click, clack, click, clack . . . blue light flickers across the screen, the sound of typing resonating within the room. i blink momentarily, feeling eyes on me. a smile curves my lips, before i go back to typing.
đ´ call me NEO !
đ´ this is my 4th time making a new tumblr account, i keep losing access to my accounts guys. :( if someday i stop posting, this is why (probably lol).
đ´ i like writing . . . occassionally.
đ´ lots of lapses of when iâm online and offline.
đ´ asks are open ! pleass talk tâme. . .
đ´ yanderes . . . mfffff,
đ´ ai hater. don't come near if you support that shit.
đ´ english is not my first language, so apologies if there are errors in whatever iâm writing.
â âthese are all just fragments of my mind, typed at 3 a.m.â [ 03.12.26. ]
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authorâs note: please leave me some ideas!! classes are such a bitch, so much work to do....
have a small daydream i had, inspired by Follo from Gachiakuta. man, i love him sm.
not proofread, too lazy :pp may or may not expand on this, or edit it when i wake up.
the thing isâyou donât even realize youâre doing it half the time.
itâs justâŚnatural.
human.
because where you grew up, soft things got taken care of. pets got fed first. smaller animals got watched over. you were taught, wired into your brain, that things with twitching noses and wide eyes and gentle dispositions needed someone a little bigger, a little stronger, to keep an eye on them.
and now?
now there are hybrids. you knew they existedâŚjust, humans and hybrids never interacted daily much. not until recently.
and your brain doesnât quite separate it the way it should.
so when his ears twitch at a loud noise, your attention snaps to him before you even think about it, already offering him your headphones. when he forgets to eat because heâs too focused on notes, youâre already sliding food across the table. when the halls get too crowded, too loud, too predatory, you step just a little closer without realizing, a subtle barrier between him and everything else.
your bunny hybrid! classmate. someone youâd gotten close to in one of your minor subject classes.
you donât mean anything by it.
you really donât.
but he notices.
he notices the way you always check if heâs eaten. the way your voice softens just a little when you talk to him compared to everyone else. the way your hand hoversâalways hoversâlike youâre one second away from reaching out.
like heâs something that needs handling.
âdid you eat?â you ask, not even looking up from your notes as you push a small container toward him.
his ears flick.
ââŚi can feed myself.â
âi know,â you mumble. âjust making sure.â
itâs automatic.
itâs always automatic.
and thatâs the problem.
because across the table, his grip tightens just slightly around his pen.
he knows you donât mean to be condescending.
he knows you care.
thatâs what makes it worse.
because every time you do it, it reminds himâ
of what he is.
prey.
small. safe. weak.
something to take care of.
and heâs so, so tired of it.
especially when your friends show up.
loud, broad-shouldered predator hybrids. a wolf who grins too sharp, a tiger who takes up too much space without even trying. even your smaller friendsâtaller, stronger, buffer - easy confidence in the way they move and meld with you.
you fit with them.
you laugh with them.
you donât soften around them.
but with him?
you tilt your head. lower your voice. watch him like he might get hurt if you look away for too long.
he hates it.
he hates the way his ears pin back when the wolf hybrid slings an arm around your shoulders, all teeth and confidence, and you just laugh like itâs nothing.
he hates the way your hand finds his sleeve right after, like youâre checking if heâs okay.
he hates the way you look at him.
like heâs less.
and it builds. slowly, quietly.
until it topples over, too heavy to contain.
âare you okay?â you ask one afternoon, leaning in just slightly, fingers brushing his sleeve without thinking. âyouâve been quiet.â
his ears twitch.
âiâm always quiet.â
âyeah, butââ you frown, thumb catching on the fabric of his sleeve. âyou seem off.â
there it is again.
that look.
soft. careful. human.
something in him snaps.
âiâm not fragile.â
you blink.
because thatâthatâwasnât soft.
âi didnât say you wereââ
âyou treat me like it.â
your hand stills.
slowly, you pull it back.
ââŚi donâtââ
âyou do.â his voice is tighter now, ears angling back before forcing themselves upright again. âyou hover. you check on me. you step in like i canât handle anything on my own.â
you open your mouth.
close it.
becauseâ
heâs not wrong.
âi just worry,â you say, quieter now. âitâs notâiâm not trying toââ
âi know.â
he cuts you off before you can finish.
and that hurts more than if he didnât.
because he does know.
he knows itâs instinct. knows itâs the same way youâd treat a rabbit back home, or a stray cat, or anything small and soft and easy to hurt.
and thatâs exactly the problem.
âiâm not a pet,â he says, softer now, âiâm not something you look after because it feels natural.â
your chest tightens.
âi donât see you like that.â
his gaze sharpens.
âdonât you?â
thatâ
that makes you hesitate.
because buried under all your good intentions, all that instinctive, human wiringâ
thereâs a sliver of truth you donât want to touch.
he sees it in your silence.
of course he does.
his jaw tightens.
and thenâ
he stands.
you barely have time to react before heâs stepping into your space, not hesitant, not softânot anything like youâve been treating him as.
close enough that you have to lean back slightly, your lower back hitting the edge of the desk behind you.
his ears are upright now. alert.
his eyes arenât gentle.
âiâm not weak,â he says.
quiet.
steady.
your breath catches.
because thisâ
this isnât the boy youâve been fussing over.
this is something else entirely.
