#and i should be posting at least one chapter a week

[makeste]

BnHA Volume 35 - A Brief Reaction Journey

hello! so as mentioned in my last post, I’ve started catching up with the BnHA manga again FINALLY after almost two years, and have made it through a fair number of chapters so far! and since I’m not sure how long it will take me to actually post the corresponding liveblogs, I figured I’d make a couple of posts in the meantime to sort of preview my reaction journey thus far with some good old-fashioned OUT-OF-CONTEXT BULLET POINTS taken from my ramblings. originally I was going to make a single post for all 25 chapters I’ve read so far (up to 367), but I quickly realized that was waaaaay too ambitious lol. so for now it’s just this one, and I’ll put up the vol. 36 post probably tomorrow afternoon.

spoiler warning: just fyi, this post will obviously feature spoilers for chapters 342-350*, BUT it will also include some stray spoilers from chapters 362 and 403 as well, so just a heads up for that if you aren’t fully caught up!

*chapters 340 and 341 are not included because I've already posted full reaction posts for each one here and here, respectively.

Chapter 342

Endeavor being taller than Jeanist just feels so WRONG to me regardless of whether or not it is factually accurate. does this mean All Might is also taller than Jeanist?? I don’t want to live in a world where Best Jeanist has secretly been a perfectly normal sized person this entire time. someone please lie to me and tell me that he is tall

many thanks to Kacchan for inserting this small bit of levity into this scene which was otherwise well on its way to sending me into a SPIRAL OF FEELINGS, and in fact still is whenever I look at that panel of Deku with Eri and Kouta, and also that GODDAMN HUG WHERE HE AND INKO ARE BOTH CLEARLY AND PAINFULLY AWARE THAT THEY MIGHT NEVER SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN, AND IN THAT MOMENT THEY’RE JUST TRYING TO HOLD THE OTHER AS TIGHTLY AS PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE, AND SHE’S PRAYING TO WHATEVER DEITY IS OUT THERE THAT HE’LL COME BACK SAFE AND WHOLE, AND HE’S PRAYING THAT HIS MOM WILL BE ALL RIGHT EVEN IF HE DOESN’T COME BACK, AND NOT ALLOWING HIMSELF TO THINK ABOUT HOW MUCH HE ALREADY MISSES HER, BECAUSE HE CAN’T THINK LIKE THAT ANY MORE, BECAUSE THIS BOY IS FULLY GROWN NOW BECAUSE HE HAD TO BE, BECAUSE HE HAD NO CHOICE, AND I’M BOTH SO PROUD AND SO FUCKING SAD ABOUT IT AND I JUST NEED A MINUTE HERE ACTUALLY, OKAY!! OR FIVE MINUTES!!

LMAO WHAT AN AUSPICIOUS AND NOT-AT-ALL OMINOUSLY FOREBODING NAME. “hmmm what should we name our new class 1-A fortress?” “hmm well I was thinking maybe Troy, after the legendary city with the famously impenetrable walls, which to the best of my knowledge were never breached, or at least that’s what I assume since I never finished reading The Iliad! :) :) :) ...wait, why are you all looking at me like that. they didn’t actually breach them, right? guys? what happened to Troy? GUYS?”

I’m actually so proud of Deku because he’s come such a long way from the days when the mere CONCEPT of even TALKING to a girl was enough to floor him lol. but also I’m legit cracking up at he way he tried to segue into random small talk in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse. gotta be smooth about it!! casual!! you can tell how casual they are because both of them are suddenly struck by the inexplicable urge to fuss with their hair!!

Horikoshi really said “FUCK YOUR SQUADS!! ...but if we had a Todosquad this is who would be in it I guess”

my god. between this and the OchaDeku conversation the villains truly do not stand a chance do they? and they don’t even know how screwed they are yet. REDEMPTION IS COMING!! IT’S KNOCKING ON THE DOOR, TRICK OR TREAT, Y’ALL READY FOR THIS

Chapter 343

so we’re opening with everyone’s favorite Guy With An Old Wad Of Chewing Gum For A Face, AFO!

did this son of a bitch kill Nao’s dad and steal his sexy lie-detector quirk??

sob AFO is all “can I have your son’s cell phone number please” and they’re all “SURE”

bonsoir little Yuuga

do. ...do you not actually know. was this meeting not prearranged. “why are you here Aoyama?” “why are you here, Deku?” truly, why are any of us here??

I’m sitting here trying to play the “guess which parts of this dialogue are real vs fake” game and coming up completely stumped on every single sentence

so Yuuga’s all “can you believe that even though the city of Musutafu is basically down to just U.A., a Dollar Tree, a couple of crumbling park benches, and one very determined Starbucks, we somehow still have functioning courts and lawyers?” I actually can’t believe that at all tbh. you’re telling me “it’s the fucking apocalypse” is still not a good enough excuse to get out of jury duty

damn, Aoyama out here with the trash talk and the ON YOUR LEFT?!

MONOMA??!?!?!?!

Chapter 344

“Eraser’s” plan, indeed. you dare say that right to Kaminari’s face

SHINSOU!!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!?

HEYA YOURSELF YOU HANDSOME KNAVE!! LOOK AT YOU!! fucking loving the costume my dude! pretty please tell us your hero name to go along with it. is it MindCraft. I think your hero name should be MindCraft. don’t look at me like that Shinsou we need more punny hero names in the world

“yes well you see, I couldn’t do it, so I learned how to do it.” great story Shinsou

the way he’s rubbing the back of his neck there. are we gonna get some real Monoma character development at long last. feels like it’s long overdue and I am thrilled. he’s such a great character and I feel like we’ve only barely scratched the surface of who he actually is as a person and as a hero

THE UNEXPECTED VLAD KING MENTORSHIP WITH THE ARM AROUND THE SHOULDERS?? he really needed that support. outwardly he’s always made a big show of wanting his turn in the spotlight and begrudging class A for stealing the scene at every turn. but how much of that is really just an act. some of it? most of it? maybe even close to all of it? because right now he suddenly seems so small and young here and really wishing he wasn’t in this unenviable position of being one of the many World’s Last Hopes who are all way too fucking young

did Mirko’s giant robot hand just grow into an EVEN GIANTER giant robot hand??

long beautiful flowing mermaid hair. sorry what was I saying I kind of spaced out there for a sec

YES, AFO, ALL OF THIS TO SPLIT YOU UP YOU STUPID MUSH HEAD. MAYBE IF YOU EVER ACTUALLY FINISHED A MANGA IN YOUR GODDAMN LIFE YOU’D KNOW HOW A FINAL BATTLE IS SUPPOSED TO BE CONSTRUCTED. YOU MOLDY AVOCADO

Chapter 345

“no you don’t understand, we have so many sixteen-year-olds whose coattails we’re all hanging onto. we have sixteen-year-olds who can take over people’s minds. sixteen-year-olds who can create portals to warp you halfway around the world in an instant. and let’s not forget the sixteen-year-olds who can act their damn asses off. we have the best sixteen-year-olds in the world. our sixteen-year-olds are so much better than yours you fucking losers”

Deku I swear. if I’m about to discover that the reason you weren’t there to stop Kacchan from being literally, actually, canonically murdered is because your distracted ass got yoinked into the void by some no-name villain chucklefuck, I’m gonna...

don’t listen to him Aoyama you were magnificent. you were my favorite in all of the stage plays

BUT IS PHASE TWO SUPPOSED TO INVOLVE DEKU IN ANY WAY THOUGH??? HELLO??? IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME??? I’M FROM THE FUTURE AND THIS IS URGENT, PLEASE

“I fucked up Ochako, I fucked up so bad” omfg Deku

she doesn’t want to hurt you Deku she just wants to shower you in love. in her own special way. by stabbing you a lot

anyway have fun on this... tropical island??? I guess?? Kacchan will just have to hold down the fort in the meantime. which I’m sure will go absolutely fine

Chapter 346

“th-th-this is really bad, right?” yes Tamaki, yes it is. you’re stuck here on the Super Mega Ultra Radical Gnarly Cracked-Out Wonder Stage with Shigaraki Fucking Tomura and at least two of you are about to die and I’M NOT OKAY

so now we’re also getting this hilarious insight into the inner workings of the Mega Ultra Tremendous Stupendous Incredible Sky Coffin and it is truly, truly phenomenal

Horikoshi stop taking my sarcastic jibes and owning them completely challenge!! all the best sixteen-year-olds. all the finest greatest Hyper Ultra Sparkle Glimmer Wonder Battle Stages

this is genuinely one of the boldest lampshading efforts I have ever seen in fiction you guys

“yes, we acknowledge that this does indeed seem impossible to have pulled off, BUT have you considered that, fucking quirks though???? AND THAT THEY ARE, AS THE KIDS SAY, WILD??”

Chapter 347

lmao they’re shouting at Monoma accusingly and he’s all “I’M HAVEN’T BLINKED AT ALL YOU GUYS I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU”

don’t mind him, he’s just out here growing out his hideously malformed hands and fingers endlessly from every part of his body, normally, as one does. nothing quirk-related about it. anyone could do this if they simply exercise and maintain a balanced diet. this 100% is not a quirk y’all it’s just essential oils

SUDDEN MONOMA FEELS DELIVERED TO MY DOORSTEP???

awwww. the way he’s almost panicked, frantically wondering if he somehow fucked the quirk up and desperate for Aizawa to believe him that he’s trying his best. and Aizawa quick to reassure him. this kid is so desperate for approval. and unapologetically careening his way onto my top ten character list, welcome dear boy

so that’s that. see you in two years Deku. his last words spoken out loud to Kacchan were, and I quote, “wha --”

Aizawa is so hopelessly impossibly hot at all times and I don’t know how the universe can handle his existence. he’s even doing it without activating his quirk now. no ponytails or anything. just an eyepatch and a dream

don’t mind me, I’m just out here doing literal algebra to figure out how long it would take Deku to get back here if he traveled at the same speed as All Might did in chapter 90 (30 seconds per 5km, apparently). about 20 minutes, give or take. well shit. hopefully he’s a little faster than Kamino-era All Might was, especially since he can fly and has that Fa Jin shit too. or maybe Rody can fly him lmao. or S&S’s hot fighter pilot boyfriend

“what’d Sensei say, Deku?” “he said no, looks like I gotta uber. can I borrow your credit card, I promise I will venmo you back”

unfortunately for Deku he does not realize he’s accidentally gotten himself caught up in what will undoubtedly end up being the most erotic and bisexual of the various final battles

can’t believe Deku has like 6 love interests and out of all of them, Toga is the first one who actually asks him out. good for you girl. gotta shoot your shot

Chapter 348

FELLAS IS IT GAY TO BREAK OUT INTO TERRIFIED BEN DAY DOTS BECAUSE A GIRL EXPRESSED HER CARNAL INTEREST IN YOU????

anyway so since Deku apparently doesn’t understand how romance works either, he’s trying his best to give an actual response by recontextualizing all of this in terms of the one big thing he does understand: All Might

you’re telling me you never wanted to stab All Might to death and then turn into him?? wow I just can’t believe it

but also... okay lol. so I was thinking about this sarcastically, but was then struck by the very unironic thought that there sorta kinda is someone whom Deku does, both consciously and subconsciously, try to be like, and who he also kinda does apparently share the same heart and mind as. at least if chapter 403 is anything to go by lol. soooooooo. huh

god damn it Toga. absolutely none of what you’ve said or done here has been even the SLIGHTEST BIT reasonable. you can’t just tell someone you want to stab them and be their girlfriend. and if and when they try to let you down easy by responding with the MOST THOUGHTFUL AND GENTLE REJECTION ANYONE COULD EVER POSSIBLY MAKE UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES, because they’re actually the WORLD’S NICEST MAN, you can’t just respond by doing whatever it is you’re presumably about to do, which I’m guessing is gonna be really violent and unhinged

so Ochako is all “ever since we fought last time I’ve been thinking about you a lot!” and Toga is all “are you serious, YOU broke up with ME bitch” and now she’s standing behind her with a knife

“she’s the least predictable of our opponents” YEAH NO KIDDING LOL

“everyone knows that Toga is actually Ochako’s villain, like ffs Deku you haven’t even interacted with her since the Provisional Exam arc.” Deku they’re 100% right and you’re looking more and more the fool with each passing second

well all right lol. twenty minutes to get back to Musutafu. let’s just hope he doesn’t run into any traffic on the way

Chapter 349

what the fuck is OFA Dos’s quirk exactly and are we ever gonna get to it before I literally die of old age. at this point there’s gotta be a reason why he’s not using it, right?? so what’s the deal there? does he still somehow not know how? is it too dangerous? and I really need to know why II has the Bakugou gauntlets. tell me this isn’t one of the things we’re still waiting on answers for two years down the line because I swear to god I will cry

anyway so Deku’s saying he’s doing his best but he’s still “too slow”. WELL THEN MAYBE IT’S THAT TIME?? DEKU?? WHAT DO YOU SAY

NO FUCKING WAY LOL, CAN IT REALLY BE THAT EASY??!

