You're the definition of polished to perfection. Blazer crisp, expensive lip gloss, a reputation cleaner than Dr. Crabblesnitch's office. You float through the halls of bullworth like royalty, arm-in-arm with your fellow preps.
Jimmy didn't notice you because you're loud - but because you're untouchable. You're one of the few who just ignore and walk past all of the chaos at school.
You notice him the way you'd notice a retired fighting dog getting egged on by a bunch of aggressive pooches. A real 'tough guy.'
You flirt first - on a dare. Or maybe just to feel something. He smirks. "Didn’t think a girl like you played with matches." You tilt your head and grin, "Only the ones that burn real pretty."
You start hanging out with him ironically. Slumming it. That’s what you tell yourself. But the first time he lights your cigarette with one he’s already smoking? You’re done.
Jimmy is obsessed with the way you stand out in his world: your pink pens, your designer notebooks, the way your perfume lingers by your designated desk. He’d never say it out loud, but he likes being your secret.
He calls you "princess" first as a joke. Then it sticks. You call him "baby" like it’s his name.
He buys you candy from the corner store. You buy him cologne "so you stop smelling like motor oil and blood." He wears it.
You’re his pretty party favor - always on his arm, always drawing eyes. But no one dares touch. Not unless they want a broken nose and detention.
You once got caught breaking curfew. Jimmy showed up, said it was his fault. Took detention for you. You kissed him behind the school the next day like it was a ritual.
You cut class together just to lie in the sun and talk about running away to the city. He wants to box. You want to design.
You keep a picture of him in your locket. He has your name carved on his switchblade handle.
You kiss him like he’s your favorite flavor - slow, dramatic, lip gloss all over his mouth. You pull away and go, "Mmm. Cherry." He blushes. Jimmy Hopkins blushes.
Jimmy calls you flawless. Not "cute," not "hot." Flawless. You eat it up. You call him your lifesaver when he throws hands for you. You adore how he doesn’t flinch when you act out.
Jimmy’s the kind of guy who doesn’t talk about feelings - but he acts them out. He fixes your locker when it breaks. Puts his jacket over your shoulders in detention. Fights a guy who looks at you wrong.
You’re a little wild - spending money like water, making scenes when you’re bored, starting drama just to watch it burn. He finds it adorable. "Bad behavior looks good on you, princess."
He doesn’t have much, but what he does - his respect, loyalty, his attention - he gives you completely.
The air was thick with exotic perfume, cheap cologne, and heat.
The screen of the abandoned drive-in flickered a forgotten ‘80s horror film, casting neon light over the rusted speakers and dry grass. But neither of you were watching.
You were in Jimmy’s lap, knees on either side of him in the passenger seat of some junk car you two had broken into. He’d hotwired it earlier- not to drive, just to recline the seats.
"Romantic, right?" you teased, finger tracing his collarbone where his jacket had fallen open.
Jimmy gave that slow, smug smirk. "Classiest date I’ve ever been on."
You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "That’s because I am class, baby." Then you bit it - lightly. Just enough to hear him hiss through his teeth and to feel his chest pulsate.
He grabbed your waist tighter.
"You're outta control tonight," he muttered, breath hot against your throat.
"And you love it," you whispered, licking cherry gloss off your bottom lip. "You love when I’m bad."
He kissed you like he was starving - hands everywhere, greedy, claiming. You kissed back harder, smearing gloss all over him. It's you signature, after all.
You pulled back, just barely, resting your forehead against his.
"I’m your problem, huh?"
Jimmy’s hands ran down your thighs, grip bruising. "Nah. You’re my fucking solution."
You smiled, slow and syrupy. "My lovely life saver."
He didn’t answer with words. Just pulled you back into him and kissed you again - messier this time, lips slick with cherry, teeth clashing. You were his favorite bad habit.
The dinner Y/N couldn’t wait for. To be over, that is.
Light flooded through the uncovered windows, shining into Y/N's eyes. Groaning, she pulled the covers up over her face, nearly rolling off the bed while tossing around.
The shower was running, and footsteps could be heard going up the stairs. Soft knocks echoed through the door. Edward peeked his head through a small gap. "Darling, breakfast will be ready shortly. You'll need to hop in the shower once Trevor's finished." He whispered.
Muttering a soft 'okay', the girl stumbled out of bed. Edward walked down the stairs, and so quiet talking ensued. Trevor sang loudly in the shower. Y/N pulled out a big box labeled 'clothes' and rummaged through it. Pulling out a pair of soft colored pants and a matching striped top, it was laid it out on the bed. It was no bother changing now, if she was going to eat and shower later.
Oisín shouted up the stairs that it was breakfast time. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Y/N to walk out of her room.
"Is Trevor still in the shower?" He asked in a small voice. Y/N sauntered down the stairs, into the dining room. "Of course he is. He'd live in there if he could."
The two sat down and began to serve themselves. Fiadh walked out of the kitchen with boiled eggs and began to peel their shells. While Y/N was pouring herself and Oisín a glass of orange juice, Trevor tramped down the stairs. He was sporting a long, white bathrobe with apples on it, the word 'Appeline' sewed on the bottom of it.
"Are you wearing my bathrobe?" Y/N slowly put the carton of juice down, looking at Trevor. "Blame dad, he hung it up!" She tore her eyes away from Trevor and instead set her gaze on Edward. "Dad?! I made it myself, it's mine!"
He swallowed his food, an awkward look on his face. He looked at Y/N, then at Trevor. The only sound was Fiadh sneezing after putting too much pepper on her eggs.
"Well, I did hang it up for you. I suppose you'll have to use Trevor's now."
___
That was why when Y/N stepped out of the shower, she was wearing a blue and green Minecraft robe, about three sizes too small. Steam followed her down the hall to her bedroom, the floor becoming smeared with wet footsteps.
Opening the bedroom door, cold wind slashed against her skin. Y/N ran to her window attempting to close it, the curtains being mysteriously drawn open.
"WHO OPENED MY WINDOW!?" She shouted for the culprit, but she got no answer. Y/N let out a growl, kicking into the air.
"I needed t' air out yer room!" Y/N could hear her mother eventually shouting up the stairs. She was restless, as she wasn't going to work for another week. Fiadh had resorted to cleaning the whole house, Y/N figured.
She had already exposed herself to half the neighborhood it seemed. The want to go out was not there anymore, but Y/N dressed herself in her outfit anyway. Wrapping her wet hair in a towel, she saw Fiadh standing by the foot of the stairs.
"Perfect, I was jus' about t' call ya down! I need ya t' start bakin' a cake for me." She stood in front of her daughter, a hand on her hip.
"A cake? What for?" Fiadh walked into the kitchen, pulling ingredients out of the pantry. Edward had apparently gone shopping yesterday. "Rita asked us t' bring a cake!"
"Did she specify what kind?" Fiadh shook her head, bringing out the kitchen scale. "She said to bring what we like the most! She said her family likes every kind o' cake."
"Her family? Does she have many kids?" Y/N looked through a nearby cookbook, trying to find a recipe. Fiadh grumbled and pulled out a phonebook. "Ah, have ye seen her yard? I think she has 'bout... eleven chil'ren."
Y/N nearly drooped her book, choking on her spit. "Eleven children!? I have to bake a cake... for more than eleven people!? I might as well bake dozens of cupcakes!"
Fiadh laughed saying yes, she might as well have. "I'll just have to do... chocolate, I guess. The easiest." Y/N let out an exaggerated sigh, slumping against the counter. The thought of baking a cake to feed thirteen children made her head spin. Fiadh was already measuring flour and sugar, humming a tune under her breath. "Well... Get cracking on the batter. I'll take care of the frosting later."
"Right, because this is the perfect way to spend my Saturday morning." She gave the bowl a half-hearted stir before pulling out cocoa powder. "How does she even do it? Keep them in line with snack bars?" Fiadh chuckled, "I swear, they could form their own football team! When I was there las' night, half o' them were fightin' over the remote."
