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satansapostle6 · 13 days

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Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

“This Night Has Opened My Eyes”

“Losing My Religion”

Sara Walter ran down the stairs with a reluctant weight to her steps; she and Lauren Do had had a sleepover the Saturday night before that involved a bottle of wine, prescriptions that weren’t under either of their names, and Uptown Girls. How Sara wished she could’ve been a Brittany Murphy blonde instead of a Courtney Love blonde.

She all but rolled herself down the stairs and opened her front door, not at all expecting who she found.

“Hey, Sara.”

She was stunned. Flabbergasted. Even a little offended.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she murmured, actually taken aback.

“I decided to leave Boston,” Tyler Hayden announced.

“Yeah, I see that,” Sara said, not giving him the welcome with open arms he was hoping for.

“Sara, I hated it there,” he confessed to her.

“And why’s that?” she crossed her arms.

“I, it just… It was fine. Better than fine, actually,” her ex-boyfriend admitted. “But there was just something wrong with it,” he said, caring a little too much about his little speech.

“What was wrong with it?” Sara asked through gritted teeth.

“I—”

That was all Tyler could say before their conversation was interrupted.

“Oh my God! Is that Tyler?!”

Sara winced with discomfort as Tyler smiled and waved to her mother, enjoying the attention far too much.

“Hi, Destiny,” Tyler greeted her.

He was the only person Sara had ever known who was allowed to call her mother by her name.

“What are you doing back here, I thought you moved to Boston,” Sara’s mother remarked.

“Oh, I decided to come back home,” Tyler stated, glancing over at Sara with an uncomfortable longing, “I… missed it here.”

“Well, welcome back,” Sara’s mother beamed. “Hope I’ll be seeing more of you.”

There was a lot of subtext here. Sara rolled her eyes, knowing her mother never liked Rodrick even though she barely interacted with him.

“That’s the plan,” Tyler responded brightly, once again sounding far too hopeful.

“Well I certainly hope it works out.”

Destiny Sharpe smiled as she walked away up the stairs, and Sara shot him a look.

“What the fuck. I told you if you ever came back not to look for me,” she said with a deep severity.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Tyler apologized, “But I just had to see you… There’s so much I want to say to you…”

This hurt Sara the most because out of everyone she’d ever been with, excluding her ex-girlfriend Nadine, Tyler was the one whose apology would’ve meant the most to her. Had it not been for his own gain. Sara hated looking at Tyler in that moment, with his almost shaggy nineties ‘good boy’ hair, and his almost preppy oversized sweater.

Sara absolutely hated that he looked like Milo Thatch; it was what she couldn’t resist about him. He was the ‘good boy’, despite some of his behavior, and she was ‘bad girl’.

“Then say it,” Sara said painfully, before they were interrupted one more time.

“Hey, Sar, I think you’re out of…”

There was a deafening silence at the end of that sentence when Lauren stopped at the bottom of the stairs, realizing who was at the door.

“Oh, god, I can’t do this, I have too much hangxiety,” Lauren announced, before bolting past Tyler right out the door.

Sara just sighed, wishing she could do the same as Tyler just looked at her.

“Sara, I think you know exactly why I’m here,” he told her.

“Don’t…”

“I’m sorry. I regret how I left. I miss you, I wanna be with you,” he begged her desperately.

“You called me a drug addict!” Sara shouted.

“No, I didn’t,” he said sadly, “It was in the heat of the moment, and I called you Amy Winehouse—”

“That’s even worse, you know how much I love her!” she exclaimed.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he pleaded, “I never should’ve said those things.”

“Well, you did, and you can’t undo that damage,” Sara stated firmly, “Now, I have a boyfriend, still, I think, who I love very much, so you need to get out of here!”

“I’ll leave if you tell me you don’t love me,” Tyler said dramatically.

She just blinked her eyes in complete shock, unsure of how to even react.

“What?!” she yelled at him more loudly than she had yelled in a very long time.

“If you can look me in the eyes, and tell me I’m not the one for you, that you wanna marry, and have kids with, and whatever else, I’ll leave!” Tyler announced. “Because that’s what you are to me!”

“Okay, fine then,” Sara agreed emphatically, “I don’t love you anymore!”

Evidently, this was not the outcome Tyler was expecting, and he was thrown.

“What?” he questioned.

“I don’t love you!” Sara cried, still flabbergasted. “You’re months too late! This might’ve worked in August, but not anymore! Go away!”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked desperately. “I feel like there was still something between us when I left—”

“Yeah. There was,” she nodded. “And then you left. With no regard for me, or how I felt. I don’t hate you, Tyler, but I don’t even like you. Coming here was a mistake.”

“I don’t believe that,” he expressed.

“That’s what’s wrong with you; you see what you wanna see,” Sara said coolly. “Now, I have a boyfriend, and… I love him. So there’s nothing for us to talk about. I wish you the best. Goodbye. Forever.”

Sara waited patiently, as Tyler Hayden stood at her doorstep, slowly coming to terms with reality.

“I’m gonna miss you, Sara.”

“I spent months missing you, to no avail. Now it’s your turn,” she informed him, before slowly closing the front door on him.

Knowing on some level that Tyler was still standing on the other side of the door, processing at his own speed, Sara exhaled deeply, letting out a pathetic, shaky sigh as she sank to the ground. Unfortunately, this moment was less of a rom-com moment and more of a Girl, Interrupted moment.

