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purerae · 7 months ago

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— DUPLEXITY;;

fem!reader x coworker!yanderes

— who knew attempting to bond with your co workers would lead to a fucked up love triangle?

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prologue; quit your job! If dying was an option right now, Y/N would take it with a gleeful smile.

Sprinting through the woods, her ears ringing, she slams her grimy, broken hand against her head over and over. Her knees, bruised to a swollen pulp of purple, threaten to buckle beneath her. A deep, unprotected gash dressed painfully across her back, its edges rotting, every movement tearing at the poorly dressed wound.

Ignoring the piercing whine in her ears, her heart froze at the sound of shuffling drawing closer. Her legs wobbled, threatening to give out, but the surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her moving forward. An ear striking screech bursts from the girl’s throat, desperate to catch the attention of any passing drivers or hikers.

How could she be so foolish? It’s four in the morning, and she’s in the middle of nowhere, with two freaks relentlessly chasing her.

Her scream was a terrible mistake. It brought her no closer to freedom instead only closer to her pursuers. Their shouts echo behind her, filled with words she can’t—and doesn’t want to comprehend.

Pleas, threats, and bursts of anger escape from their mouths but the only thing that Y/N had her mind on was getting her brother and leaving this shithole. Y/N ran and ran, but to her dismay and an almost comical cruel sense of bad luck , Her vision was slammed with a wall ruined with graffiti that was now taunting her from her inescapable future. Her breathing slows as she stumbled back, desperately praying for anything that could save her. Surely they weren't close, she put in all this effort, they cannot be close! With trembling caution, she moved backward, her steps deliberate and silent. She avoided every brittle branch and insect littering the forest floor, straining to make as little noise as possible. Her back pressed into something soft yet unyielding, carrying the earthy scent of firewood mixed with the sharp tang of blood that she’ll always loathe. Y/N’s breath hitched, frozen in her chest as the sound of heavy breathing enveloped her ears from just behind.

‘Fuck.'

“You can’t run from us. It’s two against one, cutie.”

Even with her back turned, she could picture his smug, shit-eating smirk. A chill ran down her spine as his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, trapping her. God, she wished she had a bat so she could beat him till he was a lifeless piece of flesh that she could point and laugh at. Too bad that would never be possible, even if she had a weapon to begin with. Deep down, Y/N knew there was no escaping this. But with every ounce of strength her battered body could summon, she let out the loudest scream she could muster; a semblance of hope in her body that somebody could save her. It tore through the cold night air before everything turned black. The last thing she heard was another man's footsteps approaching them, and two voices she made an oath to never hear, conversing. All she wanted was a fucking pay raise.

- Y/N buttoned her blouse with a giddy smile, rushing around her room in search of the shoes she’d bought just for this day. "I can't believe I got the job! I'm so excited, this still feels so surreal." she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm as she grabbed her phone, waiting for her friend’s response. "Girl, I'm happy for you!” her friend shouted over the line, her voice barely cutting through the loud music and chatter in the background. “Just work hard, and you’ll be promoted to detective in no time! My little Sherlock Holmes~” Y/N scoffs out a laugh before she shakes her head at the chaos on the other end. Normally, she’d lecture her friend about hosting a party at seven in the morning, but today, she was too nervous and way too excited about her first day to care. "Ahaha, Yeah I don't know about that... I'm still in shock that I got the job to be the assistant, let alone be the main thing. I just hope the person in charge of me is nice." The E/C-eyed girl replied looking at the ceiling , nervously biting her nails whilst walking back and forth in her room.

