hazycocowrites

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop!” Your voice was raw after crying out endlessly in pleasure from the moment he slipped inside you. 

It was different this time, though. Hiccup had been gone for the past two weeks on a mission, leaving you back on the edge with the other dragon riders. The first few days weren’t so bad without him, but the feeling of loneliness and desire crept into you towards the end of the first week. You practically pulled him off of Toothless when he returned not only an hour ago. You hadn’t wasted anytime getting to the point with him, asking him to fuck you right then and there.

“What?! I am not-!” He cut himself off and whipped his head around, making sure none of the other riders were within earshot. “I am not fucking you in the stables. Just- Gods, you’re gonna kill me.” He had said, his voice lowered.

Reluctantly, you compromised on him taking you back to his hut and giving you exactly what you needed - release. He had kept his promise, though he did it a little too well. The scratches on his back from you dragging your nails down against his skin were enough to testify that.

It wasn’t like his thrusts were harsh or so fast that you could barely keep up with his pace. Hiccup was always the gentle type, after all. It was the way he thrusted himself so deep inside you, making you feel so full of him. His eyes were locked onto your face, taking in the way it scrunched up in pleasure each time he bottomed out inside you. He was in love with the way your trembling legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him closer to you.

“I’m not gonna stop until I feel you cum on my cock.” He said, his voice husky and unsteady. “I wanna feel you cum around me. Wanna see your face when I make you cum.”

His hands gripped your hips firmly, using it as leverage to snap his own hips against yours and bury himself inside you over and over again. Your mouth dropped open, moans forced past your lips as the head of his dick hit a spot inside you that made you see stars.

“That’s it, honey. Oh gods, you’re so good. So good for me.”

He ducked his head down to attach his lips to your neck, sucking and biting gently at your skin. One of his hands left your hip and moved up to your chest, brushing your nipple with his thumb. The way he was making you feel was so overwhelmingly pleasurable that it brought tears to your eyes. Your hands grasped desperately at his shoulders and back, digging your nails into his skin as he gave you everything you wanted and more.

“H-Hiccup!” You could barely cry out anything else except his name. Even then, your cries were broken and desperate - Just the way Hiccup liked it.

“I know, honey. You take me so fucking well, don’t you?” 

Tears were streaming down your face from both the intense pleasure and the way he spoke to you. He knew just what to say to make you fall apart for him and you loved it. This was exactly what you were craving. It was exactly what you needed after two weeks of being deprived of his touch.

His lips traveled up your neck and jaw to your lips, pressing against yours in an open-mouthed kiss with his hand cupping the back of your head. Your moans and cries of pleasure mixed with his husky groans as he ground himself into you. The feeling of his pelvis rubbing so perfectly against you made you gasp sharply and clench around his cock. It was the final thing you needed to push you over the edge. 

Your back arched up into Hiccup as your walls spasmed around his dick, eliciting a long string of groans from his lips. 

“Oh gods, yes! That’s it, baby, just like that.” He murmured against your lips as he continued grinding his hips down against yours. 

Each raw and broken cry of pleasure that escaped your lips was swallowed by his lips.

Your legs tightened around his waist, bringing him even closer to you as you dragged your nails down his back, creating even more red marks to accompany the ones you had already made. Once you began coming down from your intense orgasm, he slowed his movements in exchange for delivering sharp, deep thrusts as he chased his own orgasm. Hiccup broke the kiss to press his forehead against yours.

“Oh fuck, Hiccup!” You whined from the feeling of his intense thrusts being delivered to your sensitive walls.

“I know, baby. Just a little more. You’re doing so good for me.” He panted out between breathy groans. One of his hands hooked underneath your knee, lifting your leg up and towards your chest. You almost choked on a cry of pleasure at the feeling of his dick thrusting even deeper inside you.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good like this. You’re gonna make me cum so hard, baby.” Hiccup practically whined his words as he quickened his thrusts, desperately chasing his release. 

Your body trembled underneath his as tears rolled down your face from the overstimulation. His free hand grabbed one of your hands that was clutching his shoulder like a life-line and pinned it down against the bed next to your head. 

His quick, desperate thrusts soon became sloppy as he felt himself come closer and closer to his orgasm. Finally, his thrusts stuttered before he slammed himself deep inside you and held his hips flush against yours as he filled you with his cum. The feeling of his cock pressed deep inside you was enough to force another orgasm out of you. 

“Oh gods, yes! I love when you cum around me like this.” He slurred between raspy moans. 

Your free hand gripped onto his bicep tightly as your mouth dropped open to let out a high-pitched whine. Hoarse moans escaped Hiccup’s parted lips as his face scrunched up in pleasure. He thrusted shallowly into you a few more times as he finished riding out his orgasm before he slowly pulled out of you, making you wince slightly from how sensitive you were.

Hiccup released your leg and your wrist from his grasp, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Your eyes locked onto his as a small grin spread across his lips.

“She started it.” You said, but gave Edward the pleasure of looking away and slouching deeper in your chair. “And why is she even staring at us? Do humans not know that eye contact means aggression? Or is this a regional problem? Maybe Arizona doesn’t have basic survival instincts.”

“(Y/N).” Edward hissed.

“I’m genuinely asking.”

Rosalie sighed like your existence personally offended her. “She’s curious, (Y/N). Humans get curious.”

“Curious about what? We sit here. We look pretty. We mind our undead business. It’s not like we’re juggling axes or sacrificing goats.”

“Alice suggested the axes once, remember?” Emmett said. “Carlisle said no.”

“And the goats?”

“Also no.”

“Tragic.”

Edward rubbed his temples. “Can everyone please behave? She’s not a threat.”

“Oh, I know she’s not a threat,” you said, stabbing at your boxed apple juice with unnecessary force. “She’s a walking liability. A hazard on legs. She radiates ‘about to trip and break something expensive’ energy.”

“She’s clumsy.” Jasper admitted diplomatically.

“Clumsy? Bro, clumsy is bumping into a chair. Bella looks like gravity filed a restraining order against her and it’s retaliating.”

Emmett choked on a laugh. Jasper pressed his lips together so hard they almost disappeared. Alice was openly beaming now, her chin propped in her hand like she was watching her favorite sitcom. Rosalie, for once, did not immediately scold you. She simply gave a slow, unimpressed blink that meant she agreed but refused to compliment you for it.

Bella's eyes drifted up again: straight to your table, straight to Edward, and then (unfortunately) straight to you. When your eyes met, you raised your brows, silently mouthing, "What are you looking at?" She jerked so hard that the cartoon of milk nearly spilled on the table.

Edward kicked your shin under the table. “Stop terrorizing her.”

You glared at him. “I’m not terrorizing her. I’m observing.”

“You’re glaring.”

“That was a neutral expression.”

“For a vampire about to commit a felony.” Rosalie supplied. You rolled your eyes and reached for your fork. Edward snatched it out of your hand instantly.

“What are you—?"

He hissed under his breath, “Your face looks like you’re about to throw it at her.”

You blinked, and paused to considered it. “Okay, fair. But give it back.”

“No. You don't need to frighten her anymore than you have.”

“I wasn't scaring her,” you said, though no one at the table believed you. “If anything, I’m preparing her. This is enrichment. Like zoo training.”

TIME SKIP

When Edward came home that afternoon, his expression was the exact mix of disgust and existential dread you usually associate with Rosalie encountering a crowded mall. He barely got through the door before you spoke. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

Edward dropped his bag with unnecessary dramatics. “I had Biology with her.”

You recoiled. “Oh my god. And, let me guess, she sat next to you?”

“Yes.”

You slapped a hand over your chest. “A tragedy. A violation. You poor thing.” Edward glared. You shrugged. "No actually, I get it. She smells like dessert to you, right? And instead of avoiding you like a human with basic survival instincts she's like, ‘Oh gee, let me sit beside the immortal bloodsucker and try to befriend him.’ That’s a choice. A stupid one.”

Edward groaned. “It took everything in me not to jump across the table and suck her dry."

You raised a brow. “So this is the part where you decide to stay away from her, right?” Edward didn’t answer. You slapped a hand over your eyes. “Oh no. You’re already obsessed, aren’t you?”

And obsessed he was.

Painfully. Horrifyingly. Criminally.

Two days later, he unknowingly let it slip—and by slip, you mean he confessed it like a man who had forgotten what shame was—that he’d been watching Bella sleep from inside her room like a total creep. It happened during another dramatic Edward Entry, where he appeared at the top of the stairs with that look. That haunted, dreamy, lovesick, vaguely murderous look.

“I’ve discovered something.” he murmured, descending the stairs like a gothic chandelier falling in slow motion.

“A personality?” He ignored you. That was mistake number one.

“She talks in her sleep.” Edward said, voice low and weirdly soft.

