#ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 5 - Temperance

summary : viktor and reader work together in the library (so much banter, it's insane), then maybe there's a small fight because a guy called viktor a cripple and that causes some issues

content warnings : mentions of blood but really not that much tbh

word count : 5,4k

author's note : you thought i was gone on this one huh ? WRONG. we're so back babies! i know it's been 2 years since i've touched this baby okay, but i'm back now! hopefully i will get more time to write about this lil guy bc i love this fic.

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world

masterlist : here ．．discord : here ．．playlist : here

taglist : @doctorho

For the rest of the two long hours, Heimerdinger continued his lesson.

The class had come to an end, you silent, the class teeming with gossip. Professor Heimerdinger had distributed the subjects one by one to the students at the end of the lesson. He was a perfectly reasonable, friendly teacher who tried to make his pupils laugh at the expense of their historical knowledge.

When you had a lesson with him, you knew you were listening to a teacher who was wise enough to turn events and experiences into jokes to lighten the burden of his history lessons.

He was always on the lookout for questions and comments from the students, not hesitating for a moment as he gave the subjects to the groups one by one to point out the difficulties they might find and the pitfalls that might await them.

In short, Heimerdinger wanted his students to succeed, not to see a decline in the Piltover Academy's chances of success, which in the eyes of many seemed to be something to crow about rather than something to be ashamed of.

The very idea of being one of the few students to overcome these difficulties and succeed was, in your eyes, the greatest reward that could ever be given to you.

“Young folks,” he said, pointing to the two of you. “Come this way. I have reserved a subject especially for you.”

Heimerdinger didn't do things haphazardly. He gave students subjects that reflected them, or at least where he knew the results would be most interesting. You couldn't help but fear what he was up to.

When the students had dispersed, the tinkle of Viktor's cane sounded until he arrived at your side. You sighed audibly as you looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest as he gave you a winning smile.

He seemed to enjoy it when you got angry, and took great pleasure in teasing you constantly. Had he been a friend, you wouldn't have held it against him, even though your list of friends consisted mainly of Eris, Sky and Jayce. However, a friend wasn't supposed to be a problem for your success. There's only so much space in the academy for students who come out on top, and you weren't about to give yours away.

“Good,” he said at last as the last student passed through the doorway. “There's no need to point out that you two are the sharpest elements of this class, you're well enough aware of that, as is the rest of the school certainly.”

Your bickering and petty battles almost made the corridors of the school come alive again with the excitement of rumour and gossip partaking in your reputation.

“None of the fellow teachers in this establishment seem to have brought to the table, however, a possibility which seems to me to be the most interesting for both of you: teamwork.”

You arched an eyebrow, finding the reasoning profoundly moronic.

“Sir,” you couldn't help but point out, “this school is eliminatory. Why would you want to associate students who won't necessarily all have the chance to pass the exams?”

Heimerdinger chuckled, “I'm not doing it with the prospect of a pass or a gold medal waiting for you at the finish line, Miss.”

You tilted your chin up in a slight pout of surprise.

“You see, I'm not necessarily trying to prepare you for the exams, but for what will happen once they're over. Having a diploma is all very well on paper, but what counts most in the end will be what you achieve.”

“All right,” you admit, “but why put us in a pair like this?”

“It's quite simple,” he jumped up from his desk, trotting across the floor to stand in front of you, your eyes downcast on him. “In the working environment, you don't always find a shoe to fit. And when you don't have the power to dismiss your colleague just because you don't like them, you have to learn to sacrifice your temperament for the sake of the common good. Now, I'm not asking you to make sacrifices, that word is far too violent, but I am asking you to compromise.”

You exchanged a look with Viktor, your fists clenching until your knuckles were white. You'd already made enough compromises for one lifetime, and now you had to go on? He, for his part, didn't seem too bothered by the situation. How could he be so calm? So serene about the idea of cooperating?

“You don't always work with the person of your choice, and not always on the subjects you'd prefer. Oh, that's just it! Speaking of subjects…”

He stood on tiptoe, grabbing the last sheet of paper from his desk and holding it out to Viktor.

The latter, for once, frowned in pure confusion and even perhaps... irritation?

“The evolution of Zaun's power?”

Your eyes narrowed before shifting from Viktor to Heimerdinger, “Are you joking?”

“I do love to laugh young lady but the shortest jokes are the best. You both seem, for different reasons, to have an excellent knowledge of Zaun. Its political power, its evolution, and even the iconic figures who can make themselves forgotten in the shadows of its depths.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, trying to remain upright and not revolt on the spot. Heimerdinger seemed way too amused and happy of his little scheme.

“Any questions?”

Viktor read the subject and what you had to complete, “Do you have any books to recommend to us Professor?”

Heimerdinger's voice became a blur as your thoughts drifted like the Grey in Zaun. Every corner of this city was out to kill you, and even when you were out of it, it followed you like your shadow.

Were you ever going to get out of such a cycle, out of this city’s grasp ?

“Miss?”

The teacher's voice brought you back down to earth. Distracted, you simply offered a confused hum in question so that he would repeat his last words.

“Your assignment is due in a month. That gives you time to put your differences aside and find a way of working together. If you'll excuse me, my next class is coming up soon.”

He gestured towards the exit, and soon enough you found yourselves in the corridor. The momentary emptiness of the hall almost seemed to bring you back to reality.

You drew in a breath, meeting Viktor's gaze beside you. You couldn't afford to get a bad mark, especially not for a Heimerdinger course. He was one of the most renowned scientists in the country, with his own seat on the Piltover council. To produce mediocre work would be to end your career on the spot, and you were prepared to at least try to cooperate with someone like Viktor.

“Why are you not begging the teacher to put us both in different duos?” you asked while Viktor was still reading the subject content.

“Hm, I think it might be fun.” he said, not even glancing at you.

You scoffed, “You and me?” your trigger finger pointing back and forth between the two of you, “Together? Fun?”

His eyes dropped from the paper, scanning you with a changed interest.

“You'd rather go back in there and ask for a rematch like a loser?”

A muscle near your eye tensed for a moment.

He sighed, his eyes returning to the subject, “Admitting defeat takes strength.”

“So you think I'm weak ?”

But Viktor didn't seem to have the slightest interest in you at the moment.

You relaxed your shoulders, sighing. There was no point in trying to beat him, you weren't - on that subject at least - in competition.

“Can I see the subject?” you asked, reaching for the paper, but he removed it from your reach in an instant.

You frowned, this wasn't going to be easy.

“Do I disgust you?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard, your eyes blinking several times as you almost looked at him with fresh eyes.

If the question was purely physical, no, Viktor didn't disgust you. He was always accompanied at all times and in all places by that same invariable weariness that gave him a particular elegance. He had features common in Zaun, brown hair, amber eyes, and an accent that made some of the girls in your class drop like flies.

When it came to his character and personality though, it was another thing entirely.

“You annoy me,” you replied, managing to snatch the subject of his hand with enough agility that the gesture left him surprised, “but you don't disgust me.”

He remained silent for a moment. You could feel his eyes on you as yours fell on those of the subject.

“The only thing that disgusts me is your taste in pasta,” you confirmed.

He let out a little laugh, the kind that mixes humming and nose blowing, the kind you do when a remark makes you nostalgic.

“Friday, 5pm, library, don't be late.” he said simply, the clink of his cane echoing on the floor as he began to walk away.

As your eyes roamed over the page, you couldn't help but take in nothing of what was written. Your mind was stuck on him, on the trick Heimerdinger had just played on you.

He had just orchestrated a game that the whole school was going to bet on, the teachers were going to look at your situation in a new light, and in the worst case scenario, multiply the group work to put you both in pairs.

Your heart looped as you realised that this was undoubtedly another test. Heimerdinger was going to observe which of you was the best performer, the most pliable, the best at teamwork.

You had to be flawless, you had to.

Friday came earlier than you imagined, and you weren't looking forward to it in the least. You hadn't stopped thinking about it, finding yourself on numerous occasions distracted during your homework.

The card of the day you had drawn was Temperance, and the little booklet told you:

Alchemy. Mixing and harmonising opposing forces and concepts. Maintaining opposing ideas and encouraging complexity in life. Fusion produces evolution.

The archangel Gabriel, the angel messenger, is represented on the card. He wears the sign of the sun on his forehead. This is also the alchemist's symbol for gold. This card reflects the changing of the seasons and the adoption of new ideas. Temper in Latin is the act of repetition to invoke skill or to refine something, to make it sharper like a sword.

What a pain that was, and to think you'd have to endure this for a whole month of deep research and hours spent by his side working, together.

You dragged your feet as you made your way to the academy library.

It was a magnificent place, filled with the smell of varnished wood, old paper and dried ink. The ceiling was arched, the bookshelves forming real walls that separated the room like rows of pews in a church. If it hadn't been reserved for the academy's research students, it would surely have been on Piltover's list of monuments to visit.

There weren't many people there, apart from a small handful of students finishing their homework before basking in the arrival of the weekend. You were a good fifteen minutes early, and didn't see Viktor at all.

You were just about to put your bag and things down by a table and start your research, when a voice you wouldn't have preferred to hear at the time greeted you:

“Ah, there you are,” Viktor approached, coming out of one of the library corridors, “I just needed some help to get to the higher tomes.”

With his free hand, he held up a small stack of tomes, pressing them under his chin before placing them on a table with two or three other books already laid out.

You sighed, moving your things over to his table, “Have you been there for long already?”

“Why, do you care about me?” his cheeky grin made you roll your eyes.

“I think you overestimated my greatness. Which shelf?”

He said nothing, making his way to one of the shelves. You followed him. Fortunately, the women's uniforms at the academy had trousers. You wouldn't have known what to do if it had been otherwise and you'd ended up on a ladder above him.

“You know,” he began as you reached the meagre ladder to the upper shelves, “I've been looking forward to working with you.”

You arched an eyebrow, your hand gripping the ladder as you looked at him in confusion.

“Why?”

The two of you were only picking on each other, you were avoiding him like the plague, and you'd made it clear to him several times that your situation was that of a competition. So obviously you had a right to be surprised as to why he'd want to work with you.

He shrugged. “You were the top student before I came here, surely there must be a reason behind it.”

You expelled an abrupt puff from your lungs, your breath taken away by his insolence. You could only expect it after all.

You climbed a few steps up the ladder, looking for Zaun's historical tomes.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment, or am I to believe my working buddy seeks to diminish me to a fictive second rank?”

“We're in a library, alas, reality catches up to this fiction, miss number two.”

You clutched the volume in your hand, your nostrils flaring for a moment in anger. He knew how to annoy you, and you never seemed to find a single point on which you could reciprocate.

You held out the tomes one by one for him to take. “Guess I could work on a pet name for you too.”

“Be my guess.”

Once his arm was full, you took a few tomes in your hands before climbing down the ladder and walking towards the table. “And make you the honour of thinking of something to be done for you ? I'd rather lick sandpaper.”

He feigned disappointment, “So I do disgust you, this pains me.”

You set the pile of volumes down on the table, reaching into your bag to pull out paper and pens.

“Yeah well, You were supposed to pretend I didn't exist, not try to bother me to death. So I guess we're both disappointed.”

He took a seat, grabbing a volume and placing it in front of him. “So I bother you ?”

You sat down opposite him, imitating his gesture as you searched with interest for a tome to start with.

“What a transcending sense of observation you have.”

He brought both his hands up in front of him, resting his chin on the backs of his fingers.

“How do I bother you?”

You were starting to get annoyed by his questions. You had come here to work, not to chat.

“Your simple existence?” you replied, staring into his eyes.

He sighed, opening his book and noting on the page its title.

“As if yours wasn't proof that failure has a sense of humour.”

You said nothing, letting his comment wander in the air as you started your own research in silence, locating the chapter of interest to you in the table of contents.

“But seriously,” Viktor continued, “why do I bother you?”

You sighed, pinching the page you were on before shifting your eyes from the words on it to Viktor's curious amber gaze.

“You want an honest answer ?”

He nodded. You let go of the page, straightening up.

“You come into my life and wreck everything I've built brick by brick, wouldn't you be the slightest bit frustrated if that happened to you ?”

It was his turn to be silent this time. He seemed to look at you differently, as if, by some miracle perhaps, he'd just realised what was at stake for you in this situation.

He wasn't even touching the tip of the iceberg of why you'd come to the Academy, but for a moment he seemed to understand how important it could be for you.

Your eyes returned to your page, trying to find keywords to write down or information to record.

“You surpassed me in the exam, teachers love you, you make great friends…”

“Almost sounds like you're obsessed with me.”

Your lips parted, eyes wide as you looked at him as if he'd just slapped you, leaving your cheek and your thoughts with a warm tingle. You were so surprised that nothing came from your lips, which was beginning to be enough for a flash of mischief to cross Viktor's eyes and for the corner of his lips to form a sneer.

“I'm not.” You finally reply, trying to remain composed and not to stammer for anything in the world.

“Denial would've worked before the long vacant stare,” he says, advancing slightly on the table.

“Why do you have to be like that?”

“Like what?”

You humph, dropping back in your chair in despair.

“Better than me.”

He recoiled slightly, as if the remark was completely far-fetched and unfounded.

“There are thousands of people better than me, why do you have to focus on my poor self, hm? Did I barge in your territory?”

He had, unconsciously he truly had. It was you who was supposed to be first, otherwise the consequences would've been mentally dire.

“Take it this way,” he continued, “there's surely something you're better at than me.”

You couldn't think of much on the spot, especially not when there was a possibility of you making a list of things he topped you in. There was surely one thing though.

“Running.”

He opened his lips in surprise, a smile stretching across his face which he hid with his hand. You were already regretting what you'd just said.

“Jayce is going to be the first one hearing about this.”

“No it's-”

“So you're participating in a system made against disabilities.”

“I never-”

“Are you going to steal my crutch next in hopes of beating me to a race?”

“You're never going to drop this now are you ?”

“With such a statement ? Never.”

“Whatever let's just- let's just work.” you mumble, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and shame as you desperately try to move on.

He gave one last chuckle before getting back to work. He seemed to be reading a tome on the history of the masters of Zaun.

“About Tytos, I still think you've got that wrong.” he said as he read another page from the tome.

“I think I'm going to smash your face in.” you replied calmly without looking at him.

“As if you could reach me.”

“You know what-” you began, raising your voice.

However, somebody shushed you in the room, restricting you to remaining calm.

“Raising your voice in a library? You'd have to be a stupid fool.”

“Trying to contradict me when even Heimerdinger considered my answer excellent is not the wisest either.”

“Heimerdinger would tell a snail that goes slightly faster than the norm it's excellent. But maybe your low self esteem is just common sense.”

“Maybe my self esteem will just leave this library right now.” you say, crossing your arms on the table.

“And leave me to pursue this matter on my own? That wouldn't be very serious, miss number two.”

You sighed, getting back to work. Your blood was boiling in your veins just from sitting at this table.

“None of the books mention Tytos.”

“Since when do you trust Piltover books on the accounts of the history of Zaun ?”

Touché. He raised his eyebrows as if it were the only relevant thing you could have said.

“You never said where you were from, in Zaun,” he remarked.

You tensed slightly. “Why do you want to know that ?”

“We're making an exposé on Zaun, we're both from there, might as well just know it,” he said, raising his eyes to yours.

You watched him for a moment, he didn't seem to want to make a joke of you once your answer was out of your mouth. But in any case, you weren't going to give it to him.

“You wouldn't know,” you replied simply as you jotted down another date.

‘I'm sure that I-”

“You don't want to know.’ you said firmly, the seriousness taking over your face to assure him that this was certainly not territory he wished to venture into.

He frowned, confused. He seemed deeply intrigued by you, and that made you uncomfortable. Never before in your life had anyone asked you so many questions about yourself in such a short space of time. And so here he was, shaking up every one of your pillars like a bowling ball knocking over pins.

This one, however, was not about to give way.

You looked at your watch for a moment, sighing.

“Let's work for one more hour. We'll make a plan and subparts of what we'll talk about at the end of it.”

This time Viktor seemed to get the message: silence. 

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. You noticed the way his long fingers flicked across the pages, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he read, the way he rested his cheek on the back of his hand with a sigh as he read a boring piece of writing. 

Or when he would click his pencil for a moment to write something down, and his handwriting would lie gracefully on the paper, scratching the grain of the paper.

It was not without surprise that, once the hour had passed, there was hardly anyone in the library but the two of you. 

When you explained your plan for the presentation to Viktor, he agreed, simply giving a few perfectly critical and serious remarks without condescending to him in any way.