Why everything had to be happening at once, she had no idea. She hadn’t expected Tyler Hayden, of all people, to randomly show up back in Plainview on her doorstep. And now that he did, all she knew for sure was that she wanted to be with Rodrick. No one else, ever again, just Rodrick.

Sara sat hopelessly on the ground, struggling to breathe as she was overwhelmed my a mixture of hangxiety and life. Despite what she had said to Tyler, she didn’t know if she still had a boyfriend in Rodrick. She didn’t know if he still wanted to date her, or if he’d forgive her after the way she’d ran out on him without a word this entire time.

She knew, on some level, that most of this was all in her head, and she just needed to go and talk to Rodrick, but at this point, she had no idea how. One little incident, and she’d run off never to be heard from again. This all was too much for her at the moment, but Sara knew that the one thing she could never expect from life was a break.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Sara?” her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Do what?” Sara said through gritted teeth, not at all in the mood for this.

“Why do you always make the worst possible choices?” Destiny Sharpe asked her.

“What are you talking about?” Sara stared.

“I’m talking about Tyler. The only boyfriend you’ve ever had who’s worth a damn,” Destiny reasoned. “He just told you he wanted to give things a shot again, and you turned him down?”

“I have a boyfriend, Mom,” Sara said in disbelief.

“A loser who plays in a shitty metal band who can’t even spell isn’t much of a boyfriend,” Destiny reminded her.

“Oh, so that’s what this is. You hate Rodrick so much you’d rather I get back with the guy who broke my heart,” she nodded, enraged.

“At least Tyler can make up for his faults,” she said softly.

“You know what, Mom, Rodrick has done more for me, and you, than you’ll ever understand,” Sara scoffed, standing up. “I’ve only had one boyfriend who’s both accepted me for who I am, and encouraged me to be better. I’ve only had one boyfriend who’s taken Connor to the movies with his friends, or gone so far as to yell at his mom in defense of me, and our family, and it wasn’t Tyler! You take Rodrick for granted! And frankly, so do I these days!” she spat angrily.

“Sara, you can do so much better,” her mother responded persistently.

“You, of all people, have no right to say that to me,” Sara assured her, storming off to her bedroom.

Sara had made up her mind. She’d taken a shower and cleaned herself up to drive herself over to Rodrick’s to apologize. It was all she could think about, consuming her every thought. She had to make things right; she was determined.

The moment she arrived at the Heffleys’, she ran out of the car to the door, sighing to herself and ensuring she was calm enough before she knocked. Unfortunately, she was not in luck when the door opened.

“Oh. Sara,” Susan Heffley breathed, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Hi, Mrs. Heffley,” Sara Walter greeted her awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

“Come in,” the woman said automatically, unsure of what else to do.

“Thanks,” Sara said quietly, accepting the invitation.

She entered the house apprehensively as Susan shut the door behind her, looking around nervously.

“Rodrick’s upstairs,” Susan told her, “I can go and get him if you’d like.”

“Yes, please, thank you,” Sara said politely.

“But… before I do, sweetie, I, um…” the words were difficult for her to get out. “I’m really sorry, Sara. For the horrible things that I said that night, about you, and your family,” she apologized.

“It’s okay,” Sara said quickly, not really wanting to talk about it.

“No, it’s really not,” Susan admitted. “I said before I’d stop judging and respect you and your family. And I certainly didn’t keep that promise. I was rude, and cruel, and extremely superficial. I behaved like a monster, and I’m really ashamed of myself,” she offered genuinely.

“It’s okay… Some of the things you said weren’t that far off,” Sara murmured.

“Oh, that’s not true,” Susan seemed sad to hear her say so. “Listen, you and Rodrick… You do a lot of questionable things. And that stuff will be dealt with. But the way I talked to you… That was unforgivable. Especially considering how much you love Rodrick, and our family. I was unappreciative, and ungrateful, and judgmental. You’re one of us now. And I should have known better, as an adult. I’m sorry, Sara,” she tried to bridge the gap.

Sara nodded slowly, appreciating the genuine effort that she had never put in before.

“Thank you, Susan. That means a lot.”

“Of course,” she nodded, relieved that they agreed. “I’ll go tell Rodrick you’re here.”

Susan Heffley disappeared upstairs for a moment, leaving Sara alone in the foyer. Soon enough, because they were in the Heffley house, someone else came practically bolting down the stairs a moment later.

“Sara?!” Greg realized, eyes wide as he came down the stairs. “I knew I heard your voice!”

“Hey, kiddo,” Sara smiled softly, giving him a gentle hug.

“I missed you,” Greg sighed with relief.

Sara was one of the few people he actually hugged of his own accord.

“I missed you, too,” she mumbled, “More than you know.”

Greg went back upstairs after a minute, and eventually, Susan came back downstairs, just before Rodrick slowly appeared in the hall outside his bedroom door. He just stood there, in his old white T-shirt, beyond relieved to see Sara. It felt like it had been years. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and she was relieved that he wasn’t angry with her.

“Rodrick, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, the saddest look in her eyes.

His dark eyes just locked onto hers as he realized everything was going to be alright.

“It’s okay,” he breathed, coming downstairs immediately.

She didn’t have to say anything else. She sighed exhaustedly as he wrapped her in the most warm, loving hug he could, just like they used to do all the time. Both were just happy to feel whole again as they found their way back together. Sara couldn’t explain what happened in that moment.

