seating area off to the side of the library. It’s dark, the lanterns not being lit yet despite the fact that the sun had gone down over twenty minutes ago.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy,” you say sheepishly. “That’s twice you’ve stopped me from falling in the last two weeks… I suppose I should say thank you, Fiyero.”

Fiyero sits you down gently on the bench and sits your book bag down on the ground. He crouches down in front of you and reaches up to take your hands in his. He’s surprised when you don’t immediately pull away from him. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before.”

“Oh,” you think on it for a second, trying to ignore the warm feeling of his hands and how comforting it is. “I guess I haven’t. Sorry, Tigelaar.”

“No, no,” Fiyero shakes his head. “Don’t go back to that. I like when you call me Fiyero.”

“Well, I suppose it is your name,” you offer a small smile.

“There’s that gorgeous smile,” Fiyero smiles back at you and squeezes your hands. “Now, are you gonna tell me why you almost just fainted on me and why you’re clumsier than you usually are, darling?”

You stay silent for a few moments and just when Fiyero begins to think that you might just brush him off and try to make a quick exit like you did last week, you start to speak.

“I haven’t really been sleeping well lately,” you admit quietly. “I’ve had so much work to do, I fell behind on my assignments and I took on some extra work from Doctor Dillamond and… despite my best efforts, I guess I let myself get a little burnt out.”

Fiyero looks at you with his eyes full of pity and you hate it. 

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “that’s not important. Why would you care?”

Your attempt to make light of the situation fails spectacularly, judging by the look that Fiyero gives you afterwards. You’ve never seen him look that unimpressed before. 

“Of course I care,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why, though?” You can’t help but ask. “Why are you so fixated on me?”

Fiyero sighs and moves to sit beside you, letting go of your hands in the process. “If you’ll allow me to be honest with you for a moment,” he starts, “I suppose… you’re the only person at Shiz that doesn’t treat me like the perfect Winkie Prince that everyone thinks I am. You’re the only person that doesn’t think I’m perfect, and half the time you act like you can’t stand to be around me, and for some reason that only makes me want to be around you more.” 

“Are you not the perfect Winkie Prince?” You ask.

Fiyero grins. “Oh, not in the slightest, darling. But let’s keep that between us. I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. How does that sound?” 

You don’t even try to hide the smile that comes to your face at his words. “You promise you won’t tell anyone about what happened today?”

“I promise,” he nods. “But only on one condition: you tell Doctor Dillamond you can’t complete the extra work you signed up for and you take a break to make sure you get plenty of rest before diving into your other assignments. I’m sure I can sweet talk some of the Professors if you need help.” 

He smiles as you hit him with the same look as before, but for the first time, he doesn’t find himself feeling uncomfortable at the sight of it. Now, he finds it slightly amusing and incredibly endearing. He has always found you endearing, he supposes.

“Sweet talking my Professors will not be necessary,” you chuckle. “But okay. It’s a deal. And I’ll keep your secret too. You can continue to be the perfect Winkie Prince to everyone… except me.”

Fiyero laughs. “I’ll just be your Fiyero, then.”

“My Fiyero?” You repeat after him, eyebrows raised. 

He ignores the way his heart beats faster at the sound of those words coming out of your mouth. 

“Yes, your Fiyero,” he hums. 

“Everyone will think that you finally corrupted me after all this time,” you joke, voice teasing. “I’ll just be like everyone else at Shiz. Part of the Fiyero Tigelaar fan club.”

Fiyero fixes you with a look. “Oh, darling. You could never be like everyone else.”