"Don't stress about it! I'm sure they'll be nice, babes. And you should ju-" Y/N’s friend was abruptly cut off by a guy shouting in the background, his voice carrying over the music: “Ayra! Get back to the party already!” "Hold on a sec Noel! Im talking to Y/N" she yells back with an obvious scowl on her face… Well, Y/N was almost positive that she displayed one based on the tone of her voice. "It's fine! You go do your shit, I gotta’ finish getting ready." "Okay Okay, message me after your shift ends. I wanna know everything~!" The bubbly girl says as she mimics a kiss sound. Despite Ayra not being able to see Y/N, she smiles with a soft gaze at the phone before hanging up. Staring into the mirror, she carefully assessed her outfit. A sleek black blouse layered over a white undershirt paired perfectly with a matching black pencil skirt. Light makeup enhanced her features, and her neatly styled hair framed her face just right. She smoothed her clothes with her hands, beaming widely as she twirled in front of the mirror. Y/N gathered all her essentials, carefully packing them into her bag before stepping out of her apartment. She locked the door with a quick twist of the key, then paused to double-check it twice…just to be sure; it was a habit she had done ever since she lived in her parents home.

Stepping into the elevator, she pressed the button for the ground floor. Knowing the ride would take a while, she lived on the second-highest floor, after all, she pulled out her phone to check the time. It was 7:15 a.m. Perfect. With the bus journey to the department taking only 30 minutes, she was right on schedule (which was always a struggle for her.) A grin spread across her face as she opened her email app and tapped on the message from the 'Warrens Department.' Her heart fluttered nervously as she re-read the letter, scanning each line to ensure she hadn’t missed anything important. As she scrolled to the bottom, her brows furrowed. There, tucked away, was a link she hadn’t noticed before.

'Shit I must've missed this' She thought with worry before quickly clicking the link, silently thanking her instincts for prompting her to double-check the message. The link was a profile of the detective that she would be working with. Looking at the picture, she notices that he was a very conventionally attractive male. The formally dressed girl squints her eyes before assessing the man that her eyes laid upon.

Xavier Allette, it read. Twenty-five years old, with five years of experience as a detective.

‘Holy shit, he became a detective at 20? I was still in university then.’ Y/N’s thoughts wandered briefly as she reminisced about her own journey, a flicker of envy stirring as she compared herself to her boss.

Letting out a breath of relief that she didn't know she had; The assistant was expecting an old cruel man as her boss, but to her luck, it was someone of a similar age to her. And, as a bonus, he wasn’t bad to look at either.

Y/N knew better than to judge someone based on their appearance, but as her cheeks warmed, she couldn’t help but blush at the handsome face staring back at her from the screen. A straight pale face, with a clean-shaven look. His hair was a wavy deep black, tussled formally. Eyes sharp and matched with his extremely dark hair. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the absence of a glint or any sign of life in his pupils. ‘I’m overthinking it,’ she told herself. ‘He’s just posing for the picture’. It had to be her psychology degree kicking in, making her analyze every feature of his face like a subject in a case study. Xavier’s nose was strikingly defined, and his lips were full, holding a slightly warm tint that gave his serious expression a subtle softness. Though he was wearing a suit, anyone could tell the detective worked out as his jaw was sharp and his shoulders were broad. It was clear that he took good care of himself.

The only other information displayed on his profile was a list of the cases he had worked on and details about his educational background. 'Maketa Academy?!' That was the most prestigious high school that Y/N had ever heard of. You could either get in with a scholarship or a lot of money. Unfortunately for her, she had been neither crazy smart nor crazy rich, so attending a place like that had never been an option. Y/N couldn’t tell whether Xavier had gotten in through wealth or intellect, but either way, it was impressive. Her train of thought abruptly halted as the elevator chimed, signaling her arrival on the first floor.

Turning off her phone, She exits the building before walking a short distance to the bus so she could arrive at the destination where she was going to be working.

'Please be nice to me, Warrens Department.'

Y/N rushed out of the bus, the clock read 8:00 am. The bus kept on delaying because of the traffic that the driver faced. The 15 minutes that she was hoping she had left to spare, disappeared all because of not getting a driver's licence! Cursing at herself, she ran to the building that was two minutes away. She could get there in ten seconds, her stubbornness is saving her life today.

The girl stared in awe at the building for a second. It was massive and incredibly modern. A large sign labelled Warrens Department was placed right in the middle of the building. Shaking her head, she scans the key card that came into the mail a week ago and fixes any loose hairs before walking into the building.

8:01 am, Already a minute late, though not much of a difference, she didn't want to disappoint her boss on the first day. Power walking to the reception she sighs shyly before speaking up. "Hi!" Her voice cracks.

