290124 rory

masterlist

aurora, she her, europe, 8teen

🎼: rommulas, tokio hotel, 2hollis, nate sib, nettspend, drake, ken carson, the hellp, ethel cain, fakemink, jane remover, yeat, kendrick lamar, conceal, kanye west, taylor swift, lorde, bladee, esdeekid, feng, ikkimel, arca, ian, puresnow, osamason, bassvictim, destroy lonely, xaviersobased, che, sorisa, pierce the veil, deftones, lucy bedroque

🎥: american horror story, pretty little liars, superstore, gilmore girls, criminal minds, dead poets society, sword art online (s1 PEAK), shameless, bleach

📰: pride and prejudice, anna karenina, the bell jar, the great gatsby, the picture of dorian gray, white nights

🖋️: boyliife, nettspend, fakemink, request anything!!

talk to me <2

“we could be heroes, hunt me down, catch me”

bob!hollis x fem!reader, academic rivals!!

words: ~2,2k

A subtle fragrance radiated from the lipgloss you attentively applied. Tones of cherry and artificial cola crept into your nose.

Blue light lit in the corner of your eye to indicate that the straightener was fully heated. Your hands guided the iron through your strands, leaving smooth, straight hair behind. The ends you let curl into loose spheres.

“Fuck,” a curse fell from you as the burning iron branded your skin. Unplugging it from the wall, you took a hard look at yourself: the unfastened tie hanging from your neck, missing uniform jacket, rigid eyes. In just a few moments you’d throw your dignity to the wolves.

This whole debate was an opportunity served on a silver platter to him. An opportunity to make you look stupid, to poach the victory like he always tried to. Yesterday, in the study, it momentarily felt as though you were on the same team. As if he for once would have your back instead of trying to stab it.

A firm knock on the door snapped you from the horror scenarios. Swiftly you grabbed the blazer discarded on the floor and your bag hanging from the coatrack.

“Morning! D’you sleep well?” Mr. Russell greeted you giddily, leading you two through the hallways.

“Just fine, sir,” you replied, dragging your feet along the carpet. Hollis walked with leisurely steps beside you. His usually untidy appearance was gone, replaced by a neat uniform with his tie straight as an arrow. You wondered whether he had gotten his suit ironed. Even his hair was combed to fall nicely around his face.

“Perfect, now remember…” The old man began to explain the schedule of the day and the rules of the contest again, though his voice was more so background noise to you now. He reminded you about the time your debate would take place and the formal dinner held later in the evening.

“Rough morning?” Hollis quizzed with an audible bass in his words. As he muttered his query he had to lean down slightly for his message to reach you.

“Nope,” you stubbornly replied, tugging the blazer on while balancing the purse in your grasp. He extended his hand to offer some help. Despite your reluctance, you dropped everything from your grip to his. Afterwards the blazer slipped on with much more ease.

You took your things back just as brisk as you had handed them over.

Yet again a cab was waiting for you guys outside. You slid in first and Hollis followed you to the backseat, his long legs crossed uncomfortably in the legroom. Other than quickly going over your plan, the two of you stayed mute throughout the drive. Mr. Russell waffled on in the front seat, blissfully unaware of the omnipresent tension.

The contest was held on the premises of a University, in the auditorium to be more exact. Mr. Russell hurried you inside, gliding through the crowd towards the check in. The lady behind the desk handed you both badges to wear on your blazers, below the school crest.

Analyzing the other contestants brought an ounce of your usually overflowing confidence back. You watched the other students read their notes, snack, and talk to each other. Not a single familiar face in the whole crowd. Soon your attention fell back to Hollis, who was seemingly already looking at you. A second or two there was an eye contact of neutral understandment: you’d be fine. Then the oddness hit in and you tore your eyes away with a frown.

Mr. Russell placed his own badge on his jacket, then rested hands on our shoulders. “Alright, kiddos. Get out of your head, go mingle, have fun, make friends. I’ll meet you in the auditorium when it’s time.”

The old man was already halfway at the cluster of teachers in the corner.

The foyer was filled with teachers, classes on a school trip, other contestants, parents… You wished to talk to none of them.

