This blog is 18+, as I post mostly explicit fics. I will write RPF, but I won't write nsfw for that, because I feel awkward LOL :] Most of my fics are gn!reader, but I do write specifically fem!reader occasionally. I try to specificy- please let me know if i mess up!
I'm on ao3 (also thepowerofswayze), but I pretty much post everything here !
i currently write for:
★ Jhutch Characters (Mike Schmidt, Josh Futturman, Clapton Davis, Peeta Mellark)
★ art donaldson
★ clark kent/superman (specifically from the 2025 movie)
i have written for:
★ jschlatt
★ ted nivison
★ fiyero tigelaar
warnings & info: 18+, straight smut, edging, sub fiyero, praise, handjob, reader described as beautiful, fiyero calls reader a lady, made up professor name lmfao
summary: Fiyero gets himself into an interesting situation.
note: :]
☆
Fiyero’s mouth was always getting him into trouble.
Most of the time, it wasn’t a problem- he couldn’t care less about whatever “I’m not mad, just disappointed” lecture he was given or what school he was sent to next. Life would go on, wouldn’t it? Everything would start over and he’d just do it all again. Occasionally, he landed in such hot water, he truly did feel a twinge of regret- even if he put on a brave, thoughtless face about it.
This was a bit of both.
Here he was, lying on your bed, hands all but glued down at his sides. His jacket was lost somewhere on the floor, shirt unbuttoned, pants pushed down just far enough for you to get your hands on him. Fiyero couldn’t for the life of him straighten out his expression- brows drawn, mouth open, panting as if he’d run a mile. He couldn’t decide whether he should thank Oz for the feeling or curse his own big mouth for ending up in this position, so close yet so, so far. He couldn’t think much of anything at the moment.
If you asked him to remember what he’d said to get here, he couldn’t tell you.
That morning, Professor Fenneman had paired the two of you for your midterm- a diorama or presentation or something artsy (Fiyero had forgotten already). You’d seemed less than thrilled to be his partner- and you had told him as much, hugging your books tight to your chest as you led him through the halls. You went on about how you knew this wasn’t ideal for him, either, because you were going to put him to work, but that you would be cordial if he would put in a little effort for once, or something like that.
Fiyero had to admit, he hadn’t completely been listening. Not for lack of interest, but rather because you were so distracting. The sun was tangling itself in your hair, illuminating your skin every time you passed a window- he found himself just looking at you, as he often did when he got bored in class. It wasn’t that you were doing something more entertaining than the lectures- you were studious, you took notes and paid attention and, occasionally, raised your hand- but you were much more interesting nonetheless. Your endearing mannerisms, the way your hair shifted as you moved, your obvious beauty- it was all well worth looking at. He’d tried to flirt with you before, believe him, but you’d kindly made it clear you were entirely uninterested. He was an annoying and persistent person, but even he at least had the decency to stop making his infatuation your problem.
“My roommate is out for a couple days,” you’d been saying, walking up to your dorm door and taking out your key. “We can work on our project here, so I can store it safely.”
He’d continued being annoying, of course, once you had settled onto the floor and he’d made himself at home on the end of your bed. You were a lot more relaxed out of the classroom, he realized, meeting his constant jabbering with quick wit and humor. It only added to his interest in you- he was truly never going to get over whatever this was, especially after this.
“Hands.”
Fiyero snapped back to the present, realizing he’d lifted his hands from his sides, reaching toward his now neglected dick. He quickly dropped them back, gasping softly.
Your smile was sickeningly sweet, a stark contrast to the way you were torturing him. “Good job,” you cooed, wrapping your hand around him once more and settling into a quick rhythm. “What happened to that big mouth of yours, hm? You’re listening so well for me.”
He couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of him. It might have been embarrassing, but he’d said and done arguably worse in the last hour since you’d put your hands on him. You played with the pace at which you touched him, watching him oscillate between whined yes’ and pleading whimpers.
“You’re going to kill me,” he managed to gasp, watching your smile grow as you swiped your thumb over the tip of his cock. Oz, he was close- 10 more seconds, maybe, if you let him have that long. Fiyero’s head was growing light, his stomach tightening as-
You answered by stopping completely, then resuming, slowing your pace down considerably. You watched his face fall as he groaned in protest. How many more times were you going to do this to him? “Come on, now,” you murmured, your free hand resting on his leg and tracing circles into his thigh. The sweet touch made all this worse, somehow. “You’ve done so well, Fiyero.” The way you murmured his name went straight to his groin, making him whine again, furrowing his brow. “Just a little longer, yeah?”
Before you’d even finished your sentence, Fiyero was voicing his dissent, gripping the sheets like they were all that was grounding him. “I can’t bear it,” he said simply, watching you through a haze.
You tsked at him, your own eyes cloudy as you pressed a kiss to his stomach. “I don’t believe that,” you murmured, the sensation of your breath fanning against his skin making his eyes flutter closed. “But I’m feeling rather nice today. So, maybe if you ask nicely…”
Fiyero groaned, eyes screwed shut. “P-please.”
Another condescending noise, mimicking the cadence of his plea. “Please what, darling? I can’t read minds, now, can I?”
You slowed your pace impossibly further, an excruciating drag up and down his cock, drawing a rather undignified sound from him. “Please, let me cum.”
“And why should I do that?”