“Good. I think this is a good time to stop for today,” you said as you stood up, taking a stack of books in your arms.

All in all, working with Viktor like this wasn't so bad, when it was done in silence. But as soon as either of you opened your lips to say anything, politeness left the room in great strides.

You put each tome away in its old place, both of you taking your things, and left the library. The academy wasn't closed yet, and some people still had classes or were hanging around in the corridors.

You walked side by side, your pace the same as Viktor's. All the students seemed to turn around as you passed, your duo seeming like a pair of circus animals. 

You glanced at Viktor, who didn't seem in the least affected by this.

However, a trio of students were watching you with evil, mocking eyes. You couldn't help but tense up, however, when the one who seemed as tall as he was stupid remarked: 

“Die already, cripple. You're slowing the traffic.”

Your shoulders tensed as you walked, expecting to do what you'd always had to do here despite the taunts: ignore and move on.

But Viktor wasn't going to listen to you like that.

“Thank you for your advice, I'll try euthanasia once you'll be able to count higher than the number of butterfingers you've got.”

A few chuckles echoed in the corridor at his reply, but the young man seemed to be boiling with hatred. It was as you passed in front of them that, in a cowardly move, he kicked Viktor's cane.

He lost his balance, falling face first to the ground as his cane fell beside him. The air stopped for a moment with the shock of the gesture, your eyes shifting from Viktor on the ground to the idiot who had just knocked him over. Students knelt down beside him immediately to help him.

“Oops, my foot slipped. Sorry.”

But nothing, of course, conveyed any regret at this behaviour.

He turned his back and walked off with his group of friends. Your blood ran cold.

Quickly, you grabbed Viktor's cane, which was still on the ground, and made it whistle through the air before it struck the back of the student's knees. It was his turn to shrivel up on the floor, and he immediately turned to you, his cheeks red with anger.

“Oops, my hand slipped,” you said, glancing at the crutch for a moment before returning to him. “Sorry.”

You turned back to Viktor, handing him his crutch. He looked at you with fried whiting eyes, deeply surprised by your gesture without moving a muscle.

“You fucking slut…” you heard behind you.

But as soon as you turned around, a sharp blow hit you in the cheek. The force of it knocked you back two steps, a metallic taste spreading through your mouth. You brought your fingers to your lips, hissing as you touched them, your bottom lip burning. Bringing your fingers back into line of sight, you found them bloodied.

You turned to the student, his face far too satisfied for your liking.

‘’What a brilliant idea,‘’ you breathed as, in one swift movement, you struck his crotch with the crutch.

He bent over instinctively, gasping for breath, before you punched him right in the nose. He fell, cowering on the ground like a miserable insect.

"What's going on here?" asked a stern voice.

Madame Agrane, one of your teachers, came into the corridor. Her eyes fell on Viktor on the floor, your lip split, the student on the ground surrounded by his two friends.

“Everyone in my office, now.”

You pressed a bag of ice cubes to your cheek, sitting next to Viktor who was clutching his crutch in his hands. As for the idiot, he kept grumbling and giving you nasty looks. You recognised him now, the student from the museum, the one that had called zaunites rats.

"Can someone explain to me what happened for you all to end up in such states?" questioned Agrane.

You were about to start but the idiot beat you to it.

"Madame Agrane, I was just minding my own business in the corridor when these two pupils came up to me! One was hitting me with his crutch while the other was punching me. I don't know what I've done to deserve this.' He exclaimed theatrically, Viktor and you looking at him like the most ridiculous being to ever be.

If there was one thing that helped your reputation, it was that you were known as serious students, who didn't fall into the category of those who would start a fight in the corridors for no particular reason.

"That is far from the truth," Viktor retorted calmly. "He insulted me, then made me fall, and then...’

He seemed to be hesitating over his words, or at least looking for the right term. He turned to you, letting his eyes drift for a moment to your split lip, and then back to Madame Agrane's gaze.

"... My friend protected me."

Friend? the word made you clench your jaw, inhaling. It was just a lie, just a word brought to the front to give your teacher sympathy. No, he certainly didn't mean it.

The teacher looked at you, seeming more convinced by your story than the other. Noticing this, the student couldn't help but plead his own case: 

"Madam, these two students come from Zaun. The blood of violence will always run in their veins."

Agrane seemed to give you a new look, as if you and Viktor were ready to pounce on her like two wolves.

"Is this a joke? You started all this," you said, offended.

"Beating you up would have brought greatness to Piltover." he replied.

"Oh, look at you, attempting greatness! Pity it's just an attempt." you sighed, pressing the ice pack a little closer to your cheek to put out the fire your anger was beginning to spread.

"Madam Agrane," he continued, turning to her, "you know what my patron will think about this. Imagine his reaction when he will hear how you have treated his favoured student?"

You had no idea who his patron could possibly have been, but she didn't hesitate for a second to say: 

"Miss, you'll get an hour's detention for your violent behaviour in the corridors. I hope I don't have to catch you again doing such barbaric acts."

Your eyes widened just as much as Viktor's.

"What?! But he's the one who-" you tried, pointing at the idiot who was smiling victoriously.

"There's no buts about it. The discussion is closed. You'll have your detention period this Monday."

"Madam, I think there's been a mistake." Viktor began.

"Do you want to be given detention too, young man?"

Viktor remained silent, sighing before lowering his eyes to the ground.

"Good, see you on Monday, then."

The fool stood up first, walking past you with a foolish grin on his face.

"Bet it feels just like home to be in prison by monday, hm?"

Your lip hemmed in disgust, your nose scrunching up.

"Try what you've done just once more, and I'll personally make sure you have no offspring."

He looked slightly frightened for a moment, then frowned like a child before leaving the room.

You sighed, standing up. You wanted to get out of here right away, away from the horrible feeling of injustice in your heart, away from the word ‘punishment’ burning into your skin.

Your free hand instinctively came to rest on your shoulder for comfort, and you stood up to get your things.

“You didn’t have to do this earlier, you know.” Viktor said.

You sighed, walking towards the door. “Whatever, what is done is done.”

"Hey," Viktor said, standing up behind you.

You didn't even turn to him.

"Thanks, I wasn't expecting that at all."

You waited for something, for anything that would come after what he had just said, but nothing came. Your turned to him.

"Is that all? No remarks about how I'd have been better off hitting him somewhere else, or stupid sarcasm about my action?"

He seemed surprised by your reaction, his face puzzled and almost saddened.

"We're not friends." you said, your face as cold as the ice pack on your cheek. "We're..."

But what were you apart from rivals? Two rivals working together to do a job that would rely on both of you, that wasn't really rivalry. It was camaraderie in a way, you were classmates, but friends?

You pursed your lips, a slight trickle of blood beading from them.

"See you next week."

Without further ado, you left the room. You walked down the corridors, the students staring at you like an alien. You were suffocating under all those sharp, curious, numerous stares. You pressed on, leaving the academy as quickly as possible.

Once outside, you took the first quiet alley you could find.

“Shit!” you swore, pressing your back against the first wall you could find.

You brought your hand up to your forehead, sighing until you almost felt your body slide down the wall, running your palm over your face in frustration and exhaustion.

You wanted to cry, the weight of everything feeling like it was zipping up on you like a body bag. You'd been stupid, acting on your emotions. You should have kept your head down, let the administration do its job, not invented a life of heroism trying to redress the balance that some fool had tipped.

You didn't even like Viktor, but you'd still jumped at the chance to do him justice. No, you didn't like Viktor any more than that.

But you respected him.

Could you be friends with him?

The question passed through your mind for a moment, but you ended up putting it out of your mind.

You let your head fall back against the wall. The thought of an hour's detention in your perfect record seemed to you like a thread sticking out of a beautiful dress, itching to be pulled on. You tried to console yourself, to come to terms with the fact that it was just another hour of extra study. But you couldn't help feeling heavy with pain.

Eventually you gathered up your things and walked home, hoping that the cool night air would help to quench the fire that was still boiling inside you. Winter was on your doorstep, and ready to complicate things.

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[dollishmehrayan]

ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS WITH TIM ── .✦

a/n: guys who’s backk anyways this was a request by this lovely @pearlybaee (mentions aren’t showing up) but anyways I hope this reached the standards and tysm! ᥫ᭡

tags: ( tim drake x gn!reader)

THE RIVALRY BEGINS ── .✦

You and Tim Drake weren’t enemies, far from it. But being in the same academic sphere as him meant constant competition. It wasn’t outright hostile, but the two of you had a habit of accidentally one-upping each other in every single class.

“Oh, you got a 98 on the physics test?” Tim would say with a raised eyebrow. “Congrats! I got a 99. Must’ve been that question about Newton’s third law.” (That would’ve lowkey pissed me off oml🌚😭)

Your response? A shrug paired with: “Oh, it’s fine. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. Maybe I’ll tutor you sometime.”

Cue Tim’s light laugh, which only fueled your competitive spirit.

UTTER CHAOS MOMENTS ── .✦

During a group project, the professor thought pairing you and Tim together was a great idea. Neither of you said anything, but your eyes screamed, This is going to be a mess.

Tim, casually: “I’ll handle the research and presentation. You can write the report.”

You, not missing a beat: “Wow, I didn’t realize you wanted to make us fail. I’ll handle the research, thanks.”

He smirked but relented, “Fine. But if the slides are ugly PowerPoint ones, I’m blaming you.”

In a debate, the teacher made the mistake of pitting you against Tim.

“Timothy Drake’s argument is valid—if you ignore all the facts.”

Tim: “Wow, I didn’t realize we were presenting opinions today. Did you leave your sources in the other room y/n?”

The entire class lived for these moments. (Yk when the teacher starts talking about they’re life and they forget the lesson, that’s vibe omg)

THE KIND SIDE ── .✦

Despite the playful jabs, Tim secretly respected you. The fact that someone could keep up with his relentless drive and still manage to make him laugh? It was impressive.

Once, you stayed late in the library, struggling with a particularly tough assignment. Tim noticed and, instead of teasing, sat down next to you with his laptop.

“You know, if you keep looking at that paper like it’s going to fight you, it just might,” he said, sliding his notes over.

“Wow, are you actually helping me?” you asked, pretending to be shocked.

“Don’t get used to it,” he quipped, but the grin on his face told you he didn’t mind.

THE REALIZATION ── .✦

The moment Tim realized he was falling for you was during a particularly heated trivia competition for a school fundraiser or smth. You buzzed in before him and answered correctly with such confidence that the crowd erupted in applause.

He just stared, dumbfounded, while you turned to him with a smug smile. “What’s the matter, Drake? Cat got your tongue?”

It hit him like a ton of bricks: he didn’t want to beat you. He just wanted to keep standing next to you, watching you shine and get to call you his too.

THE CONFESSION (WHICH WAS TOTALLY NOT REHEARSED 7X WHEN HE WAS ALONE.) ── .✦

Tim’s confession wasn’t grand or overly dramatic. Instead, it happened during one of your late-night study sessions. You were both hunched over a table, working through equations, when he blurted out:

“You know, this whole rivalry thing? It’s kind of ridiculous.”

You looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Ridiculous how?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to keep competing with you. I want… I don’t know, to actually spend time with you. Without trying to prove I’m smarter.”

You blinked, surprised. “So you’re saying… you like me, is this a date?”

Tim groaned, cheeks pink. “Yes, obviously, I’m not just blabbing y/n.”

You leaned back, pretending to think. “Huh. This is going to be so fun to hold over your head.”

Tim laughed, shaking his head. “I take it back. You’re the worst.”

But when you smiled at him—actually smiled—he couldn’t help but think you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

[heavenlyraindrops]

Academic Rivals to Lovers prompts

Constantly fighting each other for the top spot on leaderboards

entering the same academic competitions

heated arguments during class debates full of tension

Fighting over the same book that they need in the library

fighting over the same secluded spot to relax/ study in

studying in the library reading until super late, they’re the only people left, seated deliberately far away from each other as they lose track of time. And then they get locked in cause the librarian/ caretaker locked up the place for the night forgetting to check if there was anyone left inside.

when the bickering and fighting in classes get so bad that the teacher yells at them and makes them clean out the classroom together after class as punishment

secretly admiring each other for their intelligence/ grades

forced to tutor someone together by the teacher

A is lacking a subject B is good at, teacher makes B tutor A (or vice versa)

glaring at each other or bumping into each other on purpose in the hallways

Ends up joining the same club, too passionate about it to leave

alternatively, they’re both on the debate team and get in heated arguments during practice

forced to take the same route back home after school

stuck on a group project together and end up carrying the team

alternatively, fighting for leadership/ control within the group

alternatively (again), paired together (instead of a group) and fighting with each other over details and nitpicking each other’s work

forced to sit next to each other in class/ be lab partners for the rest of the term

forced to correct/ grade/ review or look at each other’s work

taking a class test next to each other, A is struggling with a question, B surprisingly helps them

[user2772636]

Hate is *a strong word

(the wrong word)

You've been on eachothers throats since kindergarten. Now that college is coming, more competitions mean more rivalry. You can't keep bottling emotions cause they'll spill out.

Senior!Joseph Descamps x Senior!Reader

Warnings: swearing, smoking, ANGSTTT, two eyed joseph (sorry one eyed joseph lovers)

Reference to movie "Akeelah and The Bee"

Based on this request!!! @lovingaphroditesworld

Still based in Voltaire High, but mentions of some colleges and such

Champagne Coast - Blood Orange

Ever since you were little, you had an amazing mind. You won school competitions, aced all your exams, and were always the top of your class.

And with all of that came Joseph. He, too, had an amazing mind. So amazing, in fact, that you had started to doubt yourself, causing you to trip in the road of straight A's.

That's when you started to hate him. You hated his handwriting, his smile when he received a paper back with the plaster of a letter that makes you think he's catching up to you. Way too quick for your liking.

Then, when you hit middle school, you hated more things. You hated the way his glasses slipped a little when he was focused too much on his work or when his hair was all messed up when he played with his friends or runs late for an exam.

Of course, when high school came, you hated and hated away. You hate the way he's become twice your size, towering over you like some lampost. Or the way he talks to other girls with such arrogance. Or the smell of smoke that lingers when you walk by him.

That's the thing with Joseph. You hate him.

Now, when Joseph met you in kindergarten, he was head over heels. He loved the different ways you styled your hair. He loved it when you scrunched your nose at him. He loved your laugh and your chipped smile.

In middle school, he continued to love you. He loved it when he caught you staring, even though they were glares. He loved how invested you get when it comes to school. He even loved you when you got grumpy and mean.

But then high school happened. Things changed for him. He started to really notice how you saw him. Then he started to hate it. He hated that you hated him. And now, he hates you.

He hates when you ignore him after he's asked for a spare pen or when you don't care about the fact he's talking to other girls. And these girls were nothing compared to you.

He hates that you click your pen when you can't figure out a question or when you spend all your time in the library reading instead of taking in your high school years.

That's the thing with you. He hates you.

Now, with only one year left with you, he wouldn't even bother anymore.

January 12, 1966 - 7:51 am - Voltaire High

Students crowd the corridor, echoing sound of clicking heels, low laughing, and chatter. You keep your binders close to your chest as you walk up the massive stairwell.

Feeling a pair of eyes on you, you look up to the balcony expecting your friend, but your face drops as you see his glasses framed eyes.

You look away. One more year left, you think. Just one more year.

The bell rings once you make it to the main hallway, hurrying your steps to settle into English. Once you walk inside, a small group in the corner of the room goes quiet. You glance over and realise it's him again.

Joseph shushes his friends, clasping a hand over their mouths in order to keep them quiet. When he makes eye contact with you (again), he nods as a greeting. You only glare, making his friends snort quietly at him.

"I told you to stay quiet!" Joseph whisper shouts to his group.

"But your girlfriend-" Dupin starts, cut off with Joseph clasping his hand on the boys mouth again.

"She's not my girlfriend!" He scowls at Dupin.

You roll your eyes, and only then does Joseph realise how loud he was. He blushes (in frustration, of course) and hurries to his seat, eyes boring into the side of your head.

January 25, 1966 - 12:03 pm - Voltaire Library

It was peaceful. You had just been dismissed for your lunch break that you could still hear the footsteps and clatter of your fellow schoolmates. The sun was at its peak, the light cascading brightly even in winter through the tall windows of the library.

Only a few had been in the room with you, including your sweet librarian and her husband.

Scanning through a page of a philosophy book you've found, your eyes stop when you hear the loud creak of the door.