âi donât need you to protect me,â he continues, one hand bracing against the desk beside you, caging you in without quite touching. âand i donât need you treating me like iâm going to break.â
your heart kicks a little faster.
instinct again.
but not the same kind.
ââŚokay,â you murmur, eyes wide, ears burning.
he studies your face, searching for something.
maybe doubt.
maybe pity.
you donât give it to him. not this time.
you can feel something.
change.
rewire.
in he way he doesnât step back. in the way your usual instinctsâfix it, soften it, make it gentleâdonât quite come as easily right now.
because heâs not letting you.
ââŚgood,â he murmurs.
but he doesnât move.
doesnât give you back that space.
instead, his gaze flicksâbrief, sharpâto where your friends had been earlier. the wolf. the others. the way youâd laughed with them, easy and unguarded.
something flickers in his expression.
jealousy. a burning, ugly green.
âyou donât act like this with them,â he says.
you swallow. âthey donât need it.â
âneither do i.â
he leans in slightly.
not enough to touch.
enough that you feel it anyway.
âstop treating me like prey,â he adds, voice lower now.
your pulse stutters.
because thereâs nothing prey-like about him right now.
nothing soft.
nothing small.
you nod, slower this time.
ââŚokay.â
another pause.
then, quieterâ
âthen donât look at me like that anymore.â
ââŚlike what?â
his ears flick once.
his gaze doesnât waver.
âlike i belong under your care.â
the words sit between you.
heavy.
and for the first time since you met himâ
you donât know what to do with your hands.
or your instincts.
or the way your heart is beating just a little too fast for this to be simple anymore.
ââŚiâll try,â you admit.
his shoulders untense, just slightly.
but still, he doesnât move away.
and when he finally doesâ
itâs slow. deliberate.
like heâs making sure you see it. see him.
not small.
not soft.
not something to take care of.
something that can stand on his own. something that can step into your space and not get pushed back out. and as he turns, ears flicking once, voice quieterâ
ââŚgood.â
Š jusfneoÂ
a/n: iâm just imagining a prey hybrid whoâs so sick of being doted on, and a predator hybrid whoâs eating that shit up âcause a human just canât stop their urge to pet anything fluffyâeven when that fluffy thing happens to be a damn leopard or polar bear. lololol
. . . IN WHICH, you meet the queen bee. and things spiral faster than you expected.
đ´ pairing: rodrick heffley ! inspired guy  x  reader  x  regina george ! inspired girl
đ´ contents warning:Â not proofread;Â lowercase intended; kinda pet play???; smoking; slight suggestiveness at the end
đ´ word count: 1.6k
đ´ authorâs note: iâm back from the dead ! faster pacing here idk what possessed me. pls leave me ideas on how to continue the story! idk what to put anymore other than being tortured by those and being teased and left out andâ
you spend the entire day in a state of dread. like, actual, stomach-twisting, cold-sweat dread.
okay, maybe youâre being a bit dramatic â but itâs genuinely terrifying, okay? you did NOT want to be a social outcast. outcasted by the popular kids, outcasted by the outcasts themselves.
you donât hear a single word your teachers say as you drag yourself to each lecture hall. notes half-finished, handwriting growing sloppy as the hours drag on.
by the time your last class ends, your legs feel like theyâre made of cement. you sit there for a moment after everyone leaves, staring at your desk.
. . . you could . . . not just go.Â
skip it.
pretend you never saw the note. never saw them. never saw the whole gym thing.
your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag.Â
yeah.
you couldâ
âya still here?âÂ
you flinch.
outcast!boys voice cuts through your thoughts like it always does - casual, close.Â
but instead of the butterflies that usually fill your stomach, it feels like thereâs leeches instead - sucking every ounce of blood. an uncomfortable, draining, twisting feeling.
he leans against the doorframe like heâs been waiting there the entire time. probably was. probably came to pick you up and make sure you didnât chicken out.
â. . . i was thinking,â you mutter weakly. âmm, dangerous.â he grins.Â
you donât smile back like you usually do. â. . .âm not going.âÂ
a pause.
he pushes himself off the wall. slow. unbothered.
âyeah?âÂ
âyeah.â you repeat further. âthis is . . . itâs stupid. honestly, i swear iâll shut my mouth and we all pretend it never happened ââ you start rambling, feeling more nervous by the second as heâs watching you.
âshe ainât gonâ kill ya.â
âeasy for you to say.â
âit is.â
you stare. âyouâre not helping . . .â
ânot tryinâ to.â
he stops in front of your desk. tilting his head slightly as he looks at you.
it makes your skin itch.
then he leans down. too close. âbut youâre still gonna go.â
your breath stutters. â. . .no âm not.â
his lips twitch. âmm. sure, sweetheart.âÂ
silence.
â. . .are you coming?â
he hums like heâs actually considering it. âmaybe.â
you groan.Â
âyou suck.â
âiâve been told.â
you end up in front of room 505 anyway.
of course you do. obedient little you.
your feet move before your brain can catch up, and suddenly, youâre standing in front of the door like you didnât just argue against this five minutes ago.Â
your hand hovers over the handle.
âtook you long enough.â
the door opens. you freeze.
mean!queenbee stands there, cigarette between her fingers, looking like she stepped out of a magazine shoot.
her gaze drags over you. slow.
