wilted-society - Tumblr blog

[wilted-society]

This is just for science but, if you had a dsmp phase at some point, reblog this, i wanna see how many of us there was that is currently here :3

[wilted-society]

Could I request a Singer!Reader x Tommyinnit fic with the song ‘So American’ by Olivia Rodrigo? I think it would be cute if tommy bragged about reader on stream and she wrote songs about him <3

I assume you wanted a song fic, and if not… too late… whoops…

Pairing: Cc!Tommyinnit x Fem!Reader

So American

Drivin’ on the right-side road He says I’m pretty wearin’ his clothes

Tommy’s eyes are on the window, looking vaguely surprised every time that the Uber takes a turn and reaffirms that, yes, he is meant to be driving on the right side of the road. It was something he jokingly called “barbaric” when he first visited your parents with you, but now he simply gives you a disgusted look to confirm that his beliefs on it hasn't changed. 

His arm is over your shoulders, playing with a loose thread on your sweater. Technically, it’s his sweater, but you claimed it as your own this morning. You claim most of his clothes as your own, actually. You liked wearing his baggy sweaters, he liked seeing you in them. Your fans go wild for it.

A fair trade, in your opinion.

His clothes were softer than yours for some reason, and they smelled like him. Plus, he had about a gazillion sweaters. He could definitely afford to spare some for you.

“The fuck is that?” Tommy asks, squinting at someone in a chicken costume dancing on the roadside with a sign. “Are they a fucking chicken?”

“It’s advertising.” You explain, laughing at the look on his face.

“Take a photo, take a photo.” He directs you, barely waiting for you to get your phone out before he snatches it to take a photo while the Uber drives by. Then he flips the camera to take a selfie of you two, making a horrified look for the photo. You mimic his expression. “There, send it later, I’ll post it.” 

“Got it.” You take your phone back, zooming in on the photo of you two to see how you look in it. Your hair’s a little messy, but that's to be expected. It’s a long Uber ride, after all.

“You look pretty as always, stop inspecting the photo.” Tommy grins at you, yawning after.

“Yeah yeah.” Clicking your phone off, you drop your head onto his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Tom.”

“Damn right, whatever I say.”

And he laughs at all my jokes And he says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of him To make me feel this much

“This mod adds alligators to Minecraft.” Tommy says, showing you it.

He’s trying to find a collection of mods for a new modded Minecraft video, but he’s run through most of the good working ones. And he wasn’t receptive to downloading a virus for a video on the bad mods.

“What do you call an alligator in a vest?” You ask, looking back down at your phone. “An investigator.”

He stares at you. After a moment of silence, he snorts. “That was so shit. Never make a joke like that ever again.”

“You still laughed.”

“But it wasn’t funny.” He stresses. “It was a pity laugh. Your joke was pitiful.”

“So you say, but you laugh every fucking time.” You smile brightly at him: he can’t help but smile back.

“There aren’t even any fuckin’ alligators in England, man. You’re so American!” Tommy nudges you with his elbow, going back to scrolling through mods.

So American. A common insult, but he has a way of making it seem endearing. 

“And you’re so British.”

I'd go anywhere he goes And he says I'm so American

Tour life is exhausting. 

Traveling from place to place, staying in hotels that range from absolute shit to five stars, you start to wonder why on Earth you’re doing this. But, for all your complaints, you know Tommy is even more exhausted. After all, he’s the one performing damn near every day. And although he loves it, you know it’s draining.

So there you are. Waiting in the wings after every show, giving him a hug when he runs off stage. Enduring the same creaky hotel beds as he is, although he uses your body as a pillow while you use the hotel pillows. 

Despite it all, it’s incredible watching him shine. He’s in his element, sharing comedy and humor with the world. And every single show, he always seems awed at how many people show up.

You’re glad you get to be there to see him flourish and to support him through it. Even if you get stuck with the odd-job of trying to fit Freddy into a dog costume a few too many times for your liking. Even if Tommy drags you out onto the stage for bows despite your lack of being in the actual show and your protests.

Simply put, you’re happy to be wherever Tommy is. He inspires your songs, pages of your notebook filled with the mere idea of his stage presence.

Your fans are probably tired of it by now. You’re not.

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me When he's with me

“Turn the light off.” Tommy groans, face in a pillow and arm thrown over your stomach.

You glance at the light above the bed, the switch within arms reach. The hotel room is otherwise dark, matching the time of how late it is. And yet you can’t go to bed. With Tom next to you, your mind is racing, inspiration racing through your thoughts like lightning in your veins.

“I’m almost done.” You promise him, knowing you’re not. The notebook full of song lyrics and ideas is crammed full, the page you’re working on is half empty. It’ll be filled by morning.

“Bullshit.” He complains, blindly grabbing for the notebook and pen. He whacks you in the arm, making you shove him, and he finally gets his hands on your prized notebook. “Fucking thing.”

Yelping when he drops it off his side of the bed, you try to lean over him to grab it back. Instead, he acts like an octopus, throwing all his limbs around you like you’re a damn stuffed animal.

“Tom—“

“Light. Off.” He demands.

“I need my notebook—“

“Light.” He repeats slowly. “You have a recording tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t mean I need sleep.” You grumble, but reach out and flip the light off. The hotel room plunges into darkness, and Tommy makes an agreeable noise.

Within what seems like mere seconds, he’s out as easily as you had turned off the light. Exhausted from his stream earlier, no doubt. By all means, you should be exhausted too. Yet the warm body next to yours keeps you wide awake.

If you blink, or close your eyes, he might not be there in the morning. The best damn thing to ever happen to you, a British guy. You won’t lose him, or everything good he’s brought to you.

Laying your head on his arm, you stare blankly at the ceiling. Half-formed lyrics with no background music swirl around in your brain, pushing insistently at your cerebral cortex in a desperate bid to escape from being thoughts and becoming reality.

Tommy snores loudly, knocking you directly out of your thoughts. Laughing, you nudge him with your foot. He rolls, suffocating you with the way he ends up half atop you.

You’re more than happy to let him.

But ain't it love? I think I'm in love

Two steps forward, five back. Turn, flip your hair gracefully.

The metronome ticks in time with your moves, keeping count for you so you stay on time. Although you preferred the singing part of your job, you tough it out with your choreographer for dances. Besides, seeing it all come together is immensely satisfying.

“Run it through one more time girls!” Your choreographer, Elain, shouts with a clap of her hands. You scramble back to your spot, flyaway hairs already sticking to the back of your neck. Who needs a workout when you have dance?

By the time you’re finished with the last run through and take a break to chug some water, you’re dripping sweat. Attractive? No. But you worked damn hard, and it’s proof of that. All of your other dancers are sweating too, chatting between swigs of water.

