Page 24 of BLOOD LUST | YANDERE VAMPIRES

golden sunlight pouring over the towering bleachers, the sprawling field stretching endlessly beneath a sky too blue to feel real. The air shimmered with heat and energy; the smell of grass and sweat mixing with the sugary scent of festival food carried on the wind.

After the mandatory games, students were allowed to wander, spectate, and settle wherever they liked. However there was one game which no student wanted to miss. The Big game.

Y/N and her friends claimed seats near the bottom rows of the school's massive stone bleachers, close enough to the field that they could hear the players breathing.

The entire school seemed to hum with excitement; students bubbling with anticipation, snacks in hand, voices loud with gossip and house chants.

The annual Final Event.

The last, grandest spectacle of the entire school fair.

And this year...it was a football match.

But not just any match.

A full-contact, magically-enhanced game—one that blurred the line between raw physical power and the sharp edge of strategy—where vampires and humans were forced to fight for the same goal or against it.

Y/N moved down the crowded steps of the bleachers with her friends, their chatter loud in her ears as they searched for an empty space. Julia dragged her by the wrist, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Here here—front row!"

They slipped into a space right along the bottom row, so close to the edge of the field that if one of the players tumbled out of bounds, they'd land at their feet.

Y/N leaned forward instinctively, squinting against the sun as the two teams began to line up across the field—the roar of students rumbling all around them, wave after wave of shouts and chants rolling over the stands.

The energy was electric—bottled tension barely contained within enchanted barriers humming faintly around the pitch.

Then out walked the first team, the four of them spread out like they owned the damn world—sleek uniforms, dark against sun-baked grass, expressions carved from stone and fire.

Calixto turned his wrist idly, black gloves flexing as if already itching to strike — his sharp grin flashing like a challenge thrown carelessly to the wind.

Silas stood beside him—loose-limbed and polished as ever—his cold gaze cutting across the field like a blade, fixing his headband and already calculating every movement before the game even began.

Adrian rolled his shoulders back, muscles shifting beneath the tight stretch of his jersey; and the slight crack of his neck loud enough to make girls squeak behind Y/N.

And of course Azul, the quietest storm of them all—standing still, impossibly still, like the eye of a hurricane. His icy blue gaze didn't wander.

But their opponents—their rivals—were no less formidable.

Across from them stood none other than the infamous senior, head boy of the student council. Marcus was handsome in a clean-cut, unbothered sort of way; tall and charming.

Flanking him were the rest of his clique, all dressed in a dark shade of navy blue gear; what Julia would label as the other "hot nerds"; and what others would call the elite senior students who ruled the academic world with iron precision and terrifyingly high grades—all whilst not lacking in any physical activity.

Dream boys am i right?

Aisha whispered to Cressida who sat to her left, "Is this supposed to be foreshadowing something..?"

They didn't look like they belonged on a football pitch; and yet, the moment the whistle blew—everything exploded. The field came alive with motion—players scattering like shards of glass across the grass, bodies slamming into one another with brutal grace.

Calixto blurred forward first—so fast Y/N almost missed it—ducking low beneath an opponent's arm before spinning and vaulting the ball forward with a wicked back-heel.

He laughed—golden eyes, sharp and wild; widening in his play—two opposing players gave chase, only for him to cut sharply in the opposite direction, leaving them tangled in their own momentum.

Silas wasn't far behind—weaving through bodies with an elegance that bordered on cruel—every step measured, every touch on the ball clean and devastating. He didn't just dodge tackles; he made his opponents overextend, overcommit—using their own aggression against them.

Adrian was an entirely different beast.

Where Calixto played with speed and Silas with precision—Adrian dominated with sheer, terrifying strength. He charged through defenders like a wrecking ball, sending one poor soul sprawling across the turf with a shoulder-check that echoed through the field.

"What the fuck is that even allowed?" Cressida mumbled, eyes glued to the ball.

Azul was barely even moving—and yet every time Y/N's eyes found him, he was exactly where he needed to be. His passes were sharp, his awareness unnatural — like he was controlling the entire game from the shadows.

Meanwhile—Marcus and his team were equally relentless.

Cool and strategic. A natural leader shouting commands that cut through the chaos like a whip crack. His team responded with terrifying efficiency, closing down space, reading patterns, breaking apart the four's rhythm with clever interceptions and coordinated tackles.

The crowd was losing its mind.

Screams, cheers, chants swelling louder with every pass, every near miss, every brutal collision on the field.