âhello.â
. . . wow. amazing. how polite, you!
she hums. âyou look nervous.â
â. . .i wonder why.â you murmur lowly, lips curling into a nervous, wry smile.
âcute.â
you do not feel cute.
âclose the door.â
you wanted to stay put, but you do it anyway.
click.
. . . now youâre trapped. in the middle of the room as sheâs seated on a table lazily.
itâs quiet once again. you watch as she drags the cigarette out of her mouth, looking up and blowing the smoke out.Â
. . . thatâs hotâgod damn it, why are you even thinking these things right now?
but you couldnât deny it. the sultry, bored look on her face. tinted lips wrapped around the flimsy white paper.
you open your mouth to say somethingâ
âyou saw us.â
ah. straight to it.Â
you nod stiffly. âyeah.â
âhow much.â
â. . . enough.âÂ
her brows lifts slightly.Â
âi didnât tell anyone,â you blurt out quickly, avoiding eye contact. silence. she watched you. long enough that it makes your throat dry, your heart speed up.
âgood.â
you exhale. just a bit.
âso iâm notâ?âÂ
âyouâre not in trouble.â
relief hits â âhm, but you are involved now.â she adds, drawls â your stomach twists.
there it is.Â
â. . . involved?â
a small, fake smile curves mean!queenbeeâs lips as she kills the cigarette. crushing it under her shoe (you thought briefly how much of a fire hazard her action was) before sheâs stalking towards you.
she steps closer.Â
you step back.Â
your shoulders hit a desk you donât remember being there.Â
great.
âmeans youâre part of this now.â
âi donât wanna be part of anything. how am i even involved if i just sawââ
âmm.â she cuts you off. âunfortunate.â
your pulse spikes. âi didnât do anything.â
âexactly.â
you frown.
âw. .what?â
âyou didnât do anything.â she repeats. âsaw something you shouldnât have and stayed quiet.âÂ
ânow here you are,â she steps closer. your chests nearly pressing against each other.Â
she tilts her head, studying you like youâre something mildly interesting she found on the ground. not important â but not boring enough to throw away either.
your breath catches.
sheâs close. too close. close enough that you can smell her perfume under the smoke â something sweet, something sharp. close enough that if you leaned forward even a littleâ
you donât.
you grip the edge of the desk behind you instead.
âyouâre shaking.â
âiâm notââ
âyou are.â
her lips curl. not a nice smile. not even a fake one this time. something amused. something mean.
ârelax,â she murmurs, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip. âif i wanted to ruin you, i wouldâve already.â
. . . great. that does not help.
at all.
âso what,â you swallow. âwhat does âinvolvedâ even mean?â
she hums, like sheâs deciding how honest she feels like being.
âmeans,â she starts, reaching outâ
your entire body tenses when her fingers brush your chin.
she tilts your face up. forces you to look at her.
âhm. . .you become. . .our pet.â
your heart drops. then it starts pounding so loud youâre pretty sure she can hear it.
âwhat?â
âyou keep your mouth shut,â she continues softly, eyes locked on yours. âyou listen when i say something. do what i want. get shit i want. in short, a dog.â
a pause.Â
âbe my pet,â her thumb pressesâjust slightlyâagainst your lower lip.
âdo well and maybe i keep you around.â
your brain short-circuits.
âkâkeep me around?â
âmm.â
your face is red then. embarrassment, anger, and just a tiny bit of. . .you snap out of it.
she looks. . .entertained.
thatâs the worst part.
like this is fun for her.
like youâre fun for her.
âwhy?â you manage, voice smaller than youâd like.
her gaze flickers over your face again. slow. deliberate.
calculating.
thenâ
âyouâre cute.â
you choke.
âiât-thatâs notâthatâs not a reasonââ
âdo i need one?â
she lets go of your face like itâs nothing. like she didnât just completely derail your ability to function.
you suck in a breath.
â...a dog? whatâŚââ you cut yourself off then. no use arguing.
âyouâreâyouâre insane.â
âiâve been told.â
. . .that sounds familiar.
your stomach drops a little.
âso what, i justâ what? follow you around now?â
she laughs softly. and god, thatâs worse than the cold indifference. thereâs something sharp in it. something that says she knows exactly how much this is messing with you.Â
âdonât flatter yourself. canât have a mutt around me 24/7â
rude.
âyou go about your life,â she says. âsame as always.â
a beat.
âjust pay attention and be a little more careful.â
âcareful of what?â
her eyes meet yours again.
âme.â
silence.
thick. heavy.
you donât like how that sends a shiver down your spine.
you donât like how it doesnât feel entirely like fear.
âand him?â you blurt before you can stop yourself.
her brow lifts slightly.
âhim?â she blinks. before her smiles returns, although somewhat sharper, somewhat meaner. âwhat about him?â
âis heâpart of this too?â
something shifts in her expression.
subtle. but there.
âdonât worry about him,â she says, a little too easily.
. . .that is not reassuring.
at all.
you open your mouth againâ
the door clicks open behind you.
âman, you two done yet or whatââ
outcast!boyâs voice cuts in, casual as ever as he steps inside like he owns the place.
his gaze flicks between you â pinned against a desk, clearly frazzled â and her â standing way too close, looking way too pleased.
a slow grin spreads across his face. a low whistle as he eyes you two.
âaww,â he drawls. âalready gettinâ along?â
your face burns.