“Wh-” Fiyero’s eyes shot open, brows furrowed in alarm. “I’ve been good! You said so yourself- I’ll- I’ll stop being such a nuisance, I swear it. Please, please-”
He cut himself off with a moan as you picked up the pace for the last time. “Begging is generally not befitting behavior for a prince, but I must say… it looks very pretty on you,” you teased, watching as he got closer and closer to falling apart. A kiss to his chest, a few to his neck, a nip at his ear. He felt like he was going to burst at the seams. “Go on then, Fiyero. You’ve earned it.”
His pleas grew louder, all his effort going to keeping his hands to his sides- he couldn’t ruin this when he was so close. Finally, the tension in his stomach snapped, and Fiyero bucked into your hand, letting out a long, drawn out cry as he came.
Swears spilled from his lips, stars dancing behind his eyelids as you murmured your approval- a soothing stream of “that’s it” and “so good for me”. Fiyero blindly reached out and pulled you down by the back of your neck, panting and whining into your mouth as you continued stroking him until he’d come down from the high.
He was utterly wrecked, lying there on your bed as you let him go and grabbed a tissue. You cleaned off your hand, then, almost painfully gently, wiped him clean as well, tucking him back into his pants. His stomach was still settling, chest heaving as he watched you move.
“Need a minute?” You asked, your tone the same light, teasing thing that had been tormenting him this whole time.
Fiyero shook his head. “Many minutes. Hours.”
You raised one eyebrow. “Hours? I guess I’ll push our studying to tomorrow, hm?” You sat on the edge of the bed, stretching your arms over your head before starting to stand.
Fiyero pushed himself up to sit, reaching out to take your hand. “Wait,” he started, watching you turn to look at him in surprise. “If we have until tomorrow to study, then… surely we should take advantage of the rest of the day, yes?” An easy smile slid onto his face- the charming smooth talker was back. “We wouldn’t want to waste our time, would we?”
You couldn’t help the chuckle you let out, or the flustered expression on your face- it was almost silly, he thought, how easily you two switched places. Wasn’t he the one laying vulnerable on your bed just a moment before, begging you to show a little mercy? The contrast sent electricity down his spine.
“Really, Fiyero,” you were saying, “it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to tire you.”
He was shaking his head before you’d stopped talking. “Tired? You underestimate me, love- I don’t think I could ever be tired of this.” He let his eyes trail over you before meeting your gaze again. “Of you.” Fiyero rose to his knees, shirt still hanging open as he pulled you along so that you lay where he’d been on the bed. You followed his guidance, biting your lip as he hovered over you, one of his hands supporting him by your head, the other playing with the buttons of your blouse. “What gentleman doesn’t ensure he’s taken care of a lady?”
He waited, toying with your blouse, eyes trained on yours. He could see the gears turning in that magnificent brain of yours before you grinned up at him. “Well, then,” you whispered coyly. “Show me what a gentleman does, Fiyero.”
summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don’t go as you imagine.
a/n: wicked was really good, i love jonathan bailey, and we're coming up on finals season which means im writing about how stressed i am. also halfway through this i realized reader is lowkey paris geller coded lmao. this got away from me so im splitting it into 2 parts, i had a lot of fun writing it so enjoy! also im high posting this so if there's any editing issues im sorry lol!!
wc: 5.5k
warning(s): reader is stressed to the max constantly. she is kinda mean to fiyero but he's into it so it's okay. mostly fluff
Your fingers were beginning to cramp.
You should have been used to this by now with Doctor Dillamond. You’d been in his class for a few months now, and you graded essays for him often. He often had a propensity for verbosity, but this lecture had been an especially hefty one in preparation for your midterm projects.
He would be announcing partners before the end of class—much to your dismay, for you worked far better on your own than with others holding you down—and you figured you would want to have as much of a head start as possible.
Great Oz, how you hoped you would be paired with one of your friends. Coralie and Ezura were your only contenders for top of the class—Elphaba had potential as well, not because of the magic she couldn’t control but because of the brain she very well could—and anyone else would frankly slow you down. Doing a large research paper with someone who didn’t care as much as you did would be a drag you didn’t care to go through.
Midterms were only the most important thing, for they set the track towards finals and affirmed your skill with your assignments, and your first midterm was potentially the most important thing for, when completed successfully, set you on the correct track altogether.
You tried not to think about it too much (though you failed almost immediately), for you were sure Doctor Dillamond would honor all the work you’d done for him by putting you with a suitable partner.
“I see some of you are getting restless, so I will cut class short today.” Your eyes snapped up from your paper to see the professor smiling, and you could hear sighs of relief around the room. “I’m sure you’re all eager to know your partners for the midterm paper.”
The sighs of relief turned to groans, and you had to agree. Assigned partners should have been considered archaic at this point in time.
Doctor Dillamond trotted back to the projector and, with a bit of difficulty, replaced the image with a piece of paper. Everybody in the class was paired off in groups of two—you immediately started searching for your name, squinting slightly to see despite your spot in the front, and the furrow between your brows deepened when you realized you couldn’t find it.
You searched instead for your hopeful options. Coralie was with Mayara, Ezura was with Nicholas, Elphaba was with Galinda—of course. You let out a slight huff of annoyance, not just at your disappointment but at the continued lack of your name.
Perhaps he’d merely forgotten. You didn’t know how Dillamond could have forgotten you, seeing as you were only his best student and literal TA, but things happened. Your anxieties only grew as you heard the beginnings of whispers throughout the room as your classmates saw their pairings, either excited or dismal.