Y/N sighed as the smell of chocolate filled the small kitchen. "Great, just what i needed! A dozen children screaming and running for the remote..." Fiadh snorted. "Half of 'em are older than ye, now. I don't know... Was it 'Luan' or 'Lynn' that was the same age as ye?" Biting her lip, she thought too hard about a small problem.
"Is the oven hot?" Fiadh nodded and opened the kitchen window. Y/N shoved the now finished cake batter into the oven. "When are we going to Rita's house?" Before Fiadh could answer, Trevor walked into the kitchen, still dressed in his sister's robe.
"Can I help with the cake?" Y/N turned to him and scoffed. "No, I already finished it. And no, you can't do the frosting. Do you remember what happed last time?" He sighed and turned to their mother with pleading puppy eyes. "No 'as already been said, Trevor. An' we're leavin' in about... two hours. You'll 'ave to be ready by five."
"Do they have any boys my age?" Trevor propped himself down on a nearby stool. "No... only one lad, a few years older than ye. They've two girls the same age as ye and Oisín though." Trevor let out a loud groan, slumping his shoulders.
"Great, a bunch o' girls. What's a guy supposed to do with that?" He shot a playful glance at Y/N, who gave him an indignant look. "Well, then maybe you'll have a great time helping them fight over the remote, yeah?" she teased, pulling out her phone.
Fiadh chuckled, giving Trevor a wink. "Ah, don't worry, love. You've got time to try and charm the girls. Maybe one of 'em will take pity on ya." She pulled out four eggs and started separating the yolk and the egg whites. "Mum can I please help?" He dragged his words until she finally gave in.
"I'll just go for a walk..." Y/N muttered, pulling on her shoes. "Don't be late now, love! And take that towel off yer head!" She tore it off and shook her head like a wet dog.
The crisp fall air greeted Y/N when she stepped foot outside, stabbing at her face. She needed to clear her head. Though she felt that a walk in an unfamiliar area wouldn't hit the spot, it would do the trick.
Her shoes crunched against fallen leaves. Looking into the yard of the Loud family, she could see three girls. They were all around her age it seemed.
She recognized two of them - they were wearing the same red uniforms she had seen yesterday. The third girl was also clad in the same gear, but Y/N could not remember seeing her in the crowd yesterday.
Without realizing it, she was standing still on the pavement. She was fixated on the unknown girl. It was obvious she was one of the Loud daughters, and the other two weren't.
One of the girls turned to look at Y/N. Suddenly she felt very insecure. She sped away, but could practically feel, no she knew, that she told the other two, and that they were all staring at her.
___
Margo punched Lynn in the shoulder, motioned for her to look out into the street. "Lynn, that's the creep I was telling you about!" Lynn squinted her eyes, looking at the girl who was now hastily walking away.
"Are you sure, Margo?" Lynn asked, crossing her arms. "She doesn't look like much of a creep to me. Just... weird." Paula rolled her eyes. "She was just lurking yesterday. Didn't say a word, but she was watching us like she was trying to memorize our faces or something. Super weird."
Lynn shrugged, watching the girl walk across the street. "I mean, yeah, that's a little strange, but maybe she was just curious. You know how some people are with teams in uniform - they think we're, like, famous or something."
"Famous? Really?" Margo scoffed. "We play middle school sports, Lynn, not the Olympics. I'm telling you, there's something off about her." Lynn shook her head, letting out a skeptical laugh.
"You two are seriously overthinking this. She probably just thinks our uniforms look cool or something. Come on, let's not make a big deal out of it," Lynn rubbed the back of her neck, frowning. "Anyways, you two need to leave. My mom wants me to get ready for some dinner party with the new neighbors."
"Yeah, yeah...." They nodded and Lynn ushered them out of the driveway. Taking one last look, she walked into the house just as Rita called out her name.
___
Y/N had now walked a complete circle around the neighborhood, just to avoid walking past the Louds again. Walking into her own yard, she could see Trevor and Oisín trying to climb the tree in the front yard. It was nothing short of big. It was huge. It reached above the two-story house and its branches had grown thick with the years.
"Y/N! Look here!" Oisín had now climbed to one of the thickest branches and was trying to pull Trevor up. "The branch goes right by your window!" Trevor had now climbed up to the branch, slowly standing up. He balanced and steadily, he walked towards Y/N's window.
"Trevor! Don't you dare go in there!" Just as Y/N shouted, the two boys lost balance and plummeted right into a pile of leaves. "I told you..." Oisín muttered, slowly standing up and brushing leaves off his clothes. Trevor laid there, groaning in defeat.
"Children! Come inside!" Edward now called out from them from the inside of the house. "Great! Just what I needed." Trevor grumbled but stood up when Oisín reached for his hand.
___
"Mum, have you seen my corset jeans?" Y/N was once again rummaging through boxes. "The dark one with the black lacin'? It's in the box Oisín scribbled on!" Fiadh answered. "What about my floral V-neck?" Y/N pulled the jeans on. The lacing was just for show, but she tied into a bow on the back. "It's in de box Socksy chewed on!" Y/N pulled out the pink sweater and stretched it over her head. Pulling out a hairbrush out of her newly organized vanity, Y/N brushed through bouncy curls.
"Honey, are ya ready? We've ta leave soon," Fiadh walked into her daughter's bedroom, pulling out a pair of ankle boots. "Oh, ye just look gorgeous! Rosy cheeks an' all... Well, put these on an' we'll have to be gettin' goin'!"
Y/N glanced at herself in the mirror. She hated the hustle of getting ready for something like a dinner party. She tugged on her boots, standing a little taller now. "Are the boys ready?" Just as Y/N asked that, Trevor ran into her bedroom, a rat in his hand. "Can Socksy please come with us?
Fiadh raised an eyebrow, watching as Trevor clutched Socksy to his chest. The little rat was curled up in his arms, her beady eyes peeking out at the two women. Trevor pouted, holding Socksy out like a tiny offering. "She gets lonely when we're gone. Besides, she's good luck, right?" He grinned, knowing full well their mother couldn't resist his charm when he made that face.
Edward and Oisín were standing downstairs by the front door. "C'mon girls, we have to leave!" Trevor raced Y/N down the stairs, while Socksy sat still in his pocket. "Yeah, girls. C'mon." "Don't rush us!" Fiadh snapped but quickly came down after her daughter. "Mum, don't forget the cake!" Oisín shouted.
___
The family stepped out into the chilly evening, the golden glow of the setting autumn sun casting shadows on the pavement. Y/N pulled her white coat tighter around her body. The walk down the street wasn't long, but she could feel anxiety growing inside her while walking up the Loud's driveway.
Soft light spilled out of the big windows of the Loud residence, and muffled laughter could be heard from the other side of the door. Y/N swallowed. Eleven kids. A lot of names to remember.
Trevor, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered. "Do you think they'll have snacks? Like, the good ones?" He whispered, nudging Oisín, who simply shrugged. Edward stepped up and knocked on the front door. It swung open almost immediately. By the door stood a woman who Y/N could only assume was Rita Loud.
"Oh, you made it right on time! Come in, come in!" She stepped aside, ushering them all into the house. "The kids are playing in the living room, feel free to make yourselves at home!"
Y/N was the last one to step into the house, and as she took off her jacket a little blonde girl ran right past her, nearly knocking her down. As she regained her footing, another one came to pummel her down. "Lana, Lola be nice to our guests!" Rita shouted after them, and they shouted back a faint 'yes, mom!' "I'm sorry, they aren't always, aware of their surroundings. Y/N, right?" Rita helped the girl up as she nodded. Rita gave her a warm smile before guiding her to the living room. "Well, come on in!"
Y/N hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the inside of living room. This was going to be a long night. But it seemed like Trevor had already made himself at home, eating cookies from a tray on the living room table. "See? Not so bad. And look—snacks." He pointed as he quietly sneaked one into his pocket, probably right into Socksy's mouth.
Oisín had joined the lone boy of the family and three other girls on a game of chutes and ladders. He turned around and saw her standing there alone. "Y/N, come play with us!" Y/N hesitated, watching as Oisín waved her over to join the game. The noises in the room were overwhelming, with kids chattering, laughing, and the sound of the game pieces clattering. Still, she walked over to them and sat down beside her brother.