âshut upââ
âsheâs tolerable,â mean!queenbee cuts in before you can finish, tone airy.
tolerable??
he snorts. âhigh praise.â
âdonât get used to it.â
âwouldnât dream of it.â
they look at each other for a secondâ
and something passes between them.
something you definitely donât understand.
something that makes your stomach twist all over again.
â. . .right,â you mutter, pushing yourself off the desk. âgreat. love that. whatever this is.â
you gesture vaguely between them.
neither of them explain.
of course they donât.
mean!queenbee just smiles.
outcast!boy just watches you like this is the most entertaining thing heâs seen all day. probably is.
you hate it here.
âyouâre free to go,â she says finally, waving a hand dismissively as she turns away, hopping back onto the table like sheâs already bored of you.
like you didnât just get your entire life rearranged in five minutes.
you hesitate.
â. . .thatâs it?â
she glances at you over her shoulder.
âfor now.â
your stomach drops again.
of course.
of course thereâs a âfor now.â
you make your way to the door, trying very hard to ignore the way outcast!boy walks over to her. ignore the movement in peripheral vision as the two get close, too closeâthe quiet rustle of fabric, the drop in her voice, the chuckle leaving himâ
then youâre rushing out. before you witness something you shouldnât be seeing again, as you hear soft murmurs inside.
pairing: gn ! reader - ft. faefolk, merfolk, elves, harpies, selkie.
authorâs note: really wanted to do a naga and a gnoll but got lazy. . .honestly, kinda more angsty (but longer! i think) than the last one. sorry !
faefolk.
âhey, sunshine.â you say it so casually. offhand, distracted, not even looking at them.
the fae stills. â. . .what did you just call me?
you glance up. âhuh? oh, âsunshineâ. why?â
silence.Â
their wings twitch once. and slowly, they step closer. âyou do remember iâm fae, yes?â
your brows furrow. how adorable.Â
ânames are not to be given lightly among my kind,â they murmur.
âitâs. . .itâs not a name. itâs just â like, a nickname.âÂ
â. . .a name you chose for me.âÂ
you open your mouth â pause. âi, i guess. . .?â
their gaze, usually so sharp, softens. something dangerously fond slipping through.
âthen i will keep it.â
you laugh, nervous. âitâs not that seriousââ
it is to them.
merfolk.
it was done unconsciously. you donât notice it at first.Â
just the gentle sway of the water, the quiet conversation, the way you lean back on your hands -Â
and the slow, absentminded shift of your leg.
until something smooth brushes against it.
you glance down.Â
their tail.
your leg is resting against itâno. worse. half entwined.
you start to pull back, âoh, sorryââ but they stop you. not forceful. their tail wraps around yours, further tangling your limbs.
â. . .donât.â
you blink. â. . .what?â
their gaze flickers between your legs and their tail, wrapped loosely together.
âwe donât do this casually, you know.â they murmur, a soft smile gracing their face. you feel yours heating up in turn.
âi didnât mean toââÂ
âi know.âÂ
their tail slightly loosens around your legs. but they donât let go.
â. . .in the tides, this is how we stay close with someone.â
they pause. glance back up shyly.
â. . .so stay.â
elves.
âstay,â you say absentmindedly, tugging them down beside you. âjust for a bit.âÂ
the elf glances at you, then at your hand wrapped around their sleeve. âare you. . . certain you wish to spend time with me?âÂ
you blink in surprise at their tone, their expression. âof course.â you answer honestly. why do they look so . . .
â. . .you ask as though it is a small thing.âÂ
âit is?â
theyâre quiet. hesitant. but they sit anyway. they sit closer than they were before.
âyou are asking for time. you ask an elf, of time.âÂ
âwhich you have lots, by the way.â you chuckle lightly, continuing in a quiet tone. â. . .i just meant donât leave yet.â
â . . .i know.âÂ
they donât get up. even when they probably should.Â
theyâre gonna outlive you. they know it. they know you should be with someone else - someone you can grow old with. someone with the same time flow as you.Â
they knew it was. . .a promise of hurt, loving a mortal like this. loving someone with such short lifespans. loving someone whose life is only a second compared to theirs. they knew it betterâ
they feel you shuffle against their arms, nuzzling closer to the nape of their neck. their hand instinctively comes to cup your back.
. . .they knew better. and yet they still find themselves laying there with you, each night, being in each others embrace. being in your fleeting embrace.
. . .just a few more seconds. a few more seconds to savour you, before you are just a memory for them to hold onto.
harpies/ bird hybrids.
âhold still!âÂ
you grab their shoulders, turning them slightly. a featherâs bent awkwardly near their wing. you smooth it back into place without thinking.Â
âthere.âÂ
the reaction is immediate. wings flaring, feathers puffing -Â
âyou just preened meâ!â theyâre red-faced, brows furrowed, looking a mix between embarrassed and mad.
you preened them. fixed their look. touched their feathers. something mates do. are you insinuating something? no, you're a human, how could you know their courting. . .!
they shiver, remembering your gentle touch as you brushed out their back â
â. . .i fixed it?â
ât-thatâs not. . .thatâs not fixing, thatâs intimateâ!â
you blink. â. . .sorry?â youâre confused, but seeing how worked up they are - you feel bad at possibly offending them. you look down in guilt at the thought of making them uncomfortable.
they falter, seeing your expression.
then, much quieter -Â
â. . .donât be.â
you look up. they huff, turning away. âj-just ask next time!â
selkies.
you find it by accident. hanging around with a friend at their cabin near the beach, you spot it.
soft. dark. tucked away on the floor - looking like it fell.