The next half an hour was a new, previously unknown type of agony. Anxiety was eating your nervous system bit by bit. Not only were you adamant on proving yourself to the teachers and everyone watching, but in a way to Hollis too.

You’d prove to everyone that your triumph wasn’t coincidence but indeed very intentional. You’d prove to the audience that no one, even your pair, couldn’t take this from you. You’d prove to Hollis that you were worth his interest, just like he has proved to be worth yours.

You spent the entire time alone, going over your notes. Hollis was wherever. It was really none of your business nor did you really care.

However, soon you two waited on the side of the stage, tucked behind the curtains where it was dim. The bright light kept you attentive firmly towards the stage. Hollis stood in front of you, head dipped slightly as he spoke up.

“Hey,” he said to get your attention. Slender fingers reached out for your tie, grabbing the loosely tied fabric. You had forgotten to fix it. He gently but firmly fastened it around your throat, laying it against your chest without leaving creases on it.

You followed his movement with your stare, breathing slowly as if to move as little as humanly possible.

“Get your shit together,” he muttered, letting his fixed look string over from the navy tie to your face. You swallowed your possible reply as the host began speaking.

He announced the first debaters, which were you against a school from Wyoming. The first round was easy, nothing to worry about. You were good – not quite flawless, but close enough. It certainly didn’t hurt that the other pair, surely smart as ever, was too nervous to take the win home.

Your anxiety eased with each argument exchanged. It solidified in your mind that Hollis indeed was in your team, his arguments supporting yours and vice versa.

After your moment in the spotlight, you sat in the front row reserved for the contesters. The other debate lasted a tad bit longer, getting more heated than yours.

You were told that you had, as a matter of fact, won the first round. The next round would take place after a brief intermission, after which the winners would debate each other, and the losers each other. Topic was to be announced.

In the foyer there were juice boxes and all sorts of snacks, varying from apples to cookies. You weren’t hungry though. The first round had been easy because it felt as if there was less at stake for whatever reason. Stress was creeping back in.

You drifted from the crowd to outside. A spot on the stone stairs was nearly calling your name. To no surprise the surface felt cold, numbing the skin on your thigh. A small breeze played with your hair and with that calmed your mind.

You could perform well under stress, it wasn’t a problem. However, each time you’d spiral beforehand; picking yourself apart into small pieces and putting them back like a puzzle when it was showtime.

Moments and moments of just you and the flowing traffic passed. Then, behind you boots hit the ground in that familiar lazy pattern. He sat beside you, running a hand through his dyed hair.

“Did they say what the topic was yet?” Your voice came out calculated.

Hollis shook his head, sipping a soda. He offered the Cola to you.

“A new flavor. You should try it, it's really good.”

First you looked at the boy’s face, with his casual demeanor and all. After that your gaze fell onto the extended bottle. You wordlessly took it from him, bringing it to your lips.

The strong cherry flavor immediately invaded your senses as the liquid traveled down your throat. It was really good. It was cold and felt like it would freeze your insides, contrasted by the warm weather.

He took the bottle back and just stared. The unyielding stare almost made you want to crawl out of your own skin. “Why’re you so wired up?” He asked, drinking more.

“M’not,” you denied, leaning your elbows on your knees.

He nodded in silence. Not a nod of agreement but more so understandment.

“You know I got your back out there, right?”

There it was. Did he? You weren’t stupid, but neither was he. You knew that if anyone had it in them to fool you, it was the boy sitting right beside you.

You couldn’t even muster a hum of acknowledgement in the moment. Someone called you inside to hear the topics for the last two debates.

Hollis stretched to his full height effortlessly, holding his hand out for you to take. You didn’t, and got up by yourself.

The topics were displayed on a screen in the foyer. Yours was another simple classic: “This house believes that lying can be morally justified”.

You shortly discussed your plan before coasting back into the auditorium. This time you two would be up last. The first debate was quite clear once again; poor Wyoming was sorely beaten.

You had no chance to enjoy the show, too nervous, discreetly glancing over at the pair you and Hollis would go up against.

“Next up: California against Montana!” The host announced. Hollis got up and nudged your knee with his as if telling you to follow. You did. All the way from the low stairs to the lectern. The whole stage was set up as if you were some kind of fucking presidential candidates. The speaker’s box was just wide enough for two to share.