You blinked once. Twice. “…Excuse me?”

Edward paused, eyebrows lifting in mild confusion. “Bella. She—”

“—talks in her sleep,” you finished for him. “Yes. Yes, you just said that. My question is: how you know this?”

Emmett’s eyebrows shot up. Jasper straightened in his seat like someone had plugged him into an electrical socket. Rosalie turned her head slowly—very slowly—to glare at Edward, because although she disliked Bella with a passion, she wasn’t about to let her brother be a full blown psycho. Her eyes narrowed into lethal slits.

“Edward. Tell me you’re joking.”

He stiffened. “I—”

“No,” Rosalie snapped, cutting him off like a guillotine. “Don’t. Whatever you say next is going to make me want to hit you, and Carlisle will get mad when I break your jaw.”

Emmett raised a hand helpfully. “I can hold him down.”

Rosalie didn’t even look at him. “He wouldn’t fight back. He’d probably cry about it.”

Jasper’s voice was cautious, like he was approaching a wild animal. “Edward, please tell us how you discovered this?”

Hesitation.

A bad sign.

A very bad sign.

You leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Edward, where were you standing when she was sleep talking?”

“I wasn’t standing.” he said defensively.

Rosalie looked a heartbeat away from physical violence. “Okay, so you were sitting. Where? On a tree branch? Outside her window like a feral owl?"

He winced. “The rocking chair in her room.”

The room exploded.

Rosalie made a strangled, murderous noise. Jasper froze as if preparing emotionally for Edward’s funeral. Emmett dropped the remote and whispered, “Oh my god. You ARE a creep.” And you stood up so fast your chair skidded backward.

“EDWARD ANTHONY MASEN CULLEN!”

“Don’t use my full name—”

“You sat,” you repeated, stabbing each word into the air like a knife. “In the dark. In the corner. In a rocking chair. Watching a human girl as she slept like some sort of pale, sparkly sleep paralysis demon?"

Edward winced. “When you say it like that—”

“How ELSE am I supposed to say it?” you barked. “You violated every privacy law ever created! Even the unwritten ones! Humans don’t even LIKE when their pets stare at them while they sleep.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Oh my god,” Rosalie cut in, looking genuinely appalled. “I didn't think you could become even more of a loser than you were."

It was at that moment that Esme entered the room cheerfully, but then froze, noticing the tension. “What’s going on?”

You pointed at Edward with the dramatic fury of a soap opera character. “Oh, it's nothing. Just that your perfect golden boy here has been breaking into Bella Swan’s bedroom and WATCHING HER SLEEP!”

Esme blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh dear...”

Carlisle followed behind her, eyebrows rising. “Edward?”

Edward threw his hands up. “I was making sure she was safe!”

You gaped at him. “SAFE FROM WHAT, EDWARD?! NIGHTMARES? PILLOWS? HER OWN BREATHING?!”

Emmett nodded vigorously. “Bro, imagine waking up and seeing YOU in the corner. I’d yeet myself out the window.”

Jasper nodded. “So would I.”

Edward glared at all of you. “None of you understand—”

“OH TRUST ME,” you barked, “we understand PERFECTLY. You have lost your goddamn mind.”

Rosalie stepped closer, voice low. “If Bella finds out about this, she is going to pass out so fast she’ll crack her skull on her nightstand. And then YOU’LL have to explain to Charlie Swan why his daughter died of fright.”

Emmett held up a finger. “Which would be hilarious—”

Rosalie snapped, “Emmett!”

“—but bad.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Edward, listen carefully. Humans don’t LIKE being watched while unconscious. They tend to—oh, I don’t know—call the police!”

“That’s ridiculous.” Edward scoffed.

“Oh?” you asked sweetly. “And what would YOU do if a stranger sat in YOUR room at night?”

“I would know.” He said smugly.

“Yes,” you said dryly, “because you’re a vampire. Bella is a CHIHUAHUA with the durability of a breadstick.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes. “You need to stop. Now.”

Edward’s jaw clenched. “I can’t. She’s important.”

You threw your arms up. “You met her TWICE!”

“Three times.” Edward corrected.

“Oh! Well EXCUSE ME,” you said dramatically. “Three encounters. That changes everything. Let’s book the wedding.”

Emmett raised a hand. “Dibs on best man.”

Rosalie hissed. “We are not planning a wedding for the girl he’s currently stalking.”

“I'm not—"

“STALKING!”

ANOTHER TIME SKIP

Edward really lived up to his creep status. Not even a week after stalking the poor girl, he took her into the woods and confirmed that yes, he sparkled like a disco ball in direct sunlight, yes, he was a vampire, and yes, the rest of his family were too. You nearly sprinted into the woods to find the largest tree trunk available, solely to beat him with it.

Rule #1 (if there was a handbook): DO NOT REVEAL YOUR STATUS TO HUMANS.

And what did Edward do? He broke it. Crushed it. Set it on fire. Ran it over with his stupid Volvo. And then? Then he had the audacity—the pure nerve—to invite the girl to your home. Your safe place. The one place you guys didn't need to hide. You met them in the kitchen alongside the rest of your family who were busy making Italiano.

Edward practically glowed with smugness. “So, this is Bella.”

You stared at her.

She stared back.

You blinked slowly, once, twice, like a warning system rebooting. “…Why is she here?”

Esme gasped softly. “(Y/N)!”

Bella flushed, shrinking in on herself. “I—I didn’t mean to intrude—”

“You’re not intruding.” Edward reassured her, giving Bella a soft smile like he hadn't done anything wrong.

You pointed a stiff, accusing finger at him. “Oh, she absolutely is intruding. What happened to subtlety? What happened to discretion? What happened to keeping our kind a secret?”

Bella blinked nervously. “I apologize if me knowing brought you guys any problems—”

You barked a laugh.

Not a cute laugh.

A deranged older sibling losing their patience laugh.

“Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t bring us any problems. He did.”

Edward’s jaw tightened. “(Y/N)—”

“No, no, do not ‘(Y/N)’ me,” you snapped, stepping forward. “Do you have any idea how many decades—DECADES—we’ve spent keeping a low profile? Do you know how many times I’ve had to dodge nosy humans, animal control, conspiracy theorists, and that one lady who swore Emmett was Bigfoot?”

Emmett yelled from behind the kitchen counter, “SHE TOOK A PICTURE OF ME EATING A GRANOLA BAR—WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

You waved a dismissive hand. “Case in point.”

Bella’s eyes widened. “I—I didn’t know—”

“Of course you didn’t know,” you said. “And you shouldn’t have known anything. About any of us. Because Edward was supposed to handle this like a responsible adult. Instead, he took you to the forest like a dramatically depressed anime character and told you everything.”

Edward hissed, “It wasn’t like that—”

“Oh?” you said. “Did you or did you not ‘say it, out loud’ her into a supernatural TED Talk?” Edward opened his mouth. You didn’t let him finish. “Exactly, you dramatically confessed eternal damnation in a mossy forest like the world’s biggest theatre kid.”

At that moment, you heard the sound of a glass breaking and Jasper's slight cursing. You didn't need to be in the same room to know he looked like a man trying to balance a thousand knifes on his head while walking a tightrope over a pit of Bella-scented lava.

“Okay,” you muttered. “Time for intervention number twelve of the week.” You turned your back on the couple and stepped into the main living room where Jasper stood at the top of the staircase.

"Come on, bro." You said, grabbing him by the wrist and nudging him towards the back hallway where the exit was. "Let’s go take a long walk where no gremlins are messing with you."

Jasper gritted his teeth. “Thank you.”

Edward called out, annoyed, “We’re in the middle of a discussion—!”

some small town a few hours away that bella barely remembered the name of because at the time she hadn’t really thought it mattered. jacob had always been restless in this boyish sort of way, always talking about wanting to leave forks for a little while, wanting to see something bigger than rainy roads and broken trucks.

so bella hadn’t looked too deeply into it.

she remembered standing outside his house while he threw bags into the backseat of his truck, smiling at her like he always did.