Slowly, you look up, catching three pairs of eyes looking at you. They quickly disappear, leaving you furrowing your eyebrows. Their identities are revealed when exactly those three boys waltz right in. You don't even try to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Descamps' friend group whistle through their lips, eyes wandering everywhere but you. They scratch their head, fiddle with a pen or an apple.

Joseph's tall frame stands out from all of them. You mean, how could he not? Especially with his ash brown coloured hair glowing from the natural light.

Mrs. Beauforde, your librarian, looks at you and raises her brows as if asking. Do you want me to make them leave?

Just to make things easier for the older woman, you smile and shake your head no. You'd take care of this. You always have.

Getting up with your book in hand, you go back to the corner of the library where you found it. You hear the rather loud footsteps of the boys, and your head starts to hurt at their antics.

Slipping the book through an empty slot, you turn swiftly to catch them in the act. They spread out as if you hadn't caught them right then and there. Placing both hands on your hips, you slowly walk over to the boy you knew lead his.

"Joseph," You say, voice low like confronting a child. "Would you like to explain why you're stalking me?"

He looks at you, baffled. "Stalking you?" He chuckles, placing a hand on his chest. "You flatter yourself too much."

This only angers you. He's so arrogant it just makes you want to kiss slap his mouth shut.

You tongue your inner cheek to keep yourself from saying something that would get you in trouble.

"Leave me alone, Joseph. Schools almost over, you won't have to see me again. Give me a break." You sigh, looking down on both of your feet.

Honestly, you were getting a bit tired of his stuff. You're both seniors now, almost off to college, ready to take on the reality of being adults.

When you glance back up at him, there's a solemn look on his face.

To Joseph, he didn't want to stop. He couldn't. The thought of you never seeing eachother again made him feel heavier. He should be feeling free. There'd be no more competitions, no more distractions, and the feeling of being on top would be right there.

But he didn't feel that. He felt heavier. Like, if you were gone, there was no more trying to prove he's better than the best, or no more sneaking out with his friends to see what your up to, no more of those glares that he's grown to hate then grown to like.

So there he was, just staring at you like you were the only thing keeping him happy. The only thing that fills his mind.

It scares you.

"What?" You stutter out, scanning his face for something, anything that showed he wasn't feeling what you were thinking. But there's nothing. A chill rattles your spine even in the warmth that a library usually gives you.

He shakes his head, looking at you through those frames you've grown used to seeing slip on his beautiful nose.

He sighs, turning around and leaving you stood there.

You hadn't even noticed that his friends left, or that the librarian couple was staring at the both of you the whole time. It's as if the world disappears when he's there.

That makes you angry.

He's going to be a distraction. Now you're thinking that it's a good riddance he'd be gone by college, because if he'll be there, then you'll just get distracted because he's there being his handsome self.

You stomp away from the library, lunch break long over.

"When do you think they'll get together?" Mrs. Beauforde whispers to her husband.

Mr. Beauforde chuckles. "How long did it take you to finally like me back?"

Mrs. Beauforde rolls her eyes, a lingering smile on her face. Her eyes go back to the door you just left through.

"They remind me so much of us back then." Mr. Beauforde places a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Well, look where we ended up." He grabs one of her hands gently, kissing it with much love and care.

Febuary 19, 1966 - 8:13 am - Voltaire High

An English Quiz Bee was set to take place in late Feburary and end in mid March, in the same week your school year ends.

The draft of students picked were top ten of your English class. Only 2 would be able to compete in the semi-finals.

Automatically, you're there. Automatically, he's there.

And obviously, you both win.

Today was Saturday, and you're on your way to school for your review with Ms. Couret when you accidentally slip on fresh ice.

You yelp in surprise, the solidity of the ground makes your back sting in pain. Luckily, you hadn't hit any area that would cause a concussion or sprain.

Just when you thought luck was by your side, Joseph rounds around the corner of the sidewalk you were in, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you.

When he finally did recognise you, he wasted no time helping you up and checking you for injuries.

"What are you doing out here? You know the ice hasn't fully melted yet, and you're just absentmindedly walking around. With nobody, might I add. You're going to kill me one day!" He exclaims, and you only furrow your eyebrows at his behaviour.

"Why do you care so much anyway? Don't you remember we have a review with Ms. Couret?" You ask, voice raised slightly at the simmering annoyance in your chest.

"I just came from school. The guard said Ms. Couret couldn't make it today; that she was supposed to tell us sooner but forgot." He matches your tone, his heavy breaths highlighted by the cold air making small clouds.

"Oh." Dead air fills around you. The empty streets covered in bright snow made you realise how cold it was, and you shiver from each breeze.

"I'll just go home then." You turn on your heel, ready to head back to your place when Joseph's deep voice gravels to your ears.

"Hey." Joseph calls. "She left me the reviewers. Do you want them?"

You turn around to see him making his way towards you. His forest green scarf goes up to his chin, nose and cheeks tinted pink. For the first time, you thought he had looked adorable.

You only nod, putting a hand out and receiving the papers. You skim your eyes through them to make sure that he was actually telling the truth, and gladly he was.

You turn to really walk back home now. After a few steps, you begin to notice the snow crunching behind you. You had to do a double take when you see Joseph's tall figure following.

"Why are you following me?" You stop again, facing him. He halts in surprise, brows raised.

"What? You have the reviewers. I need to review too, you know?" He shrugs.

You stare at him quizzically.

"So?"

"So what?" Joseph asks.

"So why are you following me? I'll just give them to you later in the afternoon."

"No, that'd just be a waste of time. Plus I've got... stuff to do this afternoon."

He rubs the back of his neck and looks away.

"What stuff?"

"Why do you have to know?"

You squint. You don't exactly have an answer for that. You don't even know why you asked.

"What's the plan here?" You don't answer his previous question.

"I review with you at your place."

Joseph. At your place. Your place.

"No!" You exclaim, throwing you hands up. "No way!"

"Why not?!" He mirrors you, scowling a bit.

"Because..." You linger at the reason. Again, you don't know what to say. Seems like that these days.

"Exactly. No answer. Let's go." He walks past you, bumping your shoulder gently. You watch him stride the sidewalk with confidence, looking side to side at the town buildings and shops.

Then he halts. He faces you.

"You coming?" He yells.

Why can't you say words anymore?

Febuary 19, 1966 - 9:38 pm - Your Flat

Thirteen hours. The review lasted for thirteen hours, and it's still going. You've gone through every page, every space, every comma, every period, consonant, vowel, silents letters, dictionaries, and encyclopedias; none of them were enough. You weren't enough.

"I'm a failure." You slump against the side of your bed. "I'm a total, utter failure."

Joseph fell asleep six times through the whole thing. Came right back up each smack from you and a delivery of espressos.

"If you were, you wouldn't be doing all of this." Joseph yawns as he slides down next to you.

You look back at him, smacking his shoulder for the thirty-sixth time. A lot of numbers are being counted.

Joseph hisses. "I'm gonna start to bruise if you keep doing that." He lifts his sleeve up, cuffing it to his collarbone before showing you. "See? It's already turning purple!"

You scoff out a laugh, looking away from embarrassment. The real reason you had looked away was because his arms were so very toned. Especially for a smartass like him. Your cheeks go pink. "Whatever."

He smiles at you, looking down at the floor and pressing a knee to his chin. Spending the whole day with you was not a part of his plan (It was actually exactly the plan, even if he didn't want to admit it, but it went longer than expected, not that he's complaining. He didn't even have a "thing" this afternoon.) His thoughts are cut off by you speaking.

"Wait." You furrow your brows, recounting every bit of information you've received that day. "Didn't you say you had a thing to do this afternoon?"

"Well... yeah but-" You gasp, standing up and grabbing his shoulders all the while. You drag him up and push him towards your door.

"Oh my god! It's already nine! Why didn't you say anything?!" You groan in frustration, continuously pushing Joseph to your living room now.

Joseph yelps as he trips over your red couch, tumbling down on the floor, his head thudding against your coffee table whilst he shouts afterwards. "Ow!"

"Fuck, Joseph!" You stumble on your feet, rushing to his side. There's no bleeding or bruises, surprisingly, but he seems a bit wonky.

"Oh my god, an angel. You're beautiful..." He mutters, hands reaching up to cup your cheeks. Your face feels hot, and you can tell how red you were right now. "I'm in heaven!"

"Get up, asshole!" You smack the same shoulder he was complaining about earlier, earning another hiss from him. He seems to get out of his daze when he locks eyes with you, his face going blank with boredom. "Oh, it's just you."

Your face goes from red of flattery to red of anger. You lift him up once again, going back to your original plan of pushing him out the door.

Once he's out, you slam your front door in front of him, getting a 'hey!' from the other side. After a while, you hear his footsteps retreating. You slide down the door in exhaustion, sliding a hand through your face.

You glance toward the kitchen, the sink full of dishes from earliers lunch. The pans on the stove that you two used to cook, and you remember Joseph burning himself cause he held a hot pan on accident then you having to take care of him afterwards.

You walk back to your bedroom, seeing the scattered papers, pens, and books. You remember finding Joseph lying fast asleep on your pillows, hugging them tightly. And as you tried to wake him up, berating him for his childish manners, he incoherently mutters some words that sounded like 'wait, it smells like you' and 'join me'. Obviously, it's very weird... you guess.

But that's whatever. You won't have to see his face when you go head to college. You won't have to hear his voice, go through those ridiculous pranks, or find him in corners with his friends catching his eye following your moves.

Oh, how you wish you'd see him again.

March 5, 1966 - 7:48 am - Annual SHS English Quiz Bee Semi-Finals

Nothing made sense anymore. Growing up, it had been etched in your mind that you were made for this place. Every test you've aced, every activity you've cooperated in.

So when you receive the letter that you were rejected from your dream college, nothing made sense anymore.

You spaced out so much that day you didn't even hear your mom trying to get you to eat a bit faster, or your dad telling you you arrived. It took them raising their voices and nudging you a bit.

It seemed scary. Nothing made you budge. You were so stuck in your head from disappointment that you couldn't get a grasp of yourself in the real world. You felt stuck-

"Hey."

He didn't need to raise his voice. He didn't need to nudge you. He didn't need to call for you multiple times so you could snap out of your trance. One word was all Joseph needed to get you out of your head.

"Hi." You whisper, trying to get yourself composed once you've realised where you were.

Seats were filling the gymnasium up. Families and friends come in to support their kids. You spot your own parents in the crowd, nodding to them in greeting before your eyes go back to Joseph.

You don't even realise your leg was shaking until Joseph put a palm down on it. You sighed a breath of air you hadn't even known you were holding.

"You better be good, Y/N, or all that reviewing went for nothing."

You couldn't help but laugh at this, but having the rejection in the back of your mind made you have second thoughts.

You really shouldn't try anymore anyway. If your dream college rejected you, why would you even try anymore?

All of these questions came back to your mind, so once again, you're stuck in your trance, but this time, Joseph doesn't snap you out. He knows you'll make sense of it all at your own pace, whatever you're thinking about.

It's like clockwork. One by one, students leave the stage from their loses, each of them wearing a solemn face. And like clockwork, it's the two of you again.

"With only three minutes in the clock, two students both from Voltaire High compete head to head. Who will move on to the finals?" The commentator announces. The audience bounce in their seats in suspense. Your stomach flips over, and you feel like gagging.

Question one was for Joseph. He aced it, looking smug as always when he came back to his seat next to you. Two minutes left.

Question two was for you.

"What is the term used for the second to the last in a series?"

Penultimate. It's Penultimate.

"A. Ultimate,"

It's penultimate.

"B. Penultimate,"

It's B.

"C. Antepenultimate,"

It's B. It's Penultimate.

"Or D. None of the above."

"Letter C."

They know I'm wrong. I know I'm wrong.

Joseph knows I'm wrong.

"Incorrect. The answer is B, penultimate." I knew that. I knew the answer. But it didn't matter anymore. This competition didn't matter. I can't get into the college of my dreams, then I won't try anymore.

"Score is now a tie. The next round will be a speed test with only one minute left on the clock." They bring out papers and desks to our place on the stage. I glance at Joseph, and he's staring at me as if I just grabbed his heart and stomped on it.

"You knew." He says, barely even muttering.

"Knew what?" I squint at him, the bright lights of the spot light hurting my eyes.

"You knew the answer." He doesn't look away. He doesn't look mad. He seems sad about it. Disappointed.

"... yeah." You sigh simply. You couldn't lie to him, seeing as he already knew. In fact, you've spent so much time with him your whole life and you only realised now. He could probably know you more than you know yourself. If only he wasn't so self-absorbed.

"Y/N." You nod in acknowledgement, not daring to face him right now.

"Look at me." His voice got softer, and you help but peek at the worry now displaying on his face. He seems so serious about what he was gonna say.

"You do your best." He purses his lips for a moment, and my throat starts to dry. The way he still wants me to keep going is startling.

"You do your best, or I don't want it." He's so close. Close to winning, close to me. There's a feeling lying under my brain. Under all those studies and all those infuriating words. Like I still want to see him next year. Like I've never wanted to stop looking at his face or hearing his voice.

But I can't. I've gone too far hating him to stop. He sees me as someone who can't stand him, who can't wait to get rid of him. Only now I've thought that maybe I hurt him. Now I care. Now, when it's too late.

So I just nod. And I listen.

And...

"It's a tie..." The commentator murmurs, going over the two pieces of paper me and Joseph finished. Confusion hovers over the crowd, not quite hearing what the commentator said.

"I-It's a tie! The two Voltaire High students have tied!" Gasps spread throughout the people. None of them would've thought this would happen.

"It's just been announced to me there will be a private second tie breaker tomorrow morning, of course, unless one of them backs out." Slowly, almost carefully, cheers and claps echo against the walls of the centre.

This was too much. You'd back out the second you got off. That second started now.

You sped walk to the backstage, trying to find your way to the commentator. Joseph was hot on your tail.

"Y/N! Where are you going?" He yells from the crowd of backstage personell. He speeds up just enough to grab your wrist.

"You're going too fast. Slow do-" The smile wipes off his face when he sees the tears running down your face. His brows crease in worry, searching your eyes for a sign of reason.

"Hey, hey, hey. Why don't we go to a more private area?" He does know you too well.

Autumn in the second grade. When Joseph still loved you and you still hated him. He found you crying in a corner near one of the bathrooms. He walked up to you that day, shrugging off his worry of your fury.

"Hey, are you okay?" He said nonchalantly, trying not to seem genuinely upset at you being genuinely upset.

You look up, teary-eyed. "Go away, Joseph."

Of course, he ignored you. Like stubborn little kids do. And he sits next to you, knees touching each other. Your tiny beating heart couldn't handle the speed of it, but it felt so nice you didn't say anything.

"I like to be alone when I cry, too..." Joseph trails off. "My mommy tells me I can't go out too much because one time a bee bit my eye, and it got puffy. She said I wasn't her beautiful boy anymore and took me to many doctors, just so she could have her beautiful boy back."

You puff out your cheeks, wiping away dried tears from them. You look down at your lap.

"I think you're a beautiful boy always. Even when you're annoying." He scrunches his nose at this.

"I'm not annoying!" He squints his eyes at you, but he sees you laughing, and he doesn't seem annoyed anymore.

He huffs and looks away. "I-I think you're a very beautiful girl, too. Always." He whispers so quietly that even if you were so close, you couldn't hear.

"What?" You say as you sniffle, looking at him with eyes he'd describe as something he'd purposefully drown in.

"N-Nothing!" He stutters out, gets up, and runs away. That was when you thought to yourself for the first time that he wasn't so bad.

You nod at his words, wiping the tears of your face. He took you to a changing room, which was gladly wide enough so you had enough space to relax. The huge couch in it helped, too.

You plop yourself down, sighing heavily. You control your breathing and close your eyes. You feel the couch dip beside you.

"...you wanna talk about it?" Joseph mutters out after a few minutes of silence.

"I'm gonna back out." You say, not bearing to see the way he was looking at you right now. You felt it seep through the room, the way he tensed next to you.

"What do you mean?" There's a shake in his voice that indicates he's unsure.

"I'm backing out." You repeat.

"...why?" You can hear it. He's angry. What does he have to be angry about?

"What do you have to be angry about?" You furrow your brows, getting enough courage to look at his frustrated face. Or worried.

"What do I have to be angry about? Y/N you- You've been talking and reviewing non-stop for this, and suddenly, you're backing out!" He stands and towers over you, and you're back in middle school still hating it.

"Yeah, well, you have no right! Plus, since I'm out, then you're in. You should be celebrating or preparing or whatever the fuck you want to be doing!"