They restarted the game, and Oisín made the first throw. Getting a two, he quickly rose up the ladder. Lincoln, the only boy in the Loud family, seemed to be the most level-headed one. He was sitting next to Oisín, studying the game board like it was a battle plan. "Alright, if I roll a four, I land on a ladder... but if I roll a five, I hit that snake." He muttered, tapping his chin in deep thought before shaking the dice in his hands.
"Statistically speaking, Lincoln, the likelihood of rolling a four is precisely 16.67%, equivalent to the probability of any other face on a fair six-sided die. Thus, this game operates purely on stochastic principles, rendering skill an irrelevant factor." The brown-haired girl beside him pushed up her glasses, pointing a finger up in the air.
"Maybe... but I like to think strategy helps," Lincoln replied, throwing the dice. It landed on four. His face lit up as he moved his piece up the ladder. "See, Lisa? Totally planned that." The girl facepalmed and rolled a three herself. The two other girls, who Y/N now knew as Lucy and Leni, came first and second place. Oisín came third, then Lisa and Y/N. Lincoln came last.
He let out a dramatic sigh, slumping back against the couch. "Well, at least I didn't land on a single snake," he muttered. Lisa adjusted her glasses again. "Indeed, but given the limited sample size of this single game, I would argue that your failure was purely coincidental rather than indicative of skill."
Lincoln waved her off, before turning to Y/N and Oisín. "Hey, you're new around here, right? My mom said we had new neighbors, but I didn't know they had a whole family." Oisín nodded. Y/N was still feeling overwhelmed by the sheer energy of the room. "Yeah, we just moved in a few days ago. Mum and Rita know each other, somehow."
"You guys are from Ireland, right? Well, your mom is at least, Your dad, it seems like he is from somewhere in England, but I can't quite put my finger on his accent..." Lisa kicked him in the shin, silently begging him to shut up. Oisín only smiled and began talking about living in England and how different it was.
Before Y/N could respond herself, a loud thud echoed from the hallway. A second later, Trevor stumbled into the circle, looking triumphant. "Alright, I found the snacks stash," he announced, holding up a bag of chips like it was a trophy. "They were in the second cabinet, way in the back. Someone was trying to hide the good stuff."
Lynn suddenly appeared from the kitchen, arms crossed. "Yeah, that 'someone' was me," she said flatly. "And those were my post-practice snacks." Trevor froze for a second before stuffing the bag behind his back. "Oh... uh... well, finders' keepers?"
Lynn narrowed her eyes at Trevor, stepping forward with the confidence of someone who had never lost a challenge in her life. "Finders' keepers, huh?" she repeated, cracking her knuckles. "Alright then, how about this - you and me. Basketball. First to five points in the driveway. Winner keeps the chips."
Trevor blinked. He had never played a basketball game in his life. If Lynn had asked for a soccer match, he might have said yes. "A game? For chips?" He glanced down at the bag, then at Lynns smug expression. "Alright then. Deal." Now it was Y/N's turn to facepalm. "Trevor, you don't even play basketball." He laughed and passed the bag to one of the girls for safe keeping. "Good thing we're playing with teams then!"
Trevor grinned, looking over the room. His eyes landed on his sister, who was still sitting there, half-laughing and half-exasperated by his antics. "Y/N! You're on my team, obviously," he called, pointing at her. Y/N groaned. "You're really dragging me into this, aren't you?"
"Of course!" Trevor said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "You owe me for making me help with that cake." Y/N shot him an unimpressed look but stood up anyway. "Just saying, I did not make you help me. You begged mom to help her!"
"Alright, and I pick Lucy," Trevor said next, giving a smirk that could rival Lynn's competitive one. "You look like someone who knows how to get things done." Lucy raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded in agreement. "I don't mind helping you win, I guess."
Lynn looked around, scanning the room. She folded her arms, grinning like she was about to face off in the biggest challenge of her life. "Alright, then," she said. "I'm picking... Lincoln. You know, the one who actually thinks before he does things. He's a bit of a strategy guy."
"And..." Lynn paused, looking for one last person to round out her team. Eyes fell on Leni, who had been aimlessly twisting her hair while sitting beside Lucy. "Leni, you're up!" she called. Leni blinked in surprise, her usual smile widening. "Oh! Me? I love games!" she cheered, rising to her feet with enthusiasm. "I'm so ready, Lynn!"
The group shuffled outside, following Lynn and Trevor, who made their way to the driveway. The setting sun had painted the sky in soft oranges and pinks, giving everything a warm, autumn glow.
"Alright!" Lynn shouted, taking her place near the makeshift hoop. "Let's make this fun! Trevor, Lucy - better get ready!" She tossed the basketball in the air a couple of times, dribbling it expertly with one hand, waiting for the game to start.
Trevor, ever the optimist, initiated a high-five with Y/N and Lucy. "Alright, girls, it's just us against them now! Ready to show them who's boss?" Y/N smirked, feeling a little more confident now. "Let's just make sure you don't blow it," she teased, before nudging Lucy, who had been quietly standing beside her.
"Well, well, well..." Trevor said, sizing up their opponents. "Let's see if the brains over there can beat my skill and your-" He shot a glance at Lucy, who was already staring intently at the ball like it held all the answers to life. "-strategy."
Lynn rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with Trevor's overconfidence. "We'll see, won't we?" she challenged. "Get ready for a real game." Lincoln, standing on the other side, was already strategizing, his brow furrowed as he sized up his opponents. "You know, statistically speaking, the odds of winning increase if we maintain ball control and take efficient shots."
"Lincoln, we're not doing math here," Lynn said, rolling her eyes. "Just play!"
Trevor leaned over to his sister and Lucy. "Alright, what's the plan?" Y/N scoffed. "Oh, now you're asking me? I thought you had this covered." Trevor scratched his head. "Uh... run fast, look cool, and don't let them get the ball?" Lucy facepalmed. "We're going to lose so badly."
Before anyone could complain any further, someone blew a whistle. "Game on!" Lynn immediately went on the offensive, dribbling past Trevor with ease. Lincoln ran up for support, but Lucy appeared in front of him like a ghost. "Boo," she said in her monotone voice, making Lincoln stumble just enough for her to steal the ball. Trevor cheered. "Yes! Lucy, you're my MVP!"
Lynn smirked, circling around her before suddenly lunging forward, snatching the ball right out of Lucy's hands. "Hey!" Trevor yelped. "That was ours!"
"Not anymore," Lynn shot back, sprinting toward the hoop. Y/N rushed after her, trying to at least slow her down. But just as she caught up, Lynn pivoted sharply, sending Y/N stumbling forward. Quickly standing up, she saw that Lynn already had made a clear pass to Lincoln.
Lincoln was too busy overanalyzing his next move. "Alright, Leni, I'm passing to you!" he called out, calculating the angle in his head. "You got this, Linky! Throw it to me!" Leni beamed, holding out her hands. His calculations were wildly off.
Lincoln threw the ball. It went nowhere near Leni. The impact was immediate. The basketball slammed into Y/N's face with a loud thud, sending her stumbling back as she clutched her nose. She clutched her face as a sharp pain spread through her nose. She barely registered the gasp from Leni, the awkward cough from Lucy, or Trevor's horrified "Ohhh, that's gotta hurt."
Then, warm liquid started trickling down her upper lip. "Oh my god!" Y/N groaned, eyes watering as she bent over slightly, her hands flying up to her face. Trevor gasped dramatically. "Medic! We need a medic!" He rushed to Y/N's side, though he was clearly trying not to laugh.
Meanwhile, Lynn was dying. She had doubled over, hands on her knees, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "Oh man - that was brutal!" she choked out between laughs. "Lincoln! That was the worst pass I've ever seen in my life!"
Y/N shot her a glare through watery eyes. "Oh, glad you're enjoying this," she grumbled. Trevor, ever so dramatic, flailed around. "Alright, that's it! Game over! My sister has suffered a fatal injury!" He grabbed her shoulders, as if she was about to collapse on the ground.