You grab your phone, swiping it open to check your messages. Your manager was meant to email you about a certain venue sometime today, and you didn’t want to miss it.

But the second you open your phone, it vibrates with a call. A photo of you and Tom pops up, his name broadcasting across the screen. You smile automatically, knowing damn well he has your schedule memorized to call you during breaks.

“I thought you were streaming?” You ask, accepting it and raising it to your ear. One of your dancer wiggles her eyebrows at you, knowing exactly who it is.

“If only my man was that good to me.” Another girl jokes, laughing.

“I thought you were dancing.” Tommy snarks back on the phone. “Slacking, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off. I’d like to see you dance. Last time you broke a vase.” You lean against the wall.

“It was in a stupid place and it was fucking ugly.”

It was on a table, and it was flower-patterned.

“It was fine, Tom. You just can’t dance. Wait— I take that back. You ‘club girl’ dance.”

He gasps commercially, then starts shouting into the phone. “You bitch! I do not! I am a sexy sexy man while dancing!”

Your jerk your phone away from your ear, laughing despite the fact he probably just burst your eardrums.

“Break’s over!” Elain shouts, eyeballing you in particular. You nod at her, bringing your phone back to your ear. Luckily, Tommy’s stopped shouting.

“—Jack goddamn manifold is coming over for the stream, so I have to hide all your shit because I don’t trust him with it—“ Tommy is saying, rambling about a topic. You wish you could skip choreo to listen to him for ages, FaceTime him and watch while he talks. God, you miss him. You really should plan a visit to England again soon.

“Tom.” You cut him off. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get back to dancing.”

“Is it already—? Oh, yeah.” He sighs. “Fine, I guess I can let you leave my amazing presence. Call me after, or else.”

“Promise.” You assure him. “Love you.”

“Love you!” He echoes back enthusiastically.

You end the call, frowning down at your phone for a second. Definitely need to plan a new trip.

"Girl, stop frowning!" A dancer calls out to you, and you laugh, dropping your phone.

"Yeah yeah, I know."

You're lucky to be in love.

[wilted-society]

🖤🤍🐈‍⬛

what do you think about soulmate au with either Theo or Mattheo thanks!!

It's currently 1 am here but considering that this is my alone time and i'm also bored, i will absolutely do this! i hope you like it!

soulmate au!hot and cold

pairings: theodore nott x reader

genre: soulmate au

warnings: none

— In a soulmate AU with the hot and cold dynamic, the world operates on the belief that each person has a soulmate who, when near, brings warmth to the individual. The farther their soulmate is, the colder they get. And the nearer their soulmate is, the warmer they get.

You shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, your body curled around the well-worn spine of a book, attempting to anchor yourself against the biting cold that permeated the Slytherin common room. The chill seemed to seep through the stone walls and the thick curtains drawn across the windows, as if the very air itself conspired to dampen any warmth that ventured inside.

As you flipped to the next pages of your book, Theodore Nott entered the room with an ethereal grace, his silhouette melding with the faint light spilling from the fire. There was a peculiar warmth that radiated around him, an almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the bitter cold that clung to the room’s corners. It was a phenomenon you had become aware of, an inexplicable warmth that accompanied him wherever he went. It intrigued you. It made you think if you were imagining the sensation of how it became less chilly when he entered the common room.

His gaze drifted to you, observing the tension in your posture as you tried to ignore the chill. “Having trouble with the cold tonight?” he inquired, his voice low and unhurried.

You glanced up, feeling a faint flush rise to your cheeks. “It’s a bit relentless tonight,” you admitted, lowering your eyes to the pages of your book. “I feel as though the chill has taken residence in my bones.”

Theodore approached the fire, his steps deliberate and measured, and the warmth that seemed to surround him followed in his wake. It was a strange sensation, one that you had yet to fully understand, but it provided a subtle reprieve from the icy grip of the common room.

Theodore stood there—wordlessly for a good minute. Just staring into the fire as if he was waiting for something to jump out, his mind dazed as he was deep into his thoughts.

You glance at him, wondering ‘What could be in his mind?’ Before drawing your attention back to the book you were reading. Distracting you from the fact that it was warmer since he entered the room.

“Well, you mustn't be staying up all night then. You might end up asleep during Charms class tomorrow.” He spoke up, turning around and smirking at you. You smile, closing the book and looking up at him.

“You're right, I probably should've learned my lessons by now.” You held the book on your lap, much more comfortable now. Though you were intrigued why it was warm all of a sudden.

Theodore nodded, “I'm off then. Have a good night.” he flashed a genuine smile. “Goodnight, Theodore.” You simply replied, returning the genuine smile as you stood up as well.

You bade your goodbyes and went to your respective dorms, you simply can't help but notice the warmth slipping away as you went to different paths. Which made you confused, and intrigued. ‘Is he the one?’ Oh nonsense! You decided that it was best to sleep your thoughts off and deal with them in the morning.

-

You wandered through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows that danced along the cold stone walls. The chill of winter had permeated every corner of the castle, lingering like a constant, unforgiving presence. Every movement you made seemed to intensify the cold, as if the very air around you had become a barrier between warmth and you.

Theodore Nott had always been an enigma to you. There was something magnetic about him, a charm that was both infuriating and alluring. It wasn’t just his looks—though his dark hair and enigmatic smile certainly added to his allure. It was the way he seemed to challenge everything around him, pushing boundaries with a nonchalance that left everyone guessing.

Tonight was not any different than last night. Tonight, the cold seemed particularly harsh, clinging to your skin and settling into your bones. You found yourself wandering toward the entrance hall, where the heavy wooden doors creaked shut behind you. The gust of icy wind that greeted you seemed to double in intensity as you stepped into the night air. You drew your cloak tighter around you, feeling the cold bite into your fingertips.

Theodore appeared out of the shadows, his tall figure looming over you. There was something in the way he looked at you, a mix of curiosity and something darker that sent a shiver down your spine.“Still freezing, huh?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You sighed, leaning against the stone wall for support. “Seems that way.”

He stepped closer, his presence almost crowding you against the wall. The cold around you seemed to intensify, yet there was a flicker of warmth in the air between you, something you couldn’t quite explain.“Maybe it’s not just the cold,” Theodore murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You felt his fingers brush against your arm, sending a surge of warmth through you. It was as if he carried a fire within him that could chase away the cold, if only for a moment. “Are you trying to tell me something, Theodore?” you asked, your voice low and challenging.

He chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Maybe I’m just trying to see if we can figure this out. After all, the cold always seems to follow you.”

You pressed your lips together, feeling the tension between you tighten. There was something about the way he looked at you, as if he could see right through your defenses. You glanced away, trying to ignore the heat that flared between you.

“I'm sorry but I have to get to Astronomy. Goodbye, Theodore.” You blurted out rather quickly, trying to keep a poker face as your legs began to pace out of the situation. Not daring to look back because if you did, you feared you wouldn't be able to get your eyes off.