“Class is dismissed,” Doctor Dillamond said. The room began bustling as students gathered their things, already talking with their friends or searching out their project partner—you heard Galinda squeal and saw her grab Elphaba’s hands out of your peripherals. You could only worry your lip between your teeth as you swept everything in your bag, hardly waiting a second before rushing up to Dillamond’s desk.
“You didn’t call my name, professor,” you said, managing a smile as you tried to act like it wasn’t killing you. How could he have not called your name? Was there something wrong? Great Oz— had you been somehow moved out of the class? Was your work not exemplary enough? Your assistance not assisting enough? “I don’t have a partner.”
His mouth opened, but you only found yourself continuing, the words practically tumbling out of you.
“Of course, if you intended for me to be on my own then I am perfectly alright with that!” Your smile widened as your fingertips dangled over his desk. “I— I prefer it, in fact, so if that is it then there is really no issue at all—”
“Mr. Tigelaar!” he interrupted, and your head turned on instinct to see the eponymous boy arm in arm with Galinda (who was arm in arm with Elphaba) just in front of the door. “I hope you are not about to leave.”
Fiyero flashed a look at his companions before offering one of those easy smiles he seemed to always have up his sleeve. “You dismissed the class. I believe I am part of your class, am I not?”
“You are,” he said, “but you were not assigned a partner. Surely you wouldn’t be trying to get out of the project.”
Your free hand clenched as the threads started to connect. Doctor Dillamond wouldn’t do this to you. Would he?
That easy smile remained on his lips as he turned to Galinda and whispered something in her ear. She giggled and pecked him on the cheek before she walked out, pulling Elphaba behind her, and Fiyero sauntered over.
“Of course I’m not trying to get out of it,” he said. “Whyever would you think so?”
“Your attempt at a quick exit before you could be assigned a partner,” the professor said. “But it is no matter, for your partner is right here.”
You blinked. He would do this to you.
Why would he do this to you?
“Well, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. “Fiyero Tigelaar.”
You ignored him, for you couldn’t look away from Doctor Dillamond. Would it be mad for you to strangle a Goat?
“Professor,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “why?”
“Mr. Tigelaar’s grades in my class have not been satisfactory, as I’m sure he is aware.” Dillamond moved away from his desk, prodding the chalkboard with his head to move it out of the way. “I care about all my students, even if they seem not to care for my course. I believe a partnership for the two of you would be beneficial.”
Your jaw clenched. “So you’re forcing me to tutor him because he hasn’t got a brain.”
Fiyero chuckled. “Ouch.”
“Not tutoring, just working on your midterm together,” he said. “And if you end up teaching him a few things along the way, then we would all be better off, wouldn’t we?”
“Professor, with all due respect, this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Why should I have to risk my grade, my midterm, my standing altogether at Shiz just to help him?”
“Should you perform the way that is typical of you, there should be no issues.” Doctor Dillamond gave you that professorly look and your teeth grinded against each other. How dare he try to take the moral high ground. “Now, the two of you better hurry off. You haven’t got forever to work on this project.”
“Professor,” you whispered, determined to not let up, “why are you punishing me like this?”
“I’m not punishing you, my dear.”
“Fiyero couldn’t care less about any of this,” you insisted. “I’m going to fail my midterm and it will be all his fault!”
“If you believe he can make you fail, then you haven’t got as much faith in yourself as I believed.” Doctor Dillamond looked at you. “Trust me—and yourself—that this will all work out.”
You stared back—it was rather difficult to have a staring contest with a Goat. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind on this?”
“You’d be correct.”
You huffed and glanced away. “Fine. But expect those test scores to take an extra day.”
He let out a bleaty sort of laugh while you walked away. You considered it a credit to yourself that you held back the childish tantrum you wanted to throw as you moved back over to your desk to gather the rest of your things. You shoved your books into your bag with a bit more anger than necessary, and you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over to see Fiyero sidled up beside you, leaning against the desk next to yours.
“Surely you won’t be this irritated at me the entirety of our project.” He still had that unbothered smile on his lips, and it made you want to hit him. “It might make this a much more miserable partnership.”
You let out a mirthless laugh as you shouldered your bag. “Don’t act like this pains you. You’re just going to ride my coattails the entire time.”
“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Fiyero mused. “But now that you bring it up, I just may have to.”
“For the love of Oz,” you muttered to yourself before mustering the strength to look up at him. “I have a myriad of things I need to do today. Why don’t you go bother your girlfriend for the rest of the day, and then you can meet me at the library first thing tomorrow morning so we can discuss all of this.”
He shrugged. “Sounds alright to me.”
“Good,” you said. “Because I meant every word I said back there. I will not have you ruining all my progress thus far because of your absolute refusal to think.”
“It looks as if you could take a page out of my book,” Fiyero said. “You seem awfully stressed.”
Your lips tightened into a mirthless smile. “I’m stressed because of you, Fiyero, and we have hardly even interacted. I dread to think of my mental state after a week of working together. Now, good day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You swept past him and walked out of Doctor Dillamond’s classroom. You felt his eyes on you until you turned the corner, and you had to resist the urge to look back.
Oh, how you loathed group projects.
-
The rest of your day was far more demanderating than it should have been, and you blamed Fiyero for it. You swore the clock went by half as quick and your lectures twice as long—it didn’t help that you were so distracted in chemistry that you nearly burned your eyebrows off from a potion gone wrong.
You’d practically thrown yourself onto your bed when you got back to your dorm, and you didn’t get up until your roommate got back and demanded to know what had gotten into you. She didn’t exactly give you the response you wanted.
