note: hello hello!!!🤭 i was so excited to get back to writing, and create. this is the first chapter of my new series,therefore i really hope you’ll enjoy it! love, nini 🩷
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“If you once more pass that ball to my actual balls, I swear to god Cassian, I'm going to kill you.”
You needed this job.
You need this job.
This job needs you.
With an aggregated sigh, you passed a painful look to the coach. “Do I really have to be here for this?”
“You have to know your players, too,” he stated the obvious.
You rolled your eyes at that, switching your weight and crossing your arms over your chest, as you watched 12 overgrown children with sickeningly huge egos practicing. Your nervous system was not ready and will never be ready, as you came to the conclusion.
As a student sport dietitian, your studies required you to practice your knowledge at your athletic department, where coaches look through your results and announce which team would be yours for the whole academic year.
And then they choose you for the basketball team.
“Learn to catch, you moron,” Cassian’s thundering voice echoed through the whole sports hall. His eyes swept across the hall, towards your direction, as his brown eyes squinted in recognition, he smirked.
“Sweetheart, if you wanted to see me, you could’ve just texted,” he winked.
“And yet, you didn’t make it to the twenty percent ratio who outgrow their nut allergies,” you bit back, tone bored. Some of the guys who were the closest to hear let out a surprised laugh, Cassian throwing you a playful middle finger, to which you blew a mocking kiss.
Cassian was the only member of the team who you knew, giving your heart a little ease. Otherwise, he was almost always in every class with you. And a rather huge pain in the ass, regarding assignments or group projects, which he religiously forgot, always with the same excuse: he was having a practice, or a match. But, he had his way with the teachers, trying to scold him, sometimes threatening him with failing him, but he’s a lucky bastard, and a fucking mountain with his muscles and being over a hundred and ninety meter tall, so he become more of the threat when looking up at him. Regardless, he is also a fucking child with the biggest heart, your therapist if you’d like to call it, and a very generous people person.
And a relentless flirt.
The coach blew his whistle, catching the attention of the boys, then one by one, they abandoned their pairs and balls across the sports hall. Soon enough, you felt like a gnome, surrounded by the tallest of them.
“As you all know, every year our athletic department receives dozens of applications from the sports dietitian course, fulfilling their own requirements by volunteering for each sports team in our university,” the coach began, even his voice monotone, only saying this because he has an obligation to do so. The boys almost mouthed the words from him, having heard it quite often. His gazes swept to you, as well as everyone else’s, as if they didn’t already look over you with curious glances, slowly recognising your role.
“This is Y/n, your dietitian for the year. Please, remain respectful,” he said, then his eyebrows raised at you, taking your cue to take a big breath and elevate your piercing gaze at them. You crossed your arms over your chest, chin high, you began.
“Three rules,” you held up three fingers, “number one; don’t ever think about me as your next bed warmer. I won’t even entertain any of your arrogant little remarks, because I will just as easily retort back as I did with Cassian,” you passed him a pointed glance, raising a single eyebrow.
He bit back a laugh.
“Number two,” you continued, “I’m only ever curious about your feelings, recommendations and adjustments to your diets, as we go through the year. We will contact each other regularly, whether I’m here or not. If you ever think about sliding into my dms for more, don’t. If you still think you have a chance, you don’t. Please, use your brain and think back to the first rule,” your lips curled into a menacing smile, seeing some of the guys shifting their weights uncomfortably.
Good.
“And rule number three, I want respect,” your voice carried enough emphasis to make the players lift their nervous glances at you, not daring to break eye contact with you. “I am just as important to you as your coach, so I expect all of you to behave. I’m here to help you. I hope I was clear,” you put your hand down, still holding your guard, even though your heart beats a little faster.
Cassian once more broke the tense silence, by blowing a low whistle. “She’s bossy.”
You shrugged. “Take it, or leave it.”
“Okay, back to practice,” the coach cleared his throat, ushering the guys back, but not before sending you a quick look of surprise.
It wasn’t everyday someone had the guts to grab these egoistic players by the balls and pull them down to the earth for a while. However, it’s a satisfaction to see their hopes crumble, because a potential good fuck turning their backs on them.
“Wow. I should’ve done this when I started to work with them,” a soft voice came from behind you. Looking up, you saw a girl smiling down at you from a few rows away, her eyes wide and twinkling.
You thinned your eyes, thinking hard whether you met her before, or not.