It was just a shared moment of clarity; both of them knew then exactly what was important, and what didn’t matter.

#rodrick #rodrick heffley #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #doawk rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #doawk #rodrick x reader #rodrick fanfic #devon bostick

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satansapostle6 · 14 days

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Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

“Black Hole Sun”

“This Night Has Opened My Eyes”

Rodrick hadn’t gone to school for almost a whole week. No one had even seen him apart from his father and brothers(he had been refusing to acknowledge his mother’s presence ever since the incident).

Susan had since apologized for what she’d said about and to Sara Walter, but Rodrick refused to accept her many apologies so long as they didn’t include an admission of guilt. Although Susan was sympathetic to his pain, she still did not quite apologize for her role in the re-traumatizing of Sara, who still hadn’t spoken to him since everything that had happened at the Heffley house.

There was a gentle knock on Rodrick Heffley’s bedroom door as his father entered the room with dinner, concerned.

“Rodrick,” Frank Heffley said, cautiously entering room.

“Go away,” Rodrick mumbled, hidden under blankets and pillows alike.

“I brought you some spaghetti, and garlic bread,” he attempted entice him. “Your mom made your favorite.”

“Tell her I’m not hungry,” Rodrick said emptily.

“Rodrick. You haven’t eaten since last night,” his father stated, concerned. “You need to eat something. I’m getting concerned.”

“I’m not hungry,” he repeated.

Frank sighed, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “This isn’t healthy… Is there something else you’re hungry for? Maybe I can go pick something up.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll get you Taco Bell. Or McDonald’s! How does a happy meal sound?” he asked hopefully.

But Rodrick didn’t seem very receptive.

“What am I, four?”

“It was worth a shot.”

Frank looked at the lump beneath the covers, fully aware Rodrick hadn’t showered in about two days, and was so upset he refused to even listen to music, any music: it just all reminded him too much of Sara.

“Look, I know Your mom’s really sorry about what happened the other day. She’s apologized multiple times now, you know,” he reminded him.

“No, she hasn’t,” Rodrick insisted. “Not really.”

Rodrick heard nothing as Frank remained in the room for another moment, setting the plate of food down on the floor before silently leaving. Rodrick thought he knew where his father was going; back downstairs, and eventually upstairs again for bed, but he was wrong.

“I’m stepping out,” Frank Heffley announced to his family, before grabbing his jacket and leaving.

“For what?” Susan Heffley questioned, not receiving an answer.

*****

Frank knocked on the door, praying for an answer. After a few moments, the door opened, as he whispered a frantic thanks to whatever beings did or didn’t exist. But another obstacle was revealed.

“What do you want?” a voice said coldly.

“Bill,” Frank realized, immediately feeling incredibly guilty.

“That’s me,” Bill said stiffly.

Clearly, he’d heard everything, or at least enough.

“Bill, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sighed, hanging his head in shame.

“Don’t tell me,” he responded laconically.

“See, that’s what I could use your help with,” Frank said, thrilled to be finally getting somewhere, “I want to tell your sister. Please.”

“Why should I let anyone in your family anywhere near her?” Bill demanded, his paternal instincts toward his younger sister kicking in. “All you Heffleys do is judge people, and hurt people. My sister’s barely left her room in a fucking week, and she won’t drink anything that’s not wine, or vodka.”

“Yes, I know,” Frank promised him humbly, “But I wanna fix that… Please. Just let me speak to her,” he begged Bill.

“Why? So you can just call us white trash again?” he asked expectantly.

“Words cannot express how awful I feel about that, Bill,” Frank breathed. “I know that Susan and I have both spoken ill about your family on multiple occasions… and I know that I’ve never made an effort to make you feel welcome in our home even though you’ve always been nothing but kind to us. It’s unfair, and I’m sorry,” he apologized.

Bill still had nothing to say as he studied him, wondering whether the apology was sincere.

“You and your sister have proven to be nothing but friends to our family, and we’ve spat in your faces every time,” Frank said guiltily. “I know I can’t make up for that kind of close-minded, immature behavior… But I wanna try. Please,” he begged.

Bill Walter stood there, silent, for a moment, considering his options before eventually opening the door out of kindness, despite the fact that he probably didn’t deserve it.

“Fine. If not for me, then for my sister.”

“Yes! Thank you! Thank you so much!” Frank gasped, eagerly following him inside.

“Who’s this asshole?” Randy called from his armchair.

“He’s probably thinking the same thing!” Bill shouted back as he silently led Frank to Sara’s bedroom.

Frank looked back awkwardly at the unpleasant man, not quite sure what to think. Bill knocked on his younger sister’s door, waiting for a response. “Sara?”

“Yeah?” she called.

“…Mr. Heffley’s here to see you,” Bill informed her.

“…Huh?”

“Mr. Heffley’s here to see you,” he echoed. “He wants to apologize. He seems pretty serious about it…”

Sara quickly opened her bedroom door, seeming to have been laying on her bed, drawing. Frank couldn’t help notice with his keen father’s eyes that she looked awful; her hair was a mess, her makeup didn’t look like it was all applied today, and beneath her eyes, black smudges were married with dark circles.

“Does he?” she asked sharply, cold eyes fixed on Frank.

“Yes,” the man nodded earnestly, “He does.”

Sara studied him for a moment, before turning back to her brother. “Leave us.”