-

Later that evening, after Astronomy, you found yourself in the dimly lit library, searching for an elusive book to help with your Potions project. The rustling of pages and the occasional creak of old furniture provided a serene soundtrack to your solitude.A shadow loomed over you, and you glanced up to see Theodore standing there, a smirk on his lips. “Still searching for warmth?” he inquired.

You sighed, rubbing your hands together. “The cold seems to follow me everywhere.”He moved closer, his fingers brushing against the edge of your arm, and you felt the warmth spread through you. The cold around you dissipated, replaced by a gentle, comforting heat.

“There’s more warmth where that came from,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.You glanced at him, feeling the tension between you intensify. “What are you playing at, Theodore?”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Just trying to figure out if we’re soulmates or not. And if we are, I’d say we’re pretty damn close.”

Your heart raced at his words, and the warmth seemed to surge between you. You leaned in closer, drawn to him despite your better judgement.

“Or maybe you’re just trying to take advantage of the situation,” you whispered.

Theodore’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Maybe. But if it’s a game of hot and cold, I think we’re pretty damn close.”

The heat between you became palpable, and for a moment, you hesitated.

But when his lips brushed against yours, the warmth became unmistakable, and you surrendered to the moment.

Suddenly the cold you felt was gone, and all that you could feel now was warmth. It was a foreign feeling to you, it felt like something you would only feel when he was around.

You surrendered to the kiss, feeling the connection between you deepen with every touch, every brush of his lips. The cold that had plagued you for weeks faded into a distant memory as his hands explored your body, drawing you closer.

And then it hit you.

It was in this moment that you realized—perhaps there was more to this cold than mere coincidence. Perhaps Theodore Nott was the missing piece to your own warmth, the one who could chase away the chill that had haunted you for so long.

And as you clung to him, feeling the heat between you intensify, you knew that the cold had no power over you anymore.

[wilted-society]

MASTERLIST

- mattheo riddle

oneshots/aus —

playing with fire

hcs —

none yet

‐ theodore nott

oneshots/aus —

soulmate au! Hot and Cold

hcs —

none yet

— tom riddle (soon)

[wilted-society]

playing with fire

pairings: mattheo riddle x reader

genre: fluff + angst

warnings: suggestive ending, cussing

— mattheo's flirtiness couldn't be held back. You decided you were fed up with it.

Hogwarts hummed with its typical vibrancy, the old stone corridors filled with the noise of students' chatter and sporadic laughter. Despite the lively surroundings, you were preoccupied with a recent confrontation with Mattheo. Your relationship, marked by a fiery mix of passion and intensity, had taken a toll on you, leaving you especially shaken and uneasy after this latest disagreement.

With a heavy heart, you strolled your way through the great hall. Stopping to sit down beside Pansy, who took notice of your unusual behavior.

"What's the matter? You usually sit next to Riddle?" Pansy questioned, seemingly oblivious but quickly realized as she noticed the tension between you two. "Oh.. Is it bad?" She whispered, to which you only replied with a weak nod.

On the other hand, Mattheo, who was sitted beside Theodore, looked your way for a moment and then went back to his food. Playing with, barely even eating any of it.

"What's happened? She usually sits right next to you." Theo furrowed his eyebrows, looking between you and Mattheo. Immediately noticing the tension. "I fucked up." was all Mattheo said, before turning back to his plate and played with his food. Theodore urged him to tell what was the reason, kept pestering him until he finally told Theo.

The fight had stemmed from a misunderstanding that quickly spiraled out of control. Mattheo had been spending more time with his Slytherin friends, particularly a girl named Cassandra, who had a reputation for being overly flirtatious.

Y/N had confronted Mattheo about it, her insecurities bubbling to the surface.

"Why do you keep spending so much time with Cassandra?" Y/N had demanded, her voice tight with jealousy. "She's all over you, and you don't seem to mind."

Mattheo had frowned, clearly taken aback by her accusation. "Cassandra's just a friend, Y/N. You're overreacting."

"Am I?" Y/N had shot back, her frustration growing. "It feels like you're pushing me away. Like you don't care about how I feel."

Mattheo's eyes had darkened with anger. "That's ridiculous. You're being paranoid. I can't have friends without you thinking the worst?"

The argument had escalated, each of them saying things they didn't truly mean. Mattheo had stormed off, leaving Y/N feeling a mix of anger, hurt, and regret. The wounds from their fight still stung, and she couldn't shake the feeling that their relationship was on shaky ground.

"Yeah you fucked up," Theodore patted Mattheo on the back, "better make it up to her then." Theo said before turning back to group, to which Mattheo sighed.

.

"I swear, Luna. That guy will be the death of me. He was basically eye-fucking that Cassandra, flirting with her like he doesn't have a girlfriend!" You ranted to Luna Lovegood, who was intently listening to you rambling.

Luna, perched on a windowsill with her legs crossed, watched you with her usual calm demeanor. Her big, silvery eyes were filled with empathy and a hint of concern. "That sounds incredibly frustrating, Y/N. Have you tried telling Mattheo how you feel?"

You stopped pacing and turned to face her, your frustration palpable. "I did, Luna. But he just brushed me off, saying I'm overreacting. It's like he doesn't even care how much it hurts."

Luna tilted her head, considering your words carefully. "Sometimes people act out in strange ways when they're dealing with their own insecurities. Mattheo might not realize how much his actions are affecting you."

You threw your hands up in exasperation. "Well, he needs to realize it, Luna! It's like he's purposely trying to get a reaction out of me. And it's working. I don't know how much more I can take."

Luna slipped off the windowsill and walked over to you, her movements graceful and serene. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Maybe he's trying to provoke you because he's unsure about his own feelings. Or maybe he's testing the boundaries of your relationship. Either way, you deserve honesty and respect."

You felt a lump forming in your throat, and tears threatened to spill over. "I just... I love him, Luna. But this is tearing me apart. Seeing him with her, laughing and flirting like I'm invisible... it hurts so much."

Luna's expression softened even more, and she pulled you into a comforting hug. "Love can be very complicated, Y/N. But you are strong, and you deserve someone who makes you feel valued and secure."

You hugged her back, feeling some of your tension ease in her calming presence. "What should I do, Luna? I don't want to lose him, but I can't keep feeling like this."

Luna stepped back and looked into your eyes, her gaze steady and wise. "You need to have a serious conversation with Mattheo. Tell him exactly how his actions are making you feel. If he truly cares for you, he'll listen and make an effort to change. If he doesn't, then you need to consider what's best for your own well-being."

You nodded, wiping away a tear. "You're right. I need to be honest with him and with myself."

Luna smiled, a soft and reassuring expression that made you feel a little lighter. "And remember, you always have friends who care about you. You're never alone in this."