'Oh my god, first I'm late, now my voice cracks, I should just quit my job and leave this e-' "Hello! Who’re you? I've never seen you before?" The ginger girl behind the desk questioned loudly. Her light southern accent peeked through. The red-haired was incredibly short, her face caked with pink-themed makeup matching her formal pink outfit. Y/N thought the receptionist was cute and seemed nice too! If she wasn't too busy stressing about being late, she'd love to be her friend. "I'm the detective's new assistant— Xaviers Allette's assistant." Y/N rambles, hands shaking with nerves.

"Y/N L/N?" The receptionist questioned with eyebrows raised, Y/N nods quickly and shows her key card to the lady. "I'm Abigail!" her smile drops, "Also, you should probably head over to his office quickly, Mr Allette hates tardiness.. a lot." It was now Y/N's turn for her face to drop, she mumbles a quick thank you before running off.She stops in her tracks as she realised her stupid mistake. "Hey Abigail, what's his room number?" Y/N spoke rushing back to the desk. Reaching halfway, the red-haired girl puts her hand out, ordering her to stop running back. "It's on the second floor, room 11, hurry!" She yells, shaking her hand. The late assistant puts a thumbs up as a way of saying thank you before completely ignoring the elevator and rushing up the stairs. Turning left she finds the room that is the lead detective. On the door, a silver plate is shown with 'Room 11' and 'Xavier Allette' engraved onto them in a fancy font.. It was clear that his room was the biggest on the floor.

Wiping the sweat off her hands and re-checking herself on the reflection of the plate, she checks the time.

8:05 am.

Y/N knocks on her boss's door. The door opens automatically, she notices the man that was just on her screen almost an hour ago, sitting down with his eyes furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. His eyes were fixated on his computer screen, fist propped against his chin. The assistant looks around while patiently waiting for him to say something.

20 seconds passed and all that she could hear were the sounds of him typing. the h/c hair-coloured girl clears her throat.

"Good morning, sir. My name is Y/N L/N, and Im p-"

"You're late." A deep, harsh voice cuts her off.

A/N : New story :p !! i really like the plot for this one and will have a masterlist out for it soon!

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st3f13ily · 3 months ago

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EXTRA CREDIT

• Reverse Romance Trope

• Academic rivals but two teachers are competing for the best class.

• English Teacher Itoshi Rin x Math Chaotic Teacher Reader

• Sorry for my disappearance, and I'm also sorry for not posting some Blue Lock High Au for a while, I have some drafts but it needs more editing.

Rin Itoshi hated mornings, but he hated them even more when they began with glitter.

There it was again—sparkling, infuriating, and somehow shaped like a smiley face—stuck to his freshly printed poetry analysis worksheets. It winked up at him like it knew exactly what it was doing. He stood in front of the copier, shoulders squared and jaw tight, staring blankly at the page, wondering at what point in his otherwise meticulously controlled life things had gotten so... stupid.

He lifted the next sheet. Another smiley face. And the next. And the next. All glimmering, obnoxiously cheerful, and completely unprofessional. It was like the ghost of a kindergarten art project had cursed his part of the English department.

He didn't need to check to know who was responsible.

Ms. (L/N) (Y/N), the math department's human equivalent of a sugar rush, had probably used the copier before him and left behind an explosion of joy and chaos. Again.

Rin exhaled slowly through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching—not in amusement, but in the barely restrained fury of a man who had already dealt with glitter once this week. And it was only Tuesday.

He glanced over at the copier like it had personally betrayed him. A few sparkles clung to the tray, proof of the crime committed. There was even a rogue sequin stuck in the crack of the feed tray. Of course, there was. She'd probably printed her ridiculous fraction bingo cards or whatever it was she passed off as curriculum, leaving behind a trail of sparkle like some kind of budget fairy godmother.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to crumple the glitter-stamped worksheets and toss them into the recycling bin. But no. He was above that. He was mature. Professional.

This was war.