OH WHAT THE FUCK, FUCK YOU NOT!CCHAN LOL YOU’RE JUST HERE TO COCKBLOCK HIM?

fuck. so has he used it since then?? is he gonna use it finally now that Kacchan’s alive and well again?? oh my god I need to shut up and stop asking questions and just keep reading. fuck

wow so Dabi’s literally just burning the All Might statue while he stalls for time trying to figure out how to beat his OP little brother who was literally engineered to be better than him sob. out of all the villains he’s probably the most screwed right now isn’t he

starting to get an inkling Dabi’s not happy that he doesn’t actually get to fight Endeavor. getting some subtle hints here and there that he might actually be upset about that

apparently wanting to fight Dabi and stop him from helping to destroy the world makes Shouto a pawn. wake up Shouto. stop being such a sheep, Shouto. can’t you see that saving the world is exactly what Endeavor wants you to do???!

this is just going to be seventeen chapters of Dabi talking about nonsense while they both stand around progressively getting hotter both literally and metaphorically isn’t it

Chapter 350

OH SNAP. [SLAMS HAND ON TABLE] HERE WE GO. IT’S FINALLY THAT TIME

well, well, well. to the surprise of absolutely no one. the real one who was responsible for everything this whole time

but I just have to pause real quick before we continue. because it absolutely cannot be a coincidence that AFO just happened to be there once again. just waiting in the shadows to magically swoop in the minute disaster strikes. and so, just like with baby Tenko, this immediately makes me suspect that Touya burning himself alive was not in fact a training accident at all. which is something I did not expect, and which, just. fuck, fuck, FUCK AFO. fuck this guy.

looks like the children's ward of a hospital?? wait, what??

how the fuck is he still so adorable. when exactly did the transition take place between adorable and sexily unhinged. right now Todoroki Touya still looks to be the absolute most adorable child on the planet

I miscalculated. I was not emotionally prepared to handle this chapter right now. I should not have clicked

really love to see that Touya didn’t just cave right away. wouldn’t have felt right, ngl. just doesn’t fit in with what we know about his character

oh shit wait we’re cutting back to Dabi talking to Shouto and he says he did come back home??

fucking why. goddammit what the hell. why is this the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever read. LOVE HIM!! SOMEONE!! ANYONE!! just love him, please. literally all he has ever wanted!!

JESUS. I HATE THIS. I am so upset right now. out of all of the horrific and traumatic and terrible, awful things that have happened to BnHA characters in their flashbacks, the thing that hits me the most out of all of them is this one image of a sixteen-year-old boy standing before an altar, with his family very much alive and standing RIGHT FUCKING THERE IN THE NEXT ROOM, and yet somehow feeling more alone than he’s ever been. so alone he literally gives up all hope in this one moment. my god I feel all of it and it’s so fucking devastating I keep having to stop typing so I don’t completely break down sobbing

well damn. after a rush of 15 and 13-page chapters, which were all admittedly appreciated by me in my race to catch up to Light Fades to Rain before this coming Friday, Horikoshi finishes up the volume with one hell of a 17 page finale. once again the Tododrama delivers. this was fucking phenomenal

[freetobeeyouandme]

No new chapter for the Cleradin DnD Isekai AU because I have a terminal case of eepy tired and no energy to edit it, but I did start so here's an excerpt. It's the best I could do for our boy's birthday, so happy birthday Will!

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Hmm. Just realizing that I still have both the poster and the pre-chapter art to do for chapter 5.

...Maybe I should once again give myself another extra week of prep time.

[mirrortouchedsea]

getting motivated to work on that kaokana fic finally and i have added like 1k this week.... so much progress for me i'm so happy

[pepper-steam-milkshake]

by the way for any newcomers to splinters, just a heads up that updates are usually monthly because they depend on (a) my mental stability (b) my courseload/club stuff and (c) what is going on in the chapter (because yes they are long af but that is because we have a LOT to COVER, folks!)

so. uh. expect the next one near the end of october/beginning of november 🫡 we are in skk city my guys

[scholarhect]

hey guys it’s finally getting nice out you know what that means

we regret to inform you that buying stuff from urban outfitters is back

[cha1cedony]

Silver Linings Ch 8 tonight (unless something crazy happens to prevent me from finishing it today). Buuuut I have 2-ish scenes left, and I’m finally at the part of this fic I’ve been excited to write for months!

[a-b-riddle]

Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”

[tyrannuspitch]

fairytale chapter one is finalised and i'm not allowed to poke at it any more :)

now i just need to uhhh do all of that again. And Again. how do multichapter people work

[amtrak12]

My third full rewrite of chapter 8 clocked in at 8800 words (vs the 11,000 words it was originally), but I'm an underwriter so it will still probably be 9000-9200 come posting time.

But that posting date is 9/29. For right now, I am done. It is complete. And I never, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER, ever, EVER, want to see that DNA results scene again. EVER

[midnightsnaq]

A week later

I'm almost done fr this time. Probably another week. But it's around 20k now

Almost done with my mp100 fic. It's around 18k words. Which is one of the biggest writing works I've done. I'm going to upload it on ao3 and wattpad

[ohbueckers]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME. you dope, have a player ‘bout to choke, i was at a loss for words first time that we spoke.

CHAPTER ONE! pairing, paige bueckers x teammate!oc. notes, new ju series just dropped who clapped… i’m so excited for this so please let me know what you think and what you wanna see!!! it’ll feature a few different tropes (these bitches are complicated as hell) and i’ll be using different songs. this was also supposed to be out yesterday whoops. warnings, not much just some slight rivalry.

april, 2022

paige sat on the floor, her back pressed against azzi’s bed, eyes staring blankly at her phone screen. the dorm was packed to the brim, all of her teammates crammed into the room, waiting for the news to drop. she wasn’t sure why her palms felt clammy, or why her heart was hammering harder than it should be for a thursday night in late april… or she was completely sure and refused to come to terms with it.

we’re really doing this again, huh?

it had been weeks since the national championship loss, and yet the sting still hadn’t faded. south carolina. dawn staley’s generational ran gamecocks who got almost everything, including that damn sana caruso.

for years, their careers had paralleled each other, both rising basketball stars, always in the spotlight, always part of the same conversations. and yet, for reasons paige couldn’t quite figure out for the life of her, they had never crossed paths. sana was stubborn, that much she knew. paige remembered the day south carolina landed her—it had been all anyone could talk about. opinions flew in every direction: sana should’ve gone to stanford, to ucla, anywhere but there. paige couldn’t lie—part of her had wondered why uconn hadn’t even been in the mix, but it was now, and the blonde felt like she was reliving that evening in 2019 all over again.

wherever she ended up, it would be some news that would flip the script. impact their season, because sana was undoubtedly everywhere. the defensive mastermind, the one who didn’t care if she was 5’10 going up against post players towering over her. she locked them down, put up numbers, and somehow always found her way into the conversation, even when paige tried not to pay attention.

they were talked about like rivals, the head of every one of their matchups, but there had never been any real competition, at least not on the court. paige couldn’t remember a time they’d even properly interacted. but despite how much they were constantly compared, sana had made it painfully clear that paige might as well not exist in her world, and it was infuriating as hell.

“you think she’s really coming?” azzi asked, her voice soft and almost like she didn’t believe it herself as she cut through paige’s thoughts. no one did.

aaliyah, sprawled out on the floor, rolled her eyes. it’d been pushing 10 o’clock, and almost everyone had class in the morning. what had that been stopping, though? absolutely nothing. “if dorka doesn’t hurry up with the article, we’ll never know.”

“hey, be patient.” dorka threw her hand up, shooting her teammates some tight-lipped grin as she furiously scrolled through her phone. “they’re slow with these drops.”

“thats that uconn wifi,” aubrey mumbled, sending everyone into different variations of a laugh.

nika snorted. “nah, she’s right. it’s either that or we’ve got like, fifty million people trying to figure out where sana’s going.”

“bro, you know espn’s probably crashed by now,” aaliyah chipped in, leaning back on her elbows.

paige didn’t know why, but it bugged her that sana had never really acknowledged her—like, at all. not a comment, not a follow, not even a glance her way during games. paige wasn’t used to that. she wasn’t used to being ignored, and their minimal interactions only made the internet have more of a field day with that non-existent rivalry, and if sana weren’t to say anything, why would paige?

and now here they were, possibly about to be on the same team. paige had no clue how that was going to play out, but the thought of it made her stomach flip. it was like some cosmic joke.

“yo, i’m serious though,” aaliyah said, slowly rising from her spot on the floor. “how wild is this? if she really comes here, we’re stacked. that chip is ours this year.”

the blonde suddenly felt defensive. they didn’t need sana caruso to get that chip for them. “she’s not coming here,” paige blurted, half to herself, shaking her head. “no way.”

“why not?” azzi asked, narrowing her eyes. “i mean, all signs point here, right? unless i’m crazy.”

“yeah, but it’s sana,” paige replied as if it were the most obvious thing, running a hand through her hair. “she does what she wants, she’s the type to pick somewhere else just ‘cause everyone thinks she’s coming here.”

“you sound so stupid! and in denial,” nika snickered, throwing herself back into the couch. “just admit you want her on the team, paige.”

paige shot her a look, but couldn’t quite hide the smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “i don’t care what she does.” she pointed at her chest, sinking further into her spot. “she could go anywhere.”

“sure,” dorka added, inserting herself into the conversation. her eyes didn’t leave her screen as she continued to refresh her browser, almost like she didn’t have to. “because that’s exactly why you’ve been all up in your head about her this whole time.”

“hey, wait. don’t do that.” but it was too late, her teammates had already been throwing out their ‘ooh’s,’ like this were some kindergarten class. but the truth was, she couldn’t deny it. there was something about sana that had her all twisted up, more than she cared to admit. maybe it was the way she carried herself, like she didn’t need anyone’s approval, or the fact that she always seemed to be a step ahead. and it didn’t help that she was ridiculously pretty. like, stupidly pretty. the kind of pretty that got under paige’s skin and made her feel something, even when she tried to act like it was no big deal.

maybe that was what really irked her all these years.

“nah, for real, though,” paige said, trying to keep her cool, “she’s different. she’ll probably pull some wild move and end up at notre dame or something.”

“notre dame?” azzi shot her a confused look. “you’re reaching now.”

“i’m just saying!” paige replied through a laugh, although it was mainly just a gesture to defend herself. shrugging and throwing her hands up in surrender. “she doesn’t follow the crowd. everyone thinks she’s coming here because it makes sense, but you know sana—”

“you don’t know sana,” aubrey cut in with a laugh. “that’s the problem.”

“you sound really passionate about this, paige,” nika laughed out, always the one getting the biggest kick out of things like this. she was always in the mood to tease her twin.

paige opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped short, because aubrey wasn’t exactly wrong. she didn’t know sana, at least not personally. she’d known this version she made up of her in her head, the one that frustrated her to no end, the one she couldn’t ever figure out. and while she did that, sana, with her perfectly highlighted curls that framed her perfect face that always held that stupid fucking smirk probably hadn’t even thought twice about paige bueckers once in her damn life.

“you’ve definitely thought about this way too much,” azzi said, chuckling herself. “like, more than any of us.”

paige threw her head back, groaning. “why is this about me all of a sudden?”

“‘cause you’re acting like she’s been living in your head rent-free for years,” nika teased again, her next laugh coming out in a sputter. this entire thing had clearly been amusing someone.

“yeah, okay, whatever,” paige mumbled, crossing her arms.