“Are you sure?” Bill asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” she nodded, eyes fixed on Frank as Bill just walked away, knowing better than to question his sister.

Sara opened the door wider as Frank gingerly stepped inside, not knowing how to go about this interaction. She shut the door, crossing her arms expectantly.

“How are you doing, Sara?” he asked kindly, genuinely worried after having seen the state of her.

“I haven’t slept in three days,” she remarked. “So. Let’s hear it,” she said, sounding less confrontational than Frank had anticipated, given that she was more than entitled to her feelings of rage.

“Sara, I… I want to apologize. For Susan, and for myself,” he said slowly as she just listened. “We were judgmental, and unwelcoming, and unfair.”

“‘We’?” Sara asked.

“I’m equally to blame,” Frank nodded earnestly. “I should’ve stepped in more whenever Susan got angry at you. You did nothing to deserve that.”

“You’re right,” she said softly.

“Listen… I don’t want you to think we haven’t noticed the difference you’ve made in Rodrick’s life lately,” he told her. “Because we do. I do. He’s happier, and calmer, and he cares more, about school, and his brothers…”

“Then why did Susan say I’m a bad influence?” Sara demanded, as Frank prepared himself for the question.

“Sara…” he was afraid he didn’t have the words in his vocabulary to explain why she had been made his family’s scapegoat. “Rodrick and his mother have always had a very complicated relationship. She wants the best for him, and he wants her to back off,” Frank said.

“You know I’m not the best,” Sara reminded him. “I’ll never be.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he interjected logically.

Sara paused for a moment, taking in what he said.

“Look, I know about what you and Rodrick do; you’re kids; both of you. Of course you’re gonna do all that stuff,” he admitted.

“But?”

“But, Sara, you’re a good kid,” Frank told her. “…My sons love you. All of them,” he expressed.

Sara’s gaze softened as she took in his point.

“Manny adores you; you’re one of the only people he still lets pick him up. And Greg thinks very highly of you,” he continued, “Greg’s thirteen; he doesn’t think highly of anything.”

“What’s your point?” she asked quietly.

“My point is, that we’ve taken you for granted,” Frank summarized. “Your influence on Rodrick, and our family, has only been positive, if anything.”

“And what do you want me to do?” she asked tearfully, a look of frustration in her bloodshot eyes. “Your wife hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Frank insisted sympathetically, “She doesn’t know you.”

“She doesn’t want to,” Sara insisted. “She thinks I’m trash. End of story.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Frank tried to convince her as she just stood there, a pained expression on her face. “Sara. Do you really want this to be the end of you and Rodrick?”

She was silent as she considered his question, her chest tightening.

“I’m not saying the two of you will definitely last forever,” Frank offered thoughtfully, trying to sound realistic, “But… is a little conflict gonna stop you from finding out for sure?” he asked, hopeful that she’d listen.

Sara looked up at Frank, a pain in the child’s eyes he wished he could heal.

“You can leave now,” she said with finality.

Frank tilted his head in confusion, unsure of what to make of her sudden conclusion of their conversation.

“Sara.”

“You said your piece,” she stated, looking more tired than anything. “I heard what you have to say.”

He was strangely shocked by her response.

“If you want me to go, I’ll go,” he agreed reluctantly, respecting her wishes with his hand on the doorknob. “But, remember. If you break Rodrick’s heart, our whole family goes down with him. That’s the kind of family we are.”

Sara’s eyes followed him as he left the room, leaving her to her thoughts.

*****

“This sucks,” Greg Heffley sighed, watching the edit of his and Rowley’s video of them on their bikes at the skatepark.

“Why can’t we get it right?” Rowley complained pitifully.

“Because. Sara always helps with these,” Greg reminded him as he flopped down onto his bed. “She always helps pick the clips, and the music.”

“We know good music,” Rowley insisted optimistically.

“No, we don’t,” Greg gave up. “Not like Sara. And even if we did, we still wouldn’t be able to use it as good as her.”

“What do we do to get her back?” his friend asked.

“Get a new mom?” Greg offered the only suggestion he could come up with.

He found he had meant that a bit too much.

“I miss Sara. Having you and Rodrick is like having brothers,” Rowley thought wistfully, “But having Sara is like having a sister.”

“Yeah,” Greg agreed, feeling the words deeply.

The two of them were sharing a rather melancholy moment, at least before their silence was drowned out by the increasing sounds of screaming coming from the garage. Rodrick and the guys had been practicing for their gig this weekend at a backyard party, and it seemed like they were reaching for peak of their song. Until it didn’t.

“Dude!”

“What the fuck?!”

“-Some dumb ass fucking shit—!”

Greg looked around in confusion as he tried to rational the snippets that he was hearing coming from downstairs.

“Are they fighting?” he wondered out loud.

“They play metal,” Rowley reminded him.

“No, this is different from that,” Greg said, leaving to go check on his brother’s band.

Rowley followed him down to the garage, and it seemed he was right. Something was going on between Rodrick, Chris, and Ben, worse than anything that had happened in a while.

“Fuck you, you’re being a fucking asshole!” Ben shouted angrily.

“Should we be down here?” Rowley questioned anxiously.

Greg just ignored him as they watched from the doorway. The guys hadn’t even noticed them, they were so caught up in the drama.

“I’m not an asshole, you’re just a fucking dick, dude!” Rodrick shouted back, seeming genuinely upset.