âoh, is this yours?â you call out, already picking it up. the reaction is immediate.
âdonâtâ!âÂ
too late.
their hand catches your wrist. tight. sharp. almost angry. âgive it back!â they snap, snatching the coat from your hands.Â
you flinch. â. . .i was just lookingââ
their chest rises, falls. their grip trembles. âyou shouldnât touch things that arenât yours.â
â. . .itâs just a coat.â
silence.
something flashes across their face. raw, deep, intense. âitâs not just anything,â they say, quieter now. strained.
you hesitate, then slowly take a step back. â. . .sorry.â
they look like they might break as they cradle the coat to their chest.Â
â. . .donât do it again.â
they keep their distance after that. less laughter, less lingering.
you notice. of course you do. you were so close, for godâs sake!
you donât understand.
but after a while, things went back to normal. kind of.
they start sitting closer again. their shoulder brushing yours. their voice softer when they say your name - like somethingâs pulling them back.
âyouâre staring,â you mumble, a curious smile on your face, but you donât look up.
they donât deny it. no use anyway, you can feel their stare since minutes ago.
â. . .am i?â
âyeah.â
a pause. â. . .does it bother you?â
another pause. â. . .no.âÂ
another, longer pause. â. . .good.â
you go back to what you were doing. they continue to stare.
they think about telling you.Â
they really do.
about what you touches. what it meant. what it did.
how the moment your hands made contact with their coat - they were no longer entirely their own.
they were angry.
at you.
at themselves.
at how careless it all was.
but, now. . .
you laugh at something small, nudging their shoulder.
they look at you. really look. â. . .you didnât know,â they say quietly. suddenly. you look at them, âknow what?âÂ
god. they wish you did.
they shake their head. smile, strained. â. . .nothing.â their fingers brush yours, going to check what you were giggling about.
they donât have the heart to say it. not yet.
not when the thought of you letting go, of you choosing to let go, feels worse than the sudden binding itself.
so instead they stay. keep quiet. keep close. and pretend it was never an accident. that you wanted to touch the coat. that you wanted them to be yours, and you, theirs.
i love how humansâ figures of speech and actions can translate differently to other species, and vice versa. we say and do things casually all the time, not realizing that to monsters, those same phrases and actions might mean something . . . completely different.Â
pairing: gn ! reader - ft. werewolves, orcs, minotaurs, succubi / incubi, dragonfolk, and vampires.
author's note: this'll be kinda messy, so sorry. just had a misunderstanding due to a language barrier today and somehow got inspired. sorry for the ramble lol.
[ pt. 2. ]
werewolves.Â
âso, when are you two tying the knot?âÂ
the vicinity goes quiet. your werewolf friend freezes mid-drink, ears slowly turning red under messy, shaggy hair. âw-weâre notâ! thatâs . . . !âÂ
âwhat?â you blink, confused at their weird reaction.
someone in the pack coughs into their hand. another is trying very hard not to laugh.Â
the werewolf mutters into their sleeve, mortified. âhumans shouldnât say mating phrases so casually.â
you stare. âi said marriage.â
âexactly!â
orcs.
you pat the orc who was helping you on the shoulder. "woah, youâre really strong, you know that?âÂ
they go still. very still.
you notice the rest of the orcs nearby stop talking, too. one of them elbows another with a smirk.
the orc clears their throat, trying to look casual. â. . . you think so?â
âyeah?â
a radiant smile bloomed on their originally stoic face, a satisfied hum vibrating through their chest - their tusks seeming to be somehow glinting brighter under the sun. âyou should say that again sometime,â maybe a day where the two of you weren't under the scorching sun.
now they're thinking, maybe going over to help the little, struggling human was worth it. even if they only had just been egged on by their friends to approach any human and flirt. . . . this may be a good distraction for a while.
minotaurs.
you notice a lost looking minotaur among the halls - and deciding to take pity, you approach.
âhere,â you say, grabbing their hand. âthe hallwayâs confusing. câmon, iâll guide you.â asking them where they needed to go to, you lead the way once getting a shy response.
the minotaur follows quietly.Â
when you finally reach the exit, you turn around, tugging your hand to free it â
â and freeze upon feeling the vice grip on it.Â
theyâre staring at your joined hands like you just handed them the world.
â . . . what?âÂ
their ears twitch, still staring. âin my culture,â they murmur softly. â. . . nevermind.â ignoring the fluttering feeling in their chest at being guided through the maze of hallways,Â
they stuff their tingling hand in their pocket. âcan i have your number?â
demons.Â
âi promise iâll help you tomorrow.â
the demonâs pen stops mid-signature.
ââŚpromise?â
âyeah?â
their eyes narrow thoughtfully.
âbinding or casual?â
ââŚwhat?â
âverbal promises can still count,â they say, pulling out parchment. âjust for documentation.â
âIT WAS A FIGURE OF SPEECH.â
the demon sighs.
