Chapter 24 - CHAPTER 24: I am not Gonna be A House Wife!

🦇 Lean's POV:

(a.k.a. "I pinky-promised not to break anything... that doesn't count emotional stability.")

Okay.

He's gone.

Again.

He leaves all the time, sure. But today feels… I don't know. Weirder?

Like he said goodbye too dramatically. Like his usual "Don't burn the house down, glitter gremlin" carried actual worry instead of just casual sarcasm.

I mean—he even told me not to sniff his pillows.

Which obviously means he knows I've been doing that.

And he didn't yell about it.

Just… gave me that look. The one that says "I hate how much I care about you but I do and now I'm spiraling."

Ugh. Stupid grumpy wolf.

I flop on the couch like a sad Victorian heroine.

There are pancakes in the fridge. My fingers are itching to sniff his hoodie. I already watered the cactus. I cleaned up the chicken soup disaster and pee off the floor! Did the laundry, and obviously the washing machine is not working after that! Ok not my problem!

And still—there's this weird… quiet.

Not in the "ooh peace and calm" kind of way.

More like "I miss the background grumble of a werewolf judging me for everything I do" kind of quiet.

I hate it.

Also… I might have accidentally opened the drawer in his room again.

The one with the old photographs.

And yeah—I saw the one with the boy who looks like a younger Dom, smiling with someone smaller beside him.

A brother, maybe?

(But he's never talked about him.)

And now I'm just sitting here. Thinking. Feeling.

Wondering if maybe he's not just my puppers.

Maybe he's my something more.

Ah! Where is my phone let's call him I miss him!

🐺 Dominic's POV

(a.k.a. Burn my phone with me!)

So.

Yeah.

I came out.

As a werewolf.

To a vampire.

A glittery, hyperactive, boba-addicted vampire who owns sparkly socks and once put googly eyes on my fridge.

And somehow…

That's not the weird part.

The weird part?

I'm in love with him.

With Lean.

With a dude.

A whole-ass fully grown male vampire.

Like—okay sure, my wolf instincts were always kind of feral and complicated. But I always figured I was a straight guy with maybe a high tolerance for pretty faces.

But now?

Now I'm doodling tiny heart emojis in my brain every time he calls me "Puppers."

I grin.

Like an actual grin. Mid-class. No warning.

And then—

Dead silence.

I glance up.

Entire lecture hall is staring at me.

Mouths slightly open. Eyes wide.

Because Dominic Quinn—resident grump, football captain, emotional glacier—just smiled in public.

And maybe blushed.

"What the hell, Quinn?" mutters Liam from two rows behind. "Did someone finally give you a happy meal?"

I roll my eyes, stuffing the grin away. "FUCK OFF NERD!"

Too late.

The math professor stops writing on the board and turns. "Mr. Quinn. Are you quite done daydreaming?"

"Yes, ma'am," I mutter.

"Good. Then maybe next time, instead of flirting with the ceiling tiles, you can solve this integral?"

The class snickers.

I groan, grab the chalk, and march up to the board with the energy of a man attending his own funeral.

And? I solved it! The class shocked ! Professor almost fainted! Like I actually solved a differential equation!! DOMINIC THE JERK WHO SUCKS IN MATHS!

Yup! That Vampire taught me well! He is fucking Genius in this science, maths and technology shits! But has two brain cells running! One doing Genius stuff! He told me he bulid a robot who can take over world so he dumped it! And the other cell? It's Puppers & boba

After class, I jog to football practice.

And something's different.

Lighter.

I'm not dragging myself anymore. My feet move faster. My passes are cleaner. My shots actually land.

For the first time in months, I'm playing like… me.

And Coach notices.

He claps a hand on my shoulder at the end of drills. "That's the old Dom. Where the hell you been hiding, son?"

I shrug, trying not to grin again.

"Guess I got rid of some baggage."

Coach raises an eyebrow. "Girlfriend trouble?"

I shake my head.

Waaaay off.

"Something like that."

But in my head?

All I can hear is "BYE PUPPERS! COME BACK IN ONE PIECE OR I'M MAKING A SHRINE!!"

And yeah.

Maybe I left my heart back on that glitter-soaked couch and vampire pee.

Wait let me call that Sunshine kid!

🦇 Lean's POV

(a.k.a. "I Just Wanted to Call My Werewolf and Now I Need Therapy")

Alright. I miss him.

There. I said it.

Sue me, Judge Me, stake me through the heart, whatever.

I'm bored, the pancakes are gone, the air smells like Dom's shampoo and depression, and I swear the cactus just judged me, afterall his daddy is Dom the wolf! And obviously I had a fight with the cactus that why Puppers should be my DADDY not his! And he won! Ok I can speak plants! Just vampire skills!

I grab my phone.

"Okay Lean, stay cool. Just call him. Say something casual. Like, 'hey Puppers, I'm not being emotionally unstable but also I miss you and the air tastes like your hoodie and i definitely did broke your washing machine!'"

But wait.

Crap.

I don't know his number.