“Whatever!” Ben cried. “Your set list is shit!”

“Guys, let’s all just chill! I think everything’s getting a little outta hand,” Bill reminded his band mates.

“Yeah, guys, let’s chill,” Chris agreed, also uncomfortable.

“Shut the fuck up, Chris!” Ben snapped.

“Hey, you shut the fuck up,” Rodrick demanded, suddenly threatening him with an abandoned drumstick, “Or I’m gonna fucking snap your neck—!”

Greg turned in horror to see his mother hurriedly rushing past him and Rowley.

“Hey, what is going on here?!” Susan questioned.

“Nothing, Mom, Ben’s just about to get rocked.”

“Rodrick Heffley, don’t you hit anyone in this house!” Susan scolded him.

“Right,” Rodrick nodded, not missing a beat, “Let’s take this outside, you little bitch!”

“Rodrick!” Susan Heffley shrieked.

“Everybody, let’s just take a fucking chill pill!” Bill exclaimed, extremely tense.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down, this is my house!” Rodrick shouted over him.

“Actually, this is my house, and I will not tolerate violence, or frankly, any of the language that’s being used!” Susan interrupted.

Rodrick glared at Ben with a hatred that had been building up and simmering for years, chucking one of the drumsticks in his hand over Ben’s head.

“Rodrick!” Susan cried, horrified at his behavior. “Don’t throw things at people!”

Greg and Rowley watched, kind of scared, as the situation began to escalate.

“Yeah! Listen to your mommy, Rodrick!” Ben taunted. “Don’t throw things at people!”

“Fuck you, you fucking loser!” he boomed.

“Rodrick! Upstairs, now!” Susan yelled.

“Come on, Rod!” Ben jeered. “Be a good little bitch!”

“Ben, shut the fuck up!” Chris said impatiently.

“I’ll make you my bitch!” he fired back.

“Guys! Enough!” Bill began to lose his temper.

“All of you, there are other people in this house,” Susan reminded them, “If you can’t be respectful, then leave.”

“We’re really sorry, Mrs. Heffley,” Bill apologized hastily as he eyed all of his band mates, “We’ll stop bothering you guys. It won’t happen again.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Heffley,” Chris added courteously, “We’ll stop.”

“Yeah, we’ll be quiet, Mrs. Heffley,” Ben promised, completely full of shit.

She eyed the group of boys skeptically before deciding to take their word for it. “Okay. But one more disturbance, and none of you are welcome here ever again. Got it?” she asked the room.

“Got it,” Bill promised.

“Yes,” Chris assured her kindly.

“Got it,” Ben nodded.

“Okay. Thank you,” Susan said, slowly turning around as she wanted nothing to do with the group of boys.

Rodrick, who had been silent and plotting the entire time, glowered hatefully in Ben’s direction before making up his mind and chucking the one lone drumstick left in his hand straight at Ben’s head, which was met with an immediate hothead reaction.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Ben hollered as a fully fledged fight broke out.

Before anyone could do anything, Ben was charging Rodrick, who had decided to go all in and angrily leapt over the drum set at him and tackled him to the ground with a loud thrashing of the cymbals. Chris was in shock and Bill jumped in, almost dog piling on top of them to pull Rodrick off of Ben.

Susan screamed for her husband as Greg and Rowley froze, no clue as to what they were supposed to do. Rowley was spooked like a cat, and Greg found himself having a desire to go home despite already being there.

“I don’t like this!” Rowley wailed.

“Me neither,” Greg agreed, not having much else to offer.

But Rowley was completely distraught.

“Sara wouldn’t let this happen!”

“Losing My Religion”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick fanfic #rodrick rules #rodrick x reader #doawk rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick x y/n #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick heffley x reader #devon bostick

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satansapostle6 · 1 month

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The World Was On Fire And No One Could Save Me But You | D.M.

Warnings: Language. Violence. Mature Themes. Smut.

As Lord Voldemort rises to power, Death Eater legacies such as Draco Malfoy and Elise Selwyn are forced to join their ranks. Desperate to return his family to the Dark Lord’s good graces, Draco Malfoy is forced to fight alongside Elise in a war they never wanted any part in.

Part III

Part IV: A Shared Sin

The war was reaching Hogwarts. Security had been increased seemingly tenfold over the summer, and everyone just seemed miserable. Professor Slughorn had come out of retirement to teach Potions, and Professor Snape had finally been granted the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

I sat a few seats down the Slytherin table from Draco at dinner, and he seemed completely miserable. His ex-girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, sat beside him, trying to coax him out of his mood. Evidently, it didn't work.

“Well, let's just hope Draco keeps his priorities straight. If he doesn't kill Dumbledore, he's fucked," I pointed out.

"You all kind of would be," he reminded me.

"Yes, thank you for the reminder," I said wryly. "We'll be fine, because I can do it if I have to, no problem. I just hope it doesn't come to that. For his sake."

"Yeah... He seems pretty determined, though," Blaise commented.

“He's desperate," I disagreed, "There's a difference."

Blaise and I both ate in silence for the rest of the night. Neither of us were really talkers unless it came to casual gossip, which was why we got on so well. I left the Great Hall alone that night, heading out behind all the other Slytherins, before I felt someone walk up from behind me.

"Come with me," Draco Malfoy said in a low murmur.

"Why? Feel like paralyzing another orphan?" I quipped.

"Just shut up and follow me," he snapped.