The students from Montana looked unusually short but more than strong willed. The girl had long, curly, and red hair. She looked nice enough – maybe you two would become friends at the dinner once all the stress was long gone.

Hollis began with an improvised introduction. Your eyes stayed fixed on how his hand moved as it held a tight grip on the desk. It was a fine opening of a case. Not perfect like what you aimed towards, but natural and pleasantly structured.

Surprisingly the opposing team made the mistake of slippery slope, turning their first counter-argument into a fallacy. Their thick southern accents melted into your ears like honey into tea. The debate carried out very typically: next was the defense and expansion, then rebuttals.

Both pairs had their stumbles. You bit back a grimace each time you noticed one of your own. But despite it all, Hollis hadn’t lied. Just like in the first debate, and just like he had promised, it was all teamwork.

This time the judges had time to contemplate their decision, you were all excused on an interval. Mr. Russell gushed over your performance. Hollis entertained the conversation, you just bit on the skin of your lower lip. Anxiety made your teeth gnaw so hard it drew blood.

Once you were back in your seats, the host climbed onto the stage again. He cleared his throat.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. I am pleased to tell you that our judges have come to their decision,” he spoke in a theatrical voice.

Both you and Hollis were slouching against your chairs like the very teenagers you so hard tried not to be. It was safe to say the day had taken its toll on you.

“In fourth place we’ve got Wyoming,” a round of sympathy applause, not something you wanted to hear after they announced California.

“In third, our very own, Arizona,” now a patriotic version of the cheers erupted. “Second place… Montana,” your heart nearly missed a beat and then beat three instead of one from the raging applause.

“So, dear audience, that means our winner this year is California!” A soft hum took over your ears as Mr. Russell joined all the ballyhoo, ushering you two to stand up. And so you did.

You both looked around the room. If academic validation was like meth to you, an overdose might be just around the corner. Like none of the hurray mattered, Hollis looked down at you with a subtle smile. You met his eye.

To your great surprise you caught yourself clinging to him in a hug. It was completely unlike you, but to be fair, this whole day he too, had been completely unlike himself.

His long arms embraced you back without hesitation. His hold didn’t break even once he started to move towards the stairs of the stage; meaning the first couple of steps he took, you were dragged along.

Normally you would’ve deemed that as embarrassing and humiliating, but right now you barely thought about the gesture.

The host slipped playful medals over your heads. A camera flashed in front of you two.

It was over now. All there was left to do was take some photos and eat a boring dinner. You won again.

Posing with the judges for a photo that would be plastered all over the contest’s internet page, Hollis’ grip on your waist stayed unswerving.

Flash. Another pose. Flash. A brush of sides. Flash.

a/n: yes i made them win what about it😊 i craved for the cheesy main character moment, plus!!! they are smart af in my head, so makes sense. but guuyyysss they’re warming up to each otherrr soo cutee😚😚 enjoy it while it lasts. also this is the longest chapter yet, which brings me to my question: in general, do you guys prefer longer chapters with fewer updates or shorter chapters like before with more updates?

“we could be here now”

bob!hollis x fem!reader, academic rivals!!

wc: ~1,4k

An hour and a half flew by quite similarly as the plane soared through the sky. The seats were cream colored faux leather, which felt a little sticky under your fingertips. At least you weren't sat by Hollis but instead a cute, little lady from Malibu, who chatted to you about the Second World War. She compactly covered everything from Pearl Harbor to the Cold War before dozing off. For the rest of the flight you kept your headphones on, drowning your mind in your favorite songs.

From the airport to the nice hotel you were taken by a taxi. Mr. Russell, who was the liable teacher out there with you, was sitting happily in the front seat. His eyes drank in the views passing by through faintly tinted windows. Yours followed in suit, glued to the reeling landscape.

“Once we get to the hotel, I suppose we’ll drop our things off in our rooms and head to dinner immediately. How does that sound?”

You refused to look away from the window, as if staring hard enough would teleport you outside to the peace and warmth.

“Sounds like a fine plan, sir,” Hollis replied for you, his cologne invasive in the backseat.

“Wonderful. In that case, you have the rest of the evening free of me; go crazy, kids.” Mr. Russell chuckled to himself.