Meanwhile, Lynn had finally stopped laughing long enough to wipe a tear from her eye. "Alright, alright, that was hilarious, but uh - seriously, someone do something, before she bleeds all over our driveway."
Rita suddenly appeared at the door, taking one look at the scene before sighing. "What in the world is going on out here?" Trevor immediately pointed at Lincoln. "Lincoln tried to kill my sister with a basketball!"
Lincoln was absolutely terrified. "It was an accident! I swear, I was just trying to pass the ball!" Rita sighed again before gesturing for them all to come inside again. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up before dinner." Trevor dramatically wiped a fake tear from his eye. "She was so young... so full of life..."
"Oh, shut up," Y/N walked past him, feeling the throbbing pain in her nose. Her brother was already making grand gestures as if she'd just been through a battle. "You're so dramatic," she muttered, swatting him away. He grinned sheepishly, not at all fazed by the awkwardness.
As they made their way back inside, Y/N could feel an incoming headache, though the pain was still manageable. Trevor had his arm draped around her, a theatrical grin still plastered on his face as he clucked like a chicken. "She was this close to becoming an Olympic athlete."Trevor quipped, motioning with his hands as if measuring her life's lost potential.
"You're ridiculous." Y/N muttered, walking through the door to see the chaos of the Loud house unfold in full swing. The noise of the kids, the laughter, and the clatter of dinner preparations filled the air. Y/N could barely hear herself think over the noise.
The kitchen smelled of roasted vegetables and meat, and the large dining table was already set with plates, glasses, and cutlery. Several kids were sitting around the table, chatting about. It was hard to tell who was talking to who, as everyone seemed to be talking at once.
"Y/N, are you alright?" Oisín's voice cut through her thoughts. He had found her in, looking slightly amused as he glanced at the mayhem unfolding before them. "Yeah, just... it's a lot," Y/N stated, trying to push the discomfort out of her mind.
She rubbed her nose absently, the sting still lingering, though it wasn't bleeding anymore. Glancing over at Trevor, who was still dramatically flapping his arms as if he were trying to imitate a chicken. "Stop it, you're embarrassing me." she muttered under her breath.
Rita appeared around the corner, offering a comforting smile. "Come here, sweetheart," she said gently, guiding Y/N over to the kitchen counter. She grabbed a clean facecloth, wetting it under cold water. "Let's get that cleaned up for you."
The coolness of the cloth was soothing, helping to dull the painful throbs. "Thank you..." Y/N mumbled, still a little embarrassed. The cool cloth did the trick, and before long, Y/N felt like she could breathe without the constant sting. "Thanks," she said, giving Rita a small smile. "I think I'm good now."
Rita clapped her hands together, her smile never faltering. "Alright, let's get you to the table before the food gets cold."
As the family settled around the long dining table, Y/N noticed Lynn sitting at the far end, very focused on her plate. For someone who had been laughing the hardest a few minutes ago, she was quiet now. "Man, I was starving!" Trevor declared, scooping a massive portion of mashed potatoes on his plate. Socksy peeked out of his pocket, sniffing the air. "Oh no, you're not getting any of this." he whispered, bopping the rat on the nose.
Fiadh, who had been talking with Rita, took a moment to check on her daughter. "Ah, sweetheart, your poor nose... That was quite the hit ye took." She looked at Lincoln. "What're ye throwin' basketballs at people for, lad?" Lincoln turned tomato red. "It was an accident!" Y/N sighed "As long as my nose isn't broken, I'll live."
Trevor, mouth full of food, pointed his fork at his sister. "Honestly, I think it improved her face a little." Y/N kicked him under the table. She shot Trevor a glare as he cackled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "You're lucky I don't just dump my drink on your head."
Across the table, Lincoln was pushing his food around his plate. "I'm really sorry about your nose," he said sincerely, looking like he was trying to make up for nearly taking her out with a flying basketball. Lynn shoved a forkful of food into her mouth. "Honestly that was the funniest thing I've seen all week."
"Lynn!" Rita quickly scolded her daughter. Lynn put her hands up and continued to quietly eat her food. "So, Y/N," Leni piped up, tilting her head. "Do you, like, model? Cause with your hair and, like, your whole vibe, you totally could!"
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, no, not really. I just... wear what I like." Leni gasped. "Oh my gosh, we should totally do a fashion day! I could style you! We could do, like, a total makeover montage!"
Trevor laughed. "Yes, please make her look ridiculous." Y/N shot him a sharp glance. "I swear, I am going to dump my drink on you."
The vibrant chatter and clinking of cutlery slowly gave way to the dessert course - the beautiful chocolate cake Y/N had baked. The frosting was espresso flavored, and it was sprinkled with edible silver dust.
Y/N couldn't help but notice that Lynn had drifted away from the conversation. While the rest of the room whirred with laughter and playful banter, Lynn sat at the far end of the table, her gaze still fixed on her plate. Every so often, she would glance towards Y/N, only to quickly turn her head away when they locked eyes.
Y/N couldn't bear it. Something was definitely up with Lynn. Just minutes ago, she had been loud, confident and laughing at Y/N's misery. Now she was just so painfully quiet. What had her teammates said to her earlier? What a freak she was?
Y/N wasn't stupid. She knew that someone in this place would eventually have a problem with her. And judging by the way Lynn was acting, it was obvious that person was chosen. She had to say something.
People started leaving the table and talking amongst themselves, but Lynn was sat. She took a deep breath and walked over to her chair. "What the hell is your deal, Lynn?" Crossing her arms, Y/N harshly whispered, her voice remaining lower than the chatter.
Lynn tensed, still not looking Y/N in her eyes. "I really don't know what you're talking about." She muttered, stabbing her still remaining cake piece with her fork. Y/N scoffed. "Come on, one minute you're laughing at me, the next you won't even look at me?"
Lynn let out a dry chuckle, finally looking at Y/N. Her eyes were so, intensely green. They were hazel green. "Don't act like you don't know." She had concepts of an idea. "Know what?" She shot back, still hushing. Lynn scoffed. "Alright, let me spell it out for you," Her voice was sharp, and her stare was demeaning. "My friends told me about you." She gripped her fork so hard, it looked like it was at the brink of snapping. "Yeah, they told me all about how much of a fucking weirdo you are. Watching them from the trees like some stalker."
Y/N's stomach twisted. Her hands got clammy as she clenched them. "I wasn't stalking," Their voices were still low, nobody had noticed them arguing. "It was a mistake-I didn't mean to spy on anyone! I was just walking around getting to know the area-"
"Yeah, sure. That's real convenient. And on the way you just happened to take pictures of my team." Y/N's face heated up from humiliation and anger. "God, are you even listening to yourself right now? That is not what happened!"
Lynn's jaw tightened. "Look. I don't know you, I don't want to know you. I don't need to know you. I don't want you around my friends. If they say you're bad news, that's enough for me." Y/N's heart pounded against her ribs. She was about to punch Lynn out of anger. "You think I'm a creep? After one little misunderstanding?" Lynn's eye twitched. Y/N gave up.
"Fine. Believe what you want." Y/N dug her nails into her palm as Lynn turned away from her. Lynn had already made her mind up about her. Lynn was a stubborn asshole, so what was the point? That was her own problem. "Right. Whatever. Stay mad." She turned her heel and walked back into the living room. She could feel Lynn burning a hole in her back.
The night went by fast. Y/n sat still in the living room next to Oisín. Trevor was ever so social, making jokes here and there. Y7n couldn't bring herself to laugh. Sometimes she would catch Lynn looking in her direction, but she acted like she looked past her. Y/N had had enough by the time Lily cried for the fifth time.
Fiadh stood by the stairs, as Rita had gone up to check on Lily. "Mum, I think I'm gonna head home..." She muttered. Fiadh frowned. "Sweetheart what's the matter?"
"I've got a headache." It wasn't actually a lie. Fiadh huffed but gave her daughter the house keys anyway. Y/N gave a small nod before slipping out the door, Oisín trailing behind her. The cool night air hit her skin, making her exhale sharply.