Did I ever even ask?

...WAIT.

Didn't he say he saved it on my phone?

I scroll through my contacts. Ok I don't have any contacts! Expect the food café!

Let's see…, Pizza Bro, Garlic street Blocked!—wait what—

"DADDY PUPPERS."

...

…

...…

.......

WHAT THE UNHOLY GAY WOLF-SCENTED FUCK.

My thumb hovers. My brain short-circuits.

"DADDY. PUPPERS."

DOMINIC QUINN. THE LITERAL DEFINITION OF AN EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED, MUSCLE-INFESTED, COLD-SHOULDER ALPHA MALE—

SAVED.

HIS NUMBER.

IN MY PHONE.

AS.

DADDY PUPPERS!!!

I blink into the void.

Twice.

I'm not breathing. I'm not blinking. I'm not even glittering.

Just.

Staring.

"This is it," I whisper. "This is the day I ascend. I'm dating a walking contradiction with alpha energy and dom-sub confusion."

I fall backwards onto the couch dramatically.

"What the heaven does this MEAN?!"

Like, was it a joke? A power move? Was he drunk? Was this a cry for help? Or did he just think this would scare me off?

Because SPOILER: it's not working.

Now I want to call it out loud. "Hey DADDY PUPPERS! The microwave is glowing again!"

Oh my Satan.

I'm going to combust.

He flirts like a chainsaw and labels himself like a kink meme. Ok let's call Daddy Puppers!!

Ah! Yeah Ok so no caller Tune? Just plane old ring? So boring and Dominic!

Wait why the hell I can hear the phone ring in his room! Is he secretly back? Yup his phones ringing with full volume "Oh, the misery

Everybody wants to be my enemy

Spare the sympathy

Everybody wants to be my enemy....". I ran and busted into his recked room "PUPPERS.... wait ok no one, wait he left his phone. Aw I can't talk with him now! Sad vampy!"

🐺 Dominic's POV

(a.k.a. "This Is How I Die. Not with a Bite, but with a Sparkly Notification Ping.")

"WAIT."

I freeze mid-step.

The whistle blows. Coach yells something like "Quinn, move your ass!" but all I hear is—

"MY PHONE."

My heart stops.

Blood drains from my face.

The world tilts.

I didn't take it with me.

Didn't slip it in my hoodie.

Didn't leave it in my bag.

It's on the couch.

Or...on my bed!

At home.

With him.

"Shit. SHIT."

That sparkly menace is probably calling me right now.

Just to say "hi."

Or "the microwave's on fire."

Or "I tried to adopt a raccoon."

AND THAT MEANS—

HE SAW THE NAME.

The contact name.

'Daddy Puppers.'

I'm dead.

I'm so dead.

Burn me in the next full moon and scatter my ashes on his glitter stash.

I swore I was gonna change it. I meant to change it!

It was a joke! A drunken dare! A moment of weakness after he called me "husband material" and fed me boba with a spoon!

BUT NOW IT'S REAL.

AND VISIBLE.

TO HIM.

Wait.

WAIT.

MY PHONE?

THE LOCK SCREEN.

Okay, maybe I'm safe—

…no.

No, I'm not.

He's a goddamn computer vampire.

He hacked my Wi-Fi.

He rerouted my smart TV to play Barbie Dreamhouse Adventures when I grounded him.

He once broke into the damn college website to increase my maths grades for which I bribed him with a forehead kiss, and 3 boba teas!

That phone is more unholy than Lean's entire vampire bloodline.

The gallery!

The screenshots of my sexting I saved to jerk at later!

The selfies I secretly took of him asleep on the couch wearing my hoodie! And the nudes of the wo....

The Google history—

OH! MY! GOD!

The Google history.

"How to fuck a bitch for 5 hours?"

"Is it gay to cuddle your vampire if he's cold?"

"how to get more women into sexy hookups"

"How to cook soup without looking like a simp"

"is it ok to have 10 different hookups and one night stands in a day?"

"What does a vampire eat? How to feed a vampire if he goes feral over blood and boba tea?"

"New fucking styles!"

"If you are a werewolf, then do it is doggy style or wolf style?"

And don't even get me started on WhatsApp.

Those voice notes.

The ones I made practicing how to say "I like you" without sounding like I ate a bouquet of feelings, and those unholy filthy talks I had with girls!

The Tinder messages I never deleted.

The saved memes folder named "For Sparkle Ass."

The playlist.

YES.

THE PLAYLIST.

Titled: "If He Ever Kisses Me, Play This"

Full of tragic love songs and emotional rock ballads with at least four werewolf howls in the background.

I'm— I'm done.

Toast.

Finished.

My legacy will be that of a mighty alpha who got emotionally pantsed by a chaotic boba vampire and his damn contact list.

Coach claps my shoulder.

"You okay, Quinn?"

"…No. I've been compromised."

🦇 Lean's POV:

Okay.

Okay okay okay.

So I could break into Dom's phone right now.

I mean—I shouldn't.

He just came out as a werewolf to me. He's finally trusting me.