“hey, don’t worry,” dorka said, eyes glued to her phone as she moved her hand to rest on paige’s thigh comfortably, consolingly. “you’ll have plenty of time to figure out what’s going on in that head of hers.”

paige raised a brow, lifting her head and turning to the other blonde. “what do you mean?”

dorka’s grin widened as she looked up, everyone’s attention turning back to her. “because she’s coming here. she’s ours, guys!”

for a second, the room went dead silent, the words hanging in the air like they needed time to settle in.

then, chaos.

sana caruso is a uconn husky, meaning paige bueckers could finally figure out what made the girl tick.

july, 2022

the gym was full—more than usual. everyone was there for the first day of summer workouts, even the players sitting out due to injuries. there was the familiar sound of sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor, and the faint trace of cleaning solution still lingering from the early morning scrubs. july in storrs was hot, too. the kind of heat that clung to your skin and didn’t let go, even inside the gym.

the team was standing around near the sidelines, waiting to start. geno had the new recruits huddled, running through some preseason talk, but all paige could think about was sana—standing a few feet away. they’d obviously been in the same room before, the same gym before, but today felt all too intimate. as it should, though. they were teammates now. hell, they’d be sharing the backcourt.

this would be the first time she’d see her up close—really up close—since everything went down. the transfer news, the headlines, the pics of sana decked out in uconn gear flooding her feed (a sight paige needed to mentally prepare for because damn, did she look good in white and navy blue). it had all felt surreal then, but now, it was about to be real real.

what’s she even thinking right now? paige wondered, feeling a slight pinch of annoyance. because as much as she wanted to believe this was just another day in the gym, it wasn’t. not for her.

when handshakes started, paige couldn’t even hear her own thoughts due to the loudness as everyone went through the routine of greeting the new faces. paige made her way through her teammates, exchanging quick daps and nods, her focus drifting back to sana more times than she’d like to admit.

the blonde was normally more noisy, doing everything in her power to get on with the people she’d be spending the season with. but right now, her interaction with sana would either confirm or deny every assumption she’s ever had, and that was quite frankly the only thing consuming her mind.

she could feel the intensity in her chest when it came time to shake sana’s hand. she stepped forward, hand extended, ready to make some kind of connection, but sana barely looked at her. it was quick, almost dismissive. no eye contact, no words exchanged. paige pulled her hand back, clenching her jaw as she watched her move into conversation with azzi, who seemed to earn a more genuine response than paige could get. a smile, and a giggle that could’ve been mistaken for music.

seriously?

the team broke off, moving toward the court. this’ll be a long practice.

they lined up, and as they went through the typical routine—light shooting drills, ball-handling, footwork—it became clear that sana wasn’t just good. she was a standout. and for someone who was only 5’10 in the basketball world, she carried herself like she could take on anyone, work with anyone, too, no matter the size or position.

“she got handles,” nika muttered under her breath. the comment was meant for the girls around her to catch and respond to, but paige just stood, eye squinted and arms crossed.

“handles? she got vision too,” ice brady, a freshman added, eyes wide as sana weaved through a defense drill, her speed and precision on full display. her ponytail swung perfectly on her head, lip tugged tightly between her teeth as she moved to make a layup. the ball went in, and ayanna moved to grab her rebound. the group cheered her on voluntarily, and paige only moved to turn her head as sana jogged past her to the back of the line, her demeanor as calm and collected as ever. and damn annoying.

the players gathered at the top of the key, forming a loose circle as they got ready to start a more structured scrimmage. paige found herself standing across from sana, their eyes meeting for the first time that morning, but the moment left as quick as it started. sana had her hands on her hips, listening intently to geno as if she didn’t already know what they’d be doing, because the blonde wasn’t supposed to have caught her looking.

“let’s run it!” geno’s voice snapped through the gym again, clapping his hands once, and the team split into two sides as directed, ready to play.

as the scrimmage began, paige tried to shake off the weird tension and focus, although it wasn’t really working. nothing had ever managed to get her off-game this bad. it was the escape, after all, so why did it feel like it would be causing her more problems now? she ran the court as a point guard, eyes scanning for plays, calling out switches, directing traffic. but every time the ball moved to sana, paige noticed the same thing—she’d find a way to dish it to someone else. anyone but her.

what the hell?

on a fast break, paige found herself wide open again, just outside the three-point line. she threw her hands up, calling for the pass. sana had the ball at the top of the key, and paige practically begged for some type of acknowledgment that she didn’t get. but instead of passing, sana faked it and lobbed it to aaliyah under the basket for an easy layup. paige didn’t even move. she just stood there, hands still raised, eyes burning into her ponytail.

“alright, switch it up!” geno called, and the team rotated.

the ball was in her hands now, and she dribbled down the court, eyes searching for a play, trying to shake off the irritation in her chest. the worst part was that no one seemed to notice, because sana had a way of singling the blonde out in a way that made her think she was fucking crazy. she passed to nika, and they rotated again, the pace of the scrimmage picking up.

it finally came to a head when they were working on a transition drill. paige had the ball, racing down the court, and sana was on the wing. paige pushed the tempo, looking for an outlet, but sana cut her off at the last second, forcing her to pull up and reset the play.

that was it. paige lost it.

“yo! if we’re gonna work the backcourt together, you’ve gotta work with me,” she snapped, her voice only turning a few rather concerned heads. she stopped dribbling, staring at sana, her breath coming out in heavy bursts.

sana finally turned to face her, full body and everything, their eyes locking for what felt like the first time all day.

she wasn’t angry, wasn’t startled by paige’s tone. she was calm like she always was, and the slight tilt of her head only pissed paige off more. she was looking right at her now, really looking, and all the playful cockiness that always held some undercurrent, yet always came so naturally to paige, was just gone.

damn.

she didn’t know why she was still standing there, seething, waiting for sana to say something after her outburst. and when she finally spoke, it wasn’t the apology or acknowledgment paige might have been expecting.

“you’re pressing,” sana said, her voice maddeningly casual. like there had been no heat from the beginning. “you’re rushing everything. it’s like you’re trying to do too much.”

paige blinked, caught off guard. rushing? she almost laughed. her jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the ball. she hated how calm sana was, how she managed to deliver criticism like she was just making an observation. “too much?” she shot back, stepping closer. “i’m just trying to get us moving, trying to get you involved. but it seems like you’re more interested in doing your own thing.” she hated that every time she tried to connect with sana on the court, it felt like she was hitting a wall.

but she also hated that she cared about it so much.

sana didn’t break, expression remaining composed, annoyingly unreadable with her short manicured nails digging into her hip. “you think running the floor means you’re the only one who gets to call the shots? that’s not how i play.”

paige blinked, trying to regain her footing, mentally and physically. “you’re not even trying to work with me!” her voice raised a bit as she addressed what had been bothering her before, causing a few heads to turn. the exchange didn’t look entirely friendly after all. “every time i’m open, you’re looking the other way.” she pointed to the court.

sana’s eyes narrowed slightly, some kind of look crossing her face—was it amusement? “it’s not personal, paige. it’s basketball.” it was the first time the blonde’s name left her mouth, first time she felt like an actual person to her, and it still didn’t feel good.

sana, on the other hand, was watching her closely, reading paige’s reaction like she was still deciding how much of this back-and-forth was worth it. she knew she was poking at her ego, but she also thought that ego could use a little deflating. everyone talked about her like she was the second coming of basketball itself, and while sana could respect her talent, the way everyone hung on her every move grated on her.

sana wasn’t jealous. not even a little bit. she wasn’t wired like that. but that didn’t mean she was going to be another cog in the well-oiled bueckers machine. she never liked to make things more complicated than they needed to be, and basketball? basketball was supposed to be simple. play smart, play efficient, make the right decisions. that’s why she was here. that’s why geno recruited her. she didn’t bring flash—she brought results. she played smooth, and if she wasn’t in charge, she sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone treat her like a sidekick. especially not paige bueckers.

she was willing to work with her, of course. sana was well aware of what her transfer meant, how good it would be for the both of them if people stopped pitting them against each other. but it didn’t mean she would warm up straight away. they’d make an unstoppable duo—if they could just figure out how to coexist.

“look, i’m just saying, you’re pushing too hard. sometimes it’s about playing smart, not playing fast.”

paige’s stomach churned at the implication. she wasn’t just some showboat out there. it felt like a direct shot to everything she stood for.

“you think i’m not playing smart?”

sana raised an eyebrow, her lips curling just slightly. “i think you’re playing like you’ve got something to prove.”

and that stopped paige cold. she’d proven enough. but the way sana was looking at her, cool and detached, like she could see right through her, made her feel small despite her taller figure. it wasn’t anger that sana was giving her—it was indifference. like she didn’t even care enough to be mad.

“run it again!” geno yelled, and they did.

paige inhaled sharply, chewing on her lip as she clutched the ball to her side, watching as sana jogged off, obeying orders immediately. she could feel the eyes of her teammates on her, especially nika, who was biting back a grin from the sidelines, one hundred percent sure her best friend just got schooled. dorka raised an eyebrow at her, silently urging her to keep her cool.

they lined up for the play again, the ball bouncing back into paige’s hands. she hated it, but sana’s words echoed in her head. pressing… rushing… trying too hard. as much as she didn’t want to admit it, maybe she was pressing. maybe she was letting this whole situation get to her in ways she shouldn’t.

when the whistle blew, paige instinctively took control again, charging down the court. but she couldn’t stop herself from hesitating for just a second, looking toward sana on the wing. without overthinking it, she passed the ball to her, her hands moving almost against her will.

sana caught it, knees bent and ready before driving to the basket. she didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch. she just played, like she always did. the ball went in, and the play was perfect, but paige didn’t feel satisfied. if anything, she felt worse. it felt like they were already at odds, and the season hadn’t even started yet.

it had worked. but it was because she’d done what sana said. and if it wasn’t personal before, it definitely was now.

[beannoss]

So I've been thinking about them:

Specifically I was wondering what the moment was (if there even was a specific moment) that cinched it for Twilight developing feelings for Yor.

[Spoiler warning: this post references manga chapters not yet animated]

I think for Yor it's pretty quick. Like, this moment here:

Not that Yor fell in love with Twilight then (ymmv) or that she's fully aware of her feelings, but it's explicit that she felt connected to him here and attached in meaningful ways.

But for Twilight, it wasn't so clear. For a while I'd kind of decided that it just came over him slowly (and I think there is something to that) and that there wasn't any singular moment which stood out. But that didn't feel quite right. The more I thought about it, the more I thought there were two stand-out moments, only one of which Twilight actually (semi-)clocks.

The first, which I think passes him by entirely, is this:

In my view, this laugh is an entirely authentic response. I think he is, despite himself, delighted by this woman who 1. just unexpectedly saved him from being stabbed, and 2. did it by sending the guy flying across an entire alleyway.

This is accentuated in the anime, I think, by the jaunty, puckish music that makes up the first part of their marriage theme song. I am dying for the reappearance of this music in some fashion, btw, it's so fun and cheeky and I'm hoping foreshadows their vibe after various revelations and particularly when they start working together as Agent Twilight and Thorn Princess:

The second moment for Twilight, I think, is more subtle for all it's more impactful. Or at least, the degree of its importance passed me by on initial read/watch, and I think it's deliberately downplayed by Twilight himself. Because he does actually clock it but if he looks more closely at it, well... then he might have to do something about it. And maybe that something won't comport with what the mission needs, and then what?

It happens when Twilight first bugs Yor, and then poses with Franky as SSS agents to test whether she knows Yuri is with the SSS.

It's clear in the lead up that Twilight recognises he has some feelings about/for Yor, and he doesn't want to spy on her; he doesn't want to mistrust her at all. He has to convince himself to take seriously that she may be a potential threat.

And even then, the convincing only sort of mostly works, because he hesitates again:

Which is, by the way, bananas. At this point, they've been a fake family for maybe a handful of weeks? Twilight is an experienced, accomplished spy with a finely honed and necessary sense of paranoia. Of course he should be suspicious. Her brother is an SSS agent! Canonically, the SSS are both Twilight- and SSS self-described as Twilight's greatest existential threat. It shouldn't be a question whether or not to verify Yor's knowledge here. And yet.

We all know how the rest plays out. He decides that listening in isn't enough, he needs to confront her insofar as he's able. I wrote previously about Twilight's relationship with Anya and the pivotal moment for him in how his view of his relationship with Anya changes based on Anya's (and Endo's) choices. I think a similar thing happens in this scene with Yor.

See, it would have been enough for Yor to continue to deny, continue to not call on Yuri's help, to prove she didn't know, and to put Twilight's mind at ease.

Endo takes it further.

Y'all: THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WILD. It borders on levels of impulsive foolhardiness that Twilight should actually take as a negative for the person playing his wife for Operation Strix. Yor even alludes later to the problems this could cause!

The SSS are indiscriminate; if Yor was facing down actual SSS agents, first assaulting and then threatening them would 100000% land her in custody. Were it not for Yuri, it may even get her disappeared, based on how casually and frequently Yuri references having people executed. It would absolutely put the Forgers at risk, in general and in the implicitly sexist Ostanian society, because if Mrs Forger behaves this way, how does Mr Forger behave? And why can't he control his wife? The Secret Police are not known for their leniency, their modesty, their discerning, their temperateness, their mercy. They are known for the exact opposite of those things. And due to being a spy, Twilight probably knows they're actually much worse than even their public reputation.

And here's Yor saying: you can question me but if you threaten my brother or my husband, I will fucking end you. Bodily.