Oisín hummed. "You okay? You got real quiet back there. "Y/N hesitated. If she told Trevor about what happened with Lynn, he'd definitely say something philosophical to make it worse. So instead, she shrugged. "Yeah. Just tired."
Oisín squinted at her like he didn't quite believe it but didn't push. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I think you technically won that basketball game. "Y/N huffed. "How'd you figure?"
"Simple. You bled the most. Clearly, you put in more effort." Despite everything, Y/N laughed.
Alcina doesn’t love in a way that mortals could understand. It’s consuming, eternal obsession. Once you catch her eye, she claims you. Any attempt at distance or defiance only tightens her grip.
You live in luxury, not freedom. The castle becomes your velvet-lined prison. She dresses you in silks, spoils you with rare wines and jewels, but never lets you leave the estate.
Her hunger for your blood is no different from her desire. She loves to taste you. Your wrist, your throat, your inner thigh. Sometimes she takes you in her lap, whispering sweet nothings, then sinks her fangs in mid-sentence.
Any servant who looks at you too long goes missing. Sometimes, you find traces, the scent of blood, a stray shoe. Alcina makes it clear: you are not to be touched.
Alcina delights in reducing you to something small, helpless, and completely dependent on her. She calls you pet, little one, darling.
Disobedience has its price. She’ll bend you over a gilded vanity, force you to watch yourself while she punishes you—slow, aching strokes, rough fingers, cruel praise. She whispers in your ear, “Look how beautiful you are when you cry for me.”
She loves you — violently. It’s not sweet, it’s not tender. It’s a hunger that never ends. She’ll ruin you in every way. Mind, body, soul. And then she’ll cradle your broken form, kiss your tears away, and say it was all for love.
“All the lilies bloomed and blossomed”
With the Cold Ones, Bella wonders why you’re acting so differently
You’re Jacob Black’s older sister. Two years older than Bella, four years older than Jacob, and two years younger than Rachel and Rebecca.
Bella absolutely adored you growing up. Her crush wasn’t really loud or awkward, more like devotion. Soft glances, lingering hugs and scribbling your name in her sketchbook.
When she stopped coming to Forks, you acted like it didn’t matter, but it did. You missed her more than you’d admit, even to your sisters.
When she moved back full-time, it felt like a second chance. You two fell back into sync, like no time had passed. It felt easy again.
Even though Jacob would always try to third wheel, Charlie always asked him to help with something. He believed you two needed to make up for lost ‘girl time.’
But when she started hanging around with Edward Cullen, you changed.
Bella noticed instantly. You were colder, snappier, distant. The smiles stopped reaching your eyes.
You didn’t really know what or who Edward was. All you knew was that he made every cell in your body scream.
The moment Edward left Bella, the guilt hit you like a truck.
You and Jacob phased around the same time. His fear matched yours, but your anger was sharper.
You realized why you always reacted so violently to Edward; your wolf instincts were trying to shield her before you even knew what you were becoming.
You hid it all from Bella. The wolf thing. Your pack. The truth.
You kept your distance, knowing that you could never imprint on her, truly make her yours, it just didn’t work like that.
But your feelings didn’t disappear. They just burned hotter, heavier.
You’d do anything to protect her, even if she’d never see you the same way again.
Bella sees how distant you’ve become, it actually breaks her inside. She doesn’t understand why you look at her like you’ve caused pain.
Sometimes you’ll walk with her in silence on the beach, your arm brushing hers, but your lips sealed shut.
She wants to ask you what’s wrong. She almost does. But your eyes — those dark, gorgeous eyes — keep stopping her.
The sound of knuckles on your front door was so soft you almost missed it over the rain.
You were sitting on the couch in an old t-shirt and cut-off shorts, still faintly shaking from the patrol run you’d ended twenty minutes ago. You didn’t expect company. You especially didn’t expect her.
When you opened the door, Bella was there — hood pulled over her head, rainwater clinging to her lashes like tears.
“You cut your hair,” she said flatly. It wasn’t an accusation, but it wasn’t neutral either.
Your once long, straight black hair was gone. Shorn close at the sides, slightly longer on top. Practical. Efficient.
You shrugged. “Needed a change.”
“It’s not just your hair.” Her eyes narrowed, searching your face. “You don’t even look like you anymore.”
The words landed harder than she wanted them to. Your hands tightened around the edge of the doorframe. “What do you want, Bella?”
“You,” she said, voice barely above the rain. “Not… this strange version that keeps shutting me out.”
You didn’t answer, just stepped back so she could come in. She hesitated, then slipped past you into the small, warm living room.
You could feel her presence like static against your skin — you noticed everything: her heartbeat, the damp warmth radiating off her, the way she smelled like wet cedar and something hers.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said once you shut the door.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Busy hating Edward?” Her voice had an edge now, like she’d rehearsed this. “Or busy hating me for being with him?”
You flinched before you could stop yourself. You hated how sharp she was, how she could read the things you thought you’d buried.
“I don’t hate you,” you muttered.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the patter of rain on the roof. She stepped closer, tilting her head as if searching for the version of you she used to know — the girl who’d taught her to skip stones, who used to walk her home barefoot along the beach.
“You’re different,” she whispered. “Your eyes… they’re darker, not just the color. You’re carrying something. Keeping something from me.
You laughed once, without humor. “Maybe I am.”
Her brow furrowed. “Then tell me. Please. You look at me like I’m the enemy and I don’t know why.”
You met her gaze, and that was a mistake. Because for a second you forgot every reason you couldn’t tell her — the treaty, the danger, the way your wolf wanted to rip apart anything that smelled like vampire anywhere near her.
“I’m trying to protect you,” you said finally. “Even if it means staying away.”
Her lips parted like she was going to argue, but you cut her off with a small shake of your head.
“You have no idea what you’ve walked back into, Bella. You think Edward’s the only thing out there? He’s not. And you—” You broke off, jaw tight. “You make it harder. Being around you… makes it harder to control.”
Something flickered in her eyes — confusion, but also something warmer. “Control what?”
You looked away. “Nothing you will ever need to worry about.”
She stepped even closer now, so close you could feel the heat of her through the damp chill of the air. Her voice was soft, but it shook.
“I don’t care how different you are now. You’re still you. And you can’t disappear from me again.”
For a heartbeat, you almost reached out — almost let your hand brush hers, almost let her see just how much you’d been holding back.
But the image of Edward’s pale face, the scent of vampire that still clung to her clothes, burned in your mind like a warning.
You stepped back instead. “Go home, Bella.”
The look on her face was enough to make your chest ache — hurt, frustration, and something like longing all tangled together. But she pulled her hood back up, turned, and walked into the rain.
You stayed in the doorway long after she was gone, the scent of her still clinging to the doorway like it had no intention of leaving.
Noelle also has last-minute school shopping. Lucky Y/N
That night Y/N didn't sleep. She laid awake, thinking only about the previous argument with Lynn. It replayed in her mind over and over again, even when she just wanted to forget it.
Y/N's stomach twisted at the thought of it. She exhaled sharply and rolled onto her side, clutching her pillow. Fine. If Lynn wanted to act like this, then let her. It wasn't like Y/N needed her approval.
__
"Y/N, GET DOWN HERE OR YOUR BREAKFAST IS RAT FOOD!" Trevor's voice echoed through the house, followed by a small squeak. Y/N groaned. It was going to be oe of those mornings. Her room was bathed in a soft light, the curtains not being shut the night before.
She didn't bother to change out of her pajamas. The Mr. Potato Head shirt and Harry Potter pants fit the occasion just fine. "Y/N!" Now it was Fiadh's turn to shout. She had always had a shorter temper.
And if she didn't hurry soon, Trevor would do good on his promise. As Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs she was greeted by the usually chaotic breakfast scene. Edward stood by the toaster, impatiently tapping his fingers on the counter. Trevor sat at the table, pretending to gag at the overcooked toast. Oisín sat as he usually did, unbothered while eating cereal.