“The prince is your partner?” Coralie sighed dreamily. “Oh, you are so lucky.”
“Lucky is not the way I’d put it,” you mumbled, words muffled by the sheets. You finally tore yourself up off your bed and picked your nightgown up from atop your dresser. You went behind your folding sheet and began to change. “And I didn’t know you had eyes for Fiyero.”
“I hardly have eyes for him,” she said wryly. “I just have eyes—anyone can see that he’s attractive.”
“It doesn’t matter how attractive he is if he makes me fail this midterm,” you said. You straightened your nightgown then folded your school uniform while you walked back into the open, passing a glance at your roommate as you placed it on your desk. You then settled on your bed with a huff. “I just don’t understand why Doctor Dillamond is punishing me like this. It makes me reconsider all those late nights spent grading papers for him.”
Coralie shrugged. “You’re one of his best students, Fiyero is probably one of his worst. I bet Doctor Dillamond figured you would be happy to take him on, what with how happily you take on everything else he throws at you.”
You grumbled as you laid back against your pillows. “I just don’t know if I can take him on. Fiyero seems to care more about flirting with every student at this school than any actual material.”
She gave you a mischievous smile. “Maybe he’ll turn the full force of his affections on you in return for your studiousness. Oh, how that would be a sight to see.”
“Don’t even put that idea into the air, Cora,” you scoffed. “Besides, he’s clearly involved with Galinda. Even if I was interested, which I’m not—” you emphasized with a pointed look at her— “that isn’t something I want to touch.”
“Well, you can’t deny that he’s dreamy,” she said. “He just showed up at Shiz and people started falling left and right. It’s more impressive that you haven’t.”
“Because I’m here for one reason,” you said. “His whole… thing doesn’t fit into any of it.”
“I know,” Coralie mused as she fell back onto her pillows. “You’ve told me your whole plan ten times over. I just think you should also try to enjoy your life instead of bulldozing your way through it.”
You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I’m enjoying my life just fine, thank you.”
Interestingly enough, Fiyero was going through something similar a myriad of rooms away.
He laid on Galinda’s bed, his head in her lap as she trailed her fingers through his hair. She’d been going on about something for the last couple of minutes, but he hadn’t really been able to focus on any of it.
“Dearest, did you not hear what I said?”
Fiyero blinked at the sound of Galinda’s voice. He hadn’t indeed.
“I’m sorry, beloved.” He absentmindedly reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze once he found it. “I was thinking.”
Elphaba laughed from across the room. She sat on her bed with a book in her lap. “That’s a first for you.”
“It is,” Galinda said, though with much more concern laced in her voice. Her hand moved from his hair to his forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Just fine,” he assured. “What was it you were saying?”
“Just lamenting on how awful it is that we’ve been separated for this project,” she sighed. “I’m sure I could persuade Doctor Dillamond to put us in a group of three.”
“You can’t even get him to pronounce your name correctly,” Elphaba said wryly. “How could you get him to do this?”
“Well,” Galinda huffed, “maybe you could do it. He appears to like you more than me.”
“I’m sure that really hurts,” she said.
Galinda placed her hand on her chest. “It does!”
“It’s fine,” Fiyero interrupted. “I’m alright with my partner. She’s nice.”
“Nice?” Elphaba scoffed. “I heard her lecturing you the whole time we were out in the hallway.”
“She’s passionate,” he decided. “Besides, I don’t really care. I haven’t thought about it since she left.”
That was a complete lie. In truth, Fiyero hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left. Very strange for someone who preferred to go through life with less thinking and more doing.
He honestly didn’t know why his mind was so occupied with you.
He’d always been aware of you, obviously—all your professors adored you, your name was always brought up when talking about top of the class, and he was sure you held the record for most time spent in the library at once—but he didn’t know anything about you other than your academic record. And for someone with such strong opinions, especially about him, Fiyero found himself with the strange need to know more.
He would be at the library tomorrow. Maybe not on time, but certainly there.
Fiyero would make this the beginning of a beautiful partnership, one way or another.
-
True to your word, you were in the library bright and early after a quick stop at the dining hall. You went through the effort of gathering everything you thought you would need—a myriad of textbooks and encyclopedias, your well-weathered notebook and another one for Fiyero because you doubted he had one, and enough writing material for the two of you.
You sighed. You had to do so much just to even the ground between your groups and the others. Coralie was always so prepared whenever you worked together.
Fiyero, to your surprise, was only ten minutes late. You already had your head buried in a book when he said your name and scared you witless.
Your eyes widened as they darted up to look at him, and he chuckled.
“Sorry. You were in the zone.”
“I just wasn’t expecting you,” you said. “You’re late.”
“Hardly.” Fiyero took the seat across from you, his eyes sweeping over everything you had on the table. “You’ve got quite a collection.”
“I doubt you know your way around the library,” you said.
“I know my way around a lot of things.”
You leveled your gaze at him. Leave it to Fiyero to make everything an innuendo. “And is a library one of them?”
“I’m sure I could make it one.”
“If you bothered to think at all.”
“Darling, you know I’d never,” he said with a smile. “Now, what are we doing here?”
“Do you really not know what our midterm is?” you marveled.
“I have more important things to worry about,” he said.
You scoffed and shook your head. Ridiculous— it was ridiculous that you had to put up with this. Maybe Doctor Dillamond really did hate you.
“Our assignment is an extensively researched ten page paper on any great Ozian,” you said. “Anyone who has contributed to our society in a relevant way and made our lives better for it.”