"Why should I be celebrating when all I'm gonna be thinking about is that you're backing out for no fucking reason?!"

"Well then, stop thinking about me! You hate me that much anyway!" Joseph flinches back, a rabid emotion in his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me." He's muttering to himself again.

"What now?" You groan out, annoyed by his previous habit.

"Me? Hating you? After all the shit we've gone through?"

What does he mean? You squint your eyes at his approaching frame.

"Sure, I hated the way you looked at me sometimes. Or the way you're always so close to beating me. Hell! I hate it when you beat me!"

You back off each step he takes closer, making your back almost near to the wall.

"But I loved you, Y/N. I love you."

No. No, no, no, no, no. No fucking way.

"Yeah. I love you. I hate that I love you. I love you so much that I hate you. The way we are, it's killing me, Y/N. Fucking ripping my heart apart everytime we keep this shit up."

You trip over your feet, the wall thudding as you exhale. A gasp gets caught on your throat when Joseph cages you in.

"You're staying in. I'm gonna go up to the commentator and tell him I'm backing out, and you're staying in. Do you understand?"

You couldn't speak. He was so close. The details you haven't seen in a decade still stay on his face. His beautiful face. Always a beautiful face.

"Do you fucking understand?!" He rasps, shaking your shoulders in desperation. He tugs his head down. "Please..."

"Yes." You couldn't help the crack on your voice. What was happening, whatever it was, you couldn't handle right now.

"Smart girl." He whispers in your ear. Then, he's gone.

March 7, 1966 - 6:32 am - Annual SHS English Quiz Bee Finals

The light patter of rain hits the windows of your car, the windshield wipers squeaking each left and right turn. The car is quiet, only sounds of water falling, and Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love" on the radio.

"I've always seen the way he looked at you, you know?" Your father's words fill your ears. You turn your head to the drivers seat where his hands are posted on the wheel.

"What?" You ask. Your father was a man of few words, but he was always there, and always will be.

"Joseph." There's a pang on your chest. "I'm assuming that's why you were in a sour mood while we celebrated?"

You don't acknowledge him. He keeps going.

"Since the first day of school, there was something that drew him to you. Of course, I was a bit sceptical. I mean, you were my little girl. Still my little girl." He chuckles to himself, stopping the car when a road sign comes by.

"Now you're all grown up." He turns his head to look at you, letting go of the steering wheel. You look up at him hesitantly, awaiting what words would come out of his solemn mouth.

"I have to hand it to him. He's a tough kid, waiting all these years and still not trying to steal your heart."

He smacks his lips in thought, shaking his head at whatever was going on in his head.

"I'm not gonna tell you what to do. I'm gonna let you figure all this out. But let me tell you one thing." He leans in close, and you can feel the warmth of his parenthood radiate to you. "He's gonna love the hell out of you. I sure do."

The light goes green, and he drives with caution like a dad always does.

And you sit there because your dad is right. But he's wrong, too.

You always caught Joseph staring. Always caught him lingering near. Throughout preschool, middle, and high. Now college is near and you don't think you can live without that sense of him.

That supports your dad being wrong. Joseph didn't need to try to steal your heart. He already had.

"Stop the car." You blurt out. Your heart's beating more and more rapid, and you can feel it through your chest.

"What?" He mimics a question you asked earlier.

"Dad, stop the car!" The wheels squeel as they stop to the side of the road.

"What's wrong?" Your dad worries, checking to see if you're alright.

"I have to get him." You look at your dad, and all he can see is his little girl with that glimmer in her eyes when she knows what she wants. "I have to get Joseph."

He looks at you. He smiles. "I knew you'd come to your senses."

He turns the car around, heading back to town with a new objective.

And when you get there, the rain pours heavier, your heart drums faster in your ears, and all you can feel is adrenaline.

And all you hear is ringing. Even when he shows up with his head of hair messy and eyes squinting down at you. You answer even when you can't hear.

"Please." You pant. Your senses seem to come back, and you feel the clinging of wet clothes on your body, the rain hitting the porch roof. "Please come."

"Y/N-" You cut him off, grabbing his collar and connecting your lips onto his like a full blow.

Everything feels like it's on fire, the cold you felt earlier gone, and it feels like it would be forever.

You don't wait for him to kiss you back, pulling away with desperation in your eyes mixed with a bit of craze.

Joseph opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out except noises from the back of his throat like he was choking. You slowly let go of his collar, and he pulls away, back to towering over you.

He pulls two fingers up to his lips, his ajar mouth staying in place for so long that you worry if it's hurting yet.

"Wait here." He closes the door, brows furrowed in determination. The door slams, and you flinch just a bit. Not a second later, he's in front of you again, pulling you in to another kiss.

This lasted a bit longer than the other one, a bit rough around the edges from the unexpectancey of it.

"God, you're gonna kill me one day." He pulls away, closing the door again.

6:58 am

The drive there was extremely awkward. You were sat in front of your father, who was oblivious to what had just happened between you and the boy in the backseat. The silence was so tense you could cut it with a knife.

Joseph, bless his pretty heart, took with him spare uniform for you; which of course, you insisted it wouldn't fit, and he said he didn't want to see you sopping wet on the stage. So, here you are now.

"Ready kid?" Your dad asks, adjusting the too large cuffs of Joseph's uniform on your body. You look up at him, lips pursed in focus.

"Ready." You turn your head to look up at Joseph. Your dad seems to get what you want to do, excusing himself to go look for the seats.

"Hey." You say quietly, the bustling noise behind the curtains almost covering it up. Almost.

"Hi." He replies, a small smile upturned on his lips.

You cast a glimpse from the crack between the large curtains, seeing the number of people seated and walking.

"Y/N." Joseph mutters, mouth near your ear, and only then did you notice he had leaned down next to you, taking a look where your eyes were.

"Joseph, look-" He cuts you off with a small peck on your lips.

"Not now. Go focus on this and win like you always do, alright?" He cups your cheek and his hand is so warm you'd have fallen asleep right there and then.

You nod absentmindedly.

"Okay, well, good luck. Except you don't even need it." He winks, leaning back and exiting the backstage. You stay stunned in your place that you hadn't even heard the stage manager calling you to come up.

And then you aced it. All questions answered with no mistake, all glares from opponents ignored. You and the rest of the audience couldn't even believe you with the pace that you were going at. All you knew was you were there to win.

"Last question, Ms. Y/N." Here it goes.

"What is the term used for the second to the last in a series?"

Holy shit.

"A. Ultimate,"

No way.

"B. Penultimate,"

You were gonna win.

"C. Antepenultimate,"

You glance up at the audience, and you catch his eye immediately.

You do your best, or I don't want it.

"B. Penultimate."

"Ms. Y/N L/N, you are the winner of this years SHS English Quiz Bee. Congratulations!"

Cheers erupt in the stadium. Flashes of cameras blind your view, but you could only look at him. Even when the trophy was handed to you, even when the cameramen asked you to look their way.

You quickly handed the award to the competitions administrator, leaping and jumping down the stage to reach him. He was already halfway towards you.

You colide on the stair platform, the impact making him fall on the floor, his arms wrapped securely around you. You clutch on his head to remind yourself that this was real. You had won the Quiz Bee, and you had wont his heart, too.

With the sun almost fully set, the crowd slowly dissipates from the large parking lot. Your father had made his way to start the car, leaving you and Joseph in front of the buildings main entrance.

"So..." You mutter, already know what's about to happen.

"So?" He mirrors, a small smile finding a way into his face.

"Joseph, I'm sorry." Tears pool in your eyes. "I hated you so much, and I was so blind to see that you were right in front of me all along. I care a lot, and even when I was being a bitch you still stayed. How can you even like me still? How did you even like me at all?"

Joseph sighs deeply, hands coming down to hold onto yours. "I don't care about all that stuff anymore. You're here and with me. And hopefully... not hate me anymore?"

You can't help but chuckle. "Oh, I still hate you."

He raises his brows at you. "Well, that's better than nothing, right?"

You scoff with a smile. "You're stupid."

He squints down at you. "Well, if I recall, I almost beat you in the semi-"

You grab his collar and pull him down to a kiss. You don't think you'd ever get rid of that first-time kind of feeling.

He holds you like he doesn't want to let go, but does it so gently as if you'd break the second he grips too hard. And you like it. Because he cares.

Summer in kindergarten. The type of heat that choked you to the point all you wanted was a large watermelon shake to cool you off.

The same summer that was nearing the end of school. The same summer, you overheard your parents talking about moving to someplace else. The same summer you told your friends about it. The same summer Joseph knew he wasn't ready to ever let you go.

He found you in your classroom, hair all tied up whilst you were drawing on a piece of paper. Joseph hadn't ever seen something so beautiful. You were like art he could never take his eyes away from. But that summer he thought he had to, because you were leaving.

"Y/N..." His small voice caught your attention. You look up at this little boy in front of you, his face showing that his heart is currently in his sleeve. You couldn't help but worry.

"Joseph? What's wrong?" Sure you didn't really like the guy, but you were a decent human being.

He sits down next to you, trying to control his breathing. "Don't go." His eyes start to wet, and it gets blurry.

"Joseph, what do you mean?" You furrow your eyebrows, slowly going forward to hold onto his hand.

"Don't go to Italy. Don't leave me. I haven't- I haven't told you about-" how he felt. "Please dont go."

"Joseph, I-" I don't want to go either. "Stop crying..." You're hurting me.

He goes forward and holds you as he sobs on your shoulder. He held you so gently you could've fallen asleep, but so firm that you couldn't even run away. You didn't want to.

That's how Joseph was. He had always loved you. And deep in your heart, you had always loved him too.

>>>>>

A/N: this took me MONTHS???? and im still not satisfied but i need to get this out for bae (sorry it took so long) ummmmm very good very yes, yes? Akeelah and the bee is so cute and lowk so them, they r so messy but wtv guys theyre together now love them. Y/N so stupid but its for the plot guys ok. Hope u guys liked it bcs this took so long for no reason. Happy reading!!!

[churipu]

96 + 98 , gojo satoru

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing, school! au, uses of the word 'pretty' to describe the readers' appearance // 2.9k words

note. i absolutely love the academic rivals to lovers trope, so here's a try on this trope. and i'm so glad requests are coming in :') i'll be getting to them after this one shot <;33

synopsis. gojo and you have never gotten along, maybe it's the fact he's the epitome of perfection. he has a pretty face and a pretty brain, who wouldn't like that? so you made it your job to try and beat him at that brain game of his, which never ends well. until you find yourself 2 points higher than him, with his help. oh, boy.

gojo satoru was everywhere. and by everywhere — i mean everywhere.

it was no longer surprising that everyone in school knows him, whether by his name or personally knowing him. it's a surprise if someone doesn't know him, really.

he has a pretty face, and a pretty brain. who wouldn't like that? he's got girls and guys fawning and bowing down to him like their life depended on it, but really, is that all to him? a pretty face and brain?

unfortunately, not.

just to top it off, like a cherry on top. his friendly and light demeanor has earned a lot of respect from people all around, even ones who were outside of school — and that shit, pisses you off. he's the epitome of perfection that it pisses you off, how does one look like they have no flaws?

you used to think that you were it. people call you smart and how they envy your intelligence. but ever since gojo satoru beats you at the one thing you solely thing you excel in (you think): your brain. you had a personal feud with him; which you were currently losing in, by the way.

pretty was never an adjective that sits well with you. you never thought you were a pretty person. back during middle school, you tried hard, constantly trying to make yourself pretty for the sake of others to like you. but at the end of the day, it's you sitting down in front of the mirror doubting yourself whether this was really you or a person you made for other people to look at.

so you settled down for the one thing you were good at: studying.

"fuck you, gojo." you muttered out, clutching your test paper with a big fat and raging red '92' on it along with a 'nice job!' under it, and the fact that it has a smiley face beside it gave you the ick. you just wanted to pour gasoline on it and set the paper on fire.

"just because i beat you in a calculus test? c'mon y/n, instead of that — why don't we just study together?" he swayed, holding out his paper that had a big '100' on it.

ever since you made it your job to try beating him with your grades, you've never find the pleasure in studying anymore. it felt like a chore, it felt like a chore to beat gojo satoru; and when it doesn't happen, you just kind of drown in failure.

and it fucking sucks.

constantly forcing yourself to study just for the sake of beating him even by a point or two, it didn't feel nice. but the thought of him winning yet again made you a little scared.

a 92 for a calculus test would be a dream come true to other people. it would be yours too if gojo satoru hadn't appear in your life, but reality check, he's here and he's just so good at it that it angers you.

people often called you "ungrateful" or a "try hard", honestly, at this point — you can't really help but to think the same. anyone would want to get a 90 in a calculus test, or any other test. but to you, it felt like defeat.

you won't be satisfied until you beat him.

beat gojo satoru.

"study togeth— are you fucking serious?" you spat out at him angrily, crossing your arms.

gojo leans on the stair railing and hums softly, "yes. one hundred percent serious, wanna do it?" he shot you the sweetest smile.

a smile that would send any other person to the moon and back, but the sight honestly just pisses you off. the anger you felt from him beating you in the most recent calculus test was already too much to bear, and like adding salt to the wound, he hits you with a "why don't we just study together?"

"go to hell." you muttered, walking away.

"hey!" the male calls out to you, as much as you didn't want to stop — you did, glancing back at him, brows furrowed, "we have a statistics test next week, maybe it's your time to shine."

his voice was teasing, and he said that with a big toothy grin. god, you just wanted to run over there and bash his face in, plastering a scowl on your face, you shoved out your tongue and walked away. gojo laughs loudly as you walked away.

the dreaded statistics test came, and for some reason — you were more nervous than usual. maybe it was the fact gojo was taunting you about it the other day? or was it the fact he was sitting right next to you, occasionally stealing glances at you with those striking deep-set blue eyes of his.

you'd be lying if you said the male wasn't attractive. but even the thought of yourself thinking about such makes you angry. honestly, everything about him makes you angry.

you look to the side and the male was leaning his head down, his cheek on his left arm as he scribbled on his answer sheet. noticing your gaze on him, he gives you a big smile, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes deepening.

upon that, your face contorted into one of disgust and your eyes averted back towards your answer sheet, which somehow looks...empty. it wasn't that you didn't know the answers to it, there was doubt in you, would you be able to finally beat him? what if you lost again?

but as time was ticking, you pushed those thoughts away and wrote down your answers. confidently. as your teacher commanded for everyone to collect their answer sheets, it was no surprise that the male sitting beside you was the first one to stand. trotting over to the teacher's table and collecting his work, he strides back towards his seat, shooting you a (mocking) wink.

a few minutes later, you stood up to collect your own answer sheet. students often wanted time to go in a rush during average lessons, but tests? they hoped time had slow down even just by a few seconds. it was dreadful, groans and aggravated sighs were heaved out as the bell rang, signifying the end of the test.

"so, how did you do?" gojo questions, standing undoubtedly close to you. too close to your liking, but you brushed that part off.

"why does it matter to you?" you uttered back, annoyed.

"woah, shit. somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," you sighed out exasperatedly, standing up to make your way to the school's cafeteria. one of the most atrocious place you could ever walk into — if you hadn't woke up half an hour later this morning, maybe you wouldn't on your way there right now.

but it is what it is.

"why're you following me?"

gojo groans out, "dream on. i'm going to the cafeteria to eat and hang out with my friends, not to follow you," he mumbles out, his hands shoved deep inside his pocket, "why're you always so angry with me? who hurt you?"

"you."

gojo was silent, he looks at you with a surprised look, "wait, really? remind me of what i did again because i don't have any records of picking fights with you...?" confusion.

you casted a disdainful look towards the male, prompting to stay silent to his nonchalant question-answer. gojo didn't pry on, the confusion still written all over his face, but he walked by your side slowly, matching your steps.

"i'm sure you're gonna beat me in statistics." he suddenly prompted, grinning brightly, "i didn't have time to study."

you groan out in annoyance, typical template of words people use when they know damn well they're going to ace the test. his words were answered with complete silence from you as you slipped inside the cafeteria, walking towards a section to buy yourself a meal.

and gojo, like he said — didn't follow you and parted ways right after you both enter the rowdy place.

"so, what's your score?" gojo whistles, leaning back on his chair as he holds onto a paper, looking at it intently.

you clutched onto the statistics test you did last week, blinking hesitantly, "ninety-eight." your reply was short, but at least it answered him.

a few seconds passed by and doubt started surging in you, maybe he had landed yet another perfect mark? maybe he's one point higher? maybe he's thinking of words to make fun of you with. so many thoughts at this point that you felt your head hurt.