"Finally." Fiadh huffed at the sight of her unkempt daughter. "Go on, eat somethin' before ya drop where you're standin." She slid a banana and a jar of peanut butter towards her. "
Y/N slumped into her seat and picked up the banana with all the enthusiasm of a soggy sponge. "Yay. Breakfast of champions." she muttered, peeling it with one hand and reaching for a piece of toast with the other.
"You look like a cartoon character that gave up," Trevor said, eyeing her outfit with a smirk. "Like, somewhere between Toy Story and Hogwarts dropout."
"Still better than whatever discount gremlin look you've got going on." Y/N shot back. Edward raised a brow without looking away from the toaster. "Can we not fight before 9 am.? Some of us are spiritually allergic to conflict before caffeine."
"Some of us are just spiritually allergic to mornings." Oisín mumbled into his cereal, not even glancing up.
"Don't start," Fiadh warned, moving around the kitchen in that brisk, mom-on-a-mission way. She paused long enough to hand Y/N a comb and gesture at her hair. "Sort out that head o' hair, would ya? Yer not leavin' this house lookin' like some feral wee thing that's been livin' in the woods!"
Y/N reluctantly dragged the comb through her tangled mess of bedhead. Her mind was still half stuck on Lynn. Every noise, every joke at the table felt like background fuzz compared to the bitterness still lingering in her chest.
But there wasn't much time to dwell.
"Right," Fiadh clapped her hands. "Right, everyone into the car now. We've forgotten the notebooks, the folders, and half the school lists by the looks of it. We'll head to the Sunday shop before it turns into a madhouse."
Trevor groaned. "Why do we always do this last minute?"
"Because some people wait 'til the night before school starts to say they need fifteen bloody glue sticks and a scientific calculator, don't they now?" Fiadh said pointedly. "Guilty." Y/N muttered.
"Move it," Fiadh said, grabbing her keys. "If we're lucky, we'll get there before the rest of the parents and the poor teens holdin' on to their last bit of freedom. Go on, get dressed."
Y/N trudged back up the stairs, comb still in hand, dragging her feet like each step owed her something. She didn't want to get dressed. She didn't want to buy notebooks or folders or pretend like she was excited for school. But she also didn't want to argue with her mum this early.
In her room, she half-heartedly swapped her pajama pants for some jeans and threw on a basic white hoodie. No mirror check, no makeup. Just enough to be considered 'presentable' by her own standards. She paused for a moment by the window, arms crossed. Lynn's face flashed in her mind again. Tight-lipped, eyes narrowed. The way she'd called her a stalker, a weirdo, a creep was stuck in her mind.
"Y/N!" Fiadh's voice snapped her out of the spiral. "The car's leavin' whether you're in it or not!"
"Comin'!" she called back, grabbing her phone and shoving it into her hoodie pocket. By the time she reached the car, they were already crammed in. Oisín sat in the back with a book opened like a shield, and Trevor had somehow acquired a packet of crisps despite it being barely past breakfast.
Y/N climbed in beside Oisín and leaned her head against the window. "Yer quiet," Fiadh noted, glancing at her through the rearview mirror as she started the car. Y/N shrugged. "Just tired."
She didn't press, but she didn't need to. Her silence said enough. As they pulled out of the driveway, the car filled with the sounds of rustling snack wrappers, soft music, and the hum of morning traffic. The sun peeked out between clouds, casting the town in a half-hearted glow.
The Sunday shop was already buzzing when they arrived. Parents in a frenzy, kids dragging their feet, and that one poor staff member who looked like he was rethinking all his life choices. Trevor let out a long, dramatic sigh. "We're too late. The apocalypse is already here."
Fiadh shot him a look as she parked. "Keep the dramatics for theatre class, Trevor. Come on now, we'll be in and out if we don't dawdle."
"That's what you always say," Oisín muttered, leaving his book as he slid out of the car.
Inside, the shop was chaos. Shelves half-empty, kids running wild, and someone was already arguing at the till about a missing pack of highlighters. Y/N followed her family in, hood up, head kept low.
Fiadh grabbed a basket and immediately began barking orders like a general. "Edward, go find rulers and calculators. Oisín, get your copybooks and no, you can't just reuse last year's. Trevor—Trevor—for the love of God, stop pretending the glue sticks are lip balm and grab a pack!"
Y/N drifted toward the aisle with the notebooks, pretending to read covers while her mind wandered again. Stalker. Weirdo. Creep. The words had sounded like venom when Lynn spat them at her.
Her fingers brushed over a navy-blue notebook, but she didn't move to pick it up. It felt stupid now. Buying supplies for a school she didn't even want to start at. What was the point, really?
"Hey," a voice startled her. Trevor, leaning against the end of the aisle, now wielding a handful of glue sticks like a bouquet. "You okay?" She hesitated, then forced a tiny smile. "It was just a long night."
He nodded, not pushing. "You still want the Hogwarts planner? I saw one back there with your name all over it. Literally had a badger on it." She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched up. "Hufflepuff pride."
"There she is." He gave a small, teasing bow and disappeared again, probably off to cause some kind of shop-related disaster.
Y/N did pick up the navy notebook. She was halfway through running her fingers over the cover when she heard footsteps approach. A voice interrupted her thoughts, pulling her out of the haze of self-doubt and frustration.
"That one's actually a really good pick," the girl said, leaning casually against the shelf next to her. Y/N blinked and glanced at the speaker.
The girl was about her age-maybe a little older, with short, messy hair dyed vibrant shades of red, pink and purple. She wore a striped sweater, high-waisted jeans, and shoes that looked like they'd seen better days. She still somehow managed to look effortlessly cool. Her eyes, a soft amber, met Y/N's before she smiled.
Y/N, caught off guard, looked back down at the notebook in her hands, feeling a slight flush creep up her neck. "Yeah? It's... I don't know, I just liked the color."
The girl laughed softly, clearly not put off by Y/N's awkwardness. "I mean, it's a solid choice, even if it's a little basic. You don't need to go all fancy with your school supplies unless you're really into making a statement." She shrugged casually. "I'm Noelle, by the way."
Y/N felt a little weird for not recognizing her name but decided not to make a big deal out of it. She forced a smile, extending her hand. "I'm Y/N. I'm new... to Royal Woods, I mean. So, uh... still trying to figure things out."
Noelle raised an eyebrow, looking Y/N over for a moment before grinning. "A fellow high school rookie, I assume. Don't worry, you'll survive. And if you need any tips on navigating this madhouse, I'm your girl." She gestured vaguely to the surrounding chaos in the store, where a few kids were running past, cartwheeling down the small aisles.
Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "I'm definitely going to need a few survival tips."
Noelle chuckled. "I'll be honest, I never quite understood the whole 'back to school' excitement. It's like the second the bell rings, everyone forgets how to function like normal humans." She paused for a beat, her expression turning more thoughtful.
"But hey, it's nice to meet someone who's not already part of, like a whole Royal Woods clique. Not that it's bad or anything-just... tight-knit, y'know?"
"Yeah, I get that." Y/N nodded, feeling a bit of relief at the casual vibe Noelle had about her. "I don't really know anyone here yet. Besides..." She hesitated. "...the Louds."
Noelle's expression flickered with recognition. "The Louds, huh? I know a couple of them. But they're kind of... a lot, right?" She said it with a grin, clearly understanding what Y/N meant.
Y/N snorted, shaking her head. "You don't know the half of it."
Noelle grinned back, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "I'm sure they're not that bad. Still, you've got me for backup now." She pointed to herself with a mock serious face. "Not to brag, but I'm a pro at the whole social maze thing."
Y/N wasn't sure why, but something about Noelle's easy confidence made her feel less out of place. She gave a tentative smile. "Thanks... I might take you up on that."
Noelle's expression softened just slightly, like she was sizing Y/N up. "You know, if you need a break from the family circus I'm around." She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, tapping it quickly before holding it out to Y/N. "Give me your number. It's a lot quieter on my part, trust me."