“A ten page paper?” Fiyero frowned. “That seems a bit much.”
“Between the two of us, it’s just five pages each, and we’ve got two weeks to get it done,” you said. “I’ve written five pages in a few hours of inspiration.”
“Your life truly sounds thrilling,” Fiyero said. “We could do the Wizard.”
“Half the class is going to do the wizard,” you scoffed.
“Because he’s a great man,” he said. “There’s no shame in it.”
“There is absolutely shame in copying half the class,” you said as you pushed over a sheet of paper to him. “Now, I’ve already got a list going. Look it over; see if there’s anyone you like or anyone worthwhile you want to add.”
You looked back down at your encyclopedia, opened to your personal favorite choice, and continued scribbling down basic notes. You glanced up a few moments later to see Fiyero’s gaze hadn’t wavered from you.
You frowned. “Is there a problem?”
“You’re awfully prepared,” he said instead.
“I figured you wouldn’t be,” you responded.
Fiyero’s lips quirked in a smile. “Then I believe that means you deserve to choose our subject.”
Your frown deepened. “Really?”
“Are you always this suspicious of everyone?”
“Just you.”
“Then consider this an olive branch,” he said. He slid the paper back over. “Who’s your top choice?”
“…Ilara Mayfair,” you finally said as you pointed at her on the top of your list. “She was a historical linguist, responsible for half of what we know about Ozian languages and how they connect and differ. She’s…” you cleared your throat and shrugged, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, “she’s kind of my hero.”
“Your hero?” Fiyero’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what you want to do?”
“…It’s always been my dream,” you admitted. “I grew up helping around my parents’ bookstore and her mark was on nearly everything. I really admire it. I want to make that sort of difference in the world.”
“How noble,” he remarked. What surprised you was how genuine he sounded. “It’s impressive how much of your life you have planned out already. All Galinda knows is that she’s majoring in sorcery—she hasn’t really got anything else worked out.”
“What are you majoring in?” you asked.
“Undecided,” Fiyero said. “I was kicked out of my last school before I could declare, so I figure there’s not really a point in doing it here.”
“Not really a surprise,” you said.
“Really?”
“On your first day, you snuck off campus with half of Shiz to go dance at Ozdust,” you said. “That’s not exactly a good first impression.”
“I’d argue the opposite,” he said. Fiyero tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you for a moment. His gaze made you uncomfortably aware of yourself. “I don’t recall seeing you there.”
“That’s because I wasn’t there.” You looked back down at your encyclopedia to avoid his eyes. “I had more important things to do.”
He frowned. “Do you ever take a day off?”
“Of course,” you said. “There isn’t any class on the weekends.”
“I mean with this,” he said, gesturing at all the books around you. “It doesn’t seem like you allow yourself a single moment of respite. When you’re not in class, you’re studying. When you’re not studying, you’re doing work. When you’re not doing any of it, you’re probably dreaming of your future assignments.”
You felt your skin heat. Surely you weren’t that transparent.
“...I don’t dream of them,” you defended. “Not— not always.”
He laughed and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Do you know that?”
You frowned. “How am I ridiculous? You’re incapable of taking a single thing seriously.”
“And you’re incapable of not taking everything seriously,” Fiyero said. “It can’t be good for your health.”
“I plan to get out of here a year early,” you said, looking back at your books. “I can’t slack off like you do if I want that plan to come to fruition.”
“Oh, I’ve gotten out of every school I’ve been in a year early,” Fiyero said. “Sometimes two or three— Oz, sometimes I don’t even make it through the first semester.”
Your eyes snapped back up to him, widened in instinctual panic. “What?”
He burst out laughing, and it grinded every one of your gears. “Oh, I wish you could see the look on your face! It’s priceless— truly priceless!”
“You’ve been kicked out of every school you’ve been to and you think it’s a joke?”
Still laughing, he shrugged. “It is. Nothing bad has happened, and I’m still having the time of my life wherever I go.”
You just shook your head as you stared at him, eyes still wide. “Are you always like this?”
“Utterly charming?”
“Entirely insufferable.”
You didn’t understand how he laughed. Everything rolled right off him, like oil off a duck’s back, no matter how many times you insulted him.
“You know, there are other things to life than your studies,” he said.
“Not while I’m here, there isn’t,” you said. “It’s the whole point of university.”
“The point of university is to have fun,” he said. “You’ve seen how this place has perked up since I’ve gotten here, haven’t you?”
“Not really, no,” you said. “I’ve been more focused on other things.”
“Like?”
“Like my studies.”
“It’s like I’m talking to a broken record,” he marveled. “Have you ever had fun in your life?” His eyes widened comically. “Do you even know what the concept of fun is?”
“Ha ha,” you said dryly.
He tilted his head. “Do you?”
You frowned. “Of course I do.”
“Okay, then.” Fiyero leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself.”
Your frown deepened. “We aren’t doing a research paper on me.”
“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Is it a crime to want to know my partner?”
A muscle worked in your jaw as you stared at him. He stared back, entirely unaffected.
“If I humor you, will you actually work with me through this?”
Fiyero held up his hand. “Prince’s honor.”
Finally, you broke. You folded your arms with a short sigh then glanced away. “Fine. I’m from a tiny village in Gillikin that you’ve probably never heard of. I’m here on scholarship with the plan to graduate, become a historian, and make a name for myself.” You looked back at him. “Is that good enough for you?”
“It’s excellent,” Fiyero said with a smile. “Dare I say I’ve learned more about you in one short day than I have in the entirety of my time at Shiz?”