"congratulations."

"yeah, yeah i— congratulations?" you turn towards the male, who was holding out his paper with the number '96' on it.

it took you a few seconds to digest the whole scenario. you actually beating him by two points? it might not seem a lot to other people, but to you? two points felt like you'd just won a competition first place with a gold medal.

the corner of your lips twitched upwards, "i did it."

gojo shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, he didn't seem too affected by your score, "guess you did. congrats."

the whole thing felt a little too good to be true, you tried doing anything to wake up from this dream. pinching yourself, smacking yourself, but nothing happened — this is real life.

and you finally beat gojo satoru in a brain game.

"oh my god, okay — i am freaking out a bit." you tell him, a small smile plastered on your face. in that moment, you wanted to just scream, shout, and let all your euphoria out.

"hold your horses, we still have economics next week." he chuckles, shaking his head.

but you were too ecstatic to hinder his words, standing up, you ran out of the class with sporadic steps. you jumped down a few steps of stairs and approached a vending machine giddily, inserting a bill and pressing on a big can of pop.

opening it with a slight 'pop!' you chugged down on the contents happily, walking all around the school property with a big smile that brought people into a state of wonder. asking themselves to why you could be this happy.

finding yourself on the rooftop, you inhaled sharply. letting the summer breeze caress your face lightly, you sat down around the corner of the staircase, scrolling through your phone happily. even to commemorate the day — you'd mark it in your phone's calendar, naming the day "the day i finally beat gojo satoru's brain power!"

hugging the device, elated. you look up towards the blue sky, was this it? was everything you sacrificed just for today? could you finally study without the burden of beating him in the future?

you hear the door to the rooftop open with a loud slam, flinching a bit. startled at how loud it was, and to your dismay, it was the deep, agonizing laugh of gojo satoru that made you freeze on your spot.

"y/n got higher in statistics? woah." you recognized that voice as geto suguru, one of gojo's closest friend besides shoko ieiri, "what did you do?"

at the mention of your name and last week's statistic test, your ears perked up a bit. gojo's deep chuckles resounds and he cleared his throat, "i could've beat them if i wanted to."

you bit the inner of your cheek silently, "could've? why didn't you?"

"i felt bad for them."

that was it. those three words were all it took to dissipate the ecstasy you felt for a short while. turns out it was all a fluke? you blinked in confusion, does that mean you beating him was all a planned thing he made?

"what do y'mean feel bad?"

"i don't know suguru, they look like they're trying so hard," gojo mumbles out lightly. even if there were no signs of mockery in his voice, still, you felt as if this was an unfair win for you (not that there was a win-lose from the beginning, you just made it up along the way).

the disappointment seeped in, and you felt a sense of languor washing over you. he was just letting you win, standing up slowly, you brushed your outfit — making your presence known to the two friends.

"you're a fucking prick, you know that?"

gojo looks back at you, his eyes widening the slightest bit, obviously not expecting you to be here, "how long have you been listening to us?" he asks you softly, exhaling slowly as if he had been holding a deep breath.

"it doesn't matter how long i've been listening to you, fuck you."

gojo's face fell as you began leaving the rooftop, he contemplated on chasing after you, but stopped himself from doing so. assuming you wouldn't be in the right mind to be talking to him right now.

or ever.

which was proven by the constant game of cat-and-mouse, he and you were doing.

"y/n, can we talk—" you brushed past him like he didn't matter, and gojo swore he felt his heart break a little when you walk by him, not even sparing a glance. but he didn't chase after you.

for the next couple of weeks, the male has been nothing but desperate. trying to reach out to you both online and offline, but much to his dismay, none of them had the feedback he needed to hear. and it fucking broke him.

"y/n, can we please talk about this?" he asks you as you took a seat on your assigned seat like the usual, but you didn't give him the attention, "please don't ignore me, talk to me."

he sounded so desperate. at this point, it was like the male was at school for you and you only. he just needed to talk to you about everything, get things straight, and live life like the usual. fighting about grades, teasing you about it, even if you return it with simple insults or the language of sarcasm.

he just needed that y/n back.

as you stood up, this time gojo chases after you, grabbing your wrist as you slipped away from the door, "talk to me, please," he mutters out lowly, his grasp so gentle.

you furrowed your brows and pulled your wrist away before turning away, walking further from where he stood.

"why won't you talk to me?" he asks you out, his voice echoing throughout the hallway of the third floor, "why won't you let me explain what i really meant by what i said that day? why won't you give me a chance to talk about it? why won't you talk to me?"

it irked you. he succeeded in stopping your walk, making you glance back at him in annoyance, "i didn't mean it in a way i didn't trust that you could beat me in the test," he said, standing in the same spot, the creases in between his brows deepening and a big frown latched on his lips.

"i see you everyday, ruining yourself to try and beat me. i can't fucking stand it y/n— you're killing yourself slowly. and i don't like that," he tells you, "i didn't even know why this was a competition in the first place, you're a smart person, why do you have to validate that by trying to beat my grades?"

you clenched your fists in annoyance. annoyed that he was somehow right on point. yet again, he was right.

gojo looks at you, waiting for an answer. his eyes profusely blinking as if he was holding back tears, which wasn't the point. you spared him an odd look, trying to walk away yet again. but the male was ready to hold you in your place, gripping your arm.

"why are you doing this to yourself?" he asks you.

"doing what?" you finally answered him.

"this. everything."

i look him dead in the eyes, "because i fucking hate the fact that you're beating me in the only one thing i'm good at. i don't fucking know gojo, the fact that i'm actually not that good at the one thing i assumed i'm good at is pissing me off — you're pissing me off!"

"y/n, what the fuck are you talking about?"

you pulled your arm away, "look at you. you're attractive and you're smart — i don't think i'm attractive, so i just try to be smart, but i'm apparently not doing a fucking good job at it too."

gojo heaves out a sigh, "so you think i'm attractive and smart?"

you look at him in disbelief, "how is that important right now?"

"it is important. the person i like thinks i'm attractive and smart," he tells you.

"okay, so what if i find you attractive and smart— did you just say you like me, gojo? what the fuck?" you asked him, very surprised and he sent you a charming smile.

"how is that important right now?" he questions back, grabbing your hand, giving it a light squeeze, "what matters is that you're not going to ignore me again, because frankly speaking, i fucking hate it when you're ignoring the fuck out of me y/n. i don't care if you insult or talk shit about me, just don't ignore me."

i look at him, mouth slightly agape, "can we talk about the 'the person i like' part, please?" you posed a question, still in disbelief.

"no. that's not important."

"yes it is important, gojo."

"so when it comes to my feelings to you, it's suddenly important? can we talk about your feelings to me after then?" you shook your head and walked away after that sole question, "that's a bit unfair don't you think? and why the hell are you walking away? come back!"

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[yukibunnii]

books & café dates . ˚ ₊ ⊹

— your academic rival !

(class president!alhaitham & vice president!reader)

୨୧ president!alhaitham who immediately got nominated as class president, followed by you as vice president.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who also occasionally visits the library, like you, to study or read.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who is also your academic rival, being at each other's throats all the time. (your classmates and his friends question if you're either flirting or fighting . .)

୨୧ president!alhaitham who you compete with on who gets the higher score on the exam. god, you hate that slight smirk you see on his face when he wins. your classmates watch you two argue like it's some free show.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who shows more of his emotions when he's with you, unlike that stoic expression always on his face. even his friends are surprised.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who secretly smiles (very slightly) and stares at you when your back is turned. he definitely admires you from afar even if his face doesn't show it.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who, one time, purposely answered some questions wrong on a test so that you could have the joy of winning the little competition you two have. he was trying not to let out that tiny smile when you were rambling on about having won to him.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who prefers novels, while you prefer manga. one time you forced him to read one of your favorites. though, you still have a lot of novels that you personally love.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who accompanies you to the bookstore after school because apparently he was 'just about to go there too'. you both ended up in the café after that.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who has made a silent agreement with you that the café is now your usual meetup place whenever you two are partnered for a project or something similar to that.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who memorizes your favorite drink and food.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who noticed you always drinking those korean milk drinks . . and now you always find a milk box sitting on your desk before class. from a 'secret person'. I wonder who?

୨୧ president!alhaitham who you always get stuck with while doing your responsibilities as president and vice president. sometimes you two are alone and stuck together in the classroom after class, stapling papers.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who noticed you slowly progressing into calling him 'haitham' instead of his full name.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who has this secret spot with you near the vending machines and benches to eat with you during lunch. he finds it cute how you're always surrounded by the campus cats as he sits next to you on the bench, with the bento box on your lap and a book right next to you.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who loves your soft spot towards animals, and how you two always sit next to each other in the library, reading in comfortable silence.

୨୧ president!alhaitham who denies EVERY SINGLE sign and statement from his friends that he likes you. he says you're 'just his rival'. yet he so obviously treats you differently from the others.

୨୧ president!alhaitham whose academic rival will always be you. he wouldn't want any other.<3

[girlwithherheadinthestars]

academic rivals prompt/scenario list pt. 2

[they end up at the same SAT test center] "why are you here?"

"same reason you are."

"clearly not because i'm here to ace this test. you're here for, what, comic relief?"

"the only comic thing about this is the look on your face when i get a better score."

(they end up with the same score)

"how much did you study?"

"not a lot."

"yeah me neither."

(both get hundreds)

person a: (comes over to b in a trench coat and sunglasses) good day.

person b: (reading a newspaper inconspicuously) good day.

person a: i'm here to talk business.

person b: i certainly hope you're not here to bore me.

person a: enough of that. do you know how much c got on the midterm?

person b: (looks left then right to make sure no one's listening) 89.

person a: damn!

person b: yeah. (shrugs, goes back to newspaper) so i won.

person a: i'll have you know --

teacher: guys -- what -- what are you two doing? this is economics not theatre.

"you're looking at a again."

b starts, looking at their friend. "i most certainly was not -- "

"you always are. on wednesday you couldn't take your eyes off them."

"i didn't even see them on wednesday."

"it's fine, i can't blame you, they looked hot in red."

"they were wearing blue -- " realizing they're caught, sighs. "whatever. i still hate them."

part. 1

part. 3

[nikanyon]

(NOT SO) PERFECT MATCH

𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥/𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐀𝐔

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒.

You and Kinich are the school’s #1 ship on the school-wide ship app, but academically, only one of you can hold the top spot. Shipped with your academic rival? Really?

“I know I’ll fall in love with you, baby. And that’s not what I wanna do…”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

Open!

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄.

Academic rivals to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, fluff, crack, modern au, social media au, Highschool au

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

Click here!

<- | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ->

Meet the group!

Interesting gc name | Bob l’eponge cast

𝟎𝟎. 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝟎𝟏. 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐧 ✎ᝰ

𝟎𝟐.

𝟎𝟑.

𝐓𝐁𝐀!

[meedoo1809]

🤎🍂 Starter for 10 🍂🤎

James Mcavoy running around in university, being a little nerdy and

so so so boyfriend coded.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii!! First of all ur theme is so aesthetically pleasing and I love all the nagi. I like binge read all of your event works and *chefs kiss*. Could I request a piece for karasu with the theme of like academic rivals/classmates? No worries if not, hoping ur doing well and taking care of urself!

On an unrelated note I saw that post about rude comments and im so sorry that’s happening to you! I honestly don’t know what drives ppl to bother leaving nasty comments esp when it’s not like they’re being forced to read anything T-T Hoping to send you a bit of love to counter those trolls!

Synopsis: Crows are clingy birds, and Tabito Karasu’s feelings are hurt easier than you realize. (part two here!) (part three here!)

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 9.1k

Content Warnings: academic rivals to lovers, karasu is an asshole, reader is also an asshole, jealous karasu 😍, hiori randomly pulls up at one point for some reason??, yukimiya requests to follow one (1) person and accidentally causes the most dramatic pseudo breakup ever

A/N: anon i used to pray for times like these 😭😩 LMAOAO karasu is my fav (behind nagi ofc) but i’ve never gotten around to writing him so getting this request made me SO excited HAHA. i haven’t done anything rivals/enemies to lovers before so fingers crossed this doesn’t feel too awkward or unrealistic or rushed anything!! and yayyy i love my little nagi theme (and also nagi in general) i’m glad you like it too!! and my writing too, you’re so sweet 🥹 there will always be jerks unfortunately but lovely people like you make it all worth it 💖 thank you again and i hope this is kind of what you were looking for 🫶🏻

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

ONE: POISON IT

You could hardly contain your smile as you sauntered up to Tabito Karasu’s desk, your exam held behind your back. He was sitting by himself — his seat partner was sick this week, from what you had heard, so he had taken the chance to spread out his things and stretch his legs. When he noticed you, he raised his eyebrows, mouth tugging into a frown at your amusement.

“What?” he said. You brandished the paper in front of you, irises sparkling as you leaned over to rest your forearms on the desk.

“I got full marks on the last Chemistry exam,” you said. Karasu made a face at you, snatching the test from your hands and scrunching his face up as he inspected it.

“Seriously?” he said.

“Seriously,” you said. “What did you get?”

He crossed his arms and looked away. “Not telling.”

“You definitely failed!” you said in delight, taking back the exam and laughing at him. “How embarrassing. You failed the easiest test of the year, and yet you consider Chemistry to be one of your best subjects? I can’t wait to see how badly you do during finals week.”

“I did not fail,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got a ninety-eight.”

“Ninety-eight! That’s even worse than outright failure,” you said. “You were so close to perfection, and yet in the end, you fell short. It must sting for things to work out like that.”

“Yes, I’m positively wounded,” he said dryly before batting his eyelashes at you. From anyone else, the rapid switch in demeanor would’ve left you reeling, but the shifting mood was to be expected from him. “Will you give me a kiss and make it better?”

You rolled up your test and smacked him on the head with it. “No.”

“Anyways, my overall grade in the class is still higher than yours, because rankings were updated today and I’m still number one, so I’m not sure what cause you have to be boasting,” he said.

“Hm, but did you notice who’s number one in Modern Literature?” you said, pulling out your phone and opening the school’s app, which listed each class’s rankings in every subject. “Yup, that’s right, me.”

“Good job, Y/N!” he said, clapping mockingly. “Shall we have a party? It’s a big occasion — the mediocre number two has finally done something of such note that she’s number one for the first time in her life.”

“I’ve been number one plenty of other times!” you snapped. “For your information, I’ve been first in the class in mathematics and history every year since middle school, so who are you to be acting like this is a first? If anyone’s mediocre, it’s you!”

He raised his hands in the air innocently, his trademark smirk gracing his features once more now that he had succeeded in irritating you, as was his typical goal.

“Alright, alright, no need to be upset,” he said. “It’s not good for you. Clouds your judgment.”

“In what way?” you said.

“I mean, somehow, you got the two of us confused,” he said. “And we’re nothing alike.”

“I did no such thing,” you said.

“Well, I seem to recall you calling me mediocre, but between the two of us, the subpar one is obviously you,” he said, flicking your forehead. You slapped his hand away.

“You — the bell is going to ring, so I’m going to go back to my seat, but just so you know, you’re way more mediocre than me, Mr. Two-Percent-Short!” you said.

“Stellar comeback!” he called out. “My ego is bruised beyond healing!”

“Good!” you called back, ignoring the sarcasm. “Maybe it’ll return to a more normal size. Your head has grown too big, it’s almost as ridiculous as that hair of yours!”

“Leave the hair alone!”

During your free period, you decided to go to the library for some peace and quiet to work on your homework and find some of the sources you needed for your next research project. For belonging to a high school, the library was surprisingly extensive, and you had managed to find relevant information for every other project you had ever done in it, so you had high hopes. Unfortunately, it seemed this latest assignment was more obscure than anything you had completed before, so on your second lap of the shelves where the books, if they existed, would be located, you resigned yourself to giving up.

Just then, a volume caught your eye. The cover was shiny and pristine, the spine still unbent with newness. Crouching, you pulled it out, and when you saw the title emblazoned across the cover in bright yellow lettering, you began to laugh, making a beeline to the checkout counter with it tucked under your arm.

“Hey, Y/N! How was your morning?” your best friend said as you set your things down next to her in the cafeteria. You hummed in agreement, searching the room for a familiar head of dark hair. “You good? Looking for someone? Let me guess: your secret boyfriend that you’re keeping from the rest of us.”

“Yeah, I’m looking for Karasu,” you said before the rest of her words registered. “No!”

“You’re finally coming out and saying it?” she said, holding her hands to her heart and pretending to swoon. “I’ve been waiting for you to confess.”