“you’re seriously leaving me here alone with the vampires?” she teased lightly. jacob laughed instantly. “you’ll survive a few months without me, bells.”

and maybe that should’ve felt strange.

the way he said it.

because usually jacob acted like the idea of being away from her for even a few days physically pained him. usually he looked at her like she was the center of every room he walked into.

but bella had been distracted then.

edward had come back.

and whenever edward came back into her life, everything else blurred around the edges.

including jacob.

at first she barely noticed the distance growing between them because it happened in pieces too small to catch immediately.

his texts stopped coming first.

bella would send him something in the afternoon and not hear back until midnight. phone calls became shorter. quieter. sometimes she’d catch background noise she didn’t recognize behind his voice, laughter and music and once what sounded suspiciously like a girl teasing him about something before he abruptly hung up.

she remembered staring at her phone afterward feeling strangely irritated by it.

which was stupid.

jacob was allowed to have a life outside of her. wasn’t he?

except some ugly selfish part of bella had grown used to jacob revolving around her no matter what happened. no matter how many times she ran back toward edward, jacob always stayed. always waited.

until suddenly he didn’t and by the time bella fully realized it, summer was almost over.

their friendship had turned awkward somehow. conversations that once came naturally now had gaps inside them neither of them knew how to fill anymore.

then jacob came home.

except even that felt wrong immediately.

bella remembered pulling into la push after almost three weeks without seeing him, expecting things to settle back into place the second she did.

instead she found him distracted. he felt different yet still the same but there was something calmer about him now, something less desperate. the constant pull he used to have toward her had dimmed into something quieter and bella hated how quickly she noticed it.

he smiled when he saw her but it didn’t light him up anymore and for some reason that bothered her far more than it should’ve.

after that things only got stranger.

jacob started disappearing randomly again. sometimes bella wouldn’t hear from him for days at a time and when she did, he always sounded busy.

happy.

that part unsettled her most.

because jacob used to tell her everything. every stupid thought that crossed his mind, every little thing that happened during his day now it felt like entire pieces of his life were happening somewhere far away from her.

once bella called him late at night out of habit and he answered on the third ring sounding breathless.

“bella?” he said distractedly.

then softer.

muffled away from the phone.

“baby, hold on.”

baby.

bella remembered going completely still at the word.

her stomach twisted so sharply she almost felt embarrassed by it.

“are you with someone?” she asked before she could stop herself.

there had been silence for a second too long before jacob answered carefully.

“i’m on a skype call on my laptop.” he spat out quickly and then said noththing else.

bella told herself she didn’t care. she absolutely cared and after that, curiosity started rotting at her slowly because jacob never brought the girl up directly. not really. if bella asked vague questions, he’d shrug them off or change the subject entirely but somehow that only made her more irritated.

because why was he hiding her?

and worse.

why did it feel like he was protecting whatever this relationship was from bella specifically?

eventually the distance between them became impossible to ignore entirely. bella noticed it most whenever edward wasn’t around because jacob stopped trying to fill the space.

stopped chasing her attention. stopped looking wounded every time she chose someone else over him.

and maybe that should’ve made things easier.

instead it made bella feel strangely… untethered like something she assumed would always exist suddenly didn’t anymore.

so one rainy afternoon she found herself driving toward jacob’s garage without fully planning to.

she told herself she just missed her best friend. he barely looked at her when he saw her “hey, what’s up?” he asked working on the engine to this car, leaned over under the hood. that made her more annoyed, how could he be so nonchalant? did he even miss her. “you tell me” she sounded bitchy.

she knew she did but it didnt stop her from saying it as she dropped her bag onto one of the old chairs near the wall harder than necessary and the sharpness in her voice made jacob glance back up immediately.

confused.

“what?”

for a second bella just stared at him.

he looked the same.

same broad shoulders hunched over the car. same dark hair falling messily into his face. same grease smudged across his cheekbone from working all afternoon.

but somehow he felt different now.

quieter around her like there were pieces of him she no longer had access to and maybe she was reading too much into it but she couldn’t shake that feeling.

“you’ve been weird,” she finally said.

jacob blinked once before letting out a small breath through his nose, almost amused.

“weird?”

“yes, weird.” bella crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “you disappear for months, barely answer your phone anymore and every conversation feels like i’m interrupting something.”

his expression shifted slightly at that. “bella…”

“no, seriously.” she cut him off quickly before she lost momentum. “did i do something or are you just over being my friend now?” that finally made him stop working entirely.

the wrench clinked softly against the counter as jacob straightened up slowly “i’ve been busy.” the statement only makes her more upset, she ran a hand through her hair huffing at him “busy? with what?” he shrugged “life. i don’t know.” his laugh is dry like he wants to avoid this conversation more than anything but bella won’t let him off easy.

“jacob, you used to tell me everything..” she sounds genuinely hurt when she walks closer to him and for a moment jacob feels guilty. guilty for abandoning the girl that needed him but this girl… she wasn’t his and he had been sick of doing the boyfriend job for a girl who chose someone over him every time. “bella.” he didn’t know what to say “come on, aren’t you tired?”

she looks confused “with what?”

“you know..” he doesn’t wanna say it, because saying it makes it real. makes it final. makes it something he can’t take back. this whole thing between them, this cycle, this thing that kept looping back into itself no matter how many times he tried to step out of it.

him.

her.

edward.

a triangle he never agreed to be in but somehow always ended up standing inside of anyway.

the truth was, jacob had fallen in love and it wasn’t with bella. and it wasn’t complicated anymore the way it used to be in his head, it was just simple now, clean in a way that hurt less than staying tangled in something that never really chose him back.

and that clarity made everything else easier to walk away from.

“i’m not doing this anymore,” he says finally. bella’s face tightens immediately “doing what?”

his jaw clenches slightly, like he’s trying not to make it sound harsher than it already is. his hands flex once at his sides, a small restless movement like his body is already stepping out of the conversation before his feet do.

“all of it.”

a pause.

it hangs there between them, thick and unfinished, like he’s refusing to dress it up into something softer just to make it easier to swallow.

“i’m not waiting around for you anymore, bella.”

the words hit bella far too hard than she expects, like they land in her chest before her mind even catches up. she can feel it immediately, that slow, sinking realization that this isn’t him being emotional, this is him being certain.

she hates the way it sounds decided.

her breath catches slightly, and before she can stop herself she steps closer, placing a soft hand on his chest.

not forceful, not angry, just instinctive like she can still anchor him there if she tries hard enough. her palm presses against the warmth of him like that alone could rewind whatever has already started unraveling between them, like skin-to-skin contact is enough to undo distance.

“jacob…” her voice comes out quieter than she means it to, almost careful now, like she’s afraid of pushing him further away just by speaking too loud.

“you’re my best friend.” jacob almost wished the words sounded true from bella’s mouth like if they felt true he’d feel better about himself and this friendship. it wasn’t even about the romantic aspect anymore, jacob had found love but it was just about the fact that bella didn’t treat him much like a friend when edward was around. like their friendship only existed in spaces where she was lonely.

that’s when he steps back away from her hand, he’s quick to create distance between the two of them like she had some disease “you should go, bella.” he wiped his grease stained hands slowly against the rag hanging from his back pocket, avoiding her eyes for a second because looking directly at her right now just made something ugly twist in his chest.

she blinked at him immediately, hurt flashing across her face too fast to hide. “what?” but her being hurt didn’t hit him the same way it used to; he didn’t run to fix it, protect her because she was no longer his priority, his priority was on her way here and a part of him didn’t want bella to meet his new girlfriend.

bella only stared for a moment.

“my girlfriend’s a little of the jealous type.” he chuckled to himself softly but bella doesn’t find anything comical. maybe because some ugly part of her assumed jacob would always be there waiting. orbiting around her no matter how many times she pulled away from him. she hated herself for hating the idea of him with someone else.

and it’s the way he says it. girlfriend. he says it casually but with this unusual about of love, it was only the idea of what bella imagined she sounded like when she talked about edward. she didn’t know why she felt jealous, maybe because she did love jacob and in her heart she knew she also loved edward. she was just confused and before she was to make that decision within herself jacob already subtracted himself from the situation.

“since when do you have a girlfriend?” bella asked too quickly, pretending not to already know the details he had been fighting to keep to himself every time she had asked but jacob almost shyly shrugged at her like a boy with a crush as his lips curved into a soft smile. “a while.”

a while. bella could only assume he meant months.. months that they hadn’t talked besides awkward texts and ignored phone calls, months of him slowly disappearing while she’d been too wrapped up in edward and her own confusion to notice it happening in real time. suddenly, she felt left out like she was on the outside of a locked door of a room she was desperately fighting to get into.

“you could’ve told me.” she hates how her voice comes out weakly and for the first time jacob looks at her like actually looks at her and suddenly she can see how different he is. still the same jacob but with a different look in his eyes, that very specific light in his eyes that was once reserved for her had gone out. he just looked almost content.

“yeah, i guess i could’ve.” it didn’t sound like he meant it in a bad way but she felt it that way, her jaw tightening at his words because he seemed to have already made peace with the distance between them months ago while she was only now noticing it existed.

she knew she didn’t have a right to feel wronged but it didn’t stop her from feeling it. uncomfortably she crossed her arms over her chest suddenly the room felt too warm, thick with the smell of motor oil and rain drifting in from outside while jacob leaned back against the workbench watching her carefully and for the first time, bella couldn’t read him.

jacob used to look at her like every emotion sat directly on the surface.

now the space between them was too strong and she knew she was at fault for it but a part of her was to prideful to admit it, admit that she had been too busy chasing after edward to see jacob’s distance. “you didn’t think i deserved to know?” his eyebrows furrowed at “it wasn’t like that.” he sputters back quickly.