âhumans are terrible negotiators.â
dragons.
you place the gold ring on the table. âi thought you might like it.â
the dragon stares at it.
then at you.
then at the ring again.
their wings shift slightly. â . . . humans give courtship treasure very quickly.â
you choke. âWHAT.â
they gently slide the ring into their palm, inspecting it, before slipping it on their finger. it seems to be the perfect fit.
â . . . i accept.â
âWAITââ
incubi / succubi.
âsweet dreams.â you wave before heading to bed.
the cubi pauses in the doorway. â. . . was that intentional?â
âwas what intentional?â
their smile is slow, amused. âhumans wishing dream-based creatures sweet dreams.â
â. . . itâs just a goodnight phrase.â
âpity.â they lean against the doorframe. âi thought you were inviting me.â
your face burns.
they grin wider. âthat blush is very convincing, though.â
vampires.
âyou look delicious tonight.â
the vampire says it with complete sincerity.
you pause halfway through adjusting your collar.
â. . .thank you?â
they nod approvingly, gaze lingering just a second too long.
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. . . IN WHICH, you catch the outcast and the popular girl in the closet - and now you apparently have a meeting with the popular girl.
đ´ pairing: rodrick heffley ! inspired guy  x  reader  x  regina george ! inspired girl
đ´ contents warning:Â not proofread;Â purposely everything in low caps;Â smoking references;Â lowk toxic relationship;Â secret relationships;Â mild profanity;Â super duper tiny suggestiveness;Â intimidation(?);Â hell that is school hierarchy
đ´ word count: 1.2k
đ´ authorâs note: readerâs more involved now! still pretty short tho. i have a habit of writing fast-paced romances or the slowest of slow burns. this seems to be the latter.
you do not sleep well that night. well, thatâs a lie. you barely slept at all, because each time you close your eyes, the image flashes back again.
the gym closet.Â
mean!queenbee sitting on a stack of mats.Â
outcast!boy standing between her spread legs.
their lips suspiciously swollen, clothes oddly disheveled.
your brain refuses to process it properly. instead it just repeats one very clear thought:Â you should not have seen that.
you spend half the night wondering if theyâll hunt you down. the other half wondering if you imagined it.
maybe you hallucinated.
maybe you hit your head during physical ed. yesterday.
maybe -Â
yeah.Â
none of those are true.
what is true is that mean!queenbee has a reputation for being able to ruin people who piss her off. make them outcasts, bullied, judged, avoided. and that outcast!boy very much has connections to some of the jocks in your campus that owe him some favors.
which means you are absolutely, undeniably, royally fucked if they decide you are.
the next morning, you seriously consider skipping class. fake a fever or something. pretend physical ed. wrecked your body and now everythingâs sore.
unfortunately, your sense of responsibility wins. your need to keep your (relatively mediocre but above average) grades wins.
so you drag yourself to campus anyway.Â
your eyes burn from lack of sleep. your brain feels foggy. and your stomach twists as you catch sight of the usual crowd mean!queenbee usually mingles in. you keep your head down and speedrun to your class.
maybe if you act normal -Â
âwell, if it isnât my favorite seatmate.â your heart nearly launches out of your chest as you stop at the door of your class, not even realizing youâve reached your destination.
you turn your head. outcast!boy is leaning against the wall leisurely. waiting. he pushes himself upright the moment he sees your face.
his hair is a tad messier than usual, like he barely bothered to fix it. dark eyeliner smudged as always under his eyes, piercings glinting in the sun streaming in from the high windows, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
he looks . . . amused. very amused.
you glance around quickly. no mean!queenbee. no intimidating people. just outcast!boy.Â
thank god.
â. . . hi,â you manage weakly. outcast!boy smiles.
he follows you as you head into the classroom. uninvited, looking like you two were best buds.
âya look like shit,â he comments casually. â. . .â you considered running off then and there, regretting your decision not to skip this day. â. . . i didnât sleep.âÂ
âyeah?â
âyeah.â
you slide into your seat, and he drops into the chair beside you - boots stretching out under the desk like always.
you thought heâd be normal then, disregarding the fact that he seemed to be waiting for you earlier - arriving early to school even, as odd as it was (he never arrived early. at most he arrived when it was almost lunch time).
for a moment, you think itâd be a normal day. that he might drop the subject.
instead, as always when he talks to you, he leans closer - right in your ear.Â
âstill thinkinâ âbout yesterday, sweets?â your shoulders stiffen instantly. âi promise i wonât tell anyone.â came your immediately, nearly robotic reply.
he studies your face. then he laughs quietly. ârelaxxx. . .â except there wasnât anything to relax about - you knew the hell that was school society. and mean!queenbee has a vice grip on it.
âchill.â he repeats, seeing your apprehensive frown. you do not feel âchillâ.
âya look like youâre about to pass out,â he laughs under his breath.Â
â. . .âcause you two are terrifying.â that actually makes him grin wider. âterrifying?â
âyes.â
âiâm flattered. not too sure about mean!queenbee though.â he mutters the last part quietly.
you donât respond and stare at your desk.Â
âiâm serious.âÂ
âso am i.â
he taps the desk lightly with his fingers.