“He’s not my secret boyfriend that I’m keeping from everyone, I’m just looking for him!” you said.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said. “What do you need him for, anyways?”

“I got a book for him in the library,” you said.

“Right, and this is the guy you hate? Your ‘mortal enemy’ or whatever?” she checked.

“Yes,” you said.

“But you…got a book for him from the library, and now you’re looking for him so that you can give it to him?” she said. You scoffed.

“When you put it like that, it sounds different than it really is,” you said. “Trust me, this isn’t a nice gesture or anything. You can consider it revenge.”

“When are you going to get over this stupid rivalry?” she said. “He’s not even that bad, you know.”

“Not even that bad? Not even that bad? Are we talking about the same Karasu here? I’m referring to Tabito, not his older sister,” you said.

“Ah, I think so? He’s a nice guy,” she said.

“He is the spawn of the devil! And he’s the one who started it, so I’ll stop hating him once he apologizes and means it,” you said.

“Do you think he even remembers that?” she said. “It was in middle school.”

You glared at her. “I remember it. If he doesn’t, well, that’s just more of a reason for me to dislike him on principle.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” she said. “Sorry for complimenting him. He’s awful and rude and mean. I think he’s sitting outside with some of his soccer friends, if you still want to find him.”

“Thank you!” you said, instantly forgetting that you were upset with her for taking Karasu’s side instead of yours. “Watch my stuff, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“See you soon,” she said. “Have fun. Actually, maybe it’s more realistic for me to just tell you not do anything that’ll get you expelled.”

You waved her off as you marched out to the courtyard where Karasu and his friends were lounging, their chairs positioned in the shade so that they did not overheat while they ate. None of them noticed you approaching until you were tapping Karasu on the shoulder and smiling at him sweetly.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he said, sounding oddly flustered. One of his friends snorted, and more than a few chuckled, but you ignored all of them in favor of setting your bag on the armrest of Karasu’s chair.

“Hi, Karasu. I was in the library earlier and I saw this book that reminded me of you, so I took the liberty of checking it out,” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re so considerate, Y/N!” one of his friends said.

“We’re all so jealous of Karasu here,” another friend, the one who you believed had snorted, said. “You’re way too pretty for him.”

“Shut up,” Karasu said, sticking up his middle finger at his friend, though none of the group paid him much mind. In fact, it seemed to egg them on more, as they continued to hurl jabs at Karasu while simultaneously incessantly complimenting you.

You didn’t respond to any of them, instead pulling out the book and handing it to Karasu, interlacing your fingers and waiting for his reaction. At first he seemed confused, and then dismay dawned upon his features as he realized what he was holding in his hands: a copy of Chemistry for Dummies.

“What the fuck?” he said. You patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s only suitable,” you said. Suddenly, his expression cleared, and he beamed at you, which caused unease to brew in your stomach. You knew for a fact that he was about to say something infuriating, and you mentally prepared yourself to respond.

“What a roundabout way of telling me you need tutoring! Of course, I’m happy to help you anytime you want,” he said, tilting back in his chair so that he could cross his arms over his chest arrogantly.

“Why would I want tutoring from someone who does worse than me in the class?” you shot back, crossing your own arms in retaliation.

One of his friends whistled. “She got you there, Tabito.”

“Enough out of you,” Karasu said through gritted teeth. His friend winked at you and mouthed ‘nice one.’

“Look, man, all I’m saying is that if you want to ask out such a beautiful girl, you’ve gotta have a little more finesse than that!” he said.

“He can have all the finesse in the world, but I’d still say no,” you said. His friends hollered with raucous laughter, which caused Karasu’s face to turn red, but you only pressed the book into his hands. “It’s due in two weeks. That should be long enough, right? Make sure you return it on time, please, I don’t want late fines.“

“I hope you go into debt because of this stupid book,” he said.

“Aww,” you cooed. “You’ll be the one paying it off, so it doesn’t matter to me. See you around, Karasu — or, hopefully not.”

TWO: SHOOT IT

You and Karasu had met in middle school. The two of you had been assigned to work on a presentation together, and he had told you during your first meeting that because you were a dunce, you should just listen to him and do whatever he said. Ever since that day, you had done everything you could to show him how much better than him you were; for his part, he found great joy in getting on your nerves and so took part in every argument with pleasure.

You had long ago proved his middle school self wrong, by anyone’s standards, but at this point it was a habit for you to hate Tabito Karasu as well as a habit for him to hate you back. And of course, habits were hard to form but harder to break, so you would probably continue in that manner until the day you graduated and left him behind for good.

It was just the two of you who did not get along. Your friends were cordial with him and his ilk, and you did not really mind his little group all that much, crude though they sometimes were. After all, it was just in the manner of teenage boys, and when they were not taking advantage of your presence to make fun of Karasu, they were actually a pretty agreeable sort.

In fact, your friend groups tended to coexist most of the time, even having lunch together every now and again — though they were always careful to ensure that you and Karasu were kept entirely separate, or else you both were guaranteed to ruin the cheerful camaraderie with your sharp tongues and quick tempers. The measures they took were admirable, but unfortunately, they were not always enough. After all, what were precautions when compared with inevitabilities?

“Oh my god!” you squealed. “Guys! Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening?”

“Can’t believe what’s happening?” your best friend said, speaking for everyone at the table. They were all tuned in to you now, wondering what the big news might be that would bring about such a reaction from you, given how put-together you tended to be.

“Do you remember that one model I happened to meet while I was out last weekend? Kenyu Yukimiya? He just requested to follow me on social media!” you said.

“No way!” your best friend said.

“Way!” you said. The only warning you got was an arm pressing against your back, and then your phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. You gasped, spinning in your seat and scowling when you realized that the culprit was none other than that scavenging crow, Tabito Karasu.

“What the hell? He’s average at best, why are you so excited?” he said, scrolling through Yukimiya’s profile, his eyes narrowed critically. “Y/N, don’t you have any standards?”

“You’re probably the only person in the entire country who doesn’t find him gorgeous,” you said, exhaling dreamily as you took your phone back from him and stared at the artful manner Yukimiya was posing in for his profile photo. “He was even better looking in person. And sonice, too! They don’t make men like that often.”

Karasu frowned and swiped at your phone again. You held it out of his reach, reaching across the bench to press your foot against his chest, effectively holding him back from further attempts at thievery.

“Let me look at him again!” he said.

“Um, no,” you said. “I don’t need you making more fun of him. I know you’re jealous, but expressing it like this only makes you uglier, just so you know.”

“Looks like they’re back at it again,” one of your friends said, massaging her temples.

“Yup,” one of Karasu’s teammates said.

“Ugly? Ugly? You’re calling me ugly? Have you looked in a mirror recently? Also, get your gross shoe off of my shirt!” Karasu said.

“I have looked in a mirror recently, actually, and incidentally I’ve also been keeping an eye on my follow requests. Guess what? I’m obviously good looking, since a legitimate model wants to follow me! How many celebrities request to follow you, huh? I bet the answer is zero!” you said, though you did do him the favor of swinging your leg back, allowing him to brush himself off in disdain.

“Lots of soccer players want to follow me,” he said. “I’m quite good, you know.”

“That doesn’t count,” you said. “It has nothing to do with how you look. They’d request to follow you no matter how hideous and poorly styled you and your hair are.”

“Are they seriously arguing about which of them is worse looking?” Karasu’s teammate said.

“I suppose so,” your friend said. “They’re both really hot, though, so I don’t know what the big deal is…”

“Geez, they’ll take any excuse to go at it, huh?” Karasu’s teammate said.

“Pretty much,” your friend said.

“Guess all of that tension has to go somewhere,” his teammate said.

“Exactly,” your friend said, shaking her head as she finished up her lunch.

“That model probably only works for horror magazines!” Karasu said. “It barely even counts!”

“He was in Vogue Japan,” you said smugly. “Look it up, stupid.”

“So what?” he said.

“So he’s handsome,” you said. “Like I said, it’s okay if you’re envious of him, as long as you accept it instead of doing this whole weird denial thing. I don’t blame you for it — in fact, I thought you would be. You don’t have much going for you overall, do you? In all honesty, it’s only natural for you to feel like this when faced with what you lack.”

Karasu’s eyes widened, and then he stood abruptly, picking up his bag with one arm and haphazardly pulling it onto his back. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” you said, not really caring one way or another what he did with himself. Actually, you would prefer it if he wasn’t there, interrupting your meal and your daydreaming about your impending romance with Kenyu Yukimiya.

“Wow, Y/N,” your best friend said once Karasu was gone. “You’re kind of dumb, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” you said.

“It’s not her fault,” another one of Karasu’s teammates said. “He’s not much better.”

“Huh?” you said.

“Never mind,” your best friend said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I have a migraine now.”

“Want some ibuprofen?” Karasu’s teammate said. She accepted it gratefully, and nothing more was said on the subject. The rest of lunch passed in a peaceful manner, though strangely, Karasu did not return.

It should’ve made you happy. You wondered, then, why it felt so odd without him there, like there was a gaping maw sitting in the place that should’ve been occupied by him.

THREE: DROWN IT

Ever since the day that Yukimiya had requested to follow you, you and Karasu hadn’t spoken. He refused to make eye contact with you in the few classes the two of you had together, keeping his gaze lowered to his work and his shoulders hunched away from you. You didn’t even try to talk to him; something told you that it would not be well-received, and you weren’t anywhere near confrontational enough to bring up his odd behavior, so the time without him dragged on and on, seemingly without end.

At first, you were happy, and you told your friends as much. It was a much-needed break from the constant aggravation he brought you, and you found your classes without your competition to be almost boring in their simplicity.

“The more you say you’re happy that you and Karasu aren’t talking, the less it sounds believable,” your best friend said, taking a sip from her juice box.

“Believe it! This is what I’ve been wanting since middle school,” you said.

“Is it?” she said. “It sounds like you’re kind of upset.”

“Am not!” you said. She shrugged.

“Sure,” she said, drawing out the word. “Definitely not.”

“Why would I be upset?” you said.

“You tell me,” she said.

“I’m telling you that I’m not upset. You’re the one with the theory, so give me some evidence to substantiate it,” you said.

“Fine,” she said. “You talk about him all of the time, even when you guys are getting along — or, at least, your twisted little version of being friendly, which isn’t friendly by anyone else’s standards but it seems to work for you two, so I won’t comment further. You keep telling us that you’re so delighted he’s leaving you alone, but you do this thing with your face when you say it that makes it super obvious you’re not. It’s not the kind of behavior you’d display when discussing someone you hate as much as you claim to hate him. Finally, there’s a reason half the school thinks you guys are dating, and it’s not just the obvious aesthetic appeal of that match.”

“What? I thought you were just trying to bother me when you brought that up!” you said. She shook her head.

“No, it’s a common misconception. It’s why no one’s ever asked you out. They all think you’re already taken. Actually, the other day, a guy asked me if I thought he might have a chance with you now that you and Karasu had broken up,” she said.

“What’d you say?” you said, half in horror, half in fascination.

“I told him probably not, and that you and Karasu hadn’t broken up, because you were never together in the first place,” she said.

“Oh, okay,” you said.

“Should I have said something else?” she said. You shook your head.

“No,” you said. “What else would you have said?”

“Dunno,” she said. “Look, you need to cheer up. I’m sure that if you just try to talk to him, things will go back to normal in an instant. Then you can return to complaining about him like usual.”

“Talk to him? About what?” you said. She gave you an incredulous look.

“You were pretty mean to him the other day, Y/N,” she said.

“It wasn’t any meaner than what he says to me on the regular,” you said. “And what I say to him in return. I don’t see why he’d be more or less offended.”

“I think it was a little worse than what you typically say,” she said. “Plus, the context was different.”

“How so?” you said. She shook her head.

“That’s for him to explain, not me,” she said. “Come on, don’t be stubborn. Work things out with him. I miss hanging out with the guys.”

“Ah, so that’s why it matters to you,” you said. “Sorry to say it, but I don’t have any plans at attempting conversation with him anytime soon. Like I said, things are finally calm and stress-free for me. He’s the one being immature, as always, so why’s it up to me to make things better?”

“Immature?” your best friend said. “You’ve held a grudge against him since middle school.”

“And?” you said. She squinted at you before pursing her lips.

“Well, I guess the two of you really are made for one another,” she said.

“What?”

The next week would mark the beginning of the swimming unit in PE class, which you were actually looking forward to. You loved to swim, you had ever since you were a child and your parents had brought you into the water for the first time, and the thought of getting to earn a good grade for something you liked doing in the first place was an agreeable on.

In preparation, you decided to stop by the pool after classes were over so that you could acclimate yourself to the motions of the strokes once again. The swim team’s practice had been canceled, and no one else ever used the pool, so you would have the place to yourself, which was just about the closest thing to heaven you could imagine while still living on Earth.

Changing into your school-issued bathing suit and putting your things into a locker, you tied your hair back so that it was out of the way and stepped into the steaming indoor pool deck. The water was a bright cerulean shade, the lanes split by lane-lines which alternated colors to match your school’s emblem. When you dipped your toe into the deep end, you found it was warm, not cold like you had feared. The school didn’t splurge on heating the water of the rarely-used pool, so usually, it was all but freezing. You supposed that they must’ve had complaints from last year’s PE classes, so they had restarted the heaters in order to ensure that no one had any cause to whine about the temperature this year.

For a moment, you just sat on the tiled edge, your legs swishing about in the water, the heels of your palms pressing against the lip of the pool as you closed your eyes and luxuriated in the tangy scent of chlorine. So lost were you that you almost didn’t notice the door swinging open, but the clang of it shutting was unmistakable. Thinking it must’ve been a confused swim team member showing up to a practice that wasn’t happening, you opened your eyes, your lips parting to issue a reprimand that died before it could take shape.

It wasn’t a swim team member. It was Tabito Karasu, wearing a pair of swim trunks and nothing else, his jaw taut and his fists clenched as he inched towards the water. He hadn’t even noticed you, and you didn’t feel inclined to announce yourself, so you let your elbows dig into your thighs, your chin resting in your hands as you observed him.

You had known that he played soccer almost as long as you had known his name. It was the entire reason he was so popular and well-regarded in the school, and an inextricable part of his identity, but until now, you hadn’t quite considered what that actually meant. After all, you only ever saw him in the loose, modest clothing of the school’s uniform, so why would you jump to the conclusion that he was so — so — well, you were loath to admit it, but he had a striking body, and, now that he wasn’t being all cocky and maddening, you could appreciate that even his face was of a similar quality.

Blinking, you cocked your head as he extended a graceful foot towards the first stair leading into the shallow end. Water splashed against it, and he yanked it back like he had been scalded. You could not help yourself from giggling as he did this once and then twice again. On the third attempt, you forgot that the two of you weren’t acknowledging one another and cupped your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice.

“What are you doing?” you said.

“Who — Y/N? I didn’t realize anyone else was in here!” he said, stepping back from the pool and straightening his shorts, though there was nothing wrong with them that required straightening. You sprang to your feet and walked over to him, leaving wet footprints in your wake as you peered at him curiously.

“I was just going to do some laps to ensure that I’m at my best for the swimming unit next week. Did you have the same idea?” you said.

“Something like that,” he said.

“What’s with that whole ritual, though?” you said. “It’s not that cold. You should just get in.”

“Definitely not,” he said. You furrowed your brow.

“Okay,” you said. “Why are you at the pool, then, if you don’t want to go in the water?”

“It’s nothing you need to be concerned with!” he said. “Why are you so nosy? Just go away.”

“I was here first,” you said.

“Fine,” he said, spinning on his heel. “I’ll go, then.”

“Wait! Karasu, wait,” you said, grabbing onto his wrist as he made to leave. “Look, we don’t have to talk to one another or anything. We’re experienced enough at ignoring each other, so there’s not an issue in both of us being here.”

“Is that what you want?” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” you said. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, and you thought he would say something, but he only nodded curtly.

“Fine,” he said. You gave him an expectant look, but he did not move from the spot he was rooted in, so you thought that you might as well take the initiative. Looping around to the deep end, you inhaled and then dove into the water headfirst, staying under for as long as you could before finally surfacing and allowing yourself to settle into the familiar undulations that came with swimming.

After a few laps, you took a break, peeking up over the concrete to look at Karasu, who was still standing stubbornly in place, his nose wrinkling whenever he glanced at the pool.

“Hey,” you said. “Are you scared of the water or something?”

He froze. “Who told you that?”