I huffed exhaustedly, looking all around, making sure that no one was watching us before I followed him up the staircase.

“Fuck! Pansy’s coming!” Draco whispered. “No one can know about this! What do we do?!”

I looked down the corridor, seeing Parkinson as she started to come up behind us. I knew she’d be suspicious if she just saw the two of us lurking around at night. Thinking quickly, I went along with the first idea that popped into my head.

I sloppily threw my arms around Draco’s neck, pressing my face against his as I half-heartedly kissed him. He was shocked, initially protesting, but he quickly adapted so as to sell it to his ex, who knew him well. I was fairly surprised at how well he sold it. If I didn’t know any better, I would have been convinced he wanted me.

Draco wrapped his arms around me, frantically running his hands all over my back as he aggressively attacked my lips, praying Pansy believed that we were just snogging behind the pillar. I resisted the instinctive urge to slap him as his hands came to my waist, pawing at me the way I’m sure he had Parkinson and other Slytherin girls.

I eventually pulled away, slowly peeking around the corner to ensure that Pansy Parkinson was gone. Draco sighed with relief, the two of us slowly calming down after having one another’s tongues down our throats. Draco seemed to still need some calming down after a moment. The kiss had left him reeling, one way or another.

“Come on,” I told him urgently as he begrudgingly followed me up to the seventh floor.

“That was disgusting,” he muttered unnecessarily.

I refused to let his childish pettiness remain unmatched.

“Tell that to the roast you had for dinner,” I scoffed.

I didn't say another word as he followed me angrily.

“The Room of Requirement?" I looked up at him once he stopped.

He nodded silently, standing still in front of the blank wall. He didn't have an issue getting the large metal doors to magically appear. They opened and we both stepped through, overly conscious of our surroundings the entire time. We discreetly walked into the room, the doors shutting behind us as a room full of clutter and strange artifacts appeared by magic.

I finally spoke up. "What exactly is your plan, Malfoy?"

“You'll see," was all he had to say.

We maneuvered our way through the mountains of clutter toward a tall, dark wardrobe. He stopped in front of it, looking down at me expectantly. I examined it carefully, slowly running my hand along the smooth material.

“It’s magic," I understood immediately. "A Vanishing Cabinet?" I guessed.

Draco nodded. "Yeah. I'm going to fix it. That's how I'm getting the others in here."

"Does it... connect to somewhere?" I deduced.

"There's another one in Borgin & Burke's," he informed me.

"Hmm. Solid plan," I commended.

“You're going to help me mend this one, so that they form a passage," he added, staring at the cabinet. “That’s how you’ll be of use.”

I looked at him curiously.

“You're actually going to accept my help?" I questioned.

"I don't have a choice," he muttered, still not taking his eyes off of the Vanishing Cabinet. "I can't afford to fuck this up."

“I'm glad we agree," I said softly.

"Do you know anything about mending these types of things?" he digressed, hyper-focused.

"A few things," I considered. "I've never worked with one of these before, but I think I know how they're fixed. I've seen similar things brought in at work."

"You work for your father?" Malfoy asked me.

I nodded. "I work at his warehouse in the summers."

"Why?" he questioned. "You don't need the money."

“No, but the experience and the connections don't hurt," I rationalized.

He nodded. "So. Do you know what we need to do this?"

"Yeah. And it's definitely in this room," I pointed out.

“How do we find it?" he asked me.

“Simple," I responded, looking at the table behind me.

His eyes were fixed on the same spot as mine, and he saw as all of the necessary materials were suddenly on the small wooden table in front of us.

"You know, you're not as useless as I thought, Selwyn," Draco breathed.

"Hmm. And you're not as stupid as I thought," I offered.

He just looked at me, scowling resentfully as he looked down at the various tools and materials.

“So. Are we going to fix this damn thing, or are we going to stand around talking for the rest of the night?" he asked impatiently.

I just sighed, looking down at the items laid out on the table.

“Well. Let's get to it," I smiled sarcastically.

He gave me a nod of approval, and we got to work, first attempting to diagnose the problem with the Vanishing Cabinet.

#draco fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #hpdm #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x reader angst #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #enemies to lovers

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satansapostle6 · 1 month

Text

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

“Break Stuff”

“Black Hole Sun”

“Mom, I cleaned my room yesterday!”

“No, you did not, young man!”

Sara Walter sat patiently on the stairs of the Heffley house, arms crossed lazily as she listened to her boyfriend arguing with his mother for the second time that day.

“Mom! I cleaned my room right after you told me to! Greg saw me!” Rodrick exclaimed, looking up the stairs for support. “Hey! Greg! Greg!”

Susan Heffley sighed, exasperated as she heard her younger son’s voice respond.

“Yeah?!”

Greg ran down the stairs with Rowley in an instant, worried he was about to get in trouble with either Rodrick or his mom. He stood on the stairs just behind where Sara was sitting, as Rowley Jefferson stood behind him, waiting patiently.

“Did I, or did I not, clean my room yesterday when Mom told me to?” Rodrick asked expectantly.

“You did,” Greg said after a moment of thought, “I saw you.”

Rodrick threw up his hands at the revelation, looking back to Susan. “I told you so.”

“Well, if you did clean your room yesterday, you didn’t do a very good job,” she smiled sarcastically. “Clean it again.”

“But, Mom!”