"Thank you, Luna. I really needed to hear that," you said, your voice steadier now.

"Anytime, Y/N. Let's go for a walk by the lake. The fresh air might help clear your mind and give you the courage you need to face Mattheo," Luna suggested, her hand still gently resting on your arm.

You nodded, grateful for her support. "That sounds like a good idea."

.

"Goodnight, Luna!" You bade your goodbyes to Luna, parting ways as you strolled through the winding corridors on your way to the Slytherin dungeons.

The dim torchlight illuminated the path ahead, and the castle seemed almost alive with its shadows and quiet reverberations.As you quietly strolled, you heard a voice call out your name.

"Y/N!" It was him—Mattheo Riddle. The same voice that always had the power to make your heart race, the one that whispered sweet nothings to your ear. But tonight, his voice only stirred up more anger and heartbreak.

You chose to ignore him and kept walking, determined not to give in. "Y/N! Please, can we talk through this?" he begged, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls as he hurried to catch up.

You paused and turned to face him, a cold glint in your eye. "You better be." You narrowed your eyes at him, still furious and heartbroken.

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair, his dark eyes filled with a mix of desperation and regret. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you.”

Your heart wavered slightly at the sincerity in his voice, but you quickly regained your resolve. “Actions speak louder than words, Mattheo. You flirt with other girls and brush me off. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?”

He took a step closer, his presence encroaching on your space. “I’ve been an idiot, Y/N. I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—I’ve been dealing with my own insecurities, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

You felt a surge of frustration and sadness, but deep down, you still cared for him. “You have a funny way of showing it, Mattheo.”

He reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “I’m sorry. I never want to lose you. I just need you to understand.”

The touch of his skin against yours sent shivers down your spine. It was a soft caress, a brief moment of tenderness amidst the chaos. You felt torn between wanting to push him away and craving the intimacy that only he could provide.

His dark eyes bore into yours, his voice low and intense. “Let me make it up to you, Y/N. Let me show you how much I care.”

Your breath hitched at the suggestion, and you felt a twinge of desire creeping into your thoughts. “Show me?” you murmured, your voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Mattheo’s hand slid from your cheek to the small of your back, pulling you closer. “Yes. Let me prove to you that I’m worth it.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, heated kiss. You could feel the tension in his body as he deepened the kiss, his hands moving to caress your waist. A shiver ran through you as his touch lingered on your skin.Your resistance melted away as you responded to his kiss, feeling the need to be close to him. It was a soft, heated moment that made you forget the pain of the past few days.

Breaking the kiss, Mattheo rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. You smirked, an idea—rather suggestive, came up in your head. "Lead the way, then."

And with that, Mattheo wasted no time dragging you both into his room. His smile was visible as he sprinted immediately to prove himself.

[wilted-society]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

“Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[wilted-society]

becky’s plan - rodrick heffley x reader

requests are open!!

based off becky’s plan by cody jon.

warning(s): language, not edited.

word count: 1.7k

request(ed): no.

summary: y/n is greg’s babysitter. y/n and rodrick don’t like eachother but he hates the fact that she doesn’t like him so he comes up with a plan to make her jealous.

————————————————————————————

hello, i’m the guy you friend zoned. now i’m in your friend’s phone getting her to help me out to test your doubt that i can’t be seen romantically…for you and me you feel “nothing”

susan was a coworker of your mom’s so when she offered you money to tutor her son greg, you obliged. however, what you didn’t know was that his older brother rodrick would be home during the hours you’d be there, so now you were stuck in the kitchen with a messy haired messy eyeliner annoying ass boy. he was a year older than you and everyone loved him but for some reason you couldn’t understand why. he wasn’t that hot and his music was terrible.

greg went to his room, you were done for the day so now you were helping yourself to some snacks, courtesy of susan.

rodrick and you used to be friends once. until freshman year of high school where he completely shut you out. and he never told you why. it’s like a switch had been flipped and he changed. he was still around but the friendship wasn’t the same.

a few months after that, he had asked you out but you didn’t take him seriously. not after how he had treated you. he didn’t take rejection well and so then the “friendship” really went weird.

there wasn’t really any hate towards the other, more just animosity and teasing.

“why are you staring at me rodrick?” he was across the kitchen, also with some chips in hand and his phone in the other.

“are you always such a bitch?” he asks throwing a chip at you.

you frown and pick it up and throw it away. his messes would not be blamed on you.

“are you always this annoying?” you ask.

he smirks and kinda laughs to himself while looking down at his phone and then up at you.

“you’ll find out.”

-

at school the next day you told your friend becky all about what happened at rodrick’s house yesterday. she seemed shocked to hear those words from you considering how much you didn’t like him, but she knew deep down that there was a thin like between love and hate and that you secretly had liked him since the seventh grade.

so when he texted her last night around eight, saying that he had a plan…she couldn’t help but want to indulge.

after school, you had agreed to tutor greg again but what you didn’t expect to find when you got there was rodrick…and becky kissing on his couch. it was like a peck or two that you saw when you walked in.

you locked eyes with rodrick and it’s like he was waiting for a reaction. waiting for you to say something.

truth is you didn’t know how to react. you didn’t know why their was a pain in your chest but there was. maybe because your closest friend was kissing someone you hated? right. that had to be it. but you weren’t going to say anything, because you tended to ignore problems until they go away. so maybe this ginormous one in the living room next to you would disappear too.

what if i made out with your friend? said hi to becky once again? maybe your eyes would turn to mine. realize the friend zones not our type….

greg didn’t really understand the lesson too well so you stayed later to help him. he was a smart kid and truthfully, the delay wasn’t entirely his fault. the whole lesson rodrick and becky’s faces were etched in your mind and that moment was playing on repeat. you couldn’t understand why she would do something like this. she didn’t even like him. i’m fact, she preferred girls. maybe she was experimenting and used rodrick because he was the easiest and would say yes to any kind of action he could get. yes. that had to be it.

you said goodnight to greg while he went upstairs to play video games. what you didn’t know is that when rodrick came into the kitchen to talk to you, greg snatched rodrick’s phone and sat on the stairs to search through it while simultaneously listening to your conversation.

“y/n…”

“rodrick.” you roll your eyes.

there was a silence until you decided to speak up and break the tension.

“your girlfriend still here? oh i’m sorry, i mean my best friend?”

he smirks. “she went home a while ago. you probably didn’t notice because you were too busy day dreaming in there instead of helping greg with his math.”

“where do you get off kissing my best friend? there are like 200 girls in the school, and you choose the one closest to me?”

again, you’re not sure why you’re so heated about it..but you were.

“why do you care y/n?” he steps closer to you and you were a bit intimidated by the height difference and kind of frozen in place. unfortunately, you kind of liked the closeness. “are you jealous?”

you stepped away lowkey offended but didn’t say anything. never would you be jealous of rodrick.