“We haven’t met before. I’m Feyre, the team's sports masseuse.”
Oh.
“Nice to meet you,” you shake her extended hand, smiling back at her. She came to stand next to you, looking over the mess of balls and hands and legs running fast back and forth.
“You’d never guess how whiny they become, when I’m massaging their muscles,” she told you, suppressing a laugh behind her hand.
“We’re discussing athlete boys. They whine and cry all they know,” rolling your eyes as you turned to her, a smile spreading wide on both of your faces, bursting into a laugh.
“How many of them tried with you?” not judging, just curious.
Feyre scoffed. “All of them. But soon enough they backed away when Rhysand threatened every single one of them.”
You raised a single brow. “Rhysand? As in the cap-“
Realisation struck like lightning.
Of course.
“You’re his girlfriend.”
She smiled, but there wasn’t any hint of being conceited. “He tried way before I became a part of this team. It was just the cherry on top seeing him jealous and barking out orders for them to back up.”
You snorted. “I bet.”
You passed a look for the captain, who is currently standing on the other side of the hall with the coach. Rhysand was the team's most excellent point guard; basically the brains of the whole team, responsible for bringing the ball up court. It wasn’t hard to notice him - while he wasn’t lacking in his tallness, his eyes held a typical expression that demanded power and respect. Just like you, but he seemed.. lethal, in a sense. You remember passing him a few times on the corridors, his face often expressionless.
“You and Cassian… seem close,” Feyre started, carefully approaching the subject, her curiosity twinkling in her blue eyes.
“He’s a pain in my ass. I only know him, because he seems to be in every other class with me, making my life miserable with his lack of discipline towards assignment deadlines,” you explained with a heavy sigh. There’s no need for rumours, because while Cassian was attractive, he wasn’t your type.
Feyre barked a laugh. “Ooooh I see. Well, good luck with that, he is very -“
“You’re in my seat.” A deep voice rumbled from your side, whipping your head towards him, eyes growing a little wide at the sudden sound.
Your lips parted. He was fucking gorgeous to look at. He was as tall as the others, holding his ground with demand. He was wearing a black T-shirt, his muscles on full display, as well the swirls of tattoos from his wrist until it disappeared under the fabric, but on the side of his neck, a little curl of black ink still peaked out. His basketball shorts held so much muscle, his toned tight begged for attention.
But his eyes… those hazel irises focused on your frame with enough stern to make your knees shake.
Almost. Because his arrogance was enough to shut out lust with so much force, your chest ached.
His lips pressed together, his black hair falling on his forehead.
“I didn’t see your name on it,” you hit back, sneering, voice low. His staring was hard, his pupils making his honey coloured eyes black, as he scanned your from head to toe.
“Move,” he gritted out, his jaw locking.
It was better if you didn't pick a fight, as the year just started, but you had a suspicion he would make your life miserable.
Not averting your gaze, you stepped over Feyre, watching as this douche bag put his own belongings down on your stuff, not even bothering to shove it aside, as he made his way over where Rhysand stood.
The captain’s gaze locked on him, on you, as he for sure watched the whole scene play out. Great.
“Who the fuck was that?” you grumbled as you asked Feyre, hands fisting into a tight ball, your nails biting your palms from the force.
“Azriel. He’s the team's center, playing under the basket blocking shots. He’s deadly on the court,” she explained, her voice wavering for a bit, as she looked over your direction. “He has his way around here.”
Has his way? Feyre sensed your confusion, even though you didn’t say anything, your narrowed eyes said otherwise.
“Just like Rhys, he demands as much power. They are like two peas in a pod.”
“Well, I demand respect,” you gritted through your teeth.
“Yeah well,” Feyre sighed once more, turning her head to the players, eyes slowly closing on Rhysand and Azriel across the hall, “that never worked out.”
Na Versager, hast Du schon auf Deinen täglichen Lichtblick gewartet? Auf ein kleines Schlüsselloch, welches sich durch meinen Beitrag bietet und Dich in spannende Welten schauen lässt, die Du Dir erträumst, aber eh nie begehen wirst. Weil Du zu fehlgeprägt wurdest, zu viel Angst hast und eh denkst, du musst den starken Mann markieren? Nun, hier ist wieder eine Chance. Werde vorstellig und wenn mir gefällt, was ich lese, gehe ich Dich an und räume auf. Nicht zaghaft, sondern allumfassend grundlegend und ich mach Dich frei.