“No one?” you said. “It’s pretty easy to tell as an onlooker. Were you planning on trying to get over your fear by coming to swim when no one was here? That’s dangerous if you don’t know how. You could drown.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he said.

“Really? Then why’re you just standing there?” you said. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and then finally he hung his head in reluctant defeat.

“Whatever,” he said. Judging by the way he tensed immediately after the confession, he was expecting you to say something cruel, but you only boosted yourself out of the water and tapped him on the shoulder.

“I can help you, if you’d like,” you said. “I’m good at swimming.”

“Why would I want your help? And why would you even offer it in the first place? This is just one more subject you can beat me in, and that’s all you care about, so save it,” he said. “Congratulations, Y/N. You get to be number one this time.”

He looped a dry towel around his neck and left you standing alone, shivering and dripping pool water, a puddle forming around your feet as you gazed at the door he had vanished through.

The class rankings updated again after the swimming unit was over. You were in first place. Karasu didn’t even make it to the top ten. You wanted to celebrate the victory — it was the first time you had beaten him so thoroughly, after all — but for some reason, it didn’t really feel like something worth celebrating.

FOUR: STONE IT

School without Karasu was lonelier than you thought it would be. You hadn’t realized just how much you relied on him until he wasn’t there anymore. Without him, there wasn’t anyone you could exchange looks with across the room when somebody said something ridiculous in class. There wasn’t anyone who you could talk to in the minutes before the period began. There wasn’t anyone who made you push yourself to be better. What was the point of being first if Karasu wasn’t on your heels, ensuring that you stayed on the top for fear of losing to him? It was boring and lonely to try if he wasn’t doing the same.

You and he were still one and two, but it didn’t matter much anymore. The rankings were just numbers. They didn’t mean anything when Karasu still refused to even exchange pleasantries with you. Why would you want to compete when the other party didn’t share your interest? Now, if you managed to pull out ahead of him, it felt more like you had kicked a dog that was already down than if you had actually won anything. When he got first over you, it didn’t fuel your ambition any. You just wished he would come over and gloat instead of sitting there so solemnly, like none of it had ever mattered to him in the first place.

You couldn’t understand why he was so angry. What had you said that was so egregious? You hardly remembered the conversation you had had with him, it was that thoughtlessly done. You really hadn’t meant much if anything by it. One second, the two of you had been squabbling as you were prone to doing, and the next, he was so furious that he couldn’t bear to interact with you even still.

The day you were ambushed was nondescript. It was just like any other Wednesday, and you were walking back home from school when you were forced to stop in your tracks. A tall man — no, he was a boy, probably a year or two younger than you based on his soft and innocent expression — was barring your way, his arms outstretched and feet planted firmly in the ground to prove the depth of his conviction. He had pale hair and sky-colored eyes framed by the longest eyelashes you had ever seen on anyone, man or woman, with a small mouth pinched into an expression of discontent and lines like tire tracks between his eyebrows.

“Who are you?” you said warily, reaching for your phone, though you hardly knew who you would call. The setting was wrong for this to be a mugging, as it was sunny out and you were on a well-traveled street, but you didn’t really know what else to expect from the stranger, who could certainly outmuscle you if it came to it despite his lovely appearance.

“Yo Hiori,” he said. “I play on Bambi Osaka with Karasu. You’re Y/N L/N, correct?”

“Oh, one of the soccer guys?” you said. “Uh, hey. Yes, that’s me. Is something the matter? I’ve never seen you before. How do you even know who I am?”

“I’ve been watching Karasu for a while,” Hiori said with the utmost of seriousness, his hands dropping to his sides now that he was sure you weren’t going to run past him. “He’s a pretty fascinating person.”

“I’m sure,” you said, thinking to yourself that this Hiori kid was more than a little weird. Did Karasu know that he had acquired such a shadow? You supposed he must’ve. He had always been the observant type, so there was no way someone like Hiori would’ve escaped his keen notice.

“He’s been kind of down in the dumps recently, though. Even our coach noticed it. His playing hasn’t suffered too dramatically, but he’s the captain of the team, so he’s the guy everyone relies on for a funny pep talk or a word of advice when things are going south. Nowadays, however, when he’s off the field, he just sulks,” Hiori explained.

“I see,” you said. “That’s terrible.”

You meant it, too. Karasu without his asshole quips and ready jokes was a different person entirely. A person who you missed more than you could let on, even to yourself.

“It is,” Hiori said. “I took it upon myself to do some digging, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason is you.”

He was definitely a freak. You vowed to bring it up with Karasu, if he ever talked to you again. Even if he was already aware, it felt like a moral or civic duty of yours to ensure that he was fully informed about the extent that this child was inquiring into his life.

“What kind of, uh, digging do you mean?” you said, neatly avoiding the second thing he had said.

“It was pretty simple,” Hiori said. “One of the guys asked Karasu if he was acting off because he broke up with his girlfriend or something, and he got so mad that he left practice early. I opened up social media as soon as I got home and saw that you’re the only girl he follows, so by process of elimination, I figured the two of you were having some trouble in your relationship.”

“Relationship? I think you’re misunderstanding,” you said. “There’s no relationship. You could hardly even consider us friends.”

“Oh!” Hiori said. “I’m sorry. He’s mentioned you once or twice, so I just thought — and given what he said — and his reaction and all — no, I really am just sorry. It was wrong of me to make that assumption in the first place.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “I’m told it’s a relatively common misconception, so I can’t blame you. At least, it used to be. We haven’t really spoken in a while, so I guess everything thinks that it’s over, even though it never began in the first place.”

“You haven’t spoken in a while?” Hiori said. “Why not?”

“I think I said something that offended him, and we haven’t been on good terms since. Not that we ever really were in the first place,” you said.

“You did? He’s a pretty rational person, so it must’ve been something terrible for him to still be angry about it,” Hiori said.

“Maybe, but I don’t remember saying anything like that,” you said.

“What if you tell me how your last conversation went? Maybe I can help you,” he said.

“Sure, since you’re apparently the resident Karasu expert,” you said. “Wanna walk with me? I was heading home, but we can go to the convenience store and get some snacks or something instead. I don’t want to get in trouble for standing around in front of some random person’s house for too long.”

“Sounds good,” Hiori said. “There’s one a couple of minutes away, so we can head in that direction and keep talking as we go.”

“Great,” you said. “Okay, so the last time we talked…I think it was when Kenyu Yukimiya requested to follow me.”

“Who’s that?” Hiori said.

“He’s this model I met while I was shopping one day. Absolutely breathtaking,” you said. “Just really a stand-up guy. We’ve hung out a few times since then, he introduced me to the girlfriend I did not know he had, the works.“

“Yikes, unrequited love?” Hiori said with a wince.

“It was more of a celebrity crush. His girlfriend is super sweet, though, so I can’t complain. Anyways, I would consider them both casual acquaintances. The type you call to have a coffee with, but not the ones that help you move into a new apartment, you know?” you said.

“Uh, sure,” Hiori said in a tone which suggested he had no idea what you were talking about but was too scared to inquire further.

“Moving on, Yukimiya requested to follow me, and of course this was at the peak of my celebrity crush, so I started fawning over him, which prompted Karasu to take my phone and start insulting him,” you said.

“Interesting,” Hiori said.

“Then I called him ugly, and he called me ugly — that’s pretty standard for the two of us, so don’t look so shocked! After that, I said something about how I had expected him to be jealous of Yukimiya, since he didn’t have much going for him overall, so it made sense,” you said. “That’s when he left and things got weird.”

“Okay, I think I get it,” Hiori said. You waited for him to explain further. He smiled at you pleasantly.

“Right, so are you going to share with the class or am I meant to read your mind?” you said after a moment.

“I don’t want to give anything away that I shouldn’t,” he said. “But it’s a pretty simple issue to fix. Try thinking about what you said from his perspective.”

“He has a dumbass perspective. It’s impossible for me to think that way,” you said automatically.

“Do you think that he dislikes you?” Hiori said, taking two bottles of Yakult down from the shelf, handing one to you and keeping the other for himself.

“I’m not really sure how he feels about me, to tell you the truth,” you said.

“I don’t think he does,” Hiori said. “So, try thinking about someone you like and then imagine them saying to you what you said to them. Would you be inclined to be nice to them after that?”

“Well…” Your tongue was heavy and leaden in your mouth, and you ducked your head as you searched through your wallet for money. “No, not at all. I’d probably hate them for a really long time. Maybe forever.”

“That’s possible,” he said.

“Do you think he’ll hate me forever?” you said.

“Most likely not. Like I said earlier, he’s a rational person. I think that if you say sorry and sincerely mean it, he’ll forgive you. There’s a chance he won’t, though; you’ll have to listen to what he says and accept it,” Hiori said.

“But when? I hardly have the chance to see him in school. He just avoids me, and the building’s so big that it’s all but impossible to track him down!” you said.

“We have a soccer game in the evening today,” Hiori said. “I’m heading over there in a bit. Wanna come? You can talk to him once it’s over.”

“Am I allowed to?” you said.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Hiori said. “If anyone says anything, just tell them I invited you. Here, I’ll give you the address and time now, and you can decide if you want to show up.”

“Okay,” you said, typing out his instructions in your notes app. “Thanks a lot for your help, Hiori.”

“Anytime!” he said. “Hope to see you at the game!”

“Even if I don’t go, I’d still like to meet you again. You’re a pretty cool kid,” you said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Kind of weird, if I’m being fully honest, but cool nonetheless. Karasu’s lucky to have a teammate like you.”

He grinned, and it was a tender, shy thing, as if he was earnestly seeking your praise or approval — like how a cat would bring a dead rat to its master or a child would show their parents a treasured drawing. “Thank you. Even if you don’t try to talk to Karasu…maybe you can still come anyways?”

“Alright, then,” you said. “Since you asked so nicely, I guess I have to. I’ll be there.”

FIVE: TAME IT

The sun was nearing the horizon, but it still had not officially begun to set by the time you settled in the bleachers on Bambi Osaka’s side. Besides a couple of women your mother’s age and an elderly man who must’ve been someone’s grandfather, there weren��t any other spectators. Hiori had mentioned that this wasn’t a particularly serious game, as they didn’t even need to beat the team to make it to Nationals, so it was more like a friendly exhibition game than anything — hence the low turnout.

“Hello, dear,” a woman said when she noticed you sitting by yourself. “Are you friends with one of the players?”

“Yes. Um, Tabito Karasu? I’m his classmate,” you said. Technically, you were there on Hiori’s goodwill, not Karasu’s, but for you to not mention Karasu would be like a betrayal. You weren’t sure if it was him or yourself that you’d be betraying, but either way you did not want to chance it.

“You’re one of Karasu’s friends? Lucky you, then,” she said. “He’s a delightful boy, or so I’ve heard. This is my son’s first year on the team, and he was really nervous to join such a prestigious organization, but ever since his first day, all he can talk about is how amazing his captain is. Karasu’s tough on all of the players, but he really works hard to make all of them feel welcomed, too.”

Bambi Osaka’s team took the field, and you smiled when you saw Karasu in the front, his name across the back of his jersey, a pair of black gloves covering his large hands, an insolent leer on his face as he greeted the other team’s captain. He had not noticed you yet, and you were not sure if this was for the better or worse, because you wanted him to see you, but you didn’t want him to be distracted and play poorly as a result.

“He’s a wonderful person,” you agreed. “He’s the only one in the entire school who can keep up with me, academically or otherwise. I didn’t realize until recently how much I admire him for that.”

The woman’s eyes crinkled around the corners with the ease that came from a lifetime of happiness. For some reason, you thought that she knew something you did not, or could not, but it wasn’t uncomfortable that she did. It seemed to you that being left in the dark was just your lot this time around, and you found that oddly enough, it felt acceptable.

“Is this your first time coming to watch him?” she said.

“Yes, it is,” you said.

“You know, he has this habit before every match of scanning the stands, like he’s looking for someone. I thought it might be his parents, but at the last match, just about his entire family showed up, and he still seemed disappointed,” she said.

“That’s a shame,” you said noncommittally, not sure what else you should say. The woman shrugged.

“Well, I wonder what it’ll be like today,” she said. “There he goes.”

True to her words, Karasu was craning his neck towards the Bambi Osaka side, his eyes darting from person to person until they settled on you. You raised your hand hesitantly, waving at him, knowing that he probably wouldn’t reciprocate.

He turned away almost immediately, but not before you saw him fight back a smile — not the smug type he generally donned, but one you had only ever seen on him once or twice. It was one that made him seem charming and boyish and sweet, that made you want to take back every negative word you had ever said about him. Only now could you understand that it showed who he really was, that at his heart Karasu was that kind of person, not anything like the facade you were so accustomed to, which he showed you for the sole reason that it was what you unconsciously demanded of him.

You had judged him to be horrible, and so he became the bane of your existence. You had told him he was good for nothing, so he disappeared like he really was just that. Everything you said, Karasu went along with gamely, and you wished you could’ve known that earlier, so you would’ve spent less time hating him and more time comprehending these intricacies, which entranced you in the way a spider’s web entranced a butterfly.

“Looks like I don’t need to worry about that child any more,” the woman said as the referee blew the whistle to signal the start of the game.

“Pardon?” you said. “Were you talking to me?”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just musing to myself. Ignore me. Let’s watch the game; I have a feeling that some of our players are going to go all out today.”

Bambi Osaka completely annihilated the other team. Maybe the match didn’t matter, but none of them played that way; instead, they were aggressive and focused, with Karasu at the forefront of every goal they made, commending his teammates and deriding his opposition in the same breath.

That was something you had not expected — he had a massively foul mouth when he played soccer. You had thought that he was rude when he spoke to you, but the things you overheard from him whenever he ran by within earshot made your conversations seem tame. You couldn’t help but pity the poor defenders that he shoved past and spat barbed-wire abuse at.

He was merciless and beautiful and you could probably spend a dozen more hours watching him play without even a trace of boredom, but by the time the sky had turned gold and the sun had dipped towards the ground, the game was over and the members of Bambi Osaka were packing up their things to leave for the night after yet another landslide win.

You snuck onto the field once you were extremely assured that nobody would be upset with you for it, making your way over to where Karasu was chugging a bottle of water.

“Hi,” you said when he was finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tossing the now-empty bottle into his bag. “You played really well.”

“Thanks,” he said. There was impatience but also longing in his voice, like he wanted you to say something so badly but he knew you would not, would never, and so he would rather get the conversation over with and move on with the business of his life than stick around and waste time with you.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“What?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Karasu, I’m really sorry. I don’t think that you have nothing going for you. I don’t know why I said that. Well, I do, it’s because I wanted to have the last word like I always do, but I don’t mind if I don’t have it this time. Or any other time. Or ever again.”

“What?” he repeated, as though he had been rendered dumb by your confession.

“I miss you,” you admitted. “I didn’t believe I could, but apparently, I can, and I do. A lot. I know that I’m unpleasant and disparaging and haughty when it comes to you, but I won’t be that way anymore if you forgive me for my vices one last time. If it means you’ll talk to me, I’ll be a fool. I’ll be in second place. I’ll be an idiot. But please, please forgive me.”

He took a deep breath. You handed him the bottle of kombucha that you had bought on your way to the game because you saw him drink it so frequently that you figured he must like it. He accepted it gingerly, holding it with the delicacy of a newborn, unscrewing the lid and sipping on it pensively.

“Alright,” he said.

“Alright?” you said.

“I’ll forgive you,” he said. “But on one condition.”

“Anything,” you said.

“You better not do anything as dumb as trying to be mediocre on purpose because you think it’ll make me feel better. What the hell is that proposition, huh? It’ll make me feel worse if anything! I like you because you’re unpleasant and disparaging and haughty and whatever else you said, not in spite of those qualities. I’m sure you heard me while I was playing…anyone who isn’t you would probably be terrified of me when I’m like that,” he said. “Just, y’know, I’m a person with feelings, too, so keep that in mind if you can. Oh, and don’t wait so long to say sorry next time, because it’s seriously annoying for me to feel all out-of-sorts for ages!” he said.

“That’s it?” you said.

“That’s it,” he said. “Hug?”

Ordinarily, you would’ve said no, but you were so weepy at the reconciliation that you nodded and let him embrace you, his arms caging you against his chest, holding you to him so that you could not escape.

“Ew!” you shouted when you registered what he was trying to do, shoving him off of you as he cackled and released you without much of a fight. “Gross, Karasu, you’re disgusting! Get away from me! I can’t believe you did that!”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” he said as you frantically tried to wipe yourself off, though it was largely in vain. In your emotional state, you had forgotten that he was still drenched with sweat from the game, and you were now reaping the consequences of your poor decision making.