You gave him a fake smile as you tapped your book. “Open your textbook. We have a lot to catch up on.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask about me?”
“I mean this with all due respect—what could there possibly be to know about you?” You raised an eyebrow as you counted off on your fingers. “You’re from the Vinkus, you’re a prince, and you’ve never read a book a day in your life.”
“Oh, that’s not true,” he chastised. “I’ve read at least one—I just choose not to.”
“Well, how about we make that two?” You reached across the table and opened his book for him. “Unless that prince’s honor isn’t worth a thing.”
“Oh, it’s worth everything,” Fiyero said.
You raised your eyebrows expectantly. “Then prove it.”
“Very well,” he nodded. “I believe I can be serious for the next… fifteen minutes.”
“You won’t even get through a chapter,” you said. “Thirty.”
Fiyero frowned. “You set awfully high expectations.”
“Why do you think Doctor Dillamond forced me to help you?” you asked.
“Because you’re oh so nice and charitable?”
That got a genuine laugh out of you. If you’d been looking closer, you would have seen Fiyero’s smile grow, his eyes soften.
“Of course. Now, go to the glossary, find Ilara, and start writing. I know practically everything about her already, so you need to catch up.”
“I don’t have—”
You held out your extra notebook and fountain pen and cocked your head. “Don’t have what?”
Fiyero chuckled as he took them from you. “You’re prepared for everything, aren’t you?”
“Always,” you said with a satisfied smile. “Now get reading, my prince.”
He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed his head. “At once, my lady.”
-
You looked at the clock on the wall. Fiyero should have been here by now.
Granted, he was ten minutes late to your first meeting, but that was before he’d changed your expectations ever so slightly. Almost an hour had passed, and there was still no sign.
Of course, it wasn’t as if it hindered your progress. You kind of always expected him to fall short—if he showed at all, that was a credit to him—so you already had half the outline done. But a small part of you that you’d never admit to might have actually been looking forward to his presence.
You enjoyed the bout of verbal sparring he engaged you in. A lot of your classmates thought you were mean, and it never bothered you. Like you told Fiyero, you were here for one reason and one only, and the amount of people that liked you at university didn’t influence that at all. Your professors liked you and your grades were perfect—that was all.
But you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t… nice. For Fiyero to take everything you said in stride, with a smile and a retort of equal measure.
It was nice. But that was all.
You were jarred out of your thoughts by someone calling your name. You looked up to see Fiyero sauntering over, bearing his usual smile and not much else.
“This is a library,” you said once he got closer. “You aren’t supposed to shout.”
He took the seat across from you. “I’d hardly call that shouting.”
“You aren’t meant to be loud,” you decided. “Why are you so late?”
Fiyero shrugged. “I lost track of time?”
“You know, we are partners,” you emphasized your last word, “so it would be helpful if you could try to put in the same amount of effort as me.”
“That seems impossible.” He gestured at your notebook with his head, your current page already nearly full. “You’ve got me beat on nearly everything.”
“It’s not that difficult,” you intoned. “I mean, just do some research outside of class.”
He stared at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t know what I expect with you, honestly.”
“Exactly what you see, darling. Now,” Fiyero's gaze drifted over to the window, then looked back at you as he stood up, “what do you say we put a hold on things and enjoy this beautiful day?”
Your brows furrowed. “What, you mean do our research outside?”
“Is your work truly all you think about?” he asked in exasperation. “I mean leave the books and your notes and your stress here, and take a stroll around campus.”
“I’ve had my entire life planned out since I was ten years old,” you said. “Of course it is. I am not going to have some— some—”
“Some what?” Fiyero interrupted. He still looked remarkably unaffected by your outburst, that sideways smile of his infuriatingly charming.
“Some ridiculous, pompous, self-absorbed, lazy Winkie prince ruin it!” you exclaimed.
“Lazy,” he mused. “That’s a new one.”
“Of course you’re lazy! Why would we take a break when we have a project to do?”
Fiyero looked at you like you were crazy— no, like he was worried about you. He shook his head. “You really do have a one track mind.”
“When we’re in midterm season, yes, I d— what are you doing?”
Fiyero had started stacking all of the books you had on the table away from you, then he grabbed your notebook and your pen out of your hand.
“You need a break,” he said.
“I don’t need a break, and give that back—”
You reached for your materials but only just grazed his hand before he pulled them back and set them on top of the pile. “When was the last time you saw the sun?”
You scoffed. “I see the sun all the time.”
“Not from a window in the library or your dorm.”
You bit your tongue. Fiyero smiled and held out his hand.
“You need a break.”
You stared at his hand. He gave you a cloying look.
“It’s not a good sign that you’re this against self-care,” he said wryly.
You sighed and reluctantly placed your hand in his. “Fine.”
Fiyero grinned and he pulled you close. You yelped at the unexpected speed and you tumbled into his chest. Fiyero’s hand dropped to your waist, and for a moment all you could do was stare at him, wide eyed.
“Shall we?” he murmured.
You jolted away from him once you came back into yourself, your skin burning where he’d touched you.
“We shall,” you said, a bit too forcefully as you started walking a bit too fast.
Fiyero chuckled. He matched your pace easily, soon coming up beside you. “You’re already that excited?”
“Oh, shut up,” you bit out. “You’ve already gotten what you want. No need for more.”
He feigned naivety. “What would I possibly be doing?”
You shook your head with a huff. “I’m not entertaining that with a response.”