“Well, not too crazy. Remember then, tomorrow your brains must be fully charged. As they say: "Well planned is half done”.”

Minutes passed and soon enough the cab pulled over in front of a very welcomed sight. The hotel certainly looked expensive, as expected, yet homey at the same time.

Your legs crawled out from the open car door and led you to the trunk. Arms crossed, you watched as the automatic lid moved out of the way. Mr. Russell busied himself with paying the driver. Hollis shifted to the bags laid now in front of you two. First he slid his own out from the top, letting the black, hard, plastic hit the ground with a prominent thud. Then he proceeded to lift yours as well, landing it considerably softer by your feet.

You wordlessly took the handle and pulled it further away as Mr. Russell came to collect his own luggage. He led you to the reception and merrily went to discuss with the gentleman behind the counter.

“D’you take your entire life with you?” Hollis languidly commented, causing you to look up at the boy standing beside you now.

You simply raised your brow along with a somewhat disagreeable expression.

“Your bag weighs like crazy,” he continued with a shrug. He wasn’t wearing his usual white button-up with the proper tie or the school blazer but rather a simple black t-shirt. He looked moderately gentler like that.

“I carry it just fine, not my fault if you struggle.”

He laughed a little before answering lowly: “Have you ever seen me struggle with anything?”

Mr. Russell came back and handed you each a keycard to your own respective rooms. Your card read “221” with bold, navy numbers. Slipping the card into your pocket, you caught a glimpse of his card: “222”. Neighbours. How nice.

It didn’t take very long to take the old elevator, walk on the soft, gray carpet, and finally reach your room. The door clicked shut behind you as you kicked your shoes into the corner of the room. It felt as if the duvet swallowed you whole once you laid your back on the white dream.

Luckily dinner didn’t require much from you and ended as quickly as it began, granting you access to the tempting bed.

Morning passed you by too quickly. From your solitary breakfast to the idle studying still under the soft covers, you could’ve held onto those hours for forever. Nonetheless, duty called.

Mr. Russell showed you to a room filled with books and one table that nursed all sorts of stationeries. “Now, I won’t supervise you but know, you aren’t supposed to use anything outside of this room. Alright? Allow me to request no internet.”

You nodded and the man wished you luck, disappearing behind the dark oak door. Hollis strolled over to a fairly small table placed by the window, slouching down on the chair tucked under it.

You wandered by the numerous bookshelves, allowing your gaze to skim over all of the colorful backs.

“‘This house would legalize assisted dying under strict conditions’” Hollis read out loud from the paper clutched in his hand.

Your attention still didn’t shift back to the blond, not even once you offered your observation: “That should be pretty easy.”

“Mhm, a classic.”

An hour passed, then another. You were now sitting beside each other by the desk, papers and plans covering the wood like a chaotic tablecloth.

“Alright, so our principle argument is personal autonomy and dignified death. Practical is…” Your voice faded out. The hard edges of the desk were sinking into your forearms as minutes passed by with you leaning against it.

“Real-life effects, like relief from unbearable suffering,” Hollis finished your sentence. It was odd how different it was when for once the blond was on your side. This repositioning made him seem almost likeable – not quite, but almost.

“And our take is better because regulation is generally safer than prohibition,” you added.

“Yep, pretty much, just like five pages of details ‘bout that but yeah.”

Your hands wearily reached out for the books stacked on the edge of the desk, passing him one. “Next examples and evidence.”

In silence you two read, occasionally scribbling notes down on the edges of whatever paper was in reach. The scene felt natural in a way; two people so cradled by the moment they completely forgot this situation should be repulsive to them both. Quiet, soft, sweet.

So soft, in fact, that it eventually lulled you together into a candied slumber. Heads rested against concept paper and heavy books. You were the first to go, jet lag and stress getting the better of you.

Once Hollis took notice of your slothful reading position morphing into full blown rest, he wondered whether to snap you awake or not. Your hair carelessly over your features and hands still loosely holding onto the book. His chest tensed at the very thought of shattering your peace so he let you be. He continued working alone until the evening devoured him as well.

At least another hour, if not two, must’ve passed before Mr. Russell came to release the students from their work. Met by the sight of you dozing, he sent you to properly sleep at once.