And all the while—every so often—Y/N could feel it. Four sets of eyes—flickering toward her in moments of stillness, in stolen glances mid-play. Like a silent promise whispered between the clash of bodies and the thud of boots against earth.

Watch me.

Look at me.

Choose me.

How cliché.

Her pulse quickened—mouth dry as the intensity of the game crashed against the strange, undeniable pull that coiled low in her stomach.

Because it seemed like this wasn't just a game.

Not to them.

And when the final whistle came; when sweat-slicked and victorious, the four of them turned. One after the other—scanning the sea of students—for her.

Y/N realized something else.

Something worse.

They weren't playing to win the game.

They were playing to win her.

★

The final whistle pierced the air—sharp, slicing clean through the chaos of noise.

It was over.

Team Black had won.

The crowd erupted—a messy blend of cheers, groans, and curses. Some stood in shock, hands buried in their hair, while others jumped and shouted like they'd been the ones scoring the final point.

Y/N let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding—feeling the static in her bones slowly melt as players slowed, breaths heaving, sweat-slicked and wild-eyed from the battle they'd just waged.

Calixto's sharp laugh echoed over the field—arrogant and electric—as he pulled off his jersey, slinging it over his shoulder like a king returning from war.

Silas barely spared a glance to the stands, his headband now loose in his fingers, eyes already drifting elsewhere like his mind was five steps ahead.

Adrian practically stomped his way back to the benches—aggressive even in exhaustion—jaw clenched and ignoring every wide-eyed look thrown his way. Azul moved like a shadow still—quiet, unsettling; like the win had been inevitable from the start.

"Jesus Christ" Julia breathed out, flopping back against the stone bleachers. "That was—okay. Yeah. Worth the sunburn."

"Mhm.." Y/N hummed absently, eyes trailing the field as both teams began clearing out, collecting their things near the benches; dangerously close to where they were sitting.

Cressida, however, had gone suspiciously quiet—her gaze caught on a small cluster of vampire girls standing near the far edge of the field, glossy hair and designer sunglasses even at sunset. "I'll be back" she muttered under her breath, already moving like she'd spotted her own coven.

Julia snorted. "Hope she doesn't get recruited into the blood cult."

That earned a tired laugh from Y/N.

The three of them lingered—their conversation ebbing in and out—while eyes wandered over the black-uniformed players collecting their gear. Up close, the boys looked even more unreal, skin glistening, sharp jaws clenched, muscles shifting with every easy movement.

Aisha leaned in to whisper, "Hard to not admit this is a fine view. Of the sunset of course.."

It felt illegal to be this close.

Then from the opposite side, a familiar figure approached the benches too. His dark navy jersey was slung low on his hips—a sheen of sweat on his brow—but there was no anger on his face despite the loss. If anything, his lazy grin screamed charming loser energy.

Without thinking, Y/N cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, "Hey. Good game, Marcus..?"

He paused mid-step, brows quirking, before turning slightly towards their direction.

A grin curled slow across his face. "Sounded like a question Y/N?

" he let out a slight chuckle, "Appreciate the pity cheer" he shot back, voice smooth even with the rasp of exhaustion clinging to it.

"But careful now, you'll hurt Black Team's fragile pride. "

That earned a low whistle from some nearby students.

Julia let out a scandalised laugh.

Y/N only shook her head, half-amused as Marcus offered a short wave, gathering the last of his stuff before rejoining his group—disappearing back into the thinning crowd of students.

And just like that Cressida returned practically vibrating with news. "Guess what girlfriends" she hissed, sliding back into her seat like she hadn't just wandered off to chat with pureblood elites. "Guess what's happening tonight?"

Julia raised a brow. "Don't say cult initiation.."

Cressida threw her a look. "No? After party!But—" she held up a finger. "This time girls' dorms. Much safer. Well—less of a walk to the boys' dorm, but still cause of curfew—it's happening early. Like 'get-ready-now' early."

That was all it took.

The four of them scrambled up—half-tripping over themselves as the stands began to clear—the golden sunset already bleeding deeper into hues of orange and pink. Aisha only shook her head at them, already knowing the routine. "..You guys are unserious."

"Come on Aish, you know you love watching us struggle through makeup and outfit crises" Y/N grinned as they all rushed back towards the dormitory halls.

"I do" Aisha admitted without shame. "Free entertainment."

And so—the countdown began.

The fair might have been over.

But the night? The night was just getting started.