Fiyero simply hummed. You glanced over at him, still staying even with you, and then you let out another huff as you stopped. He didn’t miss a beat, pausing at the same time as you, then met your flustered expression with a smile.
“Yes?”
“You’re the one that wanted to do this,” you said, gesturing in front of you with a hand. “So lead the way.”
“Gladly,” he said. “I’m very good at taking the lead.”
Fiyero started walking and, though you had half a mind to take the opportunity and dart back to the library, you found yourself following him.
Cora’s words spun around your head as you and Fiyero walked together, about him turning the full force of his flirting on you in return for you being such a stickler for your midterm.
That was the embarrassing thing; you didn’t even think this was half of it, and he already had you blushing—and for what? It was as if you’d never even talked to a boy before.
You’d had plenty of experience back home. Village boys coming into your parents’ store to flirt at you, leaving notes in your desk in class, offering to walk you home at night—plenty of experience.
It didn’t matter that you denied them all and never went anywhere because you had a one track mind even then, and that Fiyero had done what no one else had and gotten you take a break simply because he asked nicely—
You sucked in a sharp breath as Fiyero’s arm suddenly pressed against your chest, stopping you in place. Your head snapped up to look at him, mouth already open with questions loaded, but he gestured with his head before you could ask any of them.
You’d nearly barreled right down the stairs from being lost in your head, without care nor consideration for actually taking the steps.
“Mind the gap, darling,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you damaging that brain of yours.”
“…Thank you,” you said once you’d regained the ability to speak words again. “One of us ought to have one.”
Fiyero laughed as he took his arm away. “Certainly.” He used it to gesture down the stairs. “Ladies first—unless you’re unsure of your ability to conquer them.”
“I’ll be just fine, Fiyero.” You started the descent, Fiyero right behind you, and you let out another short sigh.
There had to be something wrong with you. That was the only explanation for why you were acting this way.
Maybe you really did need to start getting more sleep.
pairing: fiyero tigelaar (wicked, 2024) / reader [gender not specified]
word count: 637
warnings & info: nothing, some jealousy but it's light
summary: Fiyero Tigelaar does not get jealous- until now.
note: this is bad im easing back into writing. ITS ONLY UP FROM HERE
☆
Fireyo’s face was beginning to ache. More specifically, his forehead, right between his firmly furrowed brows.
He’d been standing in the middle of a group of his classmates, pretending he wasn’t scowling, since you’d disappeared with some guy from Munchkin Country. Sure, you’d given him a sweet, apologetic smile with your hand on his shoulder, and yes, you were only a few feet away on the dancefloor, surrounded by a number of classmates, but still. Your Munchkin Country friend was standing awfully close to you. And why couldn’t he keep his hands to himself? Surely you noticed how often he squeezed your arm or brushed against you or, even worse, took your hand to lead you off deeper into the crowd.
As your closest friend, Fiyero knew you were perfectly capable of walking yourself. You didn’t need anyones help. That was his problem with the guy, really.
He couldn’t take his mind off of it, until you made your way over to him, waving wildly to get his attention. The sight of your grinning face eased some of the tension from his shoulders, though the realization that your friend was close behind irked him once more. Still, he did his best to put on a brave face, whipping out a charming smile that he hoped met his eyes.
You placed your hand on Fiyero’s arm as you introduced him to your friend, your fingers curling around the prince’s bicep- the touch was casual, but he found it hard to remember any names. The contact was all he could think about.
It didn’t matter- the conversation was quite short lived. Try as he might, Fiyero didn’t actually want to know anything about this guy. In fact, he wanted him to politely bow out so the two of you could… Oz, what did he even want? To talk to you? Well, yes, he always wanted to talk to you.
Luckily, your friend got the hint thinly veiled by Fiyero’s curt niceties and finally left, giving your hand a squeeze that Fiyero found completely unnecessary.
“What’s the matter with you?”
The soft concern in your voice startled him a bit. Fiyero turned to look at you, at your wrinkled brow and the slight downturn of your mouth. He resisted the urge to touch your face. “Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. He glanced back over at the retreating figure of your classmate. “He’s friendly, hm?”
At your lack of reply, he turned his gaze back on you- he didn’t expect the wide grin on your face.
“Fiyero Tigelaar,” you said.
Fiyero blinked. “What? Did I get it wrong?”
You shook your head at him, expression almost mystified. “Don’t tell me you're jealous.”
“Jealous?” Fiyero let out a huff, smiling like this was hilarious. “I am not jealous. There’s no cause for jealousy here.”
You said nothing, opting to grin at him and lean in almost conspiratorially, like you were waiting for him to come clean. His calm deteriorated. “I mean,” he began, “well- not that you’re not- you are worth getting jealous over, clearly, I simply am not because I- well, we aren’t even yet- i mean simply aren’t-” Fiyero shut his mouth. What was wrong with him? “It’s quite warm in here.”
“Mhm,” you responded. Your teasing tone made his ears burn- he prayed to Oz that the dim lighting would stop you from seeing how bright red they must have become. “Okay, 'not jealous', don’t think too hard. ” You took a finger and tapped on the middle of his forehead. “Besides, I like you much better.”
“Well- I know,” Fiyero pouted. Then he paused. “Wait, you do?”
You hummed again with a sly shrug, slipping your hand into his. Fiyero felt his cheeks burst into flame as he let you lead him onto the dancefloor.