-

the next day at school you had hardly said two words to becky until lunch. it was awkward, and you weren’t really sure what to say.

“so…you and rodrick?” your chest felt like it was on fire.

“uhm, not really he’s just a bit of fun y’know?”

a bit of fun…

“yeah.” you pause. “yeah i get it…fun.”

becky’s thinking that her plan is working on the low low. she said that you’re jealous you don’t wanna get in the middle of it all. you don’t know we faked it all.

you saw rodrick and becky again after school. you watched her get into his truck and talk for a while. you don’t know why it stung, but it did. you were confused if anything…but you told her that you’d stay out of it and let her do her. it’s really none of your business…however, you can’t help but secretly wonder what’d it’d be like to kiss him. you hate that the thought is in your head…it’s like seventh grade you is back again, and you’d hate to be her again.

lovesick and pining over a guy that everyone likes. naive twelve year old y/n. never again.

two weeks went by and you felt like you were suffering. everywhere you looked you saw rodrick and becky. talking at their lockers, in his car talking, eating lunch together. you don’t know if you were jealous of her or jealous of him. you felt like you were losing your friend but also losing him.

and you hate that because you didn’t even have him to lose him.

so when your friend marcus invited you to a party saturday, you decided you would go. usually they weren’t really your scene but you needed to get your mind off things. you needed a distraction.

becky said she’d be there too and you agreed to meet her there but you’d let marcus take you. she sounded distant when you told her about him, but you weren’t sure why.

you put on some jeans that made your ass look nice, and your favorite shirt. it was cute. you were cute.

marcus picked you up and complimented you. the ride there wasn’t long and you guys just talked about school mostly. it was nice, but deep down all you could think about was rodrick. you knew he’d be at the party. probably with becky. so you were using marcus as bad as that might sound. you were sort of hoping to make rodrick jealous and you know that’s bad but you can’t help it.

i know, that becky’s plan is so low. i must admit it’s my fault. i bribed her with some chocolate.

when you got there, music was blaring. you immediately saw rodrick with his friends and becky came up to you with a drink. you told marcus you’d find him later. after a bit of dancing, you decided to go to the bathroom for a break where you saw gred and his friend rowley hiding.

“guys? what are you doing here?”

this was a highschool party…and they were middle schoolers.

rowley got red. “we snuck in.”

you shook your head. you couldn’t just leave them alone at a place like this, so you decided you’d stay with them. they weren’t that enthusiastic about having a babysitter but it’s their own fault. they shouldn’t have snuck in.

“oh. y/n.” greg grinned mischievously. “i have something to show you.”

he pulled his phone out and it was text messages between rodrick and becky.

it revealed that they would plan where they hung out so you could see them and get jealous. rodrick wanted to make you jealous…

you were infuriated and knew exactly what you had to do.

“i’ll be right back guys.”

you made your way downstairs and made a beeline for marcus. you asked him to dance and he accepted happily. his hands went down a little towards your ass and that’s exactly what you needed.

you locked eyes with rodrick and he looked…angry.

you smiled and whispered to marcus. “kiss me.”

and so he did. he leant down and gave you a chaste kiss on the lips. it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t bad. and rodrick saw it all. he came over and pulled you straight away from marcus.

“what the fuck.” you say. but instead of saying anything rodrick takes ahold of your arm and practically drags you upstairs.

“y/n what the hell?”

he lets you go and walks you into a wall so that you were close and he was seething. you found joy in it but you were pissed as well.

“becky’s plan?” you ask crossing your arms.

his face went red for a moment but he smirked. “how’d you find out?”

“doesn’t matter. you shouldn’t have done it.”

“but it worked.”

you couldn’t argue with that. it did work. it did make you jealous and you did have feelings for rodrick no matter how you tried to hide it or ignore it. almost losing him made you realize how much you really wanted him.

“and you got me back.” he said. “made me mad.”

“now you know how it feels.”

he grins. “that guy was almost on the floor because of you.” he’s closer to you now and you don’t stop him. one of his hands are on your waist and the other is on the side of your face tilting you up towards him.

“it was a dumb thing i did,” he said, “it was immature.”

“yes.”

“but you like me.” he says lips closer to you.

“…yes.” you admit.

and his lips were on yours and bodies pressed closer than possible. it wasn’t a quick kiss, or a peck. it was hot, and sweet, and passionate. your hands went through his hair and all you could think about was the loud music from downstairs, his lips on yours, and his hand wrapped lightly around your neck. the other hand was on your ass and it was slightly rough but you liked it. you’ve waited so long to feel like this.

his head went lower to press kisses against your neck and give you a large hickey you’d eventually notice later, while you resisted the urge to moan. why had you waited to long for him?

you both separated when you heard the bathroom door next to you. you were embarrassed.

“wow,” greg said. “that’s not how i thought things would turn out.”

maybe this year i’ll call you mine, realize the friend zone’s not our type.

[wilted-society]

Noise Complaint

Stiles Stilinski Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Navigation

Summary: Keeping multiple hormone enraged students in a motel for a night wasn’t going to end well for anyone, except them

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader, mentioned Scott McCall x Allison Argent

Warnings: 18+ minors dni if you do then I take no responsibility, smut, strip tease, protected sex, vaginal penetration, and a noise complaint

The motel room was exactly what you had expected, shabby rather than chic, and despite the low expectations that you had initially had, you couldn't help but pout; a part of you was more lenient to sleep on the school bus instead of these already combusted mattresses that were dressed in the most hideous sheets that you had ever laid your eyes on. But you supposed that this was the punishment that you had earned yourself by tagging along with Lydia and Allison; it hadn't quite been a fool proof plan, more so considering that it hadn't taken Stiles long to realise that you three were in the vehicle behind them. The room that you had been given the key to was a single, and it haunted and disgusted you as he said that you were to be sleeping in this horror setting alone; no Stiles he had meant.

It wasn't justified fairness, you'd even argue that it commended against your human rights. But old Bobby enjoyed to make everyone suffer, and that was the type of pain that you were undergoing as you dealt with the separation that - hold that thought, a notification sprang from the speaker of your phone, and as you read the iMessage that bombarded your lock screen, excitement coursed through your veins. Open up, it said, and giddily you hurried to the door, instantly obliging to what the message had said. On the other side stood Stiles who didn't waste a moment before he pushed the both of you back into the room, being quick to ensure that nobody saw the both of you blatantly disobeying the rules. To be honest you didn't know what Finstock had expected, bringing well over a handful of hormonal teenagers to stay at a dingy motel overnight couldn't possibly respect the restrictions of chastity; nobody was going to listen, including Stiles and yourself.