You on the other hand twirled a dry-erase marker between your fingers, practically bouncing on your toes as your students worked through an activity. It was your favourite lesson: probability through a board game you created yourself, complete with dice, candy rewards, glittery laminated cards, and ridiculous trivia questions. Your classroom was filled with laughter, fake arguments, and occasional screams of victory. One group was in a heated debate about whether Skittles or M&Ms had better odds in the candy round, while another was trying to bribe you for bonus rolls.

Exactly how you liked it.

Your bulletin boards sparkled, the math puns on the walls made even the grumpiest student groan-laugh, and the scent of watermelon-scented markers perfumed the air. The soundtrack of your teaching life was upbeat music, crinkling candy wrappers, and your students yelling things like "PROBABILITY GODDESS! I ROLLED A SIX!"

And then—

The door creaked open.

Rin Itoshi's tall, brooding figure filled the doorway like a looming thundercloud over a birthday party.

He didn't step in. He didn't need to. Just one glare swept through the chaos of your candy-colored classroom like a freeze ray. A few students paused mid-roll. One kid dropped their D20 and whispered, "Oh no. It's him."

"(L/N)." Rin said, voice cool and flat as ever.

You blinked innocently, twirling the marker like a baton. "Yes, Mr. Itoshi?"

He held up a sheet of paper between two fingers like it was contaminated. On it, clear as day, was your glitter-smiley signature watermark—stamped right onto his poetry analysis worksheet.

"You're contaminating shared surfaces." he said, in the same tone one might use to report a toxic spill.

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart and staggering back a step like he'd just confessed his undying love. "Rin, you've finally admitted we’re sharing things. I’m honoured. Truly."

His jaw clenched. "I mean the copier."

"Semantics," you chirped, unbothered. "Still sharing."

He didn’t even blink. "There's glitter on my handouts. My students were blinded by a smiley face. One of them asked if it was a metaphor."

You pretended to swoon. "Your class is finally developing critical thinking skills. You’re welcome."

There was a pause. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

"You need to be more careful." he said.

You gave him a dazzling smile. "I was careful. I only used the pink glitter. You should see what happens when I use the holographic one."

"Don't."

"Too late." you sing-songed.

His eyes narrowed into slits of academic rage. He turned without another word.

And you?

You grinned like the cat who'd just knocked over the teacher’s coffee mug.

"Have a mathemagical day, Mr. Itoshi Rin!" you called sweetly.

He kept walking.

As he left you now turned to your wide eyes and mouth students. "Alright, so where were we?"

One of them raised their hand. "Yes?" You respond to the girl whose face is full of curiosity.

"Are you two dating?"

"I'm sorry what?"

Their rivalry was infamous among the faculty. Rin, the ever-serious English teacher, ran a class so silent you could hear a pencil drop. The kind of silence that screamed discipline and demanded respect. His students, wide-eyed and reverent, took notes as if their academic futures depended on it—and honestly, they might have. He was a force of sharp glances and precision.

You, on the other hand, were the hurricane that blew down the hallway every morning with a travel mug in one hand and a pile of colourful worksheets in the other. Your math classroom was chaos in the most educational sense—music playing softly in the background, students laughing over group activities, candy being passed around like currency, and posters with memes explaining calculus plastered across every surface. It was loud. Unapologetically so. And you loved it.

It started innocently enough. Simple, professional competition. Who had the better class test scores? Whose students performed better in school-wide competitions? Who got mentioned more in the yearbook superlatives? (You were voted "Most Likely to Start a Flash Mob"; Rin was crowned "Scariest When Angry.")

But slowly, steadily, it escalated. The rivalry evolved into something far pettier. And far more personal.

The tension had been brewing all week, ever since the principal announced Teacher Swap Day—an annual event where two teachers temporarily switched classes for one period to "foster interdisciplinary learning." For most of the staff, it was a fun tradition. For you and Rin, it was a declaration of war.

He was assigned to teach your bubbly, sugar-fueled math class. You were handed his solemn, poetry-loving English students.

Neither of you took it well.

"They're going to eat him alive," you whispered gleefully to your students the morning of the swap.

"Try not to let your emotions show on your face," Rin deadpanned to his class. "Even if the math teacher starts tap dancing."

