Ozdust Confessions (Fiyero Tigelaar; Jonathan Bailey fc)
Pairing: Fiyero x Female Reader
Triggers: none - just slow burn and fluff
Summary: Everyone knows you like each other. But what about you two?
MASTERLIST
Everyone at Shiz had a talent for gossip, but when it came to you and Fiyero, they practically turned it into a competitive sport, whispering in the hallways, nudging each other as the two of you walked past, openly smirking whenever Fiyero’s hand brushed your back just a moment too long or whenever you laughed a little too hard at something he said. You insisted you were just friends. Fiyero insisted exactly the same thing. Yet somehow you kept finding yourselves walking to class together, sitting together, studying together, getting into trouble together, and sharing quiet moments that stretched just a little too close to something neither of you could quite name.
He had been your closest companion since the day you met him, all bright eyes and careless smiles, the type of man who seemed to glide through life with charm as his compass, but with you he softened in ways that made people stare with open curiosity. He listened to you, remembered things you said, leaned in whenever you spoke as though your thoughts were more interesting than anything else happening in Oz, a fact that only made your friends give you pointed looks every time Fiyero walked into a room and immediately sought you out with that unmistakable, boyishly eager grin.
The night of the Ozdust Ballroom party, that curiosity turned into certainty. Glinda had decorated every surface with shimmering enchantments that twisted light into soft colors, the music swelling through the room while students danced in groups and pairs, laughing beneath the floating gold dust that drifted from the chandeliers. You arrived with a small circle of friends, not expecting anything more than a night of dancing, but your stomach still tightened when you saw Fiyero already there, leaning casually against a pillar with a drink in hand and a smile that grew noticeably brighter the moment his eyes found yours.
He pushed away from the pillar before you had taken a full step into the room, weaving through clusters of people until he was in front of you, that familiar crooked grin tugging at his mouth as he gave a playful bow. His voice was warm when he spoke, almost too warm, and several nearby girls exchanged knowing glances. They all knew. Every last one of them.
“I was beginning to think you were going to make me wait all night,” he said, lifting his brows in an expression halfway between teasing and nervous, the type of expression he never wore unless he was looking at you.
You laughed despite yourself. “I did not know you were waiting.”
Fiyero shrugged, the movement casual, although the slight tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “I always wait for you.”
The words, simple as they were, rippled through you in a way that made your breath catch, and before you could think of a reply, Glinda bounced up behind you with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Would you two stop pretending you are not in love and just dance already?”
You shot her a glare. Fiyero choked on his drink. And Glinda merely floated away with a satisfied smile.
The music shifted to something softer, a slow melody that wrapped itself around the crowded room like a spell. You started to step aside, planning to find your friends and ignore the twinge in your chest, but Fiyero’s hand caught yours with surprising decisiveness, his fingers warm and steady as they curled around your own.
“Do not run away from me,” he said quietly.
You looked up at him, startled by the sincerity in his eyes. He was not teasing now. He was not playing the charming prince. He was simply Fiyero. The Fiyero who listened when you talked. The Fiyero who found excuses to sit beside you. The Fiyero who always seemed to be watching you even when he thought you would not notice.
“Come with me,” he added, giving your hand the slightest tug.
You let him lead you to the center of the ballroom, your heart thudding with a mix of nerves and something sweeter. The moment he placed his hands on your waist, your body nearly betrayed you by leaning into him instinctively, as though it had been waiting for this for far too long. His touch was gentle, careful in a way he would never admit to, and the heat of his palms seeped through the fabric of your dress, sending a quiet ache through your chest.
Fiyero pulled you closer, his breath brushing your temple as the two of you began to sway to the soft rhythm, moving slowly in a bubble of quiet that separated you from the crowd. People stared, of course. They always stared. But for once you did not care. Neither did he.
“You look incredible tonight,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Though you always do.”
Your heart fluttered at the compliment. “You say that to everyone.”
“No,” he said, the word firm and immediate. “I really do not.”
You swallowed, trying to steady yourself as you looked up into his eyes, only to find him already watching you with an expression that made your breath catch. He was nervous. Actually nervous. Fiyero Tiggular, the boy who never ran out of confidence, was staring at you as if waiting for permission to breathe.
“Fiyero,” you whispered.
He stepped a fraction closer, his forehead almost touching yours. “Do you know how long I have wanted this?”
Your pulse jumped.
“Fiyero…”
“Everyone sees it,” he continued softly. “Everyone except us. Or maybe we did see it. Maybe we were too afraid to say anything because it mattered too much.”
You tried to reply but your throat tightened, the emotions rising too quickly, too unexpectedly. His thumb brushed your waist, a silent reassurance that grounded you in place.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice trembling with a sincerity you had never heard from him before. “Tell me to step away and I will. I swear I will.”
But you did not move.
You did not breathe.
You only stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it.
“I will not tell you to stop,” you whispered.
Something in him broke then, something unguarded and unrestrained, and before you could register the movement, Fiyero cupped your jaw with both hands and kissed you, right there in the middle of the Ozdust, in full view of everyone who had spent the last month whispering about the two of you. It was soft at first, tentative, almost questioning, as if asking you again and again whether this was real, whether you wanted this as much as he did. You answered by sliding your hands up his chest, looping your arms around his neck, pressing closer until the kiss deepened with a breathless urgency that made him exhale a shaky sound against your mouth.
Fiyero pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his smile bright, disbelieving, beautifully vulnerable.
“I should have done that a long time ago,” he whispered.
You laughed softly, your fingers brushing his jaw. “Yes. You should have.”
He kissed you again. And again. And again, each kiss sweeter and more certain than the last, while the music swelled and the room spun and the world seemed to fall away until nothing remained except the two of you.
Everyone at Shiz had known.
Everyone but you and him.
But not anymore.
Tonight, under shimmering enchantments and golden light, Fiyero finally made his move. And you finally kissed him back.
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