"Let me guess, you couldn't sleep?" You crawled onto the bed after your boyfriend who had gone up the length of the mattress to rest his head upon the flat pillows that had been provided, weaving yourself beneath his arm and dancing your fingers across his chest. "You're still worried about Scott, aren't you?" The scratch that the alpha had left on him was nasty, and went further than surface deep. His worry towards his best friend was understandable, you were concerned too. Stiles hummed in reply, combing his long fingers through your hair, his body shifting as he found it quire difficult to go on considering everything that was going on.

"He's gone to see Allison now." Stiles revealed, it was no doubt that if Scott had remained in their room that he'd have stayed too. They weren't just best friends, they were brothers and that bond would always be his first priority, you had never met anybody as loyal as Stiles Stilinski. "But I could use a distraction from all the sacrifices and alphas and whatever else is going to happen." He rambled, his hands tossing about a little as he spoke, and you found the action rather adorable, he was always very expressive as he spoke, in fact the two of you had met first day of freshman year by him whipping you around the face with his flying hands, and it had been rather hard to forget him since you had a black eye for the rest of the week.

"I've got the perfect thing in mind." You informed him, coercing him to grumble as you got up, searching for your phone and scrolling on it until you came across the playlist that you had created for a moment like this. 'Hands to myself' began to play, perking Stiles up as he watched you stand by the end of the bed, dragging your own hands up your body, prompting him to lick his lips that were feeling rather dry. He sat upright as you slowly peeled the shirt up to reveal your bare skin until you were dressed in nothing more than your bra and shorts and walking closer to Stiles. The music was quite loud, drowning out any sounds of Stiles' laboured breaths that he was trying to control, it made you feel strong seeing the affect that you had upon him, and only served to encourage you more to act more deviously. Your thumbs tucked into the elastic band of your shorts, toying with them, the sight alone had the poor yet lucky boy before you feel lightheaded.

The first time that you had actually performed a strip tease for Stiles, he had literally fainted; looking back on that time was quite funny, more so since you had been sworn to secrecy by the victim himself when he groggily came back to consciousness. But it had become the faintest memory in Stiles' head as your shorts piled around your feet, he couldn't help but lean forwards, his eyes delicately tracing the sultry edges of your underwear. Drool began to seep out from the corner of his mouth whence you played with the frills that decorated your panties, hips still swaying as your hand that was not dancing along the front of your left thigh was swimming in your hair as your tongue deliciously ran across your teeth.

"You're so hot." Stiles murmured, his leg began to jitter against the ground as his body endured the rush of desire. "Come here baby, need you." Sweetly you tip toed over to him and placed your hands onto his shoulders, taking a seat of placement upon his aroused lap, feeling his hard cock through the layers of material which separated each of the parts of your bodies that hungered to unite in a rouse of passion. The music faded away from your sense whilst his eyes ravenously scaled up your bare torso, his hands were starved as they refused to miss an opportunity to touch any skin on your body that they possibly could - no doubt he was struggling to keep his hands to himself.

You didn't mind in the slightest as you fiddled with the straps on your loose shoulders, reaching behind you Stiles disconnected the clasps on the back of your bra, to which obeyed his command by dropping the garment between your bodies, only serving to build misdemeanour tension within the room. Both of your hands ravelled in his dark locks that he had allowed to grow out not so long ago as he threw your bra to the floor, raising his large and desirable palms to cup both your breasts, becoming vastly more turned on by feeling the natural weight in his grip. Leaning down, you hungrily joined your lips in a sloppily paced kiss which remained elongated in time for a while, your bodies rutting in unison to build up pressure to which was called pleasure. Thank god for Scott for not being over Allison, otherwise this event would never have fitted the occasion!

Soon the rest of your and his clothes were scattered around the room like an image from a spot the difference game, though if it were a then it'd have definitely have been R-rated as the pair of you were completely in the nude, Stiles now atop of you and teasing his cock head upon your sweet clit. He ran his tip up and down your slit, collecting wetness, the notion alone causing you to drop your head back into the pillow supporting you as your eyes deliriously fluttered closed. But they fixated open no more than a minute later as a disastrous thought bombarded your mind, leading you to tightly grip your boyfriend’s forearms and dig your nails a little into his flesh, all to refrain him from going further for a moment. “Do you have a condom?” He blinked multiple times before springing into action.

Despite it resulting in you and him groaning simultaneously, he stir up so that he could rummage through his belongings until he found one. Once he did he wasted no more time and instead put the contraceptive method onto his length and resumed his previous position. Your legs twitched and coiled around him as he began to push into your walls, his right hand roughly grabbing the back of your thigh to bring some pain upon your body to mix with the exonerating pleasure that shuttled through it. The collaboration of your bodies was heaven with the bitterness of hell that raked through them via the bruising grip below your ass, the passion transcended into the clouds from aggressive and hungry flames, creating a breathless hue to burn beneath your flesh. Each breath that pardoned out from Stiles' panting lips scorned your skin, he was desperate for release and was feeling close, his quickening thrusts only made the endurance of your orgasm slacken as everything around you felt as though it was crashing down.

There was a storm within the room, the lightning struck above both of you in the form of a bulb with faulty wire as the thunder resonated in pounding, which you could not register as such, against the door to the motel room. The music that you had earlier put on acted as a soundtrack to the scene, and your sounds of ecstasy dwindled down into as you reached the climax to the intimate story that you had shared with Stiles. "Stilinski! Y/l/n! Open up but only if you're decent." The level of the music was still loud and therefore you hoped that the lyrics of Ariana Grande and other artists that had recently performed on your playlist had masked your moans of synchronised pleasure but you knew that that specific hope was far too good to be true.

And so you and Stiles scrambled to cover yourselves and answer the door as Finstock began to rampantly knock again. He was like a flu that you couldn't get rid of, and it was no surprise to when you eventually opened up the door it looked as though he had caught a fever. It was a blessing to his ears that the variety of sounds had ceased including those that had exhumed from your phone that was now somewhere on the floor. "The two of you are one of the reasons that I drink." Bobby defeatedly spoke, waving his finger like a madman to which it was already believable prior that he was one. You cocked your head waiting for him to scold the of you more however Stiles had already beaten him to it, silencing him with his natural wit in the moment. "In my defence I am only here because I felt lonely, nobody else is in my room." He practically dubbed Scott in the trouble, but you also knew that Stiles had the intention of having someone check up on his best friend and so he was using Bobby as the surrogate to do so.