“‘But’ nothing, it’s a pigsty in there,” Susan insisted in disgust.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s only a few shirts and jackets on the bed.”

“Rodrick,” Sara mumbled, “It’s fine, we can go after—”

“Then it won’t be that hard to pick them up!” she argued, cutting Sara off.

“But, I’m supposed to take Sara out for sushi!” Rodrick complained. “I saved up all month…”

“You’re not going anywhere if you don’t clean your room,” Susan repeated.

“Can’t I just clean it after?!”

“Rodrick, it’s fine,” Sara whispered, silently pleading with him.

“You know, Rodrick, I’m getting real sick of this attitude of yours,” she said crossly, “Ever since you started hanging around Sara, you’ve been irritable and rude. I think she’s a bad influence on you, Rodrick.”

Sara looked up at Susan with her mouth sitting agape, a look of disbelief in her eyes.

“But, Mom,” Greg spoke up, as Rowley began to seem visibly afraid, “Sara hasn’t even said anything this whole time—”

“Greg, this is between me and your brother,” Susan stated sharply, as Rowley pointedly backed up up the stairs.

“Sara has nothing to do with this!” Rodrick just stared at her.

“Hey, guys,” Frank Heffley’s voice cut in.

Everyone turned to see Frank standing by the stairs, confused by the fact that his entire household was gathered near the front door just before dinner time.

“What’s going on?” he questioned.

Susan was the first to speak, as Rowley and Sara were both equally uncomfortable as guests in the Heffley house.

“Your son is refusing to re-clean his room before he leaves the house with his girlfriend,” Susan explained promptly.

“…But, I just saw his room, there’s just some clothes on the bed,” Frank said, before seeing the look of pure anger in his wife’s eyes.

Then, everyone was silent once again.

“Frank. Tell your son that he needs to respect my wishes, and that we feel his girlfriend has been a bad influence on him,” Susan spoke firmly.

“We do?” Frank questioned, feeling as if he’d missed something.

“Yes!”

“Hey, I can just leave,” Sara offered, standing up out of extreme discomfort.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Susan decided with a nod.

“No!” Rodrick cut in, angry on Sara’s behalf as she stood behind him. “You’re staying, and I’m gonna take you out for the best dinner ever!”

“Susan, maybe he can just clean his room once he gets home,” Frank offered a compromise, “You’ll be home before nine. Yes?” he asked with authority.

“Yes,” Rodrick nodded, growing frustrated with the situation.

“Absolutely not! He needs to learn responsibility!”

“He is learning responsibility!” Frank expressed. “And my stomach needs to learn what food is!”

“He hasn’t learned a thing!” Susan screamed back. “Not while he’s dating that—”

Greg’s face fell in horror, and his older brother was fuming. Sara stood behind Rodrick, experiencing more emotions than she cared to in the moment.

“While he’s dating that what, Mom?!” Rodrick shouted. “What is she, Mom?”

“She’s…” the woman just sighed. “She’s Bill.”

Rodrick’s eyes darkened with rage as everyone grew even more tense, if that was even possible.

Susan angrily shut her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. “Rodrick—“

“No. You don’t get to bash Sara, again, just because you’re pissed at me!”

“So Sara’s exempt from criticism, just because she’s your girlfriend?!”

“Jesus Christ!”

Everyone slowly turned in horror, seeing Sara sobbing as she remained beside Rodrick, who stood blocking the door, stained black tears running down her face.

“Can I please just leave?!” she screamed.

Her heart was beating faster than she could track it, and she was shaking profusely. Frank Heffley looked at her with pity as Greg and Rowley both started to get scared for her and Rodrick.

“No, babe,” Rodrick said, taking her hand, “We’re gonna sort this out.”

“Sort what out?!” Sara cried, “She’s never gonna like me! No matter what I do!”

“Well, why should I like you?!” Susan asked confrontationally. “You smell like cigarettes, and you do drugs with my son, and you put crazy ideas in his head!”

“Susan,” Frank said quietly, glancing up the stairs, “The kids…”

She was past the point of taking them into consideration.

“‘Crazy ideas’?!” Sara questioned. “What crazy ideas?!”

“That a 2.9 GPA is a good thing to have, for one!”

“That’s what this is about?!” Sara gasped. “Rodrick came over to my house, crying because you all but called him stupid! I told him he wasn’t stupid, how am I the asshole here?!”

“You cannot speak to me that way!” Susan thundered.

“And you can speak about me, and my family that way?!” Sara screamed.

“Oh, don’t play the victim!” Susan shouted. “Just because you’re the one with the white trash family, and the crazy mom, and the dead cousin, no one can criticize you!”

Sara’s eyes widened as she froze, every instinct in her body screaming at her to start swinging.

“Jesus Christ, Susan!” Frank exclaimed.

“No, I’m tired of it!” she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Sara as she froze, her fight or flight response beginning to kick in.

Evidently, ‘flight’ seemed to be the safer option when it came to your boyfriend’s mother.

“I’m tired of walking on eggshells around a seventeen year-old girl who used to do drink, and do drugs, and cut, and have sex with any boy who looked in her direction. My friend worked with her mother; even her own mother doesn’t like her! You should’ve heard the things she overheard!”

“Mom, stop!” Greg yelled.

But everything was already in motion. Sara had already forcibly pushed past Rodrick, and ran out the front door.

“Sara!”

Rodrick glared hatefully at his mother one last time before running out after her.