Y/N looked at Noelle's phone, a bit taken aback. She hadn't expected that, but a small spark of hope ignited in her chest. Maybe she wasn't going to be as alone here as she thought.
"Thanks, Noelle." Y/N said, smiling a little more genuinely this time, typing in her number.
"Anytime," Noelle said, giving her a thumbs up before turning to wander off towards another aisle. "And Y/N? The next time you're picking out a notebook, at least go for the one with the fancy designs. You deserve it."
Y/N stood there for a moment, staring after Noelle as she disappeared into the fray of the chaotic store. Her heart felt lighter than it had yesterday. It was a small interaction, but it was enough to make the world feel a little less heavy. She looked down at the notebook in her hands, the navy cover suddenly seeming less mundane and more like something she could make her own.
After a minute, she shook herself out of her thoughts and headed toward the back of the store to find her family. As she walked past the aisles of folders, binders, and pens, her mind drifted back to Noelle's words. 'You'll survive.'
Y/N didn't know if she believed that. But maybe, just maybe, she could try.
She found her mum at the checkout, talking to the cashier about a price error on one of the calculators. Oisín and Trevor were off somewhere in the electronics aisle, no doubt causing trouble.
Y/N threw the notebook and a pack of pens onto the counter, before joining her mum, who was still arguing about the price. Fiadh turned to her as she approached, eyes narrowing slightly at the notebook in Y/N's hands. "Is that what ya decided on?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
Y/N hesitated, but the brief moment of connection with Noelle pushed her forward. "Yeah, it's fine." She glanced at the navy notebook and then back at Fiadh. "It's simple, but it'll do."
Fiadh seemed to weigh her words before nodding, turning back to the cashier, who finally gave up on the price discussion and scanned the items. The total was tallied up, and as Fiadh paid, Y/N caught sight of Noelle again in the corner of the store, laughing with some people she assumed was her friends. Noelle caught Y/N's eye and smiled, offering a quick wave.
Y/N returned the wave, a smile tugging at her lips. It was nice, knowing there was at least one person in this new place who didn't want her to feel like a stranger.
__
As Y/N and her family made their way to the car, bags of school supplies clinking in their hands, the buzz of the store still lingered in her mind. The interaction with Noelle had been brief, but it felt significant. Like she wasn't completely invisible here, after all.
She slid into the backseat next to Oisín, who was already absorbed back in his book. Trevor immediately started on his snack again, loudly munching on chips with an exaggerated crunch. Fiadh, up front, was reviewing the items they had just bought, making sure they hadn't forgotten anything.
Y/N leaned her head against the window, staring at the blurred world outside as they drove. The sun was higher in the sky now, and the chaos of the morning was starting to feel like a distant memory.
"You look like you're somewhere else." Oisín said suddenly, not looking up from his book. Y/N blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts. "Huh?"
He didn't seem to care much that she hadn't caught on right away. "You've got that spaced-out look. I know you too well." She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at her lips. "I'm just tired."
"You keep saying."
Trevor chimed in from the side. "She's got that lovesick glow, if you ask me." Y/N's face instantly flushed, and she snapped, "I do not!"
"No? Then why are you acting like you've just met someone who isn't a complete weirdo like yourself?" Trevor teased.
"Shut up, Trevor."
"Who's this non-weirdo?" Fiadh asked, glancing at Y/N through the rearview mirror. "Nobody, Mum." Y/N muttered quickly, feeling a flare of embarrassment. Oisín, however, couldn't resist the temptation. "She met someone in the store, actually. Some girl named Noelle." Fiadh raised an eyebrow. "Oh? A new friend?"
Y/N sighed, scrunching the bridge of her nose. "She's just... someone I met. She was friendly, that's all. We're going to the same school."
"Friendly, huh?" Trevor said, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Not interested in sharing your new friend's life story?" Y/N was saved from responding when Fiadh swerved the car slightly to avoid a pothole. "Alright, alright. Enough teasing. You'll spill it all when you're ready."
Trevor leaned back, popping another chip into his mouth. "I'm just sayin', if she's a decent human being, maybe you should actually talk to her again. Seems like she's the only one not acting like a psycho."
"Wow, big talk for someone who would've been ghosted by the whole Loud family if Lana didn't have a soft spot for broken electronics and lost causes."
Trevor scoffed. "Lana only kept talking to me because I fixed her RC car that one time. She's in it for the gears, not the personality."
"You don't have a personality," Oisín said without looking up from his book.
"Oi!" Trevor threw a crumpled crisp packet in his direction, which bounced harmlessly off Oisín's shoulder. "You lot are just jealous I've got charisma and snacks."
"More like empty calories and ego." Y/N muttered, cracking a smirk despite herself.
Fiadh, still laser-focused on the road, let out a breathy, amused huff. "If I hear one more bleedin' word 'bout charisma, I swear to God, I'll pull this car over an' make the lot of ye walk home with the bags strapped to yer backs like pack mules."
They fell into a moment of companionable silence, broken only by the distant buzz of the radio and the soft whir-whir of tires rolling along the pavement. Y/N leaned her head back again, letting her eyes drift shut for a few seconds, the weight of the morning finally catching up.
But her peace was interrupted when her phone buzzed. She slid it out of her hoodie pocket, thumb hovering over the screen.
'hey, it's Noelle :)
hope your family survived the sunday shop war
lmk if you ever need a distraction or just someone who doesn't speak in toaster-related insults'
Y/N blinked at the screen, unsure whether to laugh or groan. Noelle had somehow picked up on the family chaos in under five minutes.
Still, her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she started typing back.
'lol they're alive. barely. and thanks. i might actually take you up on that soon. today's been... weird'
She hit send before she could second-guess it. Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.
'weird days are my specialty.
also i make a mean coffee if ur into that
well. mean instant coffee. but still, points for effort'
Y/N smiled, tucking the phone into her lap and glancing out the window again. The streets of Royal Woods passed by in slow waves. Neighborhoods and parks and unfamiliar stores that were slowly starting to feel less foreign.
"Who're you grinning at over there?" Trevor asked, leaning over just enough to be nosy. "Your reflection," Y/N muttered. "It's just so tragically punchable."
Fiadh barked out a short laugh, while Oisín mumbled, "Burned."
Y/N didn't add anything else, just glanced at her phone again. Maybe she would reach out to Noelle herself. Maybe not today, or even tomorrow. But sometime soon.
Because even if school still felt like a storm waiting to hit, it was nice knowing someone might be waiting on the other side of it. With a terrible cup of coffee.
pre-cadou!Donna Beneviento x apprentice!reader headcannons
You were sent to the Beneviento estate by a distant connection, maybe a craftsman or a scholar, hoping to learn the art of doll making.
She communicates a lot through glances, gestures, and the occasional note or scribbled sketch. You’ve learned to “read” her without words.
Donna watches you from behind her veil, silently observing how you handle materials, tools, and how you treat Angie.
She teaches you the delicate art of dollmaking and restoration. She’s precise, patient, and surprisingly graceful in her work. You often catch yourself admiring her focus.
Over time, she starts to pass you more complicated tasks and even lets you assist in designing the dolls’ faces.
You begin having tea together in the greenhouse, where she feels more at ease. You talk about materials, design, and sometimes even personal things.
Sometimes she’ll give you a doll she made with features eerily resembling you. She won’t explain it, but the intent is clear: you matter to her.
Donna has a sharp awareness of others. She notices when you’re tired, skipping meals, or too harsh on yourself. She might not say much, but your favorite tea shows up by your workstation. A blanket. A repaired tool.
It takes weeks—months, even—before you see her genuinely smile. Not just the polite curve of the mouth she shows villagers, but a real one: soft, a little shy, but filled with affection.
You often catch her reading her father’s journals or staring at portraits of ancestors, silently wondering if she’s enough. You reassure her. Not with words, but with loyalty and presence.
Donna notices everything about you: how your brow furrows when you’re frustrated, how your fingers twitch when you’re inspired.
You start a joint project—a doll designed to represent both of you, a symbol of the house’s legacy moving forward. It’s meant to be displayed in the foyer, a new beginning.