“then what was it like?” silence fills the area as he struggles to answer for a moment because the truth sounded bad out loud.

because there was no version of this conversation where bella walked away without realizing she had missed something important while she was busy looking somewhere else.

jacob looked down briefly, outside, tires crackled softly against gravel somewhere down the road and Bella caught the smallest change in him instantly. His attention flickered away from her without thinking, subtle but automatic, like part of him was already waiting for someone else. like he could sense his other half arriving.

her. bella comes to that conclusion very quickly once he stands up fully, his whole emotions changing from this awkwardness to nervousness, his hands wiping at the grease stain on his jeans as if it’d disappear if he rubbed hard enough. he suddenly cared about how he looked.

and that hurt bella in a way she wasn’t prepared for because jacob had never been nervous around her.

not like this.

never quietly anticipating someone’s arrival like his entire body recognized them before they even appeared and for a moment bella just watched him the realization settling ugly in her stomach as he began adjusting his clothes to look perfect in his own way.

“jacob?” bella called quietly when he stopped listening halfway through the conversation entirely.

he blinked once like he’d forgotten she was standing there before clearing his throat quickly. “sorry, i just…”

another crunch of gravel echoed closer this time then came the flash of baby pink through the trees.

bella turned instinctively just as the convertible rolled into the driveway smooth and shiny against the dull reservation roads. it looked expensive. out of place, almost like someone had dropped a barbie dreamhouse accessory into the wooden area by accident.

her eyes dragged to jacob when the car came to a halt just to see the jacob’s entire expression changed instantly.

it was subtle but devastating.

his shoulders loosened first then came this unconscious softness around his mouth, his eyes warming in a way bella hadn’t seen directed at herself in a very long time.

the gravel hadn’t even finished settling when you stepped out of the car. you were beautiful, you looked far too expensive for a town like this. your body looked beautifully drawn from an old greek painting and your clothes looked out of an expensive magazine and your face... god, you were just perfect in a way that almost made bella’s heart race.

your car looked far too out of place for the reservation roads, sat there like it didn’t belong and knew it. like it was already offended by the idea of dirt existing. the door shut behind you with a soft, expensive click that felt louder than it should’ve been.

you paused the moment you settled into the gravel, your shiny expensive heels getting dirty with it. you looked down, particularly slowly.

then up again at the wet grass like it had personally wronged you.

“jacob,” you called, already unimpressed, voice carrying that soft bratty edge like you were trying not to be annoyed but failing anyway. “why is everything always… damp here?”

jacob huffed something under his breath that almost passed for a laugh. “it rained.”

“i can see that,” you said immediately, like he’d insulted your intelligence by stating it. you lifted one foot slightly, staring at your shoe with open betrayal. “this is ridiculous.” this time jacob laughed again openly and bella watched him, watched the way jacob moved toward you without thinking.

no hesitation or awkwardness. he was a complete different person than who he was in this whole conversation.

like a switch had been flipped the second you existed in his space. he grabbed your waist softly when your knees wobbled from almost slipping, bella watched the way your manicured nails held onto his bicep and for a second, she didn’t know who to be jealous of. “i told you,” jacob said softly, now closer to you than he had been to bella all afternoon, “don’t wear those here.”

his chuckles were borderline giggles at this point.

you scoffed, but it didn’t land harsh, it sounded more like affection disguised as annoyance. “you didn’t say it like that,” you corrected him, gripping arm immediately like you had every right. like you’d done it a hundred times. “you said it like you were joking.” he was careful the way he guided you into the garage before settling in with you. hardly acknowledging her presence or perhaps in your love you hardly even registered her being there.

jacob didn’t move away, he didn’t even look like the thought crossed his mind and that was the part that made bella’s stomach tighten. she hated how closely she watched jacob lean down to press his lips against your perfectly glossed ones, she felt like a perv for how closely she watched your lips perfectly mesh together like you were meant to fit together. like you had been jacob’s missing piece.

finally, bella cleared her throat and you had to basically push jacob away from you because he kissed you like he was starving for your lips. you finally looked at bella, your eyes scanning her like you were dissecting every piece of her, jacob was careful wiping the smeared lip gloss off his lips “this is-”

“bella” you finished for him with a soft nod at him, you pulled away from him creating the tiniest bit of distance between you and your lover with a soft kind smile that seemed oddly real but with a hint of something else. bella snorts trying not to seem threatened by you but on the inside she was screaming. you were insanely beautiful. “you know me?” she tries to sound strong but the words die off at the end.

“yeah, he talked about you.” jacob was quick to cut in the second he caught the edge in your tone. “y/n,” he scolded softly, the warning gentle more than anything, but you only shrugged one shoulder like you didn’t really care.

“not in a weird way,” you corrected smoothly, glancing at him with a small roll of your eyes like you already knew exactly what he was trying to prevent. then your attention slid back toward bella again. “just… mentioned.”

bella hated that instantly.

mentioned.

like she was some passing story jacob casually brought up between conversations instead of the person who used to take up entire pieces of him. as if she had been reduced down into a few harmless anecdotes told to a pretty girl between kisses and late night phone calls.

“right,” bella answered quietly before the bitterness slipped out anyway. “i’m sure i come up a lot.” she hated how catty she sounded about it and it didn’t help the way jacob’s expression changed instantly.

his shoulders tensed and bella caught the brief flash of exhaustion across his face because he knew her well enough to recognize exactly what she was doing. poking at something just to see if it still hurt.

but you only looked mildly amused by it. if anything, bella’s reaction seemed to confirm something for you.

slowly, you stepped away from jacob then, heels hitting softly against the floor as you moved closer toward bella. far too confident for bella’s liking. the kind that came naturally to girls who had never needed to question whether they were wanted.

up close somehow you looked even prettier, expensive perfume mixing with the smell of the rain in the air while your glossy lips curved slightly at the corners.

“yeah…” you said softly, eyes dragging over bella slowly enough to make her chest tighten. “i expected you to be a lot prettier.”

silence.

bella physically felt the insult settle into her stomach because your tone wasn’t loud or dramatic. if anything, you sounded almost thoughtful about it.

like you were genuinely underwhelmed.

“y/n.” jacob’s voice came out sharper this time, disbelief flashing across his face as he caught your wrist gently and tugged you back against him before you could say anything else.

the movement was automatic.

practiced.

bella noticed that too.

the way your body folded back into his without hesitation, his hand settling against your waist instinctively while you tilted your head up at him with wide innocent eyes that didn’t match the smug little smile threatening your mouth at all.

“what?” you asked sweetly, like you hadn’t just insulted her to her face. “she started it.” but jacob shook his head at you, the two of you practically having an intense conversation with just your eyes. unspoken yet effective from the way you rolled your eyes again but leaned further into him once more.

and suddenly bella became painfully aware of herself standing there in the middle of it all like an outsider interrupting something intimate. there was history here she couldn’t touch, small habits and looks exchanged without thought, conversations happening silently in glances alone.

she didn’t fit into this space anymore.

maybe she hadn’t for a while.

“i’m gonna go,” bella said suddenly, the words coming out quicker than intended as she reached for her bag before either of them could stop her.

jacob looked up immediately. “bella”

“bye bella!” you shouted over him waving “drive safe!” though from the way bella was out of there jacob wasn’t even sure jf you beard.

then the second her truck disappeared past the trees, jacob slumped slightly beside you like the last ten minutes had physically exhausted him.

you looked up at him immediately, unimpressed.

“no more history, my ass.”

jacob let out a tired groan at that, dragging one large hand down his face before covering his eyes completely. “y/n,” he mumbled through his fingers already sounding defeated.

“mmhmm.” you crossed your arms over your chest, one heel tapping against the concrete floor impatiently. “because that looked super over.”

his hand dropped slowly and immediately found your waist again like it belonged there. “it is over,” he promised quickly, voice softer now. “i swear.”

you stared at him for another second then laughed directly in his face. “oh, baby,” you murmured sweetly, reaching up to smooth your fingers lightly through the ends of his hair where the rain had curled it slightly. “i’m not worried about you.”

jacob’s expression softened instantly at the nickname alone, completely gone for you in a way that almost looked embarrassing.

“then what’s the problem?” he asked quietly. you tilted your head slightly toward the driveway bella had disappeared down moments ago, lips curving with something dangerously amused.