âyouâre safe.â
you blink. â. . .what?â
âmean!queenbee wonât ruin ya.â
â. . .how do you know that.â
he raised a brow, âya act like sheâs gonna eat ya.â
you only stare at him.
outcast!boy blinks, lips curving once more in mirth. he shrugs lazily once, âi told her not to.â
that does not make you feel better. âyou told her?â
âyeah.âÂ
your voice drops, â. . .what did she say?â
at that, his grin sharpens. âshe said she wants tâ talk to ya.â your stomach sinks straight to the floor. âwhat? why?â
âprobably tâ scare ya.âÂ
you groan quietly and drop your head to your desk. âshit. . .â he chuckles beside you. âdramatic.âÂ
âshe could ruin my social life!âÂ
ânah.âÂ
you slowly lift your head. â. . .nah?â he spins a pencil (that he bought for once) between his fingers. âif she was gonna, she woulda done it yesterday.â
âthat does not make me feel better.âÂ
âit should.âÂ
you stare at him. â. . .youâre weirdly. . .â you bit your lip, âfocused. calm in this.â you murmur.
he tilts his head slightly, like heâs considering how to answer. then, he smirks. â âcause âs interestinâ.âÂ
âfor who?âÂ
âfâme.âÂ
âi caught you two making out.â he smiles, as if reminiscing something. âmm, you did. sad, âwas enjoyinâ it too. legs pullinâ me close, she tasted like -â
âsâshh!â you feel your face heating up, and outcast!boy simply laughs, earning curious looks from the few students who came early. you briefly consider if he was already high. you do not need to imagine that. you were always the visual learner, after all.
â. . .youâre not worried?âÂ
ânah.â
âthis is kinda a social scandal.âÂ
âfor her.â he grins. ânot tâme. secrets are fun.â
you sigh heavily. great. fantastic.Â
the bell rings a moment later.Â
itâs quiet between you as students flood in.Â
for a second, you think thatâs it. then, he casually steals your pencil.Â
you stare.Â
â. . .thatâs mine.âÂ
âyeah.âÂ
âyou had one already.âÂ
âlost it.âÂ
he definitely did not lose it. . . .heâs literally still holding it.Â
you open your mouth to argue, before giving up.
the teacher finally enters, but you barely hear anything they say.Â
your brain keeps drifting. toward the hallway. toward the possibility of running into mean!queenbee later. toward the terrifying idea of whatever âtalkâ she wants to have with you. toward the very likely chance that sheâs gonna threaten you to silence, and youâre gonna be red-tagged âtill the end of your school days.
next to you, outcast!boy is doodling lazily in the margins of his notebook using your pencil, completely unbothered to the crisis youâre having.Â
halfway through the class, he suddenly nudges your arm. you startle slightly, and he smiles. âjumpy, arenât ya?â
you glance at him, and he slides a folded piece of paper across the desk. âwhatâs this. . .â
âinstructions.â he shrugs, and you frown at his vague response. sighing, once you realize he wonât elaborate, you unfold it.
only a few words were scribbled, in neat handwriting that canât possibly belong to outcast!boy.
âroom 505. after your classes. donât chicken out.âÂ
you look back at him, and he looks away - leaning back in his chair innocently.
â. . .youâre coming too, right?â he looks back at you. he considers that. then hums noncommittally. âmaybe.â your stomach twists again. âthatâs not reassuring.âÂ
he chuckles, ânot really meant to be. but relaxx, sweets.â he taps the note once with his finger.
âmean!queenbee doesnât bite.â a pause. then he adds casually, â. . .hard. unless ya piss her off.â
your eyes widen immediately, and he bursts out laughing at your expression. continuing even with the teacher yelling at him, and the eyes now on you two.
and you are starting to realize something horrible. that this might actually be the beginning of a very long problem.Â
. . . IN WHICH, you catch the outcast and the popular girl in the closet - and now youâre roped into whatever the fuck they have going on.
đ´ pairing: rodrick heffley ! inspired guy  x  gn reader  x  regina george ! inspired girl (tbf, it's mostly the outcast!boy x mean!queenbee girl though)
đ´ authorâs note: the rodrick heffley x regina george edits got me. apologies if thereâs mistakes, english isnât my first language.
[ pt. 2 ] [ pt. 3 ]
outcast!boy who is the kind of guy who teachers dread when hearing theyâll be handling him this school year. heâs constantly in trouble, always getting scolded, and a detention regular.Â
most people avoid him, besides his usual friend group, and those who do are usually just desperate for a joint, or looking for someone to sneak them into a party.
he slouches in the back of the classroom, boots kicked out, smelling faintly of cigarettes and musky cheap cologne.Â
most people keep their distance. but they still stare. because, as much as heâs a trouble-maker, most wonât deny the fact that outcast!boy is hot. messy hair, lazy smirk, smudged eyeliner - even the way he talks, his low drawl, slow way of speaking, as if heâs constantly high or just trying to piss someone off.
mean!queenbee is the exact opposite.Â
sheâs got everything â popularity, money, body, face. her hairâs perfect, clothes perfects, smile perfect (despite how often it comes off as too sharp - at least to those who have that smile targetted at them).Â
girls want to be her, copy her, orbit around her like flies. guys practically line the hallway with hopeful glances whenever she walked past.
her image is perfect - simply put, the word to describe her, or what she appears to be, is perfect.
and just like outcast!boyâŚthe whole school wants her too, only less secretly. most wouldnât be ashamed to admit wanting to be with her.
sheâs beautiful in a way thatâs untouchable. dangerous. like a lioness, only with less fur.
to most people, theyâre polar opposites.