Of course, it's entirely in keeping with her character, and it's an entirely revealing moment of who she is. And I think this is the moment for Twilight. He's already been trusting her bit by bit, as he says above, intuitively. I'd suggest that maybe even more than that though, Yor taps into something Twilight deeply wants: backup. Someone and somewhere safe. Maybe we could describe a person fulfilling that role in an adult relationship as a partner...?

It's because he doubts his intuition (his wants, his feelings, things he shouldn't be countenancing) that we get to this point where he (overzealously) tests her.

She blows his test right out of the water.

The SSS are basically the group he fears most; this is reiterated throughout the story. He doesn't trust them specifically because of who he is and also just generally. He doesn't trust their judgment. He doesn't share their values or their priorities. He doesn't like them around. He doesn't like them looking. He doesn't like being anywhere near them. (Also, he's right.)

And here's Yor. Not only standing up to them on his behalf but actually going on active defence on his behalf.

(I pause here to note 'on his behalf' is a bit, mm, tricky, since it's actually technically on Loid's behalf and I have Thoughts and Feelings about Twilight & Identity. But for the sake of the impact of this moment on Twilight, we'll take it as writ that in this moment there's no appreciable difference between Twilight and Loid.)

I think from here on out, it's incredibly difficult for Twilight to ever doubt or distrust Yor. He perceives her as firmly in his corner, that if the chips are down — if his worst enemy and his worst fear come knocking — she'll be on his team, unflinchingly. He may not think there will be much she can do (heh.) or much she can offer given the power of the SSS and her civilian status (I reiterate: heh.), but it matters that he believes that she'll be by his side.

And you know what? He's right. She will be.

That isn't something he's had since he was a little boy. Even WISE doesn't seem to offer that to its agents, given Nightfall's thought here:

Twilight's had to rely on himself for decades and now here's this astonishing woman who will threaten the Secret Police for his sake. Of course he trusts Yor. Of course this moment widens the cracks in his barriers. And further: of course those cracks start to reach into those walls deep, deep inside that protect his heart. This is all before getting to other moments, like when he reflects on how Yor is creating a better world in ways he (thinks he) can never aspire to do himself. That she loves Anya openly, freely, with such dedication, to the point of sacrificing her own needs. That she just never gives up, she persists and persists and persists, always doing her best. That she reminds him it's okay to accept peace and to rest. That she wants and tries to take care of him... On and on and on.

Of course we get to this point:

I'm particularly taken with his body language a little later in the scene. He manages to get himself to sitting but he's still sprawled, open, even as he can't wrap his mind around what exactly is happening or why, and he's feeling vulnerable for all that. But at the same time, this is Yor. And she's safe.

In my view, if the Mole Arc hadn't happened immediately between this moment and the earlier where Yor declares herself unhappy, it would have been clearer how much stress he felt specifically due to Yor's apparent sudden unhappiness with their arrangement. The stress got subsumed (conveniently, ahem, Endo) into the stress and violence of the Mole Arc, but I think it rattled him pretty profoundly. It's also additionally why her warm greeting hit him as hard as it did: relief across multiple lines, such that he had to remind himself not to relax, despite Yor's apparent return to normal.

And there may be added layers to Twilight's reactions to Yor's bad moods due to his familial history, as pointed out by @unhappy-sometimes in this post; the inverse, of course, is that Yor's general good-naturedness would add layers to Twilight's sense of security with her. And the apparent loss of that, all the more devastating.

Rounding out the original moment though, I think this in many ways demonstrates the point:

Twilight throws away the bug. That is also wild. It isn't like that bug could only be used on Yor; it wasn't somehow modified to only respond to her person. It was a device that could be used and reused on different targets, on people who actually are worthy of being bugged, etc. But instead of pocketing it for later use, Twilight throws it away.

Actually: he not only throws it away, he crushes it first. Perhaps because he couldn't stand to have that particular device around, the device he used when he doubted Yor?

Seems kind of irrational, Twilight.

Seems kind of telling.

I mentioned my last Twilight meta about his relationship with Anya: in that, I suggest Twilight recognised entering into a compact with Anya, which subtly modifies, for him, the motivations around Strix. I think something like that happens here, too. If Yor is willing to go to such apparent extremes to protect him, he'll do his utmost to protect her.

I've had this meta in my drafts for a while, but I'm chuffed by this panel from the most recent chapter, as it kind of underscores all this by Yor's positioning of herself:

(Of course the point is there isn't a dichotomy: they'll protect each other, as indicated by Yor's if I had to choose: she won't have to choose.)

Back to Twilight, at this point, he can still justify all this as being within mission parameters. Of course he should protect Yor: she is an innocent civilian and if anything happens to her it would threaten Strix. But if/when this line is tested, if/when there comes a point where protecting Yor is actually the option that may put Strix at risk or put him somehow in opposition to WISE, then we'll see.

And more importantly, Twilight will see, too.

[weltraum-vaquero]

Swan song

Professor Viktor x TA Reader

[PART 1]｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆[PART 2] ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[PART 3]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[AO3 link] ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

Summary: You’re a bright phD student who won’t shy away from a challenge. Getting the most notorious professor at the University of Piltover to hire you as his assistant is one of them.

Tags: Modern AU, SFW (for now…), DILF professor Viktor, who delights in being a bit of a dick, and becomes even more mean on bad pain days, and who is constantly insufferably rightfully smug, Smart & competent reader being reduced to a wolf with heart eyes going AWOOOGA when they lay eyes on Viktor.

Word count: 7.8k

Notice: This fic is written with a transmasculine reader in mind, but that won’t come into play at all until the final third chapter of this mini-series.

Notes: 1. Shoutout to my beloved buddies for helping me with this fic, AND the banner. You guys know who you are. 2. I hope you enjoy this very self indulgent piece about my take on Viktor as a professor in a modern AU. Keep in mind that this work is entirely spoiler free. Although it will be posted over the upcoming three weeks as arcane season two drops, I had no information about any of the leaks whatsoever as I wrote this, and did my utmost to avoid them. This iteration of Viktor was written with his season one character traits as a base in mind. 3. The science Viktor and reader talk about in depth in this fic is entirely made up and definitely falls apart under scrutiny. Don’t look too hard. Yes, I made up an entire hextech based scientific field specifically so I could carnally have this old man.

You know exactly what to expect from someone like Professor Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda. 

You’ve done your homework on the man: interviewed colleagues who’d taken his lectures as undergrads (scary — but great at his job had been the general consensus), and checked his ratemyprofessor profile. Which, by the way, had been a terrific read. 

Dr Sidorov-Svoboda is a very polarizing man, it seems. Reviews were either raving about his cogency, or saying they’d drive to his lecture without wearing a seatbelt in the hopes that death would take them before Sidorov did. There seemed to be no in-between, other than one review calling him a total DILF and rating him five out of five for that alone.

You digress. All sources had gotten across more than enough for you to understand what you were going to face once you’d step into his office: brilliant, tenured, independent, a no-nonsense attitude, and with a spotless track record of turning down TAs. 

Which you’re here to change — the last part, that is.

It’s not exactly a guilt-free affair. Dr Heimerdinger — the dean himself — had personally reached out to you, and requested you try to convince Sidorov-Svoboda to accept you as his TA. Should you succeed, you would be offered a generous wage.

That, along with the fact that Sidorov’s name is going to pretty up your CV something fierce if you somehow land this job, is reason enough to make you at the very least give it a go.

With a fortifying breath, you rap your knuckles on the oakwood of his office door.

“Yes?” A heavy accent makes itself known on the y.

You wait to see if he’ll open — five seconds pass — he doesn’t. 

Rude.

You take that as your cue to push the door open yourself.

Nothing could have prepared you for the man whose cat-like eyes pierce you from above rectangular silver reading glasses. He hadn’t even bothered lifting his head from what he’d been reading through; and when he finally does grant you the gift of being looked at, wholly, it feels the same way as having a painting stare back at you. In the back of your mind, you swear you can hear the horns of an orchestra blaring into a crescendo.

His gaze pierces you, in a way that borders on literal. It’s undressing — less erotic, and more terrifying, as a consequence of nakedness, of being read. Professor Sidorov-Svoboda looks at you with a kind of disinterest that screams I have you figured out, and it’s punching your heart down into your stomach in a lovely, terrible way.

The lines of his face are lovingly crafted. Dark shadows under hollow cheeks, golden eyes under strong brows, there’s something intrinsically statuesque about his face. You’d expect to look at something akin to Sidorov-Svoboda in a museum, carved in marble, not in one of the dusty offices at your university.

He cocks his head, exposing a long, swan-like neck dotted with beauty marks, as he waits for you to regain your wits. Which you do, before any of this crosses the threshold between awkward and downright embarrassing.

“Hello, doctor,” you finally manage. “My name is (y/n) (l/n), theoretical arcanism department, phD student. I was… hoping we could discuss a position as your TA.”

He cocks a brow, thoroughly unimpressed, before he slides his glasses off his face. He even takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee, deliberately slow in swallowing it, before he finally speaks.

“I believe you should already be familiar with the fact that I do not take assistants.” Sidorov leans forward in his chair a fraction, still poring over his book, and there is a marked pop in one of his joints that sounds nothing short of painful. He seems hardly bothered by it. 

“I am,” you reply. “Which is why I am here in the hopes of changing your mind.”

That finally makes him look at you properly again. It’s a delight. You wish you could savor it, instead of desperately trying to keep your wits about you.

“And why would you want to do that?”

The answer to that question has changed substantially since you’d first stepped foot into his office.

But you’re fortunately not stupid enough to tell him that.

“Your name is worth gold in the community, doctor. I would like it on my resume.”

He picks up his pen, squinting as he scribbles something in his book, before he hums with disinterest.

“Mm. I heard doctor Pididdly takes more kindly to flattery.” He brushes a grey strand of hair from his face, clicking his pen as he simply lets you stew in your own embarrassment and focuses on whatever he’s reading. When he speaks again, he does not award you the honor of feigning the smallest hint of interest. “And you can send doctor Heimerdinger my regards. Let him know I am still not looking for an assistant.”

He has you figured out, and it’s making you feel dumber than any advanced class has ever had the honor of doing.

“The dean? I haven’t spoken to him since—“

“Since last year, when you took his theoretical arcane force fields class? Or was it since he explicitly asked you to come to my office with this proposition?”

You’re not the only one who’s done their research on the other. Though it’s painfully clear that he was much more thorough in his pursuit.

“I’m… sorry.”

“For wasting both our time? You should be.” He does dignify you with one glance, and even sets his pen down, as he bids you goodbye.

—

You’re fortunately not a sore loser. The money and resume addition would have been nice, yes, but you suppose they still would not have made up for working with someone as sharp and cutting as Svoboda.

You’ll gladly take the loss. And you are.

He’s long gone from the front of your mind, though something about him — his gaze, his face, his voice — lingers and shrouds the back of your brain with a tempting distraction from your thesis.

The last thing you expect as you’re burning your retinas staring at the blue light of your laptop screen leafing through the countless open tabs on your laptop is a notification. It startles you out of your skin, the red dot next to the university portal app’s icon. 

Still, more curious than nervous about who could be messaging you at 11pm on a Saturday, you click.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svboda

Good evening. Please come see me in my office on Monday. I would like to discuss the arrangements of your future employment as my assistant. Let me know what time would work best for you, within the limitations of my office hours.

11:32

…What?

You wonder what swayed his mind in your ultimate favor after you’d embarrassed yourself quite so thoroughly this week. But you're not about to complain — you more than certainly need the money, and his name on your resume.

Whatever turned the odds in your favor, you’re ever-grateful. And as much as you hate to admit it, you do double-check the message to make sure it’s actually real.

Me

Thank you for this opportunity, professor. I’m looking forward to working as your assistant, as well as broadening my knowledge and skills. Would 1 PM work for you?

11:34

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svboda

Yes. That should be fine.

11:34

You think you should leave it at that. You know you should. But… you’re curious. You really hope this doesn’t cost you the job offer you’ve just received.

Me

May I ask what swayed your decision?

11:37

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svboda

You may not. Good night.

11:37

So much for that.

—

You knock, but this time you don’t wait after being greeted with a yes? from behind his imposing office door.

“Hello, Professor Sidorov-Svoboda.”

You’re greeted with the distinctive smell of chicken stock and vegetables wafting from his office as you step in — a sore reminder of the fact that you’ve yet to procure lunch. Whatever he’s been eating, it smells tremendous.

His thermos squeaks as he screws it shut and sets it on the corner of his desk, gesturing for you to have a seat.

“Hello.” The faux velvet seat creaks awkwardly below you. “Thank you for your punctuality. I won’t take up too much of your time — we’ll discuss any questions you might have in further detail, but, to, eh… save us time, I’ve compiled a list of your responsibilities, and some personal preferences regarding grading papers I expect you to take into consideration when you do so.”