“she seems to think it’s still happening.”

jacob blinked once then sighed hard enough to make you laugh again because the worst part was he knew exactly what you meant.

bella hadn’t looked jealous because of history. she looked jealous because she still thought she had a place here.

and maybe once upon a time she did.

but that space was no longer hers to fill, you were here now and honestly, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

a/n: hi! omg thank you so much for reading if you made it here!! i’m very happy you chose my fic and i really would love if you gave me your thoughts in the comments and hearted if you liked the fic! ❤️

Not zombies like in movies — drooling, rotting, brain-hungry corpses — but still. Undead. Green hair. Z-Bands strapped tight to their wrists, blinking a ghostly neon to keep the “monstrosity” inside them tamed. That’s what the news anchors kept calling it anyway: “The Monstrosity.” Like Zed was wearing a ticking bomb on his wrist instead of a bracelet that made him feel less like a nightmare.

You were perched near the front of the classroom, same as always — your hair pulled into your signature high ponytail, a swipe of glitter on your cheek because Kayla said it made you “pop” when you smiled. You were Seabrook’s star — the lead cheerleader, the girl everyone watched, the girl they envied, the girl they wanted to be.

And right now, you were trying to focus on your history notes while Kayla practically vibrated beside you. “Do you think they bite?” she hissed in your ear.

You arched a brow at her, amused. “They’re not vampires, Kay.”

“Same thing! Dead. Creepy. Not normal. You know Principal Lee only let them in because of that stupid integration law. What if they—”

The classroom door swung open. The chatter died so fast it might as well have been sliced clean with a knife.

Zed Necropolis stepped in — tall, lanky but strong, green hair stark against the crisp, perfect white of the Seabrook hallways. His Z-Band blinked steady on his wrist, but his eyes… his eyes were so alive. Bright green, wide, a little scared but trying to look cool about it.

Behind him, Bonzo shuffled in — mumbling something you couldn’t hear, probably about lunch. The teacher, Mr. Keene, clapped his hands together, pretending not to look as stiff as a broom handle. “Class, settle down. We have our new friends joining us today. Please welcome Zed and Bonzo.”

A few kids clapped. Mostly, they just stared. Whispers curled around the room like smoke.

Monsters. Zombies. What if they snap?

Zed’s eyes darted across the room, skipping over the stares, the side-eyes — until they landed on you. He held your gaze for a second. Just a second. And in that tiny second, you offered him something no one else did: a small smile. Soft. Warm.

His stomach flipped so hard he thought maybe this was the monstrosity people feared — the way his heart threatened to beat out of his chest because a pretty human girl had smiled at him.

-

Mr. Keene cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s get started. This morning we’re beginning your first major assignment of the year: a presentation on an issue of global importance. Topics will be assigned, as will your partners. I’ve decided to… mix things up a bit.”

A collective groan. Kayla shot you a desperate look. “If I get stuck with a zombie I’m switching with you. I swear.”

You nudged her playfully with your shoulder. “Relax. Maybe they’re nice.”

Zed swallowed hard behind you. He could feel the prickle of every eye on him — he tugged his sleeves down to hide the Z-Band. Maybe if he looked more normal, they’d forget. Maybe if he stayed quiet—

“Zed Necropolis…” Mr. Keene droned from his list.

Zed flinched.

“…and (Y/N) (L/N).”

The reaction wasn’t quiet. A chorus of gasps, someone outright laughed, a squeal from Kayla — “No way! That’s so unfair!”

You blinked. Then laughed under your breath. You could feel the weight of the entire classroom pressing on your shoulders — every cheerleader, every football boy, every gossip waiting for you to roll your eyes or beg to switch.

Instead, you turned your head, eyes finding Zed’s. He looked like he was bracing for impact, shoulders tense, lips parted.

You smiled. Really smiled — wide, genuine, with that tiny dimple he’d only seen when you cheered at pep rallies. “Looks like it’s you and me, zombie boy.”

A few giggles. A lot of shocked silence. Zed’s throat bobbed as he nodded once, too stunned to speak.

-

When the bell rang, the squeak of chairs and shuffle of sneakers drowned out the last of Mr. Keene’s droning instructions. The entire room felt wired — like they were waiting to see what you’d do.

Kayla grabbed your arm the second you stood. “Hey. You don’t have to do this, you know. I can switch with you. Or you can ask Keene to—”

You just raised an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”

She gaped. “Because he’s a zombie, (Y/N)! You can’t just… act like it’s normal.”

You tilted your head, lips curving into a small, defiant smile. “Maybe it should be normal.”

You tugged your bag over your shoulder and left Kayla spluttering in your wake. A few students parted as you made your way up the aisle — like you were about to defuse a bomb. You could see Zed trying to stuff his books into his old, fraying backpack. He looked ready to bolt — shoulders hunched, head ducked low, his Z-Band blinking that soft, steady green.

He flinched when you dropped into the empty seat in front of him, spinning it around so you were straddling it backwards, your chin propped on the backrest.

“Hey, zombie boy.”

Zed’s eyes shot up. He looked like he half-expected you to hiss or throw holy water on him. “Um. Hey.”

Your grin softened. “Zed, right?”

He gave a shy nod. “Yeah. And you’re… you’re (Y/N).” His voice dipped lower when he said it, like your name was something he wasn’t supposed to say too loud.

You tilted your head, studying him. His hair was such an impossible shade of green up close — soft, tousled, falling into his eyes. His hands fidgeted with the strap of his bag. You noticed the way his Z-Band glowed gently under his sleeve cuff, and how he seemed to keep pulling the fabric down over it like he was trying to hide it.

You leaned in a little, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. “So, I was thinking… library after school?”

Zed blinked. “You… want to work on it? With me?”

You laughed — not mocking, but warm, easy, like you couldn’t believe he’d even have to ask. “Yeah. Kinda the point of a partner project, isn’t it?”

He ducked his head, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he wanted to smile but didn’t trust himself yet. “Most people would’ve switched.”

“Well,” you shrugged, twisting your ponytail around your finger, “most people are boring.”

Zed’s eyes darted to yours — really darted, like he was seeing if you were messing with him. When he saw you weren’t, his shoulders dropped a fraction.

“Are you, um…” He hesitated, voice barely above a mumble. “…not scared?”

The question made your heart pinch. He said it so quietly — like he was apologizing for existing.

You leaned forward, so close he could see the tiny shimmer in your eyeliner. “Of you? Not even a little bit.”

Zed swallowed. His mouth parted, closed again, like he was trying to catch up with the way you just looked at him — not like he was about to bite you, but like he was just… a boy.

You tugged your notebook from your bag, scribbled something on a page, then tore it out and pushed it across his desk.

Zed glanced at the paper — your loopy handwriting, the little doodle of a cheer megaphone next to your name and phone number. “This is your… number?”

“Just in case you wanna brainstorm before the library. Or if you get lost. Or if you want me to scare off any of the stuck-up kids who give you a hard time.”

He barked out a short, surprised laugh — warm and real. It made your stomach flutter for some reason you didn’t bother to question yet.

After a beat, you leaned back and swung your leg off the chair. “See you after the last bell, zombie boy. Don’t ghost me.”

He huffed out a laugh at that — you caught the tiny sparkle in his eyes before you turned away.

As you walked off, you felt half the room’s eyes on you — some shocked, some scandalized, a few furious that you, the golden girl of Seabrook High, had just giggled and touched the new zombie boy’s wrist like it was nothing. Like he was human.

When you glanced back over your shoulder, Zed was still frozen in his seat, staring at the piece of paper in his hand like it was a secret map to a life he hadn’t dared dream about yet.

And maybe, just maybe — it was

-

You tapped your notebook. “Okay. So, big presentation on discrimination and fear of the unknown. We could do the usual — PowerPoint, boring charts, everyone claps, we get an A. Or…”

Zed squinted, suspicious but amused. “Or?”

You leaned forward, voice dropping like you were about to share a top-secret plan. “Or we do something that actually matters.”

He blinked, fighting a shy smile. “Such as?”

You tapped your pen against your cocoa mug. “A fair.”

He snorted softly — so soft it was almost lost under the record player’s gentle crackle. “A fair?”

“Yeah!” you said, more excited now, words tumbling out faster. “A school fair. Games, booths, food. But everything is for humans and zombies together — no separation. Three-legged races with mixed pairs. A dunk tank where people dunk you and you dunk them back — equal dunking.”

Zed choked on a laugh. “A dunk tank?”

“Or whatever! The point is, it’s not ‘humans vs zombies.’ It’s Seabrook — one big messed-up, glittery, undead family. People only stay scared when they’re apart. If they actually do things with you guys — share food, laugh, play dumb games — they’ll see there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re not monsters.”

Zed’s smile faded a fraction. He traced a finger around the rim of his mug, voice softer now. “I don’t know.”