whenever they cross paths, mean!queenbee looks down on outcast!boy as if he was a sewer rat. and the moment he opens his mouth, she looks seconds away from ripping his head off. their arguments are sharp, loud, full of eye rolls, teasing smirks, and biting insults. words thrown around thatâd make most cry.
itâs quite a known fact in school that they hate each other.
but unknown to everyone, whenever the eyes that always watch them so closely look away . . .
theyâre out late at night, sharing greasy takeout in outcast!boyâs beat up car, still slightly sweaty from what they just did inside it,
theyâre sprawled in his garage couch together, arguing over music, while sheâs drowning in his hoody,
theyâre pressed close together in an empty, tight closet in school where nobodyâs supposed to be,
theyâre on her bed, mean!queenbee on his lap as sheâs trying to test if the new lipsticks she bought were transfer-proof, while outcast!boyâs dizzy from all the kisses . . .
no, theyâre not dating.
but theyâre definitely . . . something.Â
mean!queenbee insists they stay a secret. her reputation was something sheâs perfected over the years. how would people react if they found out sheâs . . . she has something going on with a weirdo like outcast!boy? being seen with him â being with him of all people â would shatter the perfect, untouchable illusion sheâs curated.
outcast!boy, on the other hand?
he loves it. loves the secrecy, the thrill, the adrenaline pumping in his veins whenever theyâre ducking behind doors and empty rooms. loves the way her ears turn red as he shoots her a knowing smirk as sheâs trying to cover a hickey he left. loves whispering filth in her hear whenever footsteps pass too close.
ârelax,â heâd murmur, âyouâre the one who wanted it secret. but still so needy, hm?â he grinned crookedly.Â
. . . it drives her insane, but mean!queenbee wonât deny the truth in his words and actions - she can feel the excitement rub on her, too.Â
. . . damn, is she hanging around outcast!boy too much that sheâs starting to think like him?Â
then thereâsâŚyou.Â
a normal student. a wallflower.Â
you happen to sit next to outcast!boy in class (whenever he actually decides to show up, at least). which isnât often but, when he does, he drops into the seat beside you, leisurely, casually, as if he belongs there, as if heâs always sat there. . . . you can count on your two hands how many times heâs actually attended the class.
and maybe itâs obvious.Â
but you kind of like him.
heâs hot.Â
he smells good; of smoke and something warm and musky.
and every time he leans over your shared desk, invading your personal space, to ask to borrow a pencil â cause he never brings his own bag to school (even if he did, itâd only be filled withâŚwhatever he deals new students with) â he whispers his request right into your ear.
âthanks, sweetheart.â his husky voice would whisper, or âyouâre my favorite seatmate, ya know?â heâd grin teasingly.
and your face would never fail to heat up, flushing your cheeks a darker shade. and outcast!boy notices. he always does.
which brings you to here - the gym.
physical ed. was your last class, and your teacher asked you to return some equipment to the closet. the farthest one, the closet in the corner.Â
you didnât mind. youâd always been obedient. and itâs not like you got much going on - a simple student you were, really.Â
so, you grabbed what your teacher wanted you to return as they left, promising to turn off the lights on your way out, too.Â
you walk through the quiet gym, reaching the closet, and fail to hear the barely contained noises inside as you push the door open without thinking.
and freeze.
because outcast!boy is there.Â
standing right between mean!queenbees legs, where sheâs perched on a stack of mats - her perfectly styled hair slightly messy, lipsticks smudged and matching the faint color on outcast!boys lips, and his hands braced on either side of her.
theyâre very close. close enough that itâs obvious you just interrupted something.
your brain-short circuits, and everything is quiet.Â
for a second, nobody moves -Â
before panic kicks in, and you bolt, dropping the equipment your teacher asked you to bring there.
behind you, mean!queenbee shoves outcast!boy away, panic and horror on her usually bitchy, confident face.
âare you kidding me?! fuck!â she hisses. outcast!boy just laughs, loud, completely unbothered as he stumbles back.
âstop laughing!â she snaps, grabbing his already wrinkled collar, âthey saw us!âÂ
he only shrugs, grin widening. âtold ya doll, someone was gonna catch us eventually.âÂ
mean!queenbee groans in frustration and shoves him back, and he could only watch, amused, as she sets on fixing her messy clothes.
âfix it.â outcast!boyâs tilts his head, meeting mean!queenbeeâs heated glare.Â
âchill, doll. the one who caught us âs jusâ a quiet kid, no oneâs gonna believe âem anyway.â
âfix it,â she repeats, voice ice cold âgo talk to them.âÂ
âdollââ she cut him off, âor iâm not entertaining you for a week.âÂ
. . . a defeated sigh left outcast!boy then. âsigh, fine . . .â
he hums thoughtfully, running a hand through his messy hair. then his grin sharpens.Â
thisâll be interesting, he thought. honestly? heâs kind of curious whatâs gonna happen, now that someone knows his and mean!queenbeeâs secret.
because outcast!boy knows exactly who you are. the kid he sits next to in some random class he couldnât give two fucks about. the one who blushes whenever he leans close. the one who lends him pencils and pens and erasers cause he couldn't be bothered to bring his own.
and it just so happens that he remembers that heâll be sitting next to you tomorrow morning.
Š jusfneo
đ´ p.s. please be nice, this is my first post :( english isnât my first language, so apologies if there are any errors. please tell me if there are any mistakes!