As he explains, you take a moment to take in his office. You certainly hadn’t gotten to it last time.

It’s mainly tidy, save for his large desk, which is littered with papers, a sudoku magazine, a disposable coffee cup from the campus cafe (though the cup is tall, roughly fit for a latte, if you had to guess… hm) and his dark blue, slightly beat-up thermos. Upon closer inspection, there’s a sticker on the cap.

It’s a small thing, worn like the rest of it, but the colours are unmistakable. Baby blue, pink, white — five stripes. 

As a million questions and half a million answers start flashing through your head, the rustle of paper snaps you out of your thoughts. 

There’s something analytical and vaguely, barely amused about how he looks at you when he slides the list across the table to you.

Contrary to what you expect, it’s not long. His main demand is grading papers, which isn’t your preferred kind of labor, but labor you will chew through, no less. 

“I expect fairness when you grade,” he clarifies. “Contrary to what some students like to say, I grade papers with utmost integrity. I am not lenient, yes, but I am not absurd, either. You will find further guidelines on how to strike that, eh… balance yourself on the list I’ve made. And don’t hesitate to ask, should any uncertainties arise when you grade.”

“Fortunately, it’s applied arcanism,” you reply. “Not much room for… uncertainties, I’d expect.”

“You would be surprised.”

Viktor gives a knowing smile. Something about the placement of his mole right above the corner of his mouth, where his chapped, pale lips thin out, has your vision tunneling. You damn near startle when he starts talking again — good god, you need to get your act together.

“I will direct students’ questions to you, from now on. Should you not have an answer, you are welcome to contact me — but keep it to a minimum. Especially since applied arcanism is, as you seem to think, such an easy topic. As for lectures, you may attend, but it isn’t something I’ll be expecting from you. You teaching said lectures does not come into question. I have standards — high ones. If anyone is to take over, it will be someone whom I am certain is qualified for the job, not a phD student.”

“I am still prepared to,” you say. “Should the opportunity… present itself.”

“It most likely won’t.” With that, he straightens his back out in his seat, cracking the knuckle of his right thumb as he leans back in thought, going over his mental list. “Do you have any questions for me?” 

His little smirk is magnetic, crows feet near his eyes creasing ever so slightly deeper as the corners of his lips rise. One of his dark brows lifts gently in a display of smugness that leaves you braindead enough to nearly miss the entirety of his next sentence. “Other than the one from Saturday night?”

Oh, damn him. Damn him.

And, as a matter of fact, you have about ten more. But none of them are even close to appropriate to ask — not now, or ever.

“No,” you lie. It somehow feels like he can see right through it.

“Very well. Thank you for your time.”

You thank him too. You’re not sure what for — his sudden generosity to offer you this position, or simply for the fact that he looked so pretty while he talked.

—

You, by now, know what optional really means in academia. Above all else, it’s meant to be an abstract line that separates two distinct groups: those who put in the extra effort, and slackers.

You don’t want Sidorov-Svoboda to know you as the latter.

Which is why you get a hold of his lecture schedule from Heimerdinger on the very same Monday afternoon, and plan on attending every single one of them that doesn’t overlap with something else in your schedule. Until he either outright tells you to stop, or until your contract as his assistant ends.

Much to your surprise, most of his lectures, save for Wednesdays and one on Fridays, do fit into your schedule as well.

On Tuesday, you are thirty minutes early waiting outside his office door.

And, as much as it shouldn’t be, it is a little funny how he startles when he groggily wobbles out of his office, keys in hand, and a cane in the other.

It’s a gorgeously designed thing; so much so it has you (stupidly) guessing it’s strictly in use for aesthetics the moment you first see it. It’s made of sturdy wood, with a dark finish and golden details down the length of it. The wood on the handle has gone light and matte with use.

But judging by how he leans on it as he numbly turns to lock the door of his office behind himself while he greets you leads to a different conclusion. And the stagger in his stride as he approaches you only confirms that he does, in fact, need it.

“Good morning, doctor Si—“

He raises his free hand slowly, like it’s heavy with fatigue. It’s enough to shut you up.

“Viktor,” he says. “Please. Just call me Viktor, from now on.” He pauses, looking you up and down with a fatigued sort of near-jealousy, before he shakes his head. “Why… are you here at seven thirty in the morning?”

“I want to attend your lectures.”

He sighs.

“And you picked the one at this hour?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” You can’t quite tell if he’s displeased or if he’s just really tired.

“Rough morning?” You ask.

“Aren’t they all…” 

It certainly isn’t your intention to let it become a habit — you’re his assistant, not his secretary, but you’ve learned that sucking up does get you forward in academia more often than not, so you offer: “Would you like me to get you some coffee?”

“I am getting myself coffee.” He attempts to stifle a yawn, but does not succeed. “But I would like you to accompany me.”

Your heart flutters. You tell yourself it’s because you’re getting coffee with one of the fathers of applied arcanism.

—

“A french vanilla latte, please. Under the name “A french vanilla latte, please. Under the name Viktor.”

Before you get to mentally clap yourself on the back and imagine a round of applause for your keen eye, you have to focus on not making a fool of yourself when you say your own order. The professor thankfully takes mercy on you, and leaves to take a seat at one of the tables — though probably for his own sake, rather than to spare you any embarrassment.

You decide the polite thing would be to keep him company as you wait for your orders. Reluctantly, you approach the table he’s picked, and, after a moment’s hesitation, pull out a chair for yourself.

“Professor Heimerdinger spoke quite highly of you.” 

It startles you, the sound of his voice interrupting the lull of the clanking of dishes and hissing of steam and hum of the espresso machines.

“Oh. I appreciate that he did.” 

“Hm.” For how blasé he’d acted until this very moment, it seems like you’ve said something that’s piqued his interest utterly. He hunches forward a hint, entwining his long, bony fingers over the top of the cane between his thin thighs. “You don’t seem very surprised.”

Uh oh.

“I’m sorry if it seemed that way, really, it’s not that I’m not flattered, professor—“

“Viktor,” he interrupts. “And you needn’t be. I do not care for, ah… false humility.”

Oh?

“False humility?” You question. 

“A mark of someone either too self-conscious to accept a well deserved compliment, or desperate for one.” He pauses, looking for… something in your expression. You can’t tell if he finds it, but you know his gaze feels cold, like being prodded at with a nitrile glove. “I prefer working with people who are capable of appreciating their own effort. It’s good to know you are one of them.”

There’s warmth that seeps through the metaphorical glove, sterile as it is. It feels good to be acknowledged by the likes of him, who’d been so ruthless to figuratively knock your feet out from below you just days ago. He must have done his research on you, must have asked around, read around, figured out — just like you had done to him.

Curiosity eats at you.

“Well… what else do you know, pr— Viktor?”

His eyes rest on you like you’re a particularly tricky equation. One he knows will yield a pretty result. Being looked at by him is electric, like squeezing an unstabilized hexgem in your fist so the current courses through you, tingling. 

“Don’t get cocky.” He smiles, he actually smiles, and it frays the space-time continuum just how much it youthens him. Salt and pepper hair and crow’s feet and frown lines be damned; as you watch the tip of his snaggle canine poke out from beneath his top lip, it becomes evidently clear that you are standing face to face with the man who stole illegal equipment to prove a point, the man who worked with highly explosive material for years to birth the very foundation of his scientific domain. “It is most certainly a good look on you, but it won’t bring you too far. You can ask Doctor Talis, I believe he should have a doctorate in arrogance by now.”

Is he…?

“French vanilla latte for Viktor!”

—

Listening to him teach might as well count as hypnosis. 

When Viktor steps into the room, silence ensues gently, gradually. He’s not feared by any means, but he is respected. By the time he reaches the teacher’s desk and pulls out the chair from under it, the class has gone fully silent.

He sets it by the blackboard, then, slowly, bracing himself on both his cane and the backrest of it, takes a seat.

“Good morning.” He positions his cane between his thighs, clearing his throat with… perhaps almost a hint of awkwardness. “Alright. Before we begin today’s lecture, there has been a small change that everyone should be made aware of. This is my new assistant, (y/n) (l/n), and they will be joining us today. You will be addressing all questions you encounter outside of my lectures to them, from now on.”

Whispers spread across the amphitheater like wildfire.

“Now,” just like that, when his voice sounds out again, most of the chatter dies out, “today we’ll be discussing Holloran’s equation, and its applications in arcanistic techmaturgy.”

It’s magical, the command he has over the room. Viktor is a meager man, especially with the backdrop of such an imposing room. The high ceiling dwarfs him, and yet, there doesn’t seem to be a single atom in the room that doesn’t move the way he wants it to.

You’d known Viktor to be an eloquent man — you’d experienced it at your own detriment — but this beats your expectations. His explanations are enticing, he uses his words like breadcrumbs, leaves them tactfully, just enough to guide you to the conclusions he wants you to draw.

You’d never found so much satisfaction in simply listening. In spite of knowing full well the intricacies of what he is discussing, you let his voice envelop you, you follow him where he takes you.

“Now that we’ve established how Holloran’s equation exponentially heightens the energy output of Hexcrystals without disrupting the LHC — the laminal hexeon cascade — as I’m sure some of you may be wondering, how do the basic principles play into it? Any guesses?”

The class falls silent. You would give anything to be among the students right now, raising your hand to enounce the right answer. To have him looking at you like you’re bright.

You await with bated breath to see who in the crowd of focused frowns and scribbling pencils will dare speak first.

“Wouldn’t the caveat be that Talis’ fourth principle states that 30% of the energy output is converted into heat?” A young woman in the audience attempts. “Holloran’s equation operates based on the notion that the crystal is at a constant temperature.”

“Precisely. Very good,” Viktor praises. Excited, he turns to the blackboard. “Right here…” he underlines the equation, “is where Morichi’s constant comes into play…”

But you’ve long lost him.

The words twist in your head, turning into something sultry and intimate.

Precisely.

Very good.

Right here.

You find yourself staring at the groove of his pale neck, where it swoops into the line of his shoulder, hidden beneath the collar of a dress shirt and a brown wool vest.

You wonder what it’d smell like, to tuck your face in there. To have the pulse of his neck thrumming on your lips, to mouth at the mole on his jaw when he tilts his head for you, willing. 

You wonder how many more are below the collar of his shirt. Dotted line on a treasure map, to guide your touch, your kiss, your tongue. Use them where he needs them, use them where his skin begs you to. Use them until his tired spine bows, use them until tattered joins are oiled with pleasure—

What is wrong with you? 

—

Viktor disappears after his lecture. You hope he’d grace you with another conversation, another smile, something, but he is gone surprisingly fast. He bids you goodbye once his lecture is over, telling you he has matters to attend to, and that is that.

Overall, it’s an uneventful day otherwise. A few students end up messaging you, most with questions on what Viktor had taught that day. Others nitpicking what would and would not be a part of the upcoming midterm (whom you simply dryly referred to the syllabus). Two people, however, did message you to ask you how you’d landed the job.

You’d ignored them.

On Wednesday, you see none of him. You drop by his office after class, but there is no response to your knock, and the door is locked. He must have gone home.

On Thursday, you wait for him outside his office thirty minutes early for his 3PM lecture, but he doesn’t show. So you decide to go straight to the amphitheater, and do find him there.

He looks worn. No less graceful than the last time you’d seen him, but his cane has been ditched in the favor of a crutch that’s tucked under his arm. The creases in his checkered dress shirt and face seem deeper now, the pale indigo under his eyes is richer, darker.

He gives you nothing more than a curt greeting before class commences.

And yet, he never blunders. Never loses himself, his diction is as concise as the day you’d first met him, carrying himself with the grace of a swan as he talks and his chalk glides over the board. But his numbers slant, the loops on his letters are looser, the rows on the blackboard curve downwards to the right; just barely at first, but as the lecture advances, it becomes more obvious.

He cuts the class shorter by fifteen minutes. 

The students know better than to linger. Nobody comes to address any questions, and they leave the room surprisingly quick.

Once the amphitheater is empty enough that even the thump of his crutch reverberates on the wooden floor as he makes his way to the desk, you finally dare speak.

“Is… everything alright?” 

“Don’t start,” he cuts back, resting his crutch against the desk before bracing himself with both hands on the flat surface. He sighs, and does a futile attempt of relieving some of the tension in his spine by rolling his shoulders.

His joints crack, and you can see his sharp shoulder blades moving under his shirt, wings on a flightless bird.

And you’re not sure what to say.

“Sorry,” he finally adds, the harshness of his reply catching up to him. “Not… a good day.”

“Got off on the wrong side of the bed?” You attempt weakly, and, much to your utter surprise, he does actually smile.