You blinked, leaning back a little. “What do you mean?”

He looked at you then — really looked, like he wanted you to understand something he didn’t have words for yet. “No one wants this, okay? I mean — you do. Addison, maybe. But the rest of them? They’ll just… laugh. Or worse. Nobody’s gonna show up to a ‘hug-a-zombie’ party.”

You felt your chest tighten. You’d known Zed was used to this — to people crossing the street, staring, stepping back. But hearing him say it so plainly still stung.

You leaned across the tiny table, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in your eyes under the fairy lights. “Zed Necropolis. If everyone’s too scared to try because they think it won’t work, nothing ever changes. Ever. That’s how monsters win — the real monsters. The ones inside people’s heads.”

His mouth tugged at the corner — part sad, part amazed by you. “And what if it flops? What if it’s just you, me, and Bonzo tossing bean bags at each other in an empty parking lot?”

You let out a soft laugh — and then, without thinking too hard about it, you reached across the table and curled your hand over his. Warm. Firm. You felt him stiffen at first — like maybe no one had touched him like that in a long time, open and unafraid.

“Then we’ll toss bean bags in an empty parking lot,” you said simply, squeezing his hand. “And next time, maybe three more people join us. And then ten. And then fifty. And someday, someone else won’t be so scared to sit next to the new zombie in class, because they’ll remember that day at the fair. And it all starts because we were brave enough to look dumb first.”

Zed’s throat bobbed. His eyes flicked to your hand on his — your perfectly manicured fingers tangled with his bigger, colder ones. He wondered if you felt how different his skin was — how it didn’t warm the way human skin did. But if you did, you didn’t flinch. You didn’t let go.

“You’re kinda… amazing,” he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Kinda? Rude.”

He laughed — really laughed, and you felt it buzz through his fingertips under yours.

A voice from behind the counter broke the soft bubble. “Hey, kids — keep it down back there!”

You jumped slightly, giggling as you pulled your hand back — but not far. You gave his fingers one last squeeze before you let go.

“So. You in?” you asked. “Will you do it with me?”

Zed stared at you — the human girl who was supposed to fear him, hate him, keep him at arm’s length — and felt that strange warmth blooming again in the empty space inside his chest where his heart didn’t beat the same way anymore.

He nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I’m in.”

You grinned so wide you thought your cheeks might crack. “Good. Because you’re designing the dunk tank.”

He barked out another laugh, shaking his head. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” You winked, stealing the joke before he could.

Outside the bookstore window, Seabrook glowed under the soft dusk — tidy streets, perfect lawns, the same old walls people built to keep them out. But inside, in that tiny warm corner with the smell of old pages and cocoa in the air, a cheerleader and a zombie sat side by side, plotting something that felt like it could crack the walls wide open.

-

When the day of the fair finally arrived, Seabrook High’s football field looked like something out of one of those shiny “Welcome to Seabrook!” tourism brochures — pastel banners snapping in the breeze, neat rows of game booths lining the track, tables stacked with rainbow cupcakes and paper cups of fizzy pink punch.

You stood at the edge of it all, arms crossed tight over your Seabrook High cheer jacket, ponytail bobbing as you scanned the bustling field with a mix of fierce pride and electric nerves.

It worked. Well — half-worked.

Kids had shown up. Families too. Parents lingered by the snack tables, whispering behind polite smiles. The dunk tank Zed had helped build — with Bonzo’s chaotic but enthusiastic input — stood near the center, already splashed and muddy from the football guys dunking each other for laughs.

And everywhere you looked, neon-green Z-Bands glowed faintly on wrists and forearms, blinking steady reminders that the monsters were only monsters if Seabrook made them so.

But there was still a line — invisible but real. Zombies grouped near Bonzo’s face-painting booth or the zombie bake sale (brain cupcakes purely for the pun). Humans huddled by the ring toss, the snack tables, the prize wheel. People mingled near each other — but not really with each other.

You blew out a slow breath, eyes scanning for the one face you needed to see this all through.

And there he was.

Zed stood by the dunk tank, arms crossed, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a streak of wet across his cheek where someone had splashed him on his shift in the seat. He looked alive — the way he laughed at something Bonzo said, the way he tossed a wet towel at Wyatt, who pretended to faint dramatically.

When he spotted you, his smile tugged wider — and he cut through the clusters of humans and zombies without hesitation, like your orbit was the only gravity that mattered.

“Hey, zombie boy,” you teased when he stopped in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.

He ducked his head, fighting a grin. “Hey. We’re not dead yet, huh?”

“Speak for yourself,” you shot back, flicking your ponytail over your shoulder. “I’m about two cake pops away from a sugar coma.”

Zed’s eyes flicked around — taking in the swirl of humans and zombies coexisting in cautious bubbles of fun. “This is… better than I thought it’d be.”

You raised an eyebrow, nudging his side with your elbow. “You doubted me?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Never.” His voice dropped a little. “I just… didn’t think people would show up. Or stay.”

Your smile gentled. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

He shrugged one shoulder, eyes drifting over the human-only huddle by the snack tables. “They’re here. Just… not really with us.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but a shriek of laughter from the dunk tank cut you off — a blur of water, a cheerleader squealing as she plopped into the tank with a dramatic splash. You grinned, rolling your eyes. “Okay, maybe they’re not hugging it out yet — but they’re here. That’s something. A start.”

Zed’s gaze dropped to you — really dropped, like he was memorizing the freckles on your nose, the pink gloss on your lips that caught the spring sun every time you smiled.

“You did this, you know,” he said softly. “You made them come.”

You shrugged, cheeks warming. “Well… you helped.”

He snorted under his breath. “I made a dunk tank.”

“A great dunk tank.” You nudged him again, shoulder to chest this time. He didn’t flinch like he used to — didn’t stiffen like he was bracing to be shoved away. He just smiled, soft and crooked, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You didn’t hear the scuffle at first — too busy explaining to Bonzo that no, you didn’t think brain-shaped caramel corn would convince the football team to mingle.

Then the voices spiked — sharp, ugly, carrying over the laughter and music.

“Hey — back off!” “You can’t come back here!” “Get away from her —”

You twisted so fast you nearly knocked over the popcorn tub. Your heart dropped straight through your stomach.

Near the dunk tank, a cluster had formed — humans pulling back, gasping, a few fumbling for their phones like they’d been waiting for this exact headline.

And in the center of it — a kid, maybe freshman age, no older than your baby cousin. Green hair slicked back, eyes wide, Z-Band blinking red. He was shaking — whole body quivering with something you recognized instantly. Fear. Panic.

He’d been cornered by a couple of older Seabrook kids — football boys with more biceps than sense — who’d probably taunted him for laughs until the control band glitched. Now the boy’s eyes were wild, teeth clenched, fingers curled like claws he didn’t know how to uncurl.

And standing barely two feet from him — you. Frozen. Hands half-raised, your brain racing through options but your feet refusing to move.

It happened too fast for your thoughts to catch up. The boy lunged — a desperate, mindless motion, all instinct and terror. You felt the air shift — felt your lungs seize.

And then a blur of green and black was in front of you.

Zed.

He slammed into the kid mid-lunge, arms wrapping him tight, pivoting his own body to shield yours as they crashed into the grass. You stumbled back, winded, falling onto your hands.

Gasps erupted — shocked, brittle, sharp.

“Did you see that?!” “He tackled him—” “Is she okay?—”

Zed pinned the kid gently, murmuring something low — words you couldn’t hear but soft enough that the boy stilled under his grip. The Z-Band flickered back to green, blinking steady and harmless.

Zed pulled back slowly, helping the boy sit up, brushing dirt from his hair with a tenderness that didn’t match the snarling rumors you knew would explode the second people found their voices.

And then his eyes snapped to you.

You were still on the grass, palms scraped, heartbeat pounding against your ribs so hard it felt like it might crack them open.

Zed pushed up — one knee, then standing, moving to you like the rest of the world had gone blurry. He knelt down in front of you, hands hovering but not touching yet, like he didn’t know if he was allowed.

“Are you okay?” His voice was hoarse — rough with adrenaline and something rawer. Fear. For you.

You laughed — half-hysterical, half-sobbing. “You… you tackled a zombie for me.”

Zed huffed a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Technically I tackled with a zombie. You just got in the way.”

You smacked his chest with the back of your hand — so soft it was barely a tap. Then you curled your fingers in the fabric of his jacket and tugged him closer.

“You saved me,” you whispered.

His breath caught. He searched your eyes — the tiny cuts on your palms, the wild thud of your pulse under your skin. His hands finally landed on yours, brushing your scraped knuckles like they were something precious.

“I’d do it again,” he said quietly. “A thousand times.”