“You’re a bad person,” you said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

“I probably deserved that one, though, so I won’t hold it against you,” you said.

“Smart decision,” he said. “Wait. Unrelated, but whatever ended up happening between you and that model dude? What was his name again?”

“Yukimiya? He has a girlfriend,” you said. “Oh, well. What can you do, right? I’m not upset about it. Besides, everyone and their mother thinks I have a boyfriend already, so it’s probably for the best that it worked out like this. I wouldn’t want his modeling career to be ruined by home-wrecking allegations or anything.”

“It must be a pretty serious not-relationship you’ve got there, if it’s the career-ending type,” he said.

“I’d say it’s pretty serious, yes,” you said. “He’s an awesome guy. You’d like him.”

“I’ll respect it, then,” he said. “But…if you ever find yourself not-breaking up with him, then, uh, let me know. I’ll take you on a date somewhere. We can argue and reminisce about the day we met over dinner or something. It’ll be super romantic.”

He said it casually, but you were more familiar with him than either of you ever could’ve predicted you’d be. He was secretly nervous about how big of a risk he had taken, fiddling with the zipper of his soccer bag, avoiding your eyes while he waited for your response. You let the silence stretch on for a minute, just to make him squirm, and then you poked him in the ribs.

“Karasu,” you said.

“What’s up?” he said, and he must’ve been trying very hard to keep his cool, but his anxiety transmitted through the endearing crack of his voice.

“I have to tell you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m not-single now,” you said. “So. Will you take me on a date this weekend?”

He lit up, so bright that you were all but blinded by the brilliance of his joy. Then he cleared his throat and pretended to check the non-existent watch on his wrist.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “That works for me. I’ll pick you up on Saturday for dinner.”

“Great,” you said. “I look forward to it.”

“Hold on, don’t go just yet,” he said. You paused, about to ask him what else he needed when he stooped over and pressed his lips to your cheek. “Thanks for coming to my game. I’m not really sure how you knew I was playing, but I’m glad you could make it either way.”

“Um — uh — Hiori told me, he told me you were playing, and, er, where to go and what time and all,” you stammered, trying to wrap your head around what had just happened, replaying it in your mind over and over.

“Hiori? I should’ve known he’d be the type to meddle like that,” he said. “I’m not even going to ask how you know each other. The answer will probably make me feel vaguely discomfited, so I’ll abide by an ‘ignorance is bliss’ policy.”

“That’s probably for the best,” you said, composing yourself, though internally, you were imagining what it would be like if you had turned your head, if instead of your cheek his lips had landed somewhere else. “Okay, I should go now. See you on Saturday?”

“One last thing. You’re pretty transparent, you know,” he said, grasping your chin in his left hand and leaning in. Your eyelashes fluttered shut as he grew closer and closer, but right when his mouth was a hair’s breadth from yourself, he chuckled. “Also, pretty gullible.”

Instead of kissing you like you had anticipated he would, he tackled you in another hug. You squealed in protest, but he held fast, his body rumbling with laughter as you simultaneously struggled to escape and clung onto him as tightly as you could.

“I hate you,” you said when your half-hearted efforts proved to be entirely futile.

“Sure you do,” he said.

“You’re the worst,” you said.

“Absolutely,” he said.

“I’m being serious here. You smell!” you said.

“Well, that’s plain rude of you to say,” he said, messing up your hair in what you were sure he deemed to be a punishment, as if being crushed against his sweaty form wasn’t punishment enough.

“Let go of me, you idiot crow!” you said.

“No can do,” he said. “Crows are clingy birds, you know. Even the idiotic ones. Ask me again in twenty years and maybe we can revisit the issue.”

“Karasu!”

[miakate-writes]

academic rivals who make out between classes for “morale” reasons

[delwrites]

HI HI james is my pookie rn too and I'm craving fics so !!!!

consider. James with a really studious kinda reader (I'm thinking Ravenclaw but house doesn't have to be specified), academic rivals to lovers? like reader gets the best scores in most subjects but just can't manage to beat James in transfigurations? perhaps one day they find themselves struggling so much they just HAVE to ask him for help (as much as they hate to admit it) and they realize he's actually not as insufferable as they thought he'd be... then study sessions (cough dates cough) get more frequent and I think you can imagine where this is heading

hope you understand what I'm trying to say ^_^ you don't have to write this if you're struggling or don't feel like it but thanks in advance if you do 💋💋

an- i have to be honest, i didn’t write this alone… @koishua posted a list of prompts for academic rivals and i used a few, big shoutout to them thank you so much, they helped a bunch <3 this request was amazing, thanks babe!

James Potter loved to get on your nerves.

The smug bastard had seen how good you were in all your subjects, so he just loved to hold your greatest shame over your head; transfigurations. That bitch.

His annoying attitude paired with his holier-than-thou perspective vexed you to no end. But what irritated you the most was how genuinely gifted he was, when you could barely understand the simplest of spells. It was unlike you, and he knew it, and gosh he loved to rub your face in it. You dreaded every upcoming test, and no matter how hard you studied, it made no difference when it came to putting the theory into practice. You hated him and his smug fucking face.

His smug, handsome face. 

Before you had spoken to him, you almost could’ve sworn your heart jumped in your chest a little. Before he had opened his fat gob, you’d almost thought you actually found him sufferable. Oh how wrong you’d been. 

“Exam coming up, sweetheart. I can’t wait to rub my superiority in your face, again!” You rolled your eyes as James took his respective seat next to you. Regrettably, you’d allowed him to be your seatmate, the first day of lessons your eyes following him as he smoothly slid down on the shared desk next to you. You didn’t realise, at the time, just what you were getting yourself in for.

“Oh shut it, Potter, this time is the time I get you back, just you wait.” You spat his name out with as much venom as you could fathom, before he let out a surprisingly loud laugh at your words.

“Please, oh I’d love to see that!” The bastard. You’d show him, you just had to.

The next day was the first time where this pointless rivalry had faltered, it almost made you like him. Almost. You were sick, in bed all day with a flu that was going around. It was hardly anything serious, you weren’t exactly bedridden, but you didn’t want to pass it on to any of your respective classmates (although you wouldn’t mind poisoning a certain one). 

It was late afternoon, just after last period, when a certain displeasing bespectacled boy was at your dorm room door, rasping a melodious knock that tore a groan from your throat. 

“Come in!” He peeked his head around the door, a cheery expression faltering at your state, before coming back tenfold, a detail you missed having your arm thrown over your eyes. 

“You had no right to get sick!” He all but whined. You looked at him incredulously, baffled by his sudden outburst.

“Who am I supposed to annoy now?” 

“Well I didn’t mean to get sick!” You reply, exasperated by his antics, and the annoying tone his voice was piercing your brain with.

He smirked at you, happy you still had your argumentative nature with him, even in your state, before handing you a bundle of parchment.

“Uh, here.” He gives you a lopsided grin, best he could muster for you right now, before clasping his hands behind his back, rocking himself back and forth from the balls to the heels of his feet.

Upon reading the parchment, you instantly knew what he’d done. You furrowed your brows upon glancing over his notes (in aggravatingly nice handwriting, might you add).

“What, and the joke is they’re all wrong or something?” you say, clearly irritated, waiting for him to get to the point, hit you with the punchline. 

“No! No, I just, um, want my win to be a fair one, you know? Can’t have you falling behind, can we?” By this point, his feet had planted firmly beside your bed, hand going up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I, uh, used my best handwriting and everything. I know you always complain about how ‘illegible’ it is so I, y’know, wanted to make sure you could read them…” he says, his hand then gesturing to the aforementioned papers in your grasp. All you could do was stare at them, trying to figure out his real intentions. James Potter wouldn’t just do something nice for you, would he?

Upon your silence, his brain scrambles to fill it, “You can read it, right?”. You feel a smile fighting onto your face, a genuine, stupid smile trying to unabashedly show itself. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah I can read it, idiot. Um seriously, I- thank you?”

“Wow, don’t have to sound so genuine.”

“No, James, seriously, it, um, it means a lot…” your eyes stick onto the post at the end of your bed, your duvet suddenly feeling suffocatingly warm. 

James can’t help but feel stunned at your use of his actual name. It felt silly, but he could feel your resolve crashing down before him, it made his own rear its head into the room, before he heard your door open, signalling his departure.

“Right, well I’ll, uh, see you later.” He gives you his best grin, teeth and all, before scooting past your friend to go back to his friends, a confusing blush covering his cheeks. Shit.

Your next lesson back, you couldn’t help but feel your anger tenfold. You had read over his notes and, for fucks sake, they were amazing. You already had a better understanding of the subject just after two, maybe three sides of parchment. I mean wow, what a dickhead. A super smart, super hot dickhead. You took your spot next to him, not daring to give him a glance.

“Woah, you’re awfully quiet. Finally realise I’m so much better than you at this?” He turns to you, smug smirk on his lips that you just wanna smack (kiss) off his stupid face. You turn to him as well, so suddenly that he almost flinches. 

“Teach me.” 

It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting you to say, but if it led to you here, now, like this, then boy was he glad. You were sitting practically thigh to thigh in the library after school, you requesting his help right up until dinner (or however much of it you could take until then). 

After around two hours of his help, you hated to say that you were already seeing improvement on your behalf. You’d never seen him so serious, not shy to crack jokes of course, but you could tell he was genuinely trying to help you. There were points where you couldn’t help but get distracted, watching his hands run over the pages, using them to further drive his points home, not shying away from the proximity like you desperately wanted him to. Every time you asked him to repeat himself, he’d poke your side, asking if he’s going too fast for you (not quite as teasingly as you’d expect him to, though), before repeating himself in a way that he deemed would make things more clear for you. It’s his fault, anyway. If he hadn’t been so close, so touchy, you wouldn’t get distracted in the first place. Hell, you could practically feel his breath on your neck. Despicable. You could only pray he couldn’t feel your heart rate speeding up, body temperature rising. If he knew the reason for your getting distracted, he sure as hell wasn’t showing it, at least having the decency of saving you the embarrassment. 

It all came to an end (sadly) when Remus came into the library, looking for a particular book and finding more than he bargained for. A smirk overcame his face, before walking over to you both, bending next to James’ ear to mutter a quick “Sirius has been looking for you,” and leaving you both to your devices as he continued scouring the library for his book, discreetly eyeing you both up. 

“Thanks again for, y’know, everything.” You say awkwardly, wringing your hands together in a manner which had his eyebrows creasing, lips in a straight line before sucking in a sharp breath, replying with a genuine, “Hey, I get it. Having a reputation to uphold and what-not, it can be a lot…” You just nod, eyeing up his face for any indication of him not meaning what he was saying, sniffing out any traces of a potential trap. 

“No really, you make a great teacher.” You beam up at him, the closeness of him making your breath catch in your throat, faces so close you could almost…

“I am brilliant, aren’t I?” Moment ruined. 

You let out a genuine (albeit, surprised) laugh in his face before gathering your ink and quill, putting all the parchment used into your bag and holding out a hand to him. 

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

[frickingnerd]

monoma crushing on a 1A student

pairing: neito monoma x gn!reader

tags: wholesome fluff, rivals to lovers (+idiots to lovers), class 1A!reader, mutual crushs (but both refuse to confess first)

you had fallen in love with monoma at the start of your first year at UA

you were in class 1A while he was in class 1B

monoma was always trying to prove that he was better than everyone in your class and you absolutely hated him at first

but you couldn't deny that you also enjoyed annoying the boy whenever you had the chance

while you fell for him first, monoma fell for you harder

after facing him at the sports festival, monoma realized how strong you really were

he hated to admit it, but you had actually deserved your place in class 1A

if only he could've been in the same class with you, maybe things could've been different

but now, the two of you had established each other as rivals

monoma wanted to prove how great his class was compared to yours. how great he really was!

meanwhile you wanted to do the opposite. you wanted to show him how great your class was, only so you could rub it in his face

honestly, those were the only times you actually got a reason to talk to him, so you were trying your hardest to win, so you could annoy monoma with it~

what started as a rivalry between the two classes quickly became a lot more personal, when monoma started to pick up on your crush on him

he was delighted to know you liked him, but he wouldn't lose this battle as well! no, he planned to make you confess to him first! 

it took you a bit longer, until you realized what monoma was doing. he was spending more time with you and the only reason there was for this, was that he had a crush on you! 

but it quickly dawned on you, that he didn't intend to confess to you, otherwise he would've done it already! 

and since you didn't want to let him win this easily, you decided to play his game and see who would give in first!

would monoma be the one confessing his love to you first?

or would you give in and be the one confessing to him instead?

[stop-ur-losing-me]

my favorite lovers tropes

academic rivals to lovers (IS SO GOOD, plus when theyre forced to work together)

the "why didn't you answer my letters??" followed by "you wrote me letters???" HEARTWRENCHING

fake dating (enough said)

the 'you need to learn how to dance so im gonna teach you and oh gosh why r we this close?' (honestly one of my all time favs)

the two enemies dancing together at a masquerade dance (yes, just yes)

the screamed love confession during an argument "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU" (best thing ever)

one bed trope (enough said)

the 'i hate everyone but you' couple (yesssss)

one losing their mind if the other is hurt or captured (cough percabeth cough)

the bodyguard/princess trope I REPEAT THE BODYGUARD/PRINCESS TROPE

the 'we were flirting and everyone else knows we were flirting but we're in denial bout it' (this trope)

MUTUAL PINING MUTUAL PINING

additionally, the 'everyone thinks we're dating but we r not/ in denial bout it' (BEST TROPE EVER)

the hero falling for the villain (honestly one of the best ones out there)

lovers to enemies (SO ANGSTY)

there's more i'll add when i can :)

[girlwithherheadinthestars]

academic rivals prompt list pt. 1

person a creeping up behind person b to lean over their shoulder to see their test score then person b detecting their presence and whirling around to hit them in the face with their calculator

alternatively, person a sees the test score and crows with laughter "HA I GOT .5 POINTS MORE THAN YOU" (also probably gets hit in the head with a calculator)

dead silence as they sit next to each other in class, not making eye contact, looking all business like.

person a: well well well.

person b: indeed

*le dramatic silence*

person a: did you study?

person b: oh not that much i just stayed up for 24 hours straight then summoned the spirit of heisenberg using voodoo dark arts to explain the uncertainty principle to me

person a: amateur i've been up for two days straight surviving on caffeine alone studying the material and the author of our textbook is tied up in my basement so i can ask him questions

person c doing better than both a and b on a test

a and b glaring at c

person a: they die.

person b: i have a shovel i'll bury the body

also, alternatively, person c starts making fun of b.

person a: *death glare* only i make fun of b. take a step back before i break your legs.

a and b go to study at the same library, not expecting to see each other, and then when they do they glare at each other from afar and sit on opposite ends of the table

and then they start stealing glances at each other

a loves hates the way b's brow scrunches up when they're confused, how they push up their glasses, how they sip their coffee

b loves hates it when a runs a hand through their hair in frustration, licks their finger to flip the page of a book, draws absentmindedly on their own hand to relax

when university acceptances come out, both of them get so stressed and open the application portals together, hugging each other and sobbing and then when they both get in they kiss in triumph and then when they come to, they jump back, blinking

*le sexual tension silence*

"that never happened"

"yup."

*awkward handshake*

"good job"

"yeah"

also, imagine person a checking their dream school application portal and not getting in.

b sees the look on a's face change and realizes.

they go over to them and wordlessly hug them, letting them cry into their shoulder

one of a and b's teachers being their literal parent

teacher: a, apologize for calling b an underachiever.

a: *grudgingly* sorry b

teacher: now b, apologize for calling a....what did you call them again?

b: *mutters* i called them thomson's model of the atom because it was incorrect and useless

teacher: yes. that. *sigh* apologize.

b: sorry a

teacher: now hug it out

a and b making disgusted faces

teacher: hug it out.

a and b: *awkward hug*

(the teacher is invited to their wedding)

part. 2

part. 3

[ariella-has-lost-her-mind]

respectfully, i want to experience an angsty academic rivals-to-lovers where they keep trying to outdo each other in class, but secretly cheer each other on in private. like, imagine this:

they’re constantly swapping first and second place on the leaderboard, pretending not to care, but both secretly keep a mental spreadsheet of each other's wins and losses. they send each other articles on the topics they "missed" with passive-aggressive captions like "thought this might help for next time." meanwhile, she's stress-baking at 2 AM, wondering why her rival’s handwriting is suddenly so attractive.