“Mm. That might explain the past two decades or so.” He does finally look at you from below droopy eyelids, and though there’s not a doubt about him being tired still, there is more gentleness to it. As though woken out of a dream. He takes pity on the confused look on your face, and adds: “My bed is in a corner.”

Ah. 

“Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can get you?”

“A new spine,” he jokes, hunching forward to crack his back, before he does his best to stand up straight once more. When he speaks again, his playful lilt is sorely missing. “Why are you here?”

“I want to attend your lectures — as many of them as I can, at least.”

Viktor shakes his head, mutters something both a little desperate and a little bitter in a foreign tongue. 

“You don’t need to do that. From now on, you can simply tell Cecil you were here. And I will confirm it, should he ask. But I do not need… a babysitter. I’m sure you have better things to do as well.”

What? Why would he think that?

“I…” you falter, “Heimerdinger didn’t put me up to this.”

He scoffs, not particularly at you, but it’s surprisingly hurtful nonetheless.

“I thought we had moved past the stage where you felt the need to lie.” He sighs. “I know he worries. There is nothing to worry about. In the unlikely event he does find out you haven’t been following me around as he asked, I will take full responsibility.”

That alone makes you worry. Had Heimerdinger neglected to tell you the full picture? What was there that warranted the dean himself worrying?

”I came to your lectures because I wanted to see you teach.” The last word is more of a lie than anything you’ve said thus far. “I admire your cogency. I want to absorb as much of it as I can.”

Viktor looks thoroughly unimpressed. “We also discussed how I feel about flattery, did we not?”

“It’s not flattery,” you argue. “I came here of my own volition because I think that there’s a lot I can learn from you, professor. Now, if you don’t want me here, you can simply give me the word, and I will act accordingly.”

He mulls it over for a long second while he shuts his leather briefcase. 

“Perhaps that would be best,” he finally decides. “For now, continue with your assigned duties. I will let you know if there is anything else I need from you.”

He practically scans you for a reaction, lays you out paper-thin on a glass slide, and slides you under his most potent microscope lens.

You don’t know if he finds what he’s looking for, because he doesn’t look long. He slings the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder, and turns toward the exit with renewed, but undoubtedly spiteful vigor.

“Have a good day.”

“You too, professor.”

—

“Oh, if it isn’t one of my favorite phD students!” 

The dean’s mustache curls almost comically with the over-the-top, but somehow still sincere smile he gives you.

“Hello, doctor Heimerdinger,” you greet, letting the smell of laquered wood and floors wash over you as you step into the pristine, impressive office. As opposed to Viktor's, the ceiling is higher, the windows bigger, and there are only sterile messes to be found in the room. A stack of books that is not as neat as the rest, a cactus that doesn’t look all too swell on the windowsill, and documents that are scattered over his workspace in a way that’s still neat.

“What can I do for you? I hope the first week of your collaboration with doctor Sidorov-Svoboda has gone smoothly.”

“That… is actually why I’m here.” You clear your throat awkwardly, and take a seat on the plush chair that faces his desk. Whatever it’s stuffed with, it’s comfortable, it has you sinking.

“I see. I know he can be… a tad, well, peppery at times,” Heimerdinger giggles at his own choice of words. “Give him some time. Once the two of you manage to find some common ground, I can assure you he is wonderful company, and an incredibly bright mind.”

“I don’t doubt any of those things.” You start kneading your hands in your lap, digging for the right words. God, social chess was never your forte. “I’m actually here because there has been a bit of a misunderstanding between the two of us that I was hoping you could clear up.”

“Oh.” His smile drops. “I’m listening.”

“You see, when… well, when I attended his lecture today — the second one I’ve attended — he seemed… very displeased with my presence.”

“Ah…” Heimerdinger falls silent for a long moment, gears turning in his bald head. “That… well,” he laughs awkwardly, “I’m afraid that might have been because he might wrongly assume I told you to do so.”

You nod curtly. “I know. He told me as much.”

“I apologize for the misunderstanding. I will try speaking to him, but—“

“Actually, doctor, that isn’t why I came to you,” you cut in, “he told me more than just that. He said you’d put me up to this because you were… worried about him.”

At that, the smile on Heimerdinger’s face is entirely gone.

“Naturally, that also got me… quite worried. I came to you because I wanted to know the full picture of this… arrangement I’ve gotten into.”

“I see,” Heimerdinger sinks in his seat, folding his hands in front of his blond mustache as he picks his words carefully. “Well, since you have been made aware of this fact, I suppose there is no harm in admitting that I do, in fact, worry about Viktor. Him and I have history, so to speak. I’ve known him for many years, and, though he has remained the same bold, ambitious young man within, I sometimes fear old age may be catching up to him. But! That is not something you need to concern yourself with. The sole purpose of hiring you was to create a mutually beneficial arrangement. Your resume will certainly benefit from his name, and as for him, I wanted to simply… lighten his workload. But that is all I expect of you.”

“I understand.” And you do, to some degree — but Heimerdinger’s whole speech has done nothing but raise more questions than provide any real answers.

“Would you still like me to speak to him on this matter?” He asks.

“No.” With renewed courage and curiosity, you rise from the comfortable chair. “Thank you, professor. For this, and for putting in a good word for me with professor Sidorov-Svoboda.”

“Of course,” he smiles — genuinely, this time. “Though it might sound quite absurd to you now, considering the current circumstances… the two of you are more alike than you may believe.”

You’re not sure what to make of that, either. So you just smile back.

—

On Friday night, as you’re poring over your thesis with a warm mug of tea as a panacea for your racing thoughts and lack of inspiration, you receive an email.

Apologies

From: v.sidorovsvoboda@uofp.edu

To: me

Good evening.

I wanted to formally apologize for what happened on Wednesday. Accusing you of something you hadn’t done was unjustified and unprofessional of me. You are always welcome to my lectures, should you still wish to attend. 

I was also hoping to speak to you in person on Monday. Would 1 PM still work for you? Let me know.

Thank you.

VSS

It comes as a surprise, to have someone in his position apologize so… willingly. You wonder if Heimerdinger had talked to him after all, and if so, what he might have said to turn the odds so terribly in your favor. Again.

You write a fast reply: you thank him too, above all else. You consider saying you hadn’t expected and apology, but you fear that might come off wrong, so you ultimately ditch that part.

And you tell him yes. 1 PM would work for you.

—

You attend his 10AM lecture on Monday, but this time, you don’t wait for him at his office. Though eager and enthusiastic, you fear your initial approach of waiting for him thirty minutes early might have been too stifling.

So you wait outside the lecture hall. He shows up ten minutes early, crutch under one arm, coffee in his other.

There is just a hint of foam on his upper lip, where grey-brown stubble shows. He licks the milk away before he even sees you, and you’re thankful for it — being caught staring at the pink of his smart tongue darting over the curve of his top lip considering the current circumstances would not have been a good look.

“Good morning,” he greets. Though he’s still using the crutch, he seems to be in an improved mood as opposed to the last time you saw him. “I must admit… I did not expect you here already.”

“If you’ll have me, I want to come,” you say. 

Something about that catches him off-guard, the swell of his Adam's apple bobs and his eyes widen just a hint. But he’s fast, always is, and he straightens up and clears his throat before you get to analyze him the way you wish you could.

“Ahem. Well. I’m happy to hear that.” He gestures to the door as if he’d almost forgotten he was holding a coffee, because it sloshes just a hint too loud. Fortunately, there are no victims to the small droplet that spills from the plastic cover. Viktor frowns, most likely with frustration at himself, before he turns to you. “Alright. After you.”

You step into the lecture hall first, per his request. The room begins to quiet when the students see you, but as you turn around to hold the door open to him, it gets worse.

You do not care for the curious, gossip-hungry glances that rest on you.

—

“I appreciate your openness regarding the discussion of this matter,” Viktor begins, shutting his office door behind himself. “Coffee?”

He dips his hand behind an old but trusty looking coffee machine that sits on the table next to the door. You hadn’t noticed it the first time you were here.

The hint of a frown as his fingers roam the space between the back of the machine and the wall is doing… something to you.

“Yes, please.”

“I must warn you,” his voice lilts again in that pleasant, playful way, like a cat twirling figure eights between one’s legs, “it is significantly less… fun than the ones at the cafe. I only have sugar.”

He finds the switch on its back, finally, and there’s a little pop as he flips it, before he retreats his hand.

“Works for me,” you assure. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Mainly, I wanted to eh… extend my apologies to you in person.” His glasses ride further up his nose as he pinches the bridge of it, rolling his shoulders, as if to draw courage. “And to put my… reaction into some context, should you be willing to hear it.”

You hope it’s not outwardly visible that your heart starts vibrating. 

He has been on your mind much more than you would like to admit, tangled in questions, in guesses. You unfortunately have the mark of a true scientist — nothing scratches an itch in your soul quite like having your questions answered.

“I would.”

Viktor retrieves a stack of single-use cardboard cups from one of his drawers, sliding out two, which he positions under the coffee machine. He presses the same button twice, then gestures to the chair that faces his desk.

“Have a seat.”

You do.

He lingers beside the coffee machine, resting the backs of his thighs against the edge of the table it’s on as he starts to think.

Just now, it strikes you that maybe social chess isn’t always his forte, either.

“People tend to… underestimate me,” he begins. The coffee machine whirrs, clicks, whirrs again — and then coffee starts to trickle. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his slacks in what attempts to be dejection, but clearly isn’t. “And while that is an advantage in a competitive environment, it’s not something I appreciate coming from my colleagues.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I know that. Now.” He clears his throat, then, with a show of surprising dexterity, slides his hand from his pocket and grabs both cups with one hand — one tucked between his index and middle finger, the other tucked between his middle and ring finger. You reach out to offer your help, but he sets down both cups on his desk, then hobbles around it, and finally takes his rightful seat on the opposing side. “I unfortunately can’t say the same for Cecil. He does try, and more often than not, he is tactful about these matters, but there is the occasional… slip-up. I try to understand; him and I… have history, as he likes to say.”

You would love to know the exact implications of said history. From what you’d heard, there was the consensus that Viktor had been something of a protege to Heimerdinger, twenty or so years ago, before he’d made it big and co-created the field of applied arcanism. 

“I’ve taken up some new responsibilities lately,” Viktor adds, “and Cecil, though worried as ever, has… overstepped some boundaries of mine. You were caught in the crossfire of that, which is hardly fair to you. I’m sorry.”

“Was he the one who convinced you to hire me?”

Viktor shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Eeeh… partially.” 

“I think I understand your issue with his… overstepping. To some degree.” You take the cardboard cup, blowing the steam away, before you take a sip. “I would also have preferred to be hired by you because you wanted it, not because you'd been talked into it, but… well, I’m glad it ultimately still happened, I suppose.”

“Rest assured that the decision was still mine alone,” Viktor replies. Smart eyes watch you over the rim of the cup as he takes a sip himself.

Silence settles. A telltale sign you should get going — but you don’t want to.

“You mentioned some extra responsibilities,” you attempt. He’d shut down your curiosity before, but you’ll be damned if that’s going to deter you from trying again. “Within the university, or… personal?”

“Within the university.” Viktor sets the cup down, sharp joints jutting out as he intertwines his fingers around the circumference of it, hands resting on the table. There is a mole on his left ring finger, right under the knucklebone. “I have been trying my hand at independent research.”

You only notice the fact that you’d leaned in closer with interest when a tiny smug smile ghosts over his face. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that is just about all I should be telling you.”

Oh, come on.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

His brows raise with surprise, and for the very first time since you’d known him, Viktor seems genuinely stumped.

“Your… research,” you clarify. “And I could show you what I have for my thesis so far.”

“Oh. Alright, I will, eh… bite.” Taking his paper cup with him, Viktor leans back in his seat, and watches you like a cat watches birds. Not necessarily on the prowl — but with great interest. “Tell me.”

“Me first?”

“You suggested it,” he smirks. “It seems only fair, does it not?”

Uncertainty halts you. You have to wonder if Viktor Sidorov-Sviboda is the kind of man that would steal an idea.

You’ve heard he’d gotten the short end of the stick in his partnership with Jayce Talis — though he’d contributed greatly, his name was sorely amiss from all the terms, laws, anything Talis had coined in their domain.

He must know what it’s like to be cheated out of well-deserved credit.

You suppose he wouldn’t propagate the cycle — but in the off case he does, you have a handful of professors who could vouch for your idea being yours, on account of having vaguely, barely, helped with your thesis. None had been too keen on such a touchy subject as the one you were breaching, and were resistant to offering their opinion.

You hope Viktor won’t fall into that same category.

Part of you already knows he doesn’t.

“Alright.” Though you’re not exactly excited to have your own strategy used against you, you can only hope he’ll hold up his end of the bargain. “My thesis is on the hexionic model. Within and outside the context of a matrix.”