You were still trembling, but your laugh broke through — warm and watery and real. You pressed your forehead to his for half a heartbeat — the edge of your nose brushing his cold one.

When you pulled back, you saw the circle of people — humans, zombies, football boys, cheerleaders — staring. Some horrified. Some stunned. Some… curious.

You lifted your chin, fingers still tangled in Zed’s jacket like you were daring anyone to try and pull him away.

“Not all monsters make monstrosities,” you said, loud enough for anyone to hear. “Some monsters save lives.”

Zed’s eyes shimmered — bright green, wide, so alive it made your ribs ache. He squeezed your hand like a promise.

And somewhere in that silent, electric hush, the line between human and zombie cracked. Maybe not wide open — not yet. But enough for something new to slip through. Something alive.

Something worth saving.

-

It had been four days since the fair, and Seabrook High was still buzzing like a kicked beehive. People whispered about it in the hallways, at their lockers, over the squeak of sneakers in the gym. The fair — the zombie boy — the cheer captain sitting on the grass with scraped palms and the undead hero who’d saved her.

Some kids called you stupid. Some called you brave. Some — the ones who saw how Zed looked at you when he thought no one was watching — called you something else entirely.

You tried not to care. Mostly you succeeded.

But the cafeteria? That was a different beast. The cafeteria had always been Seabrook’s neat little microcosm of “us” and “them” — jocks here, cheerleaders there, brains here, the unlucky new kids hovering like lost satellites. Now it had a new line: zombies.

Zed sat near the far end by the windows, shoulder to shoulder with Bonzo, Eliza, and a couple other zombie kids who’d started braving human lunch instead of the grim, metal-walled Zombie Caf. They clustered together like a little island of bright green hair, mismatched jackets, and low, cautious laughter.

You sat at your usual table: center of the room, prime real estate for rumor control and status maintenance. Your friends clustered close — Kayla, Addison, a couple other girls picking at kale salads like they were too pretty for actual food.

You could feel Zed before you saw him — his gaze a warm buzz between your shoulder blades. When you finally looked over, he was already looking at you. He lifted his hand — that big, careful wave like he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to take up that much space.

You grinned instantly — all teeth and sunshine — and lifted your hand back. For a second, you just held your palm up like a secret signal across enemy lines.

Then you pushed your tray back and started to stand. “I’ll be right back.”

Kayla’s fork clattered to her tray. “Where are you going?”

You shot her a look like it should’ve been obvious. “To say hi.”

She stared at you like you’d just announced you were moving to the moon. “To him?”

“Yes, to him.” You hooked a thumb over your shoulder, as if there was another six-foot-tall green-haired zombie in the room waving shyly from the window side.

Kayla’s eyes widened, her voice pitching up. “What are you doing?! One of them attacked you! Are you insane?”

The entire table fell dead silent. Across the room, the zombie table quieted too — the word attacked hanging in the air like a wasp waiting to sting. Zed’s smile dropped. Bonzo’s eyes darted to the floor.

Your jaw clenched. You planted your hands on the table, leaning in so Kayla couldn’t miss the fire in your eyes. “And one of them saved me.”

Your voice wasn’t loud — but it didn’t need to be. The word saved carried in the hush that followed, slicing clean through every whispered monster still clinging to the walls.

You straightened your jacket, chin lifting a fraction. “Just like humans, Kay. Some good, some bad. The difference is, the one who attacked me didn’t do it by choice. And the one who saved me? Did.”

You didn’t wait for her to find a comeback. You grabbed your tray — untouched salad, half a juice box — and crossed the cafeteria with every pair of eyes tracking your ponytail.

When you reached Zed’s table, you didn’t hover or glance around for permission. You just dropped your tray next to his, swung your bag off your shoulder, and slid onto the bench so close your knees brushed his under the table.

Zed’s mouth opened, then closed again. His hand hovered awkwardly like he didn’t know whether to touch your wrist, fist bump you, or just clap like you’d won something.

You leaned your shoulder into his, voice low enough for just him. “Sorry I’m late. Did I miss the good gossip?”

Bonzo hooted a laugh, shoving an entire brain cupcake in his mouth. Eliza smirked over her phone, thumbs tapping out what you knew would be a savage tweet before the lunch bell rang.

Zed blinked at you, that dopey grin creeping back in like the sun sliding through a crack in the clouds. “You really didn’t have to—”

“Had to,” you cut in, stabbing your fork into a piece of limp lettuce. “This side of the caf has better lighting anyway.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “You’re, uh… you’re something else.”

You arched a brow, bumping his knee under the table. “That a compliment or an insult?”

Zed smirked — a real smirk, sly and boyish in a way that made your stomach do a dumb flip. “Definitely a compliment.”

You fought a grin. “Good answer.”

You both fell quiet for a moment — but it wasn’t awkward. Not this time. Around you, the other zombies snuck peeks at you like you were a glitch in the Seabrook Matrix — the cheer queen perched between neon Z-Bands, giggling into her juice box like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You know,” Zed said, tapping your tray with his knuckles, “you didn’t have to fight your friends for me.”

You looked up at him through your lashes — his hair still a little damp from PE, his fingers drumming restlessly on the table because he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with all the new feelings crowding his chest.

“Zed.” You tipped your chin up. “You saved me. I’m allowed to save you back.”

His eyes softened — that warm, melt-right-through-you green. For a second, you wondered if he could feel your heartbeat rattling around your ribs like a caged bird.

Then he leaned in, voice just for you. “You keep doing that, you know. Making me think this place isn’t so bad.”

Your grin curled slow, a little sly. “Guess you’re stuck with me then.”

Bonzo slammed his tray down between you with a loud clatter, spraying a few stray cupcake crumbs. “Hey, Zed! You done flirting yet? She’s gotta try the brain corn!”

Zed startled — but the laugh that bubbled out of him was warm, unbothered, alive. He nudged you with his shoulder, eyes dancing. “You heard the man. Stay for dessert?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically — but your knee pressed into his under the table, and you didn’t pull it away. “Fine. But only because the company’s better over here.”

Zed beamed. He beamed — the hero, the monster, the boy who wasn’t either but all heart and shaky hope anyway.

And if you’d asked him later — years later, maybe — when he knew, really knew, that he’d fallen all the way in love with the prettiest, bravest girl in Seabrook? He’d tell you it was that moment. When you sat down beside him — and stayed.

-

You tried to focus. Really, you did. But every time you leaned over to scribble a note, your shoulder brushed his. Every time you giggled at something dumb he said, he stared at you a heartbeat too long. It was soft. Warm. Easy. Until it wasn’t.

At some point, you ended up shoulder to shoulder — your legs tucked under you, Zed cross-legged with his notes balanced on his knee. He said something about the presentation — about monsters being misunderstood — and the way he looked at you made your chest flip inside out.

“Zed?” you asked, voice too quiet, too gentle.

“Yeah?” His eyes flicked to your mouth and back like he didn’t mean to.

You tilted your head. “Why do you always do that?”

His brow furrowed. “Do what?”

“Look at me like I’m gonna vanish if you blink.”

He flinched like you’d read his mind — which, in a way, you had. He set his notebook aside, hands fidgeting in his lap like he couldn’t keep them still if he tried.

“I— I dunno. I just…” He trailed off. The room felt smaller, suddenly — like the walls were leaning in, like the posters on his door were leaning closer to hear.

“Zed,” you pressed, softer now. “Tell me.”

His throat bobbed. His hands twisted together, knuckles pale where the Z-Band blinked steady green. He looked at you like he was bracing for a door to slam shut.

“I know you could do better,” he mumbled, so low you had to lean in to catch it. “You could have anyone you wanted. Some perfect human guy. One who doesn’t wear this stupid band just so he doesn’t lose his mind and bite someone.”

“Zed—”

He cut you off, eyes flicking up, raw and wide. “But I— I like you. A lot. More than I’m supposed to, probably. And you’re… you’re you. And I’m just—”

You didn’t let him finish. You were done letting him talk himself down. Your palm slid up his jaw, fingers brushing the soft edge of his hairline, the little scar near his ear you’d never noticed before.

“Zed Necropolis,” you said, steady, sure. “Shut up.”

His breath caught. “What—?”

“Shut up. I like you too.”

For half a second, neither of you moved. The only sound was your heartbeat thumping in your ears and the faint hum of the old ceiling fan.

Then Zed’s mouth twitched — a broken, disbelieving smile cracking his stunned stare. “You do?”

You laughed — breathless, giddy — and tugged him forward by the collar of his hoodie. “Yeah, dummy. Now come here before I die of suspense.”

And then you were kissing him — soft at first, sweet, like you were testing a theory you’d both been writing in the margins for weeks. He tasted like mint gum and the faintest trace of chocolate from the cookies you’d stolen from the kitchen earlier. His hands hovered at your waist like he didn’t know if he was allowed — then settled there anyway, thumbs pressing into your sides like he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers.

