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𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨 = 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰
Hii! I've really been enjoying your writing and I just saw that your requests are open! I'd love a second part to the 'second place looks good on you' fic if you're up for it :)
Hi!! Oh my god i'm sorry i didn't see your request until now (idk why my notis don't pop up) and i havent been active lately.
Rn the requests are closed as i'm gonna be a bit busy the upcoming days BUT i'll gladly do the second part of it, just wait for a bit!!
Again i'm sorry 😅 And i hope you like it as much as the first part :)
HERE IT GOES!! updated
Second place looks good on you
Part 2 (as requested) Here is part 1
Contains: dom!reader x sub!Character, academic rivalry, jealousy, teasing, touch teasing, flustered reactions, slow-burn tension, obsession
It starts small.
The shift is subtle, almost unnoticeable at first—except you notice everything about him. The way he doesn’t pull away quite as quickly when your knee brushes his under the desk. How his glare lingers a second too long, heat replacing the sharp edge. How, when you slide into the seat beside him, his body stiffens… but never moves.
And then, the slips.
Like the day in the library when his hand accidentally brushes yours as he reaches for his pen. He freezes, breath caught, but he doesn’t jerk away. He just sits there, staring at the overlapping space like it’s a sin he can’t stop committing.
You smirk. “Careful. Keep touching me like that and people might get ideas.”
His ears burn. “I didn’t—! You—shut up…” But he doesn’t move his hand. Not right away. Not until you let your pinky nudge against his, slow, deliberate, watching him practically combust.
It becomes a pattern. You tease. He denies. And yet, he stays. Every single time.
⸻
One afternoon, the two of you end up assigned to work on a project together.
The classroom’s nearly empty, just the quiet scratch of pens and the hum of the air conditioner. He’s hunched over his notebook, trying so hard to focus, scribbling equations like his life depends on it. You, on the other hand, are much more interested in watching the way his hand shakes when your arm brushes against his.
“Relax,” you murmur, leaning closer, chin nearly resting on his shoulder as you peek at his notes. “You’ll break your pencil if you grip it any tighter.”
He stiffens, teeth gritted. “Don’t… lean so close.”
“Why not?” Your voice dips, teasing but soft. “Does it make you nervous?”
His pen stills. His jaw clenches. “You’re… distracting.”
You grin, letting your breath ghost against his ear. “Good.”
He shudders, the tiniest sound escaping his throat—half groan, half surrender. His pencil falls, forgotten. For a second, he just sits there, trembling, like fighting you off has drained every ounce of willpower he had left.
And then, in a voice so quiet it barely reaches you: “…You’re impossible.”
“Maybe.” You smirk, letting your hand slide across the desk until your fingers brush his. “But you like me anyway.”
He glares—weak, half-hearted—but he doesn’t argue.
⸻
The cafeteria is where it happens next.
You sit beside him, tray clattering down as if the seat’s always belonged to you. His friends throw each other looks, whispering, but he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t tell you to move. He doesn’t tell you to stop.
Instead, when your knee bumps his under the table, he presses back. Not hard. Not bold. But steady. Intentional.
You glance at him, smirk tugging your lips. “Oh? Didn’t think you had it in you.”
His face is crimson, eyes flicking anywhere but you. But his leg doesn’t move. Not even when you push a little harder, until the press feels more like a claim than an accident.
⸻
Over time, the teasing sharpens into something else. Something that feels less like mockery, more like a language only the two of you speak.
“Still in second place,” you hum one morning, dropping your bag onto his desk without asking.
He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet—” You lean down, your breath brushing his cheek, “—you’re still here.”
His eyes flick up, meeting yours for a heartbeat too long. His lips part, words caught on the edge of breaking free. But then he mutters, “Shut up,” and shoves his notebook at you like it’ll hide the heat in his face.
You chuckle, settling into the seat beside him. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
⸻
It happens one evening, when the campus has already gone quiet and most students have cleared out.
The two of you are still in the library, textbooks spread across the table, a shared silence broken only by the faint rustle of pages. He looks exhausted, hair falling into his eyes, pen tapping against his notebook in distracted rhythm.