Viktor scoffs with amusement, rather than plain mockery. But there is a taste of it in there, somewhere, in the curve of his lip. “You theorists and your hexionic models. Any attempt at a new hypothesis is no less flawed than the last.”

And it’s thrilling. To be challenged, instead of praised, or dismissed. It makes something in you catch fire, every word itches behind your teeth, like you need to tell him.

“That’s exactly why I’m proposing an entirely different hexion model in my paper.“

His pupils widen so much his eyes go dark. Like a cat about to pounce. 

“Oh? Tell me.”

“If we accept that the very core of a hexion’s energy release is based on entropy, on the desire for disarray, and we apply that to a hexion’s very structure… I believe there’s something to be made of the whole mess we are currently facing.”

Viktor had been holding his breath. You notice, because it sounds just a tad sharper when he finally draws a reluctant inhale, and, gears in that mind of his turning fast, sharp, steady, he finds another way to refute your point. 

“Like Pididdly’s hexion model?”

“No,” you say. “Though I bet Pididdly will wish he could come up with what I have. Can I have a pen and some paper?”

You have him now. 

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Viktor tugs the drawer of his desk open so hard it thunks, digging for a scrap of paper and a pen. When you take it, holding the paper between the two of you, he leans in, too, enough for you to be able to smell his aftershave — the aquatic spice softened by flowery vanilla.

It’s intoxicating enough to have the storm of ideas in your mind going quiet, buzzing. You manage to untangle them before you make a fool of yourself.

“My model is proposing disordered order, so to speak. The hexion is split up into different parts as Torek suggested in his hypothesis. But I think she was too small minded in her approach. For my model, I use the concept of something I’m calling areals. Different areals for different component particles. I believe particles will never be in a fixed, certain place.” You draw the centrion — though hypothetically an ochtahemiocyahedron — as a sphere for simplicity’s sake, surrounded by three vaguely defined layers. Viktor rests both elbows on his desk, sharp chin on intertwined fingers, watching with a tilt of his head. Your mouth’s gone dry. “These areals are… spaces where, if you were to look, at any given moment, the likelihood of you finding a specific hexion particle in its assigned areal is high — but never 100%. They are constantly moving, oscillating, vibrating —  within their areal. Like I said: disordered order. And this theory also holds up in the context of matrices — for the most part. There are some kinks I need to iron out, but… this is the gist of it.”

At that, he lights up. 

“Extraordinary,” Viktor mutters. It’s music to your ears, rolls down your spine in a wave of dopamine, tingles all over. He taps his finger to the schematic  diagram, then stares into your eyes so thoroughly you wonder if he can see into the depths of your amygdala. There is maybe a palm’s length between your faces, a gap you itch to breach. He says the next thing like a solemn secret. “This could be beyond revolutionary.”

“Thank you.”

Viktor doesn’t miss a beat when he says: “I would like to help you with your thesis. Should you require it.” 

Now that knocks your knees out from under you. You’re lucky you’re sitting.

One of the founding fathers of applied arcanism wants to read your thesis? Wants to help you?

“I…” You can’t remember to breathe, your mouth’s gone thick and cottony and swallowing is a distant dream and he is looking right at you, young and hungry and alive underneath the barely composed shell of himself. “I’d be thrilled.”

He grins, the top of his lip a mere thin line over his teeth. 

“I already am,” he lilts. You watch the way his mouth moves — the curl of his tongue against the back of his teeth as he rolls his heavy, thick r, the plush purse of them on the m.

And when you remember to look into his eyes again, you catch him red handed.

He’d been staring at your lips, too.

Startled with the reality, the puzzle-piece-click of knowing, the both of you retreat into your seats. With a shaky hand, you pick your cup back up, and take a sip from your coffee. It’s gone lukewarm.

“I’d like to ask you to print it, if possible.” His voice is bridled again, steady, certain. Normal. He tugs on another drawer, and retrieves something shiny, metallic. A key. He lays it on the table, sliding it towards you. “You can use the printer in my office, if need be.”

“I can print what I have so far this evening, and leave it for you here. Would that work for you?”

”Yes.” 

You look at the clock on his wall — it’s entirely later than it should be. You have a lab you should be getting to. 

“Could you spare some time on your lunch break tomorrow?” Viktor asks, clearly having read your mind again, somehow. “I think I should have it read through by then.”

“Absolutely, but… you don’t even know how much there is to read through.”

He smiles. “If you write with the same enthusiasm you talk, rest assured I will tear through it.”

[thesparkling-diamond27]

Dancing Through Life

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

Summary: Y/n Upperland of the Upper Uplands, cousin to Galinda Upand, doesn’t have a problem with Fiyero Tigelaar, but that doesnt’t mean that she wants him around. However, after one simple walk with the Winkie Prince, Y/n discovers that he’s not so bad after all.

A/n: hi hi! I’m back with a Fiyero one shot, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about the second Bridgerton and I. I’ve written two chapters so far over thanksgiving break and I might try to squeeze in one more chapter or at least half of one before I go back to school. I don’t really have enough time to write when I am at school, so the next time I’ll probably get back to writing during Christmas break which is in a couple weeks. Then I’ll finish the Bridgerton and I and I’m thinking about waiting to finish the Bridgerton and I completely before posting any more chapters, so the ff will probably be finished in December. I wrote this one shot because Wicked has been on my mind 24/7 and I can write whatever comes to mind, but for the Bridgerton and I have to sit down and rewatch Bridgerton episodes so that I can make sure I get all the words exactly right. I hope you guys continue to be patient as I try to finish it :).

I have recently seen the movie Wicked and plan to see 10 million more times because it is SO GOOD. Wicked is basically my whole personality at this point. I was already obsessed with Fiyero, but Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero made my obsession worse (but in a good way :)). And with this obsession comes a Jonathan Bailey Fiyero Tigelaar one shot. I hope you enjoy!! I also have a plan to write another one so stay tuned for that!

It was a beautiful day today, so after class I decided to read at my favorite spot: the bench under the oak tree. I loved it here because it was a peaceful place where I never got disturbed. Or so I thought.

I realized he was near when I heard the sound of boots stepping onto grass. It was only when his shadow blocked the words on the page that I finally looked up.

Fiyero looked down on me with curious eyes, but there was still a charming smile plastered on his face. I tried to hide how his smile affected me, but he must have noticed the change in my demeanor because his smile turned into a smirk.

I thought after my cousin Galinda introduced him to my brother and I earlier today would be the last time I saw him for the day. It appears the Winkie prince had other plans.

“Well what is Miss Upland doing under the oak tree?” He asked.

“Reading.” I held up my book for effect before I continued back to where I left off.

I saw him take a seat beside me on the bench in the corner of my eye.

“It’s Friday.” He continued.

I rolled my eyes. “I know. I can read calendars.” Fiyero chuckled at my blunt and snippy responses. He could clearly tell that I was annoyed by his presence, but he continued to talk anyway.

“It’s Friday and you are here reading under an oak tree. You should be out there having fun.” He used his hands to gesture to all the other students hanging out at the courtyard.

“This is fun to me.”

“School work is fun?”

“Well for your information this book is not for school it’s for me.”

“Well I believe you are filling your head with too many things. You’re thinking too much.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well that’s not surprising coming from a prince like you.”

“A prince like me?” Fiyero gave a feigned pained expression. “I’m hurt that you would think that way about me.”

“Well I believe that you present yourself as self-absorbed and deeply shallow, but I don’t think you are. I think you use that as a front to hide the fact that you actually care and have thoughts.”

“Excuse me there’s no pretense here. I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow.”

“Okay.” I said not believing him. I shut my book and stood from the bench. I finished the book I was reading and decided to go search for another one to read.

“Well I guess it was nice talking to you.”

I began to walk back to my room, but he blocked my path.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room to find another book.”

“Oh come on. Drop the book for once and have some fun.”

“No.”

I pushed past him and walked away without looking back. I was hoping he would leave me alone after that, but luck was not on my side today.

“Since you’re going back to your room, maybe I can save you the trouble of carrying your book all the way back.”

He grabbed the book from my hand before I could say anything.

“Hey give that back!”

I tried to grab the book back, but he raised the book above my head, so that I couldn’t reach and jumping up was no use. Fiyero was laughing at me struggling, so I sighed in defeat.

“Fine. You can help me carry my singular book up to my room.”

Fiyero was happy with my response because he was smiling from ear to ear. We were now standing nose to nose and I could feel his breath fan across my face. If I looked down I would have perfect access to his lips. Wait what was I thinking? I quickly backed away from him before I did anything stupid. Fiyero smiled down at me and said, “See now that wasn’t so hard now was it? Lead the way princess.”

I would he lying if I said I didn’t get affected by his words. Butterflies filled my stomach and I probably would have melted if I didn’t catch myself. What is wrong with me?

“Princess?”

“Yes princess. It suits you. Princess of the Upper Upperlands.” He said with a dramatic voice.

I was about to retaliate when a certain blondey came to mind.

“Shouldn’t you be calling Galinda princess?” I asked.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you two are a thing.”

Fiyero chuckled. “I just met her this morning and besides I’m like this with everyone.”

My heart sunk at his words. So he was just treating me like everyone else? But why was I so upset about it? Just a few hours ago I wanted nothing to do with him and now I was disappointed that he’s not treating me differently.

“And if I called her princess then I wouldn’t be able to call you princess. Princess.” He said with a wink.

That definitely lifted my spirits. Sweet Oz! He was making feel a roller coaster of emotions. I could tell there will never be a dull moment with him.

I gave him a small smile but I looked down on the floor to hide it from him. I didn’t want him to notice that I started to warm up to him, but he saw the slight upturn of my lips.

“Well who knew that Miss Upland could smile. It’s a miracle!”

“Oh shut up!” I said, but you could hear the grin in my voice.

“Besides reading, what do you really do for fun?” I looked up at Fiyero and could tell that he truly wanted to know my genuine answer. So it seems that my premonition about him not being self-absorbed and deeply shallow was true.

“Umm…spending time with friends, swimming. Oh there’s a lake in the Upper Upperlands that my family and I go to every summer to cool off and it has such beautiful scenery. Not to mention the nearby ice cream shop…”

I stopped after I realized that I blabbered on. “I’m sorry I sort of got carried away.”

I looked up at Fiyero, but he didn’t seem bothered at all with my tangent. He actually seemed rather interested with what I had to say.

“No continue.” He said with an encouraging smile.

“No I’d rather not.”

I know he wanted to hear more, but he didn’t push me, which I was glad for. I was a little embarrassed with my little outburst.

“Well how about you discover a new way to have fun?” Fiyero said changing the subject.

“How?”

“Come with me to the Ozdust Ballroom tonight. The most swankified place in town.”

“Aren’t we not supposed to be off campus after dark?”

“Yes, but not being allowed to leave after dark makes it more fun!”

“I’ll pass.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left her at home.”

Fiyero paused before he burst into laughter.

“My joke wasn’t that funny.” But I couldn’t help but laugh along with Fiyero.

Fiyero paused again.“Your laugh.”

I took a few moments to recompose myself before asking, “What about my laugh?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I stopped walking and choked on air.

“What?” I asked, but Fiyero ignored me.

“Which way is your room?”

I realized that we have reached the dead end which separated into two hallways.

“This way.” I said as I begin to walk to the right. I walked a little faster to make this walk shorter. I have embarrassed myself way too many times in a such a short amount of time and I just wanted to smash my pillow in my face and scream. The rest of the way was silent until we reached my door.

“Well here we are. My humble abode.” I said. “Thank you for the uh…walk.”

“It was my pleasure. I hope to see you tonight at the Ozdust ballroom Miss Upland.

“Y/n.”

Fiyero smiled at my response.

“Y/n. I hope to see you tonight.”

I opened the door and was about to walk in, but I turned around instead.

“I know you like to put on the facade that you are this Winkie prince who doesn’t have a care in the world, but you’re also human. Yes you might be self-absorbed and shallow, but that’s not all of you and you have thoughts that should be shared. If you take away your crowd of admirers you’ll be left with the real you. If you want to continue with this role in front of everyone then that’s fine…,but you don’t have to be that way with me.”

Fiyero’s expression was unreadable, but I could have sworn I saw flickers of fear and appreciation.

“Y/n…I don’t know what to say.”

His hands fell to his sides and I realized that he still had my book. I slowly inched towards his hand and pulled the book from his grasp. But before I pulled away I took his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to say anything.” I said with a smile.

He nodded and with one last squeeze I pulled away and slowly closed the door shut.

—————————

I laid in my bed, for what seemed like hours, contemplating whether I should go to the Ozdust ballroom or not. I turned to my night stand to see that it’s only been a half hour. I groaned in frustration and covered my face with my pillow. Then I heard a knock at the door. I rose from my bed and opened it to see my brother Ezra.