The bell rang. You adjusted your bright cardigan, grabbed your dry erase markers, and strutted into Room 3B—Rin's domain.

Silence.

Twenty sets of eyes stared back at you, stone-faced. No fidgeting. No chatting. The scent of serious academia hung in the air like a storm cloud.

You grinned. "Alright, you lovely literary scholars. Today, we're doing probability... with dice, candy, and competitive chaos."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed a few faces.

Meanwhile, Rin stepped into your classroom.

A student immediately yelled, "Are you here to take over the world, Mr. Itoshi?"

Another passed him a friendship bracelet. Someone else offered him a Capri Sun.

He stared, dead-eyed. "Today, we're analyzing sonnets. Sit down."

Back in his class, you were trying to break the ice. "Let's say we roll a six-sided die. What's the probability of landing on an even number?"

A student raised a hand. "Miss, will this be graded based on effort or accuracy?"

You blinked. "Uh... Both?"

He nodded seriously and began calculating with textbook precision.

You muttered, "Rin's raised an army of overly competent robots."

Over in your room, Rin stood before a whiteboard covered in doodles, glitter residue, and a quote that said, 'Math is just number poetry.'

He erased it. "No, it isn't."

Your students gave him side-eyes. One brave soul whispered, "Miss (L/N) lets us write poems in the shape of cats."

Rin twitched.

He turned, arms crossed. "You're writing traditional sonnets. Fourteen lines. Iambic pentameter."

Groans echoed.

Meanwhile, you were standing in front of a graph projected on the board, your usual jokes falling flat. The students followed everything with unnerving efficiency.

You paced, muttering under your breath. "Okay, maybe they're not robots. They're just... terrifyingly competent."

In your class, Rin held up a poetry book. "This is 'Ozymandias.' It's about pride, ambition, and the inevitable fall of great empires."

A girl raised her hand. "So like Miss (L/N)'s candy kingdom?"

Rin paused. ".....Exactly like that."

Later, you both slammed the door open at the same time, leaving the class and now meeting at the hallway.

You: "Your students are brilliant, emotionally repressed machines!"

Rin: "Yours are sugar-fueled goblins with a cult-like devotion to you."

You pointed a finger. "Are you jealous they gave me a macaroni art trophy that says 'Best Math Wizard'?"

He pulled out a folded haiku. "Your student wrote this about me. It’s titled 'Grumpy Cat in a Cardigan.'"

He paused.

You looked up, expecting a snarky comment.

Instead, he said, "Your students did well. They were... confident. Happy."

You blinked. "That sounded dangerously like a compliment."

Rin leaned against the table. "It's not a weakness to be liked."

"Are you okay? Did the poetry corner run out of existential dread?”

He almost smiled. Almost.

Then he surprised you again.

"Why do you always try so hard to make it fun?" he asked.

You shrugged. "Because math was scary to me once. I don't want it to be that way for them."

He looked at you, and this time, there was no smirk, no sharp edge. Just quiet understanding.

You blinked. "...Why do you teach, Rin?"

He was silent for a long moment.

"Because I didn't think I had anything to say. But books taught me otherwise. So now I make sure my students always have something to say. Even if they whisper it."

You were quiet then. The rivalry, the teasing, the chaos—it all suddenly felt like a front. Like a weird, overly-decorated mask you both wore because it was easier than admitting the truth.

You respected each other.

Maybe even liked each other.

"You wanna get coffee?" you asked.

Rin blinked. "Now?"

"Sure. We can talk about how I'm going to crush you at the next department challenge."

He rolled his eyes, but he grabbed his coat.

"Fine. But if there's glitter on my coffee, I'm quitting."

You grinned. "No promises."

"I swear I'm gonna crush you, your little mathematics brain is gonna turn traumatic."

"Whatever 🙄"

But you two had one thing in mind: I need to make my class better.

Somewhere down the hall, your student whispered to her friend, who is Rin's student.

"Told you they were in love."

"We should tell our classmates about what happened right now."

"I mean both our sections did team up just to make them love each other, even though our teachers won't admit it."

@pinkymangacaps @levihanmyotp

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