“You must be extremely well rested tomorrow!” He had claimed, practically driving you away from the study.

You spared the boy only one look after jolting awake with your faces way too close for comfort. With that look you paid attention to his tousled hair and sleep ridden eyes. Likeable.

Soon the soap holder in your room was assigned a new job: holding your phone. A light spread of cleansing gel over your sleepy skin raised reactions with its cold nature, helping you stay wakeful as Lizzie’s voice worked to ground you.

“Mhmm, tell me how’s it been? The first day is over. Is he horrible?” She sounded so distant over the speaker, as if inside an impregnable box.

Cool water caressed your face, washing away everything clinging to it. “Yeah, horrible,” you simply agreed, even if for once it wasn’t exactly the truth.

“Ugh, figured as much. What about the debate? Are you feeling confident at least?”

“Yeah, not too worried. He’s really good.” Yawn.

You heard Lizzie’s disapproval through the phone: “You sound really tired.”

“I guess I’m just a little stressed out,” your fingers wrapped around the mobile and lifted to your face level, you took it with you as you collapsed between the sheets.

“Babe, get some sleep,” Lizzie commanded benignly and as if listening to her orders, your eyelids began feeling quite burdensome.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sure will, let me know how the debate goes!”

The debate. Tomorrow. You’d see if your newly found and very much so momentary trust in him would be worth your while. Trust in Hollis – the mere thought would’ve seemed crazy just days ago. Yet, here you were.

a/n: so low energy because im tired asf writing this!!! gn sleeping now😴😴

“i’ll be there for you, i will care for you”

rommulas x fem!reader, smau

reader is a model and hollis’ childhood friend, whom happens to catch roman’s eye. takes place after animál, so a single from the hypothetical next album.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

saturday morning

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a/n: hello😁😁 ok thanks love u

“I’ve asked about you and they’ve told me things”

rommulas x fem!reader, smau

reader is a model and hollis’ childhood friend, whom happens to catch roman’s eye. takes place after animál, so the discussed music video would be from the hypothetical next album.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

Liked by mazzyjoya, alexconsani, rommulas, and others

yourusername funfunfun @isabelmarant

y/nstyle oo so exciting!!

⤷ lanafan57 can’t wait for all the content

isabelmarant 😘😘

mazzyjoya angel

crushhliife22 roman in the likes🤔

⤷ hawkfeather knows ball

⤷ concealsbae she’s hollis’ friend.

⤷ softlywoven omg imagine a collab w hollis😝

fengeveryday You’re a ⭐️

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

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a/n: part 2 get excited its gonna get better real quick🤞 i love making text fics its so fun, hope its funnfor yall too😘😘 ALSO the chapters are gonna get longer the starts just a little choppy🫩

“i’ll be there for you, i will care for you”

rommulas x fem!reader, smau

reader is a model and hollis’ childhood friend, whom happens to catch roman’s eye. takes place after animál, so a single from the hypothetical next album.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

Rory’s masterlist:

2Hollis:

you changed your name

cope (on going) — part one, part two, part three, part four,

Rommulas:

take care (on going) — part one, part two, part three,

Nate Sib:

Coming soon

Conceal:

Coming soon

Nettspend:

Coming soon

“Try and then try again, but it’s no hope”

bob!hollis x fem!reader, academic rivals!!

wc: 1k

“I mean, what does that even mean?” You finished your brief rant while folding a pair of old jeans into your suitcase. The contest was right around the corner – this weekend to be exact.

“I don’t know. A wild guess: maybe he’s gonna see you in Phoenix,” Lizzie replied with a sarcastic grin as she sunk against your pillows, nursing her phone between her manicured hands.

It had been two weeks since you had received the jarring text. Two weeks of your thumb hovering just above the block button. Two weeks of ruthless checkmates in each class. To think that in two days you were supposed to call yourself his teammate and vice versa.

“Oh, yeah, you cracked the case,” you shot the satire tone right back at her and tossed more essentials over to your bag. “But seriously. No. He’s trying to get me off my A-game, to piss me off.”

A smile Lizzie desperately tried to hold back bled onto her lips. “It’s been two whole weeks and you’re still trying to decipher this. I’m guessing it’s working then, no?”