Coach's face crinkled, this was more work than he was cut out for, and he wasn't enjoying a moment of it. At least he didn't have to worry about Greenberg as he strongly doubted that he had the moved to get into such a compromising position with any other example of the human species, he'd just be yelled at because he was annoying and an absolute kiss ass all whilst being terrible at lacrosse. "Wait, where is McCall?" He was slowly putting the pieces together... if there was another noise complaint then he'd be at fault since he was the adult, and so he rushed off in hopes of not having to succumb to responsibility. The opportunity arose to shut the door and so you took it, and Stiles dropped his head in relief as he hurriedly began to remove his jeans again. "Oh thank god." He sighed when he dropped them and you laughed when you realised that it was not his intent to continue what you were doing beforehand but instead the condom the condom that he had forgone and forgotten to remove in the rush of things.

[wilted-society]

You can only reblog this today.

[wilted-society]

jacob collier saying piss kink 👍

[wilted-society]

Hello guys, I will no longer be writing about Wilbur in support of Shelby. I hope Shelby heals from this. In the meantime, please show your love and support to Shelby. She needs it.🤍

I will be deleting all my Wilbur fics in less than 24 hours, I will be starting over again.

[wilted-society]

𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ I WANNA BE YOURS | percy jackson x gn!reader

percy jackson looks at you like you were the one who put the stars in the sky.

the son of poseidon gazes at you with so much awe and admiration in his eyes that most people would think you had just defeated a minotaur with your bare hands, or cured cancer or saved the world from total destruction, something that would be remembered for centuries to come. but in reality, all you did was toss a few nuts to the squirrels that scurried around camp. percy jackson looks at you in such a way that even aphrodite herself would point and squeal.

though, he'd never admit to that. the only telltale sign of his infatuation is the rosy tint that creeps up the tips of his ears every time you you pass by, and his lips that struggle to stay in a straight line whenever you flash him that smile—the one that makes his heart leap up and into his throat. even after four years of friendship, percy still hasn't figured out how to sit next to you and not be totally in love with everything you do.

it's as though you have some sort of magic power over him—a power that he's powerless to resist. and as much as he'd like to deny it, he secretly revels in the feeling.

but percy jackson would never confess his desires for you—not when kronos is still actively seeking to wipe out the demigod population. he can't afford to display any signs of weakness.

but it's worth it, he thinks, to risk everything just to wrap his arms around you and plant a kiss on your lips that would set the world on fire. yet he knows he can't—not without endangering you. not without putting you in harm's way. so why is it so unbearable to imagine life without you, when you were never really his to begin with?

and in those moments, when his mind is consumed with thoughts of you, memories of your touch and your gaze playing on repeat in his mind, he's left thinking, 'did i imagine it?' did he dream up the way your touch lingered on his arm as you adjusted his armor? the way you looked at him across the dining pavilion before turning away, as if you'd been caught in the act of something secret and sweet? he must have, right? because you would never look at someone like him with such tenderness. not at someone hot-headed and impulsive, someone with so many rough edges. no, you couldn't have looked at him like that. it must all be in his head.

you couldn't have looked at him the same way he looks at you.

despite his best efforts to conceal it, percy's convinced that everyone can see right through him. he knows that everyone can see right through him. the teasing from his fellow campers has been relentless—nicknames hurled his way, each one more unflattering than the last. romeo, hopeless romantic, loverboy..

loverboy.

he's no loverboy. not some kind of lovesick puppy at the mercy of some unattainable crush. no, that nickname is only reserved for the truly whipped, those who are wrapped around someone's finger, glued to their side at all times. he's no..

and then his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, suddenly alert. and there you are, all dazzling and gorgeous, a beacon in a sea of identical orange t-shirts and jeans. you stand out as though a spotlight has been trained on you alone. which is weird because to most people you're just another camper. albeit, an incredibly beautiful camper, but still, just a camper. so why is he so infatuated with you, specifically?

maybe he is a loverboy.

the realization hits him like a ton of bricks, and he almost groans out loud. can't he just carve his heart out and be done with it at this point? isn't that what the poets do?

but since he never really cared for those dead old men taught in school, like edward allan poe or whatever his name was, he'll settle for just daydreaming now. he'll settle for stolen glances across the room and the brush of your hands as you reach for a book. he'll settle for relishing in your little touches and how your lips shine in blueberry chapstick until he's ready. he'll admire the curve of your nose and the triumphant hugs you give him after your team wins capture the flag. he'll settle for it until it's not enough anymore. he'll settle for it until he needs more.

[wilted-society]

hi! are you planning on writing about sapnap?

HIII!! Yes, I am kind of planning on writing ab him for a while now! Unfortunately, because of school (It just started), I won't be able to write because of busy weeks! but I'll try my best to write here every once in a while!!

[wilted-society]

“I'm the living embodiment of 'it could be worse'.” ― Dan Howell

[wilted-society]

feeling gay. reblog

[wilted-society]

me when i know that my upstairs neighbor is having an affair with my downstairs so i extort her for money and then write the hit indie rock song "sex sells" about the whole experience

[wilted-society]

mar never disappoints!!! love this mar!💕

HELLO! first of all, i TOTALLY adore your fics, and i LOVE reading them, and i really love your writing style! i was wondering if u can do a fic of wilbur and reader having cystic fibrosis? it's a lung disease, and ya know.. i have it, it could be based off of taylor swift's song "Soon You'll Get Better." i was reading your fics and they bring so much comfort, that's one of the reasons why i adore them! KEEP WRITING, NEVER STOP DOING WHAT YOU LOVE!!!! i support it!✨️✨️✨️💗💗

soon you'll get better

event masterlist

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! cystic fibrosis! reader

tws: hospitals, illness, brief death mention, hypochondria

notes: this one was a bit of a challenge but i did a lot of research on cystic fibrosis to hopefully get an accurate portrayal, but im sorry if it isnt! also i absolutely love this song, its devastating but so underrated imo

word count: 1.6k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @melunnek

When you and Wilbur got together, you were quick to let him know about your Cystic Fibrosis. He was nervous, a consequence of not knowing much about it and his own hypochrondria. He never got totally used to it, the coughing and shortness of breath, especially on bad days. But he got better about it. He did so much research he almost seemed to know more about it than you did. He was alway particularly cautious with everything he learned, disinfecting the house as often as he could, always wearing a mask in public to protect himself. His biggest fear was getting you sick.

But illness wasn’t inevitable. In fact, it was something of a constant in your life. 

The first sign was the fatigue. It usually wasn’t good, but it was far worse today. You could barely leave bed, and Wilbur was immediately concerned. 

“Darling,” he asked softly as he came in with some soup he’d made you for lunch, “are you sure you’re alright?”

“I should be fine, Wil,” you smiled, sitting up and gently squeezing his hand, “Just a bit of a flare up. Thank you, darling.” 

He gently carded his hands through your hair and nodded, though he wasn’t totally satisfied with your answer. You weren’t totally able to stomach the soup, eating a few bites before feeling overly full. Wilbur tried to get you to eat more, but you couldn’t be bothered. He did help you get into a bath, which was wonderful since the steam helped ease your irritated sinuses and lungs, as well as your tired muscles. 