The project is never finished. Something changes in Donna. She grows more distant. She’s somehow quieter than usual. Sickly.
Could you do Ginger and Brigitte with a popular girl reader (or gender neutral) who hangs out with Trina but is actually really sweet?
I KNEW IT WAS WRONG, I'M BEYOND IT
Ginger Fitzgerald x popular!reader
Brigitte Fitzgerald x popular!reader
Ginger was immediately suspicious of you. If you're close with Trina, then you must be like her, a prissy, shallow and fake bitch. She keeps her distance, rolling her eyes at every smile or wave you give in the hallways.
Your compliments are surface-level, but always leave her dumbfounded. "You look so cute in that shade of red, Ginger." It throws her off. In a good way.
Not in a creepy way, but she’s fascinated. You laugh too kindly, you're nice to Brigitte, and you compliment people in ways that don’t feel fake. You’re dangerous because you make her feel vulnerable.
Trina definitely notices Ginger watching you and stirs the pot. "Ugh, she’s just so obsessed with you." Ginger almost backs off because she doesn’t want to be that stereotype. But your kindness keeps pulling her back.
She becomes lowkey obsessed with trying to keep you sweet. She always tries to seperate you from Trina. "You know she talks shit about you, right?" But she doesn’t say it to hurt you - she just wants you to be safe.
She acts tough in public but is surprisingly gentle when it's just you two. If you hold her hand, she pretends to hate PDA but doesn’t let go.
She walks you to class now, throws dirty looks at anyone who talks badly about you, and glares daggers at Trina. She’s not subtle.
She hates how Trina's friends tries to touch you when they're drunk or high. "Her boyfriends are stupid. Why are you friends with her?"
Her temper is still hot, her attitude still sharp, but she listens to you. She lets herself soften. You become her calm.
She dares you to skip class, sneak out, or make out in the back of your car. "C'mon, pretty girl, live a little."
Your first kiss happens after a party you both end up at, maybe reluctantly on Ginger's part. You ditch Trina to hang with her outside.
You're leaning on your car, giggling about something, and she just grabs your face and kisses you mid-sentence. No warning. It’s rough, urgent, hot.
Afterwards, she pulls back and mutters, "You talk too much," But she’s flushed, and she doesn’t let you go.
Your first time being seen by Trina together was in after school. You were standing by your car, sharing a cigarette or a soda, standing way to close.
Ginger has one arm slung casually around your waist, her other hand playing with the ends of your hair.
Trina walks by, clutching her books and dragging two other girls behind her. She does a full double-take like she’s just seen a ghost.
"Seriously? Her?" she spits, loud enough to get your attention.
Ginger immediately narrows her eyes and says something like, "Jealous?" before kissing your cheek on purpose.
You stay calm, maybe you give a smile and go, "Don't worry, Trina. I can still sit with you at lunch."
Ginger cackles. Trina storms off in pure rage, muttering something catty under her breath.
Afterward, Ginger kisses you again and says, "That was hot. Can I make her cry next time?"
Brigitte doesn't trust you at first. Trina’s bullying has affected her deeply, and she assumes you must be like her, just better at hiding it. Still, you keep making eye contact in class and smiling at her in this way that makes her stomach twist.
You sit with her one day, maybe in the library, or when Trina’s not at school. You say something like, "Hey, I read your part in the school paper - it was honestly incredible." And Brigitte just freezes. She didn’t even think you really noticed her.
She’s awkward around you for weeks. Drops things. Stares too long. Overthinks your every word.
She doesn’t understand why you’re kind. Why you offer to share your notes. Why you help her carry her project to class. You’re sweet, but she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Brigitte doesn't trust you at first. Trina’s bullying has affected her deeply, and she assumes you must be like her, just better at hiding it. Still, you keep making eye contact in class and smiling at her in this way that makes her stomach twist.
You sit with her one day, maybe in the library, or when Trina’s not at school. You say something like, "Hey, I read your part in the school paper - it was honestly incredible." And Brigitte just freezes. She didn’t even think you really noticed her.
She’s awkward around you for weeks. Drops things. Stares too long. Overthinks your every word.
She doesn’t understand why you’re kind. Why you offer to share your notes. Why you help her carry her project to class. You’re sweet, but she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Brigitte doesn't trust you at first. Trina’s bullying has affected her deeply, and she assumes you must be like her, just better at hiding it. Still, you keep making eye contact in class and smiling at her in this way that makes her stomach twist.
You sit with her one day, maybe in the library, or when Trina’s not at school. You say something like, "Hey, I read your part in the school paper - it was honestly incredible." And Brigitte just freezes. She didn’t even think you really noticed her.
She’s awkward around you for weeks. Drops things. Stares too long. Overthinks your every word.
She doesn’t understand why you’re kind. Why you offer to share your notes. Why you help her carry her project to class. You’re sweet, but she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Why are you nice to me?" she asks one day, a little too sharply. You just shrug and say, " Because you’re easy to like." Brigitte has to go home and sit with that for hours.
She calls you late at night, leaves books in your locker she thinks you’d like, and does research about your favorite things. She expresses affection in soft, careful ways.
Your first kiss was quiet. Private. Maybe after you’ve walked her home and she’s rambling nervously about horror films or a new art project.
You reach out, gently take her hand, and say, "Can I kiss you?" She just nods - completely breathless.
It’s soft, shy, and lingers just long enough for her to melt a little. She’s pink in the cheeks for hours afterward.
Your first time being seen by Trina was a complete accident. Maybe in the library or the hallway, when you brush a strand of hair out of Brigitte's face or reach down to hold her hand without even thinking about it.
"Wait… Are you serious?" Trina's voice cut into your ears like a knife.
Brigitte freezes like she’s been caught doing something shameful, but you don't let go of her hand. Instead, you smile and say, "Yeah. I am."
Trina starts laughing - high, fake, and toxic. "Wow. You must be really twisted if this is your rebound."
You instantly shut it down with a quick, "She’s smarter, cooler, and a better person than anyone you’ve ever dated."
Brigitte is speechless - but she’s glowing. You’ve just done something she never thought anyone would do for her.
Trina walks off in disbelief, already planning how to make it about herself. Brigitte whispers, "You didn’t have to do that." You smile. "I wanted to."
From that moment on, she stops hiding when she’s with you. And she starts holding your hand in public.
You always hang around Bella, jokingly calling her your 'bestie.'
She brushes off your flirty comments, thinking you're just being friendly. It's clear to everyone else but her and you that you're absolutely smitten.
You're overly eager to help Bella with anything, from carrying her books to giving her a ride when her truck won't start.
You always volunteer to be in Bella's group, insisting it's because you're "such a good team player." But really, you just want an excuse to sit close to her and make lame jokes that only she seems to laugh at.
When your friends tease you about your obvious crush, you laugh it off, insisting, "What? Bella? No, we're just friends!"
You find yourself calling Bella late at night with ridiculous excuses, like asking about tomorrow’s homework or pretending to have "accidentally" dialed her.
Bella answers every time, confused but amused by your awkwardness, not realizing how much you’re hanging onto every word she says.
You make a show of casually hanging around her locker, chatting with random classmates until she shows up. When she finally does, you act like it’s a total coincidence.
"Oh, Bella! Hey! Fancy seeing you here… at your own locker… again…"
You have a photo of Bella taped inside your locker door, claiming it’s there because it’s a "funny photo." But really, you stare at it every morning before class, sighing dramatically as you shut the door.
You get visibly flustered whenever Bella gets too close or when she casually touches your arm. You try to play it off with a joke, but your cheeks are burning, and everyone, including Bella, can see it.
You casually ask Bella if she’s going to the upcoming dance, pretending you’re only asking because "Mike and Jessica keep bugging me about it."
When she says she’s going with Edward, you force a laugh and say, "Oh, yeah! Cool! I was just wondering if you had any idea of who i shoud ask…"
You deny your feelings aggressively, even to yourself. When Bella starts dating Edward, you pretend to be completely fine, loudly cheering them on and even jokingly asking, "When’s the wedding?"