When you pulled back for air, you were both grinning like idiots — foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in like it was the first real breath of the day.

“I can’t believe you—” he started.

You kissed him again before he could finish, giggling against his mouth. “Told you to shut up.”

The door slammed open. You flinched apart so fast you nearly knocked your head on his wall. Zed’s dad stood in the doorway, grocery bag tucked under one arm, eyebrows climbing so high they nearly vanished into his hairline.

“…Hey, Dad,” Zed said, voice squeaking just a little.

His dad looked at you — your flushed cheeks, your hand still suspiciously close to Zed’s hoodie strings — then back at Zed, deadpan. “So. Will your girlfriend be staying for dinner, or should I order more takeout for one?”

Your mouth dropped open. Zed squeaked again.

“Dad!”

Before either of you could sputter out a reply, a smaller voice shrieked from the hallway: “ZED HAS A GIRLFRIEND!!”

Zed’s little sister appeared behind their dad, all pigtails and gap-toothed grin, bouncing on her toes like she’d just won the lottery. “Moooooom! ZED HAS A GIRLFRIEND!”

Zed groaned into his hands. You just dissolved into giggles, burying your face in his shoulder as his dad sighed and ruffled his hair.

“Well, I guess that’s settled then,” his dad said dryly, turning back down the hall. “She’s staying for dinner.”

And as Zed’s little sister bolted down the stairs shouting “ZED HAS A GIRLFRIEND!” to every single picture frame on the wall, you peeked up at him — flushed, flustered, yours.

You pressed your lips to his ear, voice soft and smug. “Guess I am now, huh?”

Zed’s answering grin was so big it hurt your cheeks just looking at it.

The party wasn't at all what she described—in fact, it was the complete opposite.

Just a couple people?

Almost the entire school was there.

Taking it easy?

Majority of them were sloshed off Lefou's Brew—Gil somehow managed to smuggle it in—and acting like complete animals.

Listening to some music?

The party was one more unce-unce song away from becoming a fucking rave.

'I knew I should've brought my book down here...'

And then there was you.

The princess sitting on the marble bench while she sipped her spiced cider, watching all of the merriment from the sidelines while routinely tugging on her too-short dress, counting down the nanoseconds until Miranda gave her the go-ahead to leave for the night.

And while everyone else was too busy living it up to notice, a certain blue-haired pirate couldn't help but be intrigued by your stand-offish demeanor.

Deciding she wanted some entertainment, Uma tossed her cup over her shoulder, making her way over to you.

Much to your dismay.

"Don't even," you groaned, taking a heavy gulp of your cider before holding up your hand to stop her, "I've had enough swamp barbs for today. If you wanna torment someone, go find Gil or something."

"Chill, princess," she chuckled, eyes flicking to the bench before turning to you. "I just wanna chat."

Wary, you looked her up and down, scanning for any sort of malicious intent, and, surprisingly, you found none.

So you let out a sigh, avoiding eye contact as you slid over, making some room to sit.

"I noticed you weren't as festive as the other shrimp floatin' around here," she remarked, taking a seat, glancing at you out the corner of her eye.

"S'cause they're all sloshed," you scoffed, taking a sip of your drink. "I bet half of these people couldn't tell you their name."

She chuckled, "But not you, right?" her brow raised, snatching a cup out of someone's hand as they passed by.

"Nope. I got business to handle tomorrow, which means I gotta stay sharp."

Uma paused for a moment, surprised by your answer.

Being a princess, she expected you to say something like Oh, I only drink champagne or My mother would never approve or something square like that

But she could actually relate to what you said.

She gave you a respectful nod, showing her approval, "I like that... At least someone here's got a clue."

"No kidding," you agreed, watching as a drunk Brodie Dunbroch got ready to shoot an apple off the head of Miranda's eldest brother, Milo. "Y'know, I know this is off topic but I forgot to tell you on the tour that the dating pool here sucks."

Not that you spoke from experience... but Miranda told you to tell all the female new arrivals as a precaution, anyway.

"Eh, what's a few boy toys here and there," she shrugged before turning to the son of Robin Hood, who was standing across the way, watching her.

Effortlessly, she threw on a lazy, flirty smile, sending him a sly wave.

It worked like a charm.

Just going off looks alone, Richard was a golden boy, six feet of lean muscle and charm—which rivaled that of Flynn Rider—with soft blonde hair and a pearly smile that made all the girls swoon.

But the moment his eyes landed on Uma, he was redder than a pepper, blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears.

'Damn, she's good...'

"I take it you're not used to being on the receiving end of that... 'specially with the way you were eyein' Harry this morning."

Your eyes turned into saucers, and you nearly spit out your drink.

"Excuse me?" you furrowed your brows, sharpening your tone just a bit.

"Don't play dumb with me, princess. We both know you're smarter than that," she bit right back, not letting up. 

Out of nervous habit, you glanced away, your eyes ironically landing on Harry, who seemed to be having an interesting chat with Helena, daughter of the Enchantress—the witch who cursed Beast.

Feeling watched, his eyes flitted behind the redhead, only to see your sparkling gems staring at him from across the courtyard.

'Adorable...'

Slyly, he shot you another wink, your face warming at the shit-eating grin rising to his lips.

Helena noticed this, and turned around to see what he was looking at, only find you as the object of his attention.

Her sickeningly sweet smile dropped to a scowl in a second.

You turned away before you could see any more, facing Uma with renewed vigor.

"Okay, and what if a was?" you rolled your eyes, feigning indifference.

"Then I'd tell you to stay away from what's mine," her voice lowered, serious.

You were completely taken aback.

Hers?

'Was she not just flirting with Richard like two seconds ago?'

"Yours?" you scoffed, brows furrowed.

"Yes, mine," she clarified, not missing a beat. "Auradon or not, I still got my crew. And in unknown territory I can't have my first mate distracted by any princess with a pulse."

"I don't think that's your decision to make," you fired back, incredulously.

You didn't even know why you were fighting her about it.

You'd already decided for yourself earlier that Harry was off limits, so why care?

'If I'm not gonna go for someone, then it's because I don't want to. Not because some piece of calamari told me I couldn't.'

"Don't think 'cause I'm in this prep school I won't rock you right here, right now," she warned, leaning in closer. "Choose your next words carefully."

But you didn't waver, sharing the same intensity in your glare.

"Don't think 'cause I was raised in a castle that I won't defend myself. These other princesses might be sheltered, but I assure you, I am not."

You were bluffing your ass off.

Sure, in a normal fist fight you could probably hold your own pretty decently.

But against a girl who could turn herself into a sea monster?

'As if.'

You figured if you faked it long enough, you'd make it out with all your teeth intact.

Uma paused for a moment, scanning your face one final time, before she suddenly pulled back with a laugh, a smile stretching across her lips.

'What...?'

"I like you," she chuckled, standing up from her seat. "Imma go see what lover boy's all about."

And with that, she walked away, leaving you sitting there with the equivalent of emotional whiplash.

"I don't think I'll ever understand the VKs," you exhaled, slumping in your seat and finishing off your cider.

It wasn't long after that you threw in the towel.

You wished Miranda goodnight, narrowly avoiding her dragging you back to the party with her super-strength, before starting back up to your dorm, practically slumping against the door once you made it inside.

Your day had been a whirlwind, to say the least, and your body wanted absolutely nothing more than to sprawl out on the bed and catch some Zs.

But, even with the late, or rather, early hour—two to be exact—you didn't allow it.

First, you changed into some more comfortable clothes—some pajama shorts and a flimsy, green tank top—before straightening up the mess Miranda had made in her attempt to find you the perfect dress.

Once all that was done, you finally sat down at your desk, opening up your chemistry textbook and pulling out your notepad to write with.

'Alright, Chapter Eight: Acids and Bases...'

But before you could even read the first word, someone frantically knocked on your door.

"Faldi Faldonza!" you groaned, throwing your head back in anguish.

You had half the mind to ignore it.

And, honestly, you did, returning to your book and pretending to be asleep.

But it wasn't long before the frantic rap turned into a distressed bang, completely disrupting your flow.

"Fine! I'm coming!" you caved, roughly pushing your chair back in and storming toward the door.

If Maleficent herself wasn't burning the school down, heads were going to roll.

"Miri, I swear to God, if this is some kind of jo—" 

Swinging the door open, you never in a million years would have expected to see Harry Hook on the other side.

Especially not looking like that.

"Shit," he panted, breathless, as he clutched his stomach, leaning against the door frame for support. 

It had to be your dorm...

"Can I... mph! ...Can I come in?"

Faldi Faldonza - Oh my God