You stretch, leaning back, watching him with lazy amusement. “You know, you could take a break.”
“Can’t,” he mutters, not looking up. “If I stop, I’ll fall behind.”
“Behind me, you mean?” You grin.
His pen freezes. Slowly, he lifts his head, meeting your gaze. And for the first time, there’s no glare. No sharp retort. Just… rawness. Tired, vulnerable, real.
“You don’t get it,” he says quietly, almost pleading. “It’s not just about the grades. It’s you. It’s always you. You’re in my head all the time and I can’t… I can’t think straight.” His voice cracks. “I hate it.”
You stare for a beat, your smirk softening into something else. Something warmer.
And then, slowly, you reach out, letting your hand rest over his. Not teasing. Not fleeting. Just steady, grounding.
“Maybe,” you murmur, “you don’t hate it as much as you think.”
He swallows hard, eyes wide. His hand trembles under yours—but he doesn’t pull away. Not this time.
⸻
From then on, it changes.
The teasing doesn’t stop—of course it doesn’t—but it deepens. Shifts.
A hand brushing his under the desk turns into fingers lingering just a little longer. A playful taunt in the hallway turns into whispered words close enough that his breath catches. A casual bump of the knee becomes his knee pressing back, steady, certain.
He still denies. Still stammers. Still flushes crimson every time you catch him staring. But now, when you lean in, he doesn’t just endure it—he leans back, just enough to meet you halfway.
And one night, walking side by side after class, the air heavy with words unspoken, you let your hand graze his. He jolts, as always… but then, hesitantly, he threads his fingers through yours.
No words. No teasing. Just silence.
And for once, you don’t ruin it. You just squeeze his hand, steady, sure, and keep walking.
Because you already know.
He’s yours.
Rating: 5/5
Book Blurb:
Geography professors in a failed marriage of convenience inconveniently reconnect for an emergency mission in this swoony historical-fantasy rom-com.
Professor Elodie Tarrant is an expert in magic disasters. Nothing fazes her—except her own personal disaster, that is: Professor Gabriel Tarrant, the grumpy, unfriendly man she married for convenience a year ago, whom she secretly loves.
Gabriel is also an expert in magic disasters. And nothing fazes him either—except the walking, talking tornado that is his wife. They’ve been estranged since shortly after their wedding day, but that hasn’t stopped him from stoically pining for her.
When magic erupts in a small Welsh village, threatening catastrophe for the rest of Britain, Elodie and Gabriel are accidentally both assigned to the case. With the fate of the country in their hands, they must come together as a team in the face of perilous conditions like explosions, domesticated goats, and only one bed. But this is easier said than done. After all, there's no navigational guide for the geography of the heart.
Review:
A marriage of convenience between two polar opposite Geography professors that goes astray but now they are forced to work together on a new case and maybe finally make their marriage real because despite all their miscommunication, they might have been in love with each other all along. Elodie is chaotic, she’s sunshine, and she is determined to be taken seriously in the academic field. Gabriel is straight laced, grumpy, and can’t express his feelings all that well. Elodie and Gabriel are both geography professors at the same university and decide to get married to benefit one another... but things go wrong and they go from lovers to barely being able to stand being in the same room. Yet when a magic outbreak occurs and only they can solve the case, they will be forced to work together and finally face the issues of their marriage... or come to the realization that they’ve both been pining for one another secretly this entire time.
This was an absolutely delightful and romantic read. I can’t even begin to talk about the amount of times I was laughing and blushing over how adorable this book was.This is the perfect mixture of Anne of Green Gables x Twisters with magic and cozy romance. I love Gabriel and Elodie so much and their chemistry was fantastic. The slow burn, the pining, the absolute YEARNING was so well done. I love this series and I can’t wait for the next book. Every book just keeps getting better and better!!!
Release Date: April 8, 2025
Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)
*Thanks Netgalley and Berkley Publishing Group | Berkley for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*
me and my husband
(credits: Pinterest and owners)
academic lovers