“You. Me. Ozdust. Tonight.” He said as he entered my room.

“You know about that too?” I said as I shut the door.

“How do you know about it?” He asked curiously.

“I was invited.” I said as I plopped onto my bed. Ezra raised an eyebrow at my words and joined me.

“You were invited?! I wasn’t even invited! Who invited you?”

“So how do you know about it?” I asked avoiding what he asked me.

“I overheard some students talking about it, but don’t avoid the question. Who invited you?”

“Fiyero.”

Ezra’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling.

“Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country? But you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him! Where did you get that impression.”

“When Galinda introduced us to him you didn’t seem to be too pleased with him.”

I thought back to the first impression I had of Fiyero when I first met him.

When he first stood in front of me I took a good look at him and he was exactly what I expected from a Winkie prince. He was dressed to the nines from head to toe. You could tell his blue jacket and pants were made to perfection and the gold accents were sewn with precision. His black polished boots were so shiny that you could even see your own reflection in them. And that was just his clothes.

Fiyero had an aura about him. It was as if he believed he always had to be the center of attention. Reminds me of someone that I know, but I know that Galinda has a heart. It was too soon to tell if he genuinely cares, but by the way he acted and the way the students nearby looked at him, I could already tell that his way of life to everyone else was fake.

Then he approached me later on in the day and I got to know him a little more. I soon realized that he wasn’t all so bad by himself. It was only when he was around everyone else where his walls come up and he acts out his facade.

“I guess I had a change of heart.” I finally answered.

“Uh huh. And how did Fiyero even get the chance to talk to you. The only way that can happen is if you two hung out alone.” Ezra said teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows. I laughed at his antics.

“Fiyero might have interrupted my peaceful reading time earlier today and I got to know him a little more.”

“Oh?!”

“And before you say anything else there was nothing else to it. He offered to walk me back to my room and that’s when he invited me to the Ozdust ballroom. On our walk back I got to know him a little better and he’s not so bad by himself.”

“Hmm hmm.”

“Nothing else happened!”

“Hey I said nothing!” Ezra said as he lifted his hands to the sides of his face in defense. “But this means that you’re coming!”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“Why-“

“But I didn’t say no either. I’m still thinking about my answer.”

Ezra looped his arm with mine.

“Now I’m forcing you to come because I’m coming and I’m not going to have you sit pathetically in your room.”

“I’m not going to—“

“Ah uh. I won’t take no for an answer. And don’t say you don’t have anything to wear. Your wardrobe is almost as grand and big as Galinda’s.”

Ezra did have a point. I worried about my appearance and wardrobe just as much as Galinda, but I didn’t flaunt it as much as my cousin did.

“Come on.” Ezra grabbed my hands and pulled me up from my bed. He led me to one of my luggage’s that turned into a closet with the push of a button. Ezra pushed the button and pushed me towards my array of dresses.

“Well go on.” He prompted.

I stumbled upon the rack and begin to flip through my choices until I came across a dress that brought a smile to my face.

—————————

Ezra and I missed the boat that Galinda and Fiyero went on, so we arrived at the Ozdust ballroom a little later. I peeked over the corner and was in awe with what I saw.

The entrance of the ballroom had a ginormous staircase which led to the dance floor. At the end of the room was where a band of animals were playing the music. On the ceiling schools of fish were dancing in formation to the beat of the music. That’s when I realized that this ballroom was underwater. That was something I’ve never seen before.

Ezra and I began to walk down the staircase and I began to notice a lot of familiar faces from school.

“Do people come here often?” I asked Ezra. He first attended Shiz last year, so he had a whole year of experience before I came along.

“I would say so. It’s where most people go over the weekend, but this is the first time I’ve ever gone.”

I looked at him shocked. “Really?!”

“Yeah. I’ve never been invited and I’ve always wanted to go, but I never knew how to get here until I overheard those two girls talking today.”

“Well today’s your lucky day!” I said with a smile.

“Indeed it is.” He said with a chuckle. “Oh I see some of my friends I invited over there. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yeah I will. Galinda should be around here somehere.”

“And Fiyero.” Ezra said with a glint of mischievousness.

“Yeah him too.”

Ezra laughed before he walked over to his two friends. Now I was left alone to fend for myself. I noticed a drink table on the side of the dance floor, so I made my way over there.

I had no idea what was in the glass, but it tasted quite good. I sipped quietly off to the side when I noticed a familiar figure approach me.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Upland.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Alright then. Princess.”

“Y/n.” I corrected him

“Princess Y/n.”

I figured it would be pointless so I gave up trying to correct him.

“I was almost starting to think you weren’t going to show up. What made you change your mind? Me?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself Fiyero. My brother forced me to come.”

“Aww so I can’t go around telling people that you’re my date tonight?”

I nearly choked on my drink, but I managed to regain my composure.

“Not a chance.”

“What a shame and to think I was going to ask you to dance.”

“I didn’t say no to that.” I said with a teasing smile. Fiyero looked shocked and glad that I was finally playing his game.

“Since you say so, I’ll just take this.”

Fiyero grabbed the drink from my hand and downed the rest of it before setting it on the table.

“Shall we?” He extended out his hand for me to take. I didn’t say anything, but I accepted his hand and he led me to the dance floor.

He began to twirl and whirl me around to the beat of the music and I found a couple laughs slip from my mouth. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time and I couldn’t believe that Fiyero of all people was making that happen.

One by one Galinda, Ezra, and his friends joined us as well. It was great to not care about the trivial things in life and simply dance through life as Fiyero likes to put it.

At one point the band slowed down the tempo of the music to a slower one and Fiyero gave me a knowing look. I looked back at Ezra and he winked at me before walking off the dance floor with his friends. I turned back to Fiyero and grabbed his hand. He gave me a beaming smiling, put his hands on my hips and began to move me across the ballroom floor.

“You know I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier today.” He said.

“About?” But I had an inkling about what he was talking about.

“About me pretending in front of everyone else.” I simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I guess I started doing it in order to hide my true depth of character. It was a way for me navigate the superficial social circles and get the chance to meet powerful people. I’ve done it for so long that I forgot what it’s like to just be me, but you were the first person to ever see through that.”

I took a moment to take in his words. It must have been exhausting to keep up that facade for so long. I felt bad for Fiyero. The fact that he felt the need to live like that.

“Well like I said you don’t have to pretend with me. I want to know the real Fiyero Tigelaar. Do you think you can manage to do that?”

“I can for you.”

Under normal circumstances I would have collapsed right then and there there, but that would do either of us no good. Fiyero had just finished telling me something he’s never spoken out loud before and I have to be the support he needs.

He twirled me around once more before pulling me right back into his arms. Then he brought his mouth up to my ear and whispered changing the subject.

“You look beautiful princess. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you tonight. I must say that blue is definitely your color. You are hands down the most beautiful one here.”

“I don’t think so.” I said as I looked down at the floor bashfully.

Fiyero grabbed my chin with his finger and brought my face up to look up at him.

“I beg to differ.” He grabbed a strand of my hair and pulled it back behind my ear. I felt his breath against my ear and shivers traveled down my spine. No boy has ever gave me as much attention as Fiyero has and I was at a loss with what to do. But in a strange way I knew exactly what to do, which is why I was bold enough to try something.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered in his ear.

Fiyero looked confused, but he nodded anyway. I stood up on my tiptoes and went up to his ear, but at the very last second I grabbed his face and connected his lips with mine.

At first he didn’t responded, and I got so scared I got the message wrong, so I almost pulled away. However, he soon reciprocated the kiss and placed one hand firmly on my waist and the other framing my face. The kiss started simple, but then it became more intense. I would have kept on going, but then I remembered where we were.

I pulled away and looked around to see my brother looking at me with a knowing look as if he was saying I told you so. He mouthed, “And you said there was nothing else to it.”

“Shut up.” I mouthed back.

“Do you want to take this somewhere else? Away from the public eye.” Fiyero asked.

I looked up at his blue eyes and thought about being alone with Fiyero. Being able to hold him and kiss him to my hearts desire. I nodded with a smile.

Fiyero smiled back and interlocked our hands. Together the both of us walked out of the Ozdust ballroom without a care in the world and we simply danced through life.

[itsthecline]

the greatest chapter four

it girl!reader x drew starkey smau

summary what are the odds?

previous chapter

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ahh that’s so insane! thank you so much<3 me and

my friends LOVE outer banks:)

that means a lot. we love knowing people love

it as much as we do!

i swear me and kaylor talked about it all

the time if we could😭

maddie was the same way with love island😂

she got a bunch of us to watch it with her

good thing she did

hahaha! i luvvv her

how’s it being home now? you were there awhile

i missed my bed!

but i’m really surprised at how much support i have rn

yeah it definitely seemed like you felt alone in there

despite having leah, ree, and jana? yeah. i did lol

well you’re home now… what are you planning to do?

i have to be in nyc in two days to film😖

so that first, and then focus on my content

the reunion?

yeah we’re filming on the 14th soooo excited

jana has reciepts we been saving JUST for this

hmmmm the 14th in nyc

who are you ladies coming for?

haha yes i’ll be there for the whole week

jana got me and i got leah

so i’m coming for ethan’s funk ass

jana is going to call out andrea

pretty sure liv said she’s got my back on that too

yeah… that ethan guy sucks

i’ll be watching to see how you go about that one

oh! well let it be known i’m usually much more

graceful than i’m going to seem during the reunion

i’m sure you’ll handle yourself just fine

clocking ethan will actually possess my body…

u should be worried just a little bit

haha if somebody has to it should be you

maddie always loved when you got into it with him

he did my girl SO wrong how could i not😭

so did you watch it all back?

nay and i did whenever we got back!

we stayed at my house for the weekend and

binged it all, writing down the important

shit to bring up at the reunion

how was that process?

i can’t even watch myself act, so i can’t

imagine watching me go through what you did.

uhhhh ahaha yeah… it was rough

that’s why it took the whole weekend tbh

i bet it was difficult reliving everything

that on top of seeing my best friend’s from

a different pov definitely sucked ass

at least you’re home now! you can move on

that’s the plan. the show didn’t work for me, but it

turns out friendship island is much much better

yeah you seem to have found a good group

the best haha!

now it’s on to bigger n better

that’s the only way to go about it i think

read Sunday

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yourusername back in nyc with my best friend<3

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username ahhhhh im so excited for the reunion!

↳ username PLEASEEEEE I NEED IT NOW

username so glad y/b/f was in charge of ur ig when you were in the villa she kept us feddddd

username my favorite og villa girlie

yourbestfriend and ur never leaving me again

↳ yourusername maybe if u came to boston more u wouldn’t hate it as much

username hate knowing that u n leah live on opposite sides of the country

drewstarkey hmmm

username city girl winninggg

username i can’t remember a time i wasn’t thinking about you 24/7 if i’m being honest

madelyncline 😍 prettiest girl ever

↳ yourusername actually crazy coming from u

username okay when did obx get here?

username i just knowwwwww u and jana are coming to the reunion with AMMO

↳ yourusername baby, we’re coming in correct i promiseee

username ok so r u like going to post a yt video now that ur home? been missing ur vlogs like crazy

↳ yourusername LMAO u clocked me🙂‍↕️ yes videos are coming soon i swear

username just a girl wishing to meet y/n

leahkateb c u tmrw bb

↳ yourusername crying from excitement tbh

oliviaa_walker okay so we’re getting dinner tn

↳ yourusername yes pls n thx

hmmmm the 14th in nyc

↳ this is actually so sus after ur lil comment

hello again

haha! that was my way of saying i’m

also going to be in new york i get there

tomorrow actually!

oh! ahahaha what are the odds lol

seems like i would have some free time too

haha i will too since i’m making a whole

weekend out of it with my best friend

let me know what you’re up to?

yeah for sure ha!

ISLAND GIRLS🥥🌴

kaylor baby🍰

okay but what r u guys wearing?

liv🖤

real question is:

is y/n bringing a date

y/n🪩

idt it’s that kind of event babe

oh nvm gtg

naynay🤍

LMAO pls tell me y’all kept talking w eo

kaylor🍰

ohhhhhh so you guys have been talking

leah boo🐴

and she left him on read!

naynay🤍

y/n no u didn’t

ree💓

be so fr bitch

liv🖤

WHAT

y/n🪩

😶😶😶😶 hehe no…

leah boo🐴

lyin ass

kaylor🍰

wait what! noooo why would u do that??

y/n🪩

anyways i’m wear a black floor length

dress and evening gloves gtg!

an my giggly girl just geeked drew dms her

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @willowpains @percysley @rrosiitas @nellyboosworld @ethanthequeefqueen