Do I want to betray that over the urge to peek at his shameful internet search history?

…

Yes.

But no.

Lean. Breathe. Be strong. Be a good boyfriend—friend.

Boy friend.

Whatever. The point is—don't hack your werewolf's emotional support device.

Wait.

Ping.

Notification.

From: Mom 💀😱😭🚩

Oooh. That's his mom's contact name?

Wait… was that a red flag emoji next to her name??

Why does that feel like a passive-aggressive battle drum?

I peek.

"Boy! Me and your father are blocking your credit card! You will now get a minimum monthly allowance to survive and reflect on your reckless behavior. Stop wasting money on non-essentials. This is your FINAL WARNING BRAT!"

…

I blink.

"…BOY?!?"

OH SHE WENT FULL K-DRAMA VILLAIN MODE ON HIM.

I stare at the message like it's gonna bite me.

Actually—she might. She sounds like she bathes in garlic juice and iron supplements just to be immune to vampires.

So wait.

She's cutting him off?

Like, money-cutting off?

Over what? Existing? Surviving a werewolf bite? Being HOT?? Supporting a sappy vampire?

"Damn," I whisper. "She's scarier than garlic and crosses"

I look around.

Empty apartment.

Snow still falling softly outside.

Dom's scent still clinging to the blanket I'm wrapped in like a sad burrito of yearning.

And something shifts.

Something solid.

Something that says: Nope. Nope nope nope. Not on my watch.

Dom's taken care of me.

Fed me when I was starving.

Washed me when I couldn't move.

Held me when I had blood fever.

Let me glitter his couch and ruin his sanity daily.

He's been there.

So now?

It's my turn.

I fling the blanket off like a dramatic anime character.

"I got you, Puppers."

I throw on the comfiest oversized hoodie I can find (definitely his), slip into some boots, grab my phone—and march out the door like a boba-fueled man on a mission.

First stop?

Every café, flower shop, bookstore, and possibly mafia-owned tech bar within five blocks.

Because guess what?

Your vampire boy is getting a job.

And his werewolf?

I am not gonna be a house wifey of my wolfie!!

He won't have to go a single day hungry, alone, or cold—not while I'm around.

Cue sparkle music and anime determination montage. 💅🩸✨

🐺 Dominic's POV

(a.k.a. "Love? No. Definitely Not. Maybe. Shut Up.")

Finally. Practice is over.

My head's pounding. My body aches. And I've still got a damn history lecture to attend.

Should I skip it?

Yeah. Probably.

I'm just sitting here, alone, in the middle of the field. Completely spaced out. My brain's doing laps without me.

And then—

A pair of arms wraps around my shoulders from behind.

Long hair brushes against my cheek, smelling like overpriced rose shampoo and subtle danger.

"Quinn," a voice purrs, "up for a good time?"

Bailey.

Of course.

One of my classmates.

One of the... many girls I used to mess around with.

She's... good at it. I'll give her that. Knows the rhythm. Doesn't cling. Can handle me better than most.

And for a second—a flicker—I consider it.

The easy answer.

The mindless distraction.

The one-night rinse cycle I've always used to scrub the feelings away.

But then…

That damn vampire.

The way he clings to me in his sleep.

The way he says "Puppers" like it's a love spell wrapped in glitter and chaos.

The way I almost howled last night when he rubbed my ears like I was a damn golden retriever.

Fuck.

Am I cheating?

No.

We're not a thing.

We've never said it out loud. No label. No rules.

But still...

It feels wrong.

I stare ahead, silent too long.

Bailey nudges me. "Yo, what's up with you? Usually you're faster than this. Don't tell me you're thinking about it."

I grunt. "Just tired."

She laughs. "Tired? Dominic Quinn? The campus certified heartbreaker?"

Her eyes narrow. "Wait—don't tell me. You caught feelings?"

My jaw twitches.

"No."

"Uh-huh. Sure. So... we still on?"

She's smiling that familiar grin. The one that says she doesn't need love—just adrenaline and the comfort of being wanted. I used to wear that same grin too.

Maybe I still do.

"…Yeah," I hear myself say. "Sure. Usual place?"

"Hell yeah." She winks. "Meet you in an hour. And bring condoms this time. I'm not raising a grumping baby."

She saunters off.

And I just sit there.

Frozen.

Like a ghost in my own damn body.

Then I sigh.

"…Fuck."

I get up.

Walk toward the nearest pharmacy.

Pick up the condoms like muscle memory. Dotted ones she prefers it more.

But halfway through the street, I pause.

And I take a sharp left.

Toward the bakery.

I buy cinnamon rolls.

His favorite.

Still warm. Extra icing.

Because I know when I get home, I'll pretend like nothing happened.

I'll leave them on the table like some dumb apology gift.

And he'll smile.

Call me "Puppers."

Forgive me without even knowing what he's forgiving me for.

Because I'm not ready yet.

Not to tell him.

Not to stop this habit.

Not to be better.

But maybe...

Maybe I want to.

And maybe... that's a start.