“No, what? Of course, it’s not,” the accusation got denied immediately, “it’s just that we’re supposed to leave tomorrow and I’m…”

You bit the inside of your cheek after the words trailed off into silence. “A little,” you admitted.

The brunette emerged from pink and white satin, sitting straighter to fully see you. Her brow was cocked ever so slightly.

“It’s gonna be fine, I’ll be fine. I’ll be good.” A carelessly folded hoodie landed on top of the jeans. Needless to say, your affirmations did little to convince Lizzie.

But of course you would be. Because no matter how sick it made you, deep inside you earnestly loved playing this chess with him. Over and over again.

Over and over. The pattern repeats. The ceiling fan spins cool air around the room. Over and over. Mr. Russell prepares the arena for you, his very own gladiators of entertainment.

“Frankly, I think that to claim that morality is somehow objective is awfully lazy.” You couldn’t help yourself. It wasn’t even an appealing bait yet you had to take it.

“Lazy? How so?” Hollis tilted his head to the right and turned on his chair to face you.

“With that you completely disregard how different cultures and religions affect thinking, not to mention our responsibility in shaping moral norms,” you explained sharply, subconsciously shifting to his direction as well.

“Really? Didn’t know you were a cultural relativist.” He chuckled under his breath.

“Well how could you, when you know nothing about me?”

With furrowed brows he continued: “You seriously don’t believe morality is a matter of reason more so than culture?”

“Wouldn’t reason lead us all to the same answers?” Neither of you missed a single beat with a counterargument. It nearly felt as if you left each other small bread crumbs on the path that was this miniscule debate.

He let out a low sound of disapproval. “Tsk, now you know disagreement means nothing, happens all the time in objective domains.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You clearly don’t think I know anything,” he jabbed back as he leaned forward and rested his elbows against his legs.

“No ought from is.”

“In response to what I just said or the discussion on morality?”

“Both.”

As if to call for a timeout, the bell rang. It awoke the students with its loud call. Noise traveling through your ears and cutting your half-assed arguments into tiny, useless pieces. The previously unwavering eye contact lasted for a few seconds more before Hollis began piling his heavy books into a black messenger bag.

Your jaw was clenched with such intensity that a sane person would fear for the bones breaking. Even if you had wanted to, you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the blond for a moment that lasted too long for comfort. The nausea was like nothing had ever been or ever would be again.

You couldn’t win because he wouldn’t let you, just as he couldn’t because you wouldn’t let him.

Like a God deciding on your fate or your mother making you stay home on a Saturday evening. Except so much worse.

For a second after you stood up, it felt like your legs were heavier than usual. However, just as swiftly as always, your feet brought you over to the blond’s desk.

“I assume your arguments won’t be as indolent this weekend as they were today,” your voice came out stricter than it was meant to.

Hollis glanced up with a mild smirk before raising to his full height as well. “Only if you find your cool by then.”

“Never lost it,” you replied with a shrug.

His eyes ran over you meticulously, in a way that felt as if he was examining you like a lab rat. Wasn’t far from your own inspection of him.

“Cultural relativism?” He couldn’t help but circle back to the disagreement in views. The strings of reasoning that weaved from your tongue pulled him in. But this time you bit your teeth instead. To stop yourself from arguing how exactly his views would be metaphysically extremely strange, though you so wanted to.

“Don’t be late for the flight,” he bid as a farewell.

And with that you were left standing alone, heels of your loafers glued to the stone tiles. The same ones that were soon laying limp against the leather of your family car’s backseat. Your feet required a break after the long day. Hair messy from being pressed against the car window.

Suddenly leaving felt just as enticing as it did undesirable. A chance to make it clear at once that your success wasn’t dependent on any outer factors and certainly not Hollis Frazier – but also a chance for him to prove you wrong. Each notch on your belt raised the stakes; the higher you were, the worse the fall would be.