He helped you get out of the bath after, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead as he helped you into bed once more. He brought you your medicine as well, along with a glass of something orange. 

“What is this?” You chuckled softly, broken up by a bout of coughing. 

He bit his lip out of concern, handing your medicine and the glass to you once you’d calmed a bit. “It’s, uh, one of those immune drinks. Orange flavored. Figured it may help with the flare up.” 

You smiled softly, “That’s sweet of you. Thanks, love,” you took the glass and quickly took your meds, drinking the rest of the slightly sweet liquid to help ease Wilbur’s worries. It was a mostly quiet night, though broken up with coughing a bit harder than usual. 

It wasn’t a usual flare up. Two days later, and you were seeing a hyperactive version of Wilbur hypochrondria as he sat with you in the hospital. You were quite weak for a lot of the initial conversations, but you managed to catch a few quick words. Notably, ‘infection’, ‘treatment’, and some bacteria name that truthfully sounded like someone speaking another language. You put the pieces together easily. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get respiratory infections, especially when you were younger.

Wilbur handled it worse than you seemed to. When you came around fully, Wilbur was watching you. It was clear he hadn’t slept. 

“Hey, love,” you smiled softly, “fancy seein’ you here, eh?” You spoke around and tried to ignore the cannula in your nostrils.

He didn’t laugh. “How-” he cleared his throat, “How are you feeling? You,” he was tense as he spoke, clearly uncomfortable by the hospital lighting raining over you both, “You’ve been out for a day and a half.”

You sighed, and your response was cut off before it began by a round of coughing so hard it felt like your lungs were trying to escape you. “Believe it or not,” you hummed out weakly, trying to clear your throat a bit, “Not the worst. Probably, on a scale of one to ten, a four or five.”

He sighed, and you took his hand, squeezing it tightly, “I’m alright, love. This has happened before.”

“Is it alright?” He almost whined, “Darling, the doctor said if we’d waited any longer to get you here, it could’ve been deadly. You could’ve died if I didn’t decide to stay home that day. You could still die if the bacteira doesn’t clear out fast enough, I-” he was breathing quickly, clearly panicking.

“Hey, hey, Wilbur,” you held his hand a bit tighter, trying to sit up and pull him close. Once you tried to move, it was like he snapped into action, moving his chair closer and keeping you from sitting up. You coughed, a bit lighter now, and he frowned again, holding your hand once more.

“Don’t move around too much, please. You need to save your energy.” “God, Wilbur, come on. I’ll be alright. I know you’re worried, but this is new for you. This is not new for me. I know it’s serious, but I promise you, I’ll be okay. I’m stronger than I look.”

Wilbur looked at you like you were delusional, but he didn’t respond. You reached your hand forward, lightly fixing his hair.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” you noted, gently placing your hand on his cheek.

He chuckled sardonically, “You are possibly the only person who would literally be hospitalized and worry more about me instead.”

You smiled fondly, “I’m used to all this,” you gestured at yourself and the hospital equipment scattered around you, “I’m also used to being there for you. And that’s not changing just because I’m here. C’mon,” you shifted, and Wilbur whined, standing and trying to help you.

“What are you doing, darling? Let me help.”

“I want to scoot over,” you shifted again, another round of coughing hitting you strongly, “‘n give you space to lay here with me.”

“You shouldn’t-” he sighed, not even really bothering to continue arguing. He moved his arms under you, gently moving you over, “I’m not supposed to be in there with you. The nurses-”

“I don’t care what the nurses say. I’m the ill one, so they have to let me do what I want. Now, come here. I want to hold you.”

He chuckled softly, carefully lying down next to you. He was a bit too tall for the bed, feet hanging off ever so slightly. But regardless, you curled up against his side, kissing his chest lightly. 

“I know you’re scared for me,” you spoke quietly, “but I promise you, it’s just a bad deal. I’ll be out sooner than you think.”

He nodded softly, kissing the top of your head. He managed to fall asleep a few minutes later, and you went with him. 

You were not out “sooner than you’d think”. It took a week before you were released. It was a grim week, doctors telling you about “Pseudomonas aeruginosa” and trying different things, from oxygen masks to humidifiers to loosen the mucus, to numerous medications. Wilbur wasn’t allowed to stay in bed with you the whole time, but he was always by your side.

“You know,” you’d told him one day, both of you eating some random cafeteria food, “I think when we get back home, we should paint the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smiled, but the tenseness surrounding his opinion of hospitals and illness in general didn’t fade away, “What color?”

You smiled cheekily, “Well, now, hear me out. I’m thinkin’ like… a neon pink.”

He laughed, sputtering a bit, “Neon pink? Why?”

“I just think it’d be a good way to brighten our days. I mean, imagine,” you paused, coughs leaking into your words, “we wake up, it’s raining outside, right? We go to make coffee, and bam! Instead of a normal, boring kitchen, our days have gone from cold and gloomy to bright and exciting.”

He laughed a bit, gently playing with your hair, “Hm, maybe. We’ll consider it, once you’re back home.”

You smiled at the note of him acknowledging that you’d be coming home. 

That night you hadn’t been able to sleep, body wracked with coughing all night as nurses and doctors alike worked to try and find a solution.

The next day was better. Mid day, you sat halfway down the bed, Wilbur sitting behind you. He’d brought some hair products since you’d complained about how dry your hair felt from the hospital’s shampoo and conditioner. He carefully combed through your hair, helping apply a leave-in conditioner to help your hair. A nurse walked in with your medication, but you smiled upon seeing her. She was one of the nicer nurses, went by the name Puffy. She never made Wilbur move out from bed, and you quickly preferred her to the other nurses. 

“Alright, it’s meds time, kiddo,” she joked lightly, bringing in your medication and a glass of water.

You reached for it, Wilbur briefly stopping his hair brushing. The medicine wasn’t hard to take, thankfully you’d gotten quite used to it over the years. She smiled, speaking while you took it.

“Last night was a scare for sure, but, you’re getting better. I suspect a few more days before they get you out of here.”

You smiled at her, “Hey, if we give it a bit longer, I could hit a new personal record.”

She laughed at that, but Wilbur clearly didn’t appreciate the joke, one hand coming to wrap around your lower waist. 

She left shortly after, but Wilbur didn’t move from his place against you. 

“You’ll get better,” he murmured softly, placing a gentle kiss on your head, “Soon, you’ll get better.” He kissed your head again, wrapping his arms further against you. You leaned back into him fully, sighing and letting yourself relax.

When you did get released from the hospital, Wilbur was there for everything. He got your medications, making sure he had a timer set for exactly when you needed to take the antibiotics. He took care of you every step of the way, making sure to be by your side. With his help, it wasn’t long before the infection cleared up, and his earlier words, his notion of getting better, were soon a reality.