★ hard launch: You and Schlatt kept your relationship pretty low profile so far. Now that the cat was basically halfway out of the bag, though, there was no real reason to try and stuff it back in. (musician!reader)
★ so hot you're hurting my feelings: based off the caroline polachek song with the same title! (musician!reader)
she really said how do i get him off as quickly as possible. i play sally fucking country club pepperdine in an hour and i need do my do my meditative warmup
thinking about smosh courtney and shayne and their surprise marriage posts (cute asf btw). now think about that and it's the same, but actually its schlatt or ted x reader, so it's not.
✰ summary : you never get tired of being art donaldson's girl, especially when you get to reward him for his win later that night.
✰ warnings: kissing, allusions to smut, minors dni, 18+, tashi erasure (i'm sorry), art is happy LOL.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
main m.list ⋆ art donaldson m.list
⋆ gif by @supersoldierslover
Your professor’s monotone voice was the cherry on top of your already long day. Scheduling back-to-back lectures right before Art’s game days wasn’t ideal, but you made it work. You’re grateful to not play a sport while also engaging in academics. There have been countless nights spent in the library with Art, going over his notes because his practice in the afternoon tends to run late, pushing his homework time to the late hours of the night.
With your head resting on your hand, another yawn is pulled from your body. A buzz from your back pocket jolts you awake, causing an embarrassing heat to flood your face. Quietly, you reach for your phone and check the message that almost gave you a heart attack.
artie <3: I saved you a spot! My bag should be on the seat, and there’s a snack in there for you.
You smile at the text.
you: I’ll be out of class soon! I love you, superstar.
artie <3: I love you!
And with the clock striking six thirty in the afternoon, you jump out of your seat and rush to the courts. Determination is written across your face as you frantically rush to the spot Art had saved for you that’s right at the front. Sure enough, a granola bar is inside his bag.
It only takes a few minutes before Art makes his entrance on the court, his eyes automatically searching for you. Even after months of dating, spotting him made your heart race. He’s so captivating in the way he moves, especially when he plays.
But even as he’s approaching you, you’re stuck in a daze. “Hi, pretty girl,” his voice carries a smile through it, something you’ve always appreciated. You lean over the fence and give him a kiss, his hand coming to the side of your face as if he wants to pull you impossibly closer to his touch.
Taking his other hand in yours, you can feel that his palm is slightly clammy, “Are you nervous? You shouldn’t be.”
He huffed a laugh and looked down because his ‘tough guy’ act didn’t slide past you. “I’m always nervous when you watch me play,” he admits, a rosy blush fluttering over his cheeks.
You squeeze his hand once, an unspoken form of reassurement. “Don’t be,” you smile, “I’m your number one fan.” You joke, but not really.
With one last kiss, he leaves to play the game you’ve watched him perfect for the past few years. And though he’s hitting the ball to his opponent, you can’t help but focus on your boyfriend. The muscles in his arm flex with each movement as the sweat drips down his forehead, causing him to pull the bottom of his shirt up to wipe the perspiration away. Giving you, and the girls behind you, a perfect view of the cut of his abdomen leading down to the waistband of his shorts.
Of course, you knew Art was attractive, and pair that with him being the best man on the team, he’s bound to receive attention. At first, the constant gawks and inappropriate comments towards him made your blood boil. You couldn’t stand the sight of the girls throwing themselves at your boyfriend, but now, you’ve learned to use them to your advantage.
Before dating Art, there was no way you would purposely put yourself out there. Going to parties and bars wasn’t your favorite way to spend Friday nights, but now, you’re forced to embrace the spotlight just by being associated with Stanford's star tennis player.
Art always has you by his side, an arm snaked around your waist as he greets friends at social gatherings. It took a while to get used to, but you wouldn’t have it any other way with Art by your side.
Leaning back in your seat, you enjoy the Spring sun as you watch Art’s match unfold. And with the girls behind you giggling at your boyfriend, you smile. You smile because you know you’ve won.
⋆⋆⋆⋆
With Art’s opponent hitting the ball out, that was the match; an easy victory for Stanford. You rise to your feet and smile while applauding. Slinging Art’s bag over your shoulder, you unapologetically flaunt the embroidered stitching writing, ‘DONALDSON’ towards the girls behind you before walking off.
You make your way to the exit of the locker room as you wait for Art to appear. You make casual conversation with the people around you, mostly friends and family of the other players, when some of them start to come out. Slowly, but surely, you see the mess of dirty blond hair push open the door, a smirk coming to your lips.
He puts his classic red hat on backward before engulfing you in a hug, picking you up off of your feet, and spinning you in a circle. You giggle as you find your footing on the pavement below you, “See? There's no need to be nervous when I watch. You crushed it, baby.”
“Maybe you’re my good luck charm,” he suggests, pulling away before he grabs your hand, leading the both of you to his dorm—a stupid boyish smile on his face.
You brush off the feeling of his cock pressed into your thigh as he spun you as you let him lead you to his place, “Is this you subtly asking that I come to every single one of your matches?”
“Hmm,” that smile never faded from his mouth, “maybe?”
“Are you going to prove to me why I should? Or are you going to keep subtly flirting with me until I’m the one that has to beg for you to fuck me?”
Your question surprises him and causes him to quicken his pace as you laugh behind him. He’s dragging you to his room, and you won’t stop him. Not after his big victory, he deserves to feel good tonight.
⋆ author's note: ANOTHER ART FIC BECAUSE I CANNOT GET ENOUGH OF HIM!!!! thank you for all the love on the last few art fics!!! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog this work if you loved it!! ok, ily byeeee!!!