Spiraling thoughts were shoved aside by the glowing, humongous letters shining in the distance. LAX.

a/n: another day another part guys! also i have a taglist now wth thats so insane to me🙏 thank u to everyone that enjoys these quick stories, i promise imma make them longer and better quality once school gets iff my back🫩 im literally a corpse writing these so they are gonna get edited later trust. i just wanna put something out there cuz ts is so fun!!!!! and how obvious is it that im currently seeing immanuel kant’s face more than my family… philosophy final exam is pure pain and agony

”Eyes on the prize, agonized when you’re all alone”

bob!hollis x fem!reader, academic rivals!!

wc: ~850

The California heat glued bare thighs onto the wooden stools all over the classroom. Girls shifted uncomfortably; the forms of the chairs left slight dents onto suntan skin. The subtle navy plaid itched but only when you really paid attention to it. It wasn’t too warm a day yet many had discarded the uniform blazer to their locker or the back of their chair.

“And so transcendental idealism essentially bridges the gap between rationalism and empiricism,” Your voice floated through the room and drifted with the wind coming from an open window.

“Yes, that is correct, thank you,” Mr. Russell replied with a pleased expression decorating his old face. Mr. Russell was your favorite teacher; he was supportive, interesting, and enthralled by your continuous succession in class. The elderly man taught philosophy, psychology, and history. A humanist's dream combination.

An almost smug smile found its place on your lips as you faintly let your back rest against the hard wood. Validation was like ecstasy and right now it was coursing through your veins as a racing car would around a track. Mr. Russell didn’t pose open questions too often so you were even more determined to offer the first answer to each.

“Does anyone here happen to know in which book Kant introduced this theory?”

That was an easy question, you thought to yourself. Another pat on the head in exchange for minimal work. You raised your hand lazily but the answer reminded you of the nature of your academic reign: rarely unchallenged.

“Mr. Frazier.”

You glanced to your left, where he was sitting on the other side of the classroom. With his hand still raised beside his face, you nearly missed the quick complacent gaze he shot your way. It was a game, of course. As if the two of you were playing Monopoly and he had just secured a component from right in front of you.

“Critique of Pure Reason, sir,” Hollis answered adequately, pleased with himself.

“Correct, very well.”

Suddenly the word ‘well’ didn’t feel like a high but like a carrot dangling over your head. You absolutely rejoiced in intelligent company – However, the way Hollis radiated wisdom wasn’t attractive at all but repulsive instead. It was arrogant, effortless, and good. Too good. Which naturally meant you'd simply have to be better.

You sat a little straighter, as if posture could make you superior somehow. To be fair; if it did? You definitely would be, as he was not far from slouching. Suppose something had to rub off from his imbecile friends and it undoubtedly wasn't their IQ score.

The rest of the class was fairly uneventful and it unfortunately didn't give you a possibility to have the last word. Lunch rolled around slower than usual. Nonetheless, soon enough your bag was hanging off of your shoulder as you waited for your friends to pack.

Hollis and his loud friends were sauntering towards the door, passing your seat on their way. The blond trailed behind the rest and paused his step to lean over your table a bit.

“Nice work,” he remarked with a moderately disparaging grin. His fingertips tapped the hard surface and with that the boy kept walking. You shot him a look of loathe.

The sound a can makes when opened has to be one of the best you could hear on a summery school day. Your back leaned against the wall and legs sprawled out on the tile floor of an empty hallway, you listened to your friend Lizzie reminiscing about her Aspen ski trip. A discreet sound from your pocket urged you to dig your phone out.

“What?” Lizzie asked, shoving apple slices into her mouth.

“An email about the debate thing. The one Mr. Russell asked me about,” you mutter in reply. Your eyes ran over the small text.

"We welcome you to the Demosthenes contest of debate, in which we invite the best performing boy and girl from each of our collaborative schools to represent their own. You are to prepare arguments for the given stance as a team and compete against other schools for the win. The main prize is 500 dollars per contestant.

This year the contest will be held in Phoenix, Arizona. Airfare and accommodation will be covered by us and therefore will be completely free for the students.

More information and instructions will be sent out later. See below for our and your team’s contacts.”

Even at the risk of sounding narcissistic, you’d have to admit you weren’t surprised whatsoever that you made the cut. When Mr. Russell had approached you weeks ago with the possible opportunity, becoming a part of the team had been simply a matter of your willingness.

Though not stunned, still excited, you failed to acknowledge certain parts of the email. Such as the elephant in the room: best performing boy.

It had been mere minutes since the notification had invaded your mobile, yet another one announced its presence. This time in the form of a text from an unknown number.

“See you in Phx”