“Rodrick! Get back in here!” Susan shouted.

“Susan…!”

Frank didn’t even know what to say.

“What?!” she snapped furiously.

“Mom!” Greg cried, as Rowley ran up the stairs out of fear. “I love Sara!”

Susan looked up at her middle son in complete shock.

“What’s to like about a girl like that?!”

“Why do you hate her so much?!” Greg demanded.

“Because! She smokes, she drinks—”

“So does Rodrick!” he pointed out. “How is she any worse?!”

There was a pause as she tried to formulate a response.

“Mom, there was no reason to say that about her,” Greg sighed, hurt. “Sara loves Rodrick. And she loves us too.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Susan scoffed skeptically.

“Yes, she does!” Greg argued as his father just listened. “When she comes over, she asks you if she can give Manny candy, doesn’t she?”

There was no immediate answer to the question.

“When she comes over, she makes sure Rodrick does what he’s supposed to. She always makes sure he’s home on time when they go out. She asks me how school is, and she listens to my answer. She helped me with my history paper.

“She calls me names like ‘kid’ and ‘champ’ and ‘tiger’ because she thinks it’s funny. She told me if I ever wanna buy a girl jewelry, I have to know whether she likes gold or silver. She hugged Rowley for a full three minutes that time he came over after he heard his parents arguing,” Greg reminded her.

Susan was silent, not seeming to have any specific reaction to the case he’d made.

“Sara isn’t a bad influence on Rodrick. She’s the reason he’s happy. She’s the reason he hits me less and actually tries on his homework now,” Greg sighed. “Whatever‘s going on with you guys has nothing to do with her.”

Frank watched as his son ran back upstairs, taking one look at his wife before he ran outside.

“Sara! Sara!”

Rodrick was chasing her all down the block, breathless and terrified he was losing her.

“What?!” she demanded, still in tears.

“Come back!” he cried. “I’m sorry about my mom, let’s go back inside—”

“For what?!” Sara hissed, stopping as she slapped his hand away from her. “For her to just rub my family in my face again?! I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what?” he stared, terrified of what was coming next.

“Maybe your mom was right,” she sighed, not knowing what to think or feel.

“What?! You’re not a bad influence on me!” he cried.

“No. Not about that,” she gulped, her voice cracking. “I think she was right… I’m not like you. I’m white trash,” she scoffed, laughing coldly.

A sad look graced Rodrick’s features as he tried to disagree with her as adamantly as possible.

“Mental illness and addiction run in my family like red hair, or twins. My mom’s a piece of work, and my stepdad’s a deadbeat with nowhere else to be,” she admitted. “I… I’m on the same path as everyone else in my family; schizophrenia, and a bullet in the head. I’m not like you; I’m not gonna grow out of this, the smoking and the crazy; you have everything ahead of you, and everything is behind me,” she concluded, running a hand through her messy blonde hair as her world slowly began to collapse.

“That’s not true!” Rodrick protested. “Any of it! I love you, Sara! You’re the smartest person I know! You’re nice, you’re kind, and you’re funny, and you help me, and you’re, like, the sun…! And you revolve around me, or something…! Fuck, I’m stupid! Fuck! Why am I so stupid?!”

“I make Bill look like the responsible sibling!” Sara laughed hysterically. “I’m a plane that’s already headed down.”

“That’s not true,” Rodrick repeated, a hopeless look in his sad eyes. “I love you.”

“That’s why you don’t see it,” Sara concluded, completely burnt out as she just walked off to her car.

Rodrick watched her go, unable to come up with anything smart or profound.

“Sara?!” he called, afraid she was truly walking away. “Sara?!”

She didn’t respond.

“Sara!” he screamed. “Sara… Please don’t leave me here,” he begged her.

Frank Heffley came running up with Greg now trailing after him, both of them worried for Rodrick as he sank to his knees in the middle of the sidewalk. He didn’t know what else to do, breaking down completely as Frank tried to comfort his son.

“I’m so stupid!” Rodrick wailed, as strangers seemed either curious or too nervous to acknowledge. “I’m fucking stupid! Stupid!”

Greg grimaced, physically pained as he’d never seen his older brother like this before.

“FUCKING STUPID! STUPID, STUPID, STUPID! I’M FUCKING STUPID! STUPID…!”

“This Night Has Opened My Eyes”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #doawk rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick x reader #rodrick fanfic #rodrick x y/n #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick heffley x reader #devon bostick #doawk

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satansapostle6 · 1 month

Text

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part four.

part five.

Tiff shrieked loudly with laughter, feeling particularly drunk and high that Friday night. Cook was even higher as the two of them sat up in Tiff’s bed, drinking. They were both laughing hysterically as Cook slowly crawled over Tiffany’s body on the bed, his eyes dark with intoxication.

“Here comes the Cookie Monster!” Cook gave a toothy grin as Tiffany writhed with both amusement and discomfort at the same time.

“No, stop!” she cackled with laughter as he tickled her. “Cook! Stop it!”

He could hardly keep it together as he watched her squirm, alarmed by the sensation in her intoxicated state

“Tickle fight!” Cook announced, loving the attention.

Tiff couldn’t stop laughing against her own will, her skin feeling as if it were on fire wherever he touched her. She hated being tickled, but somehow, with Cook, it didn’t quite bother her in the same way; it didn’t come with that unsafe feeling it usually did, like being molested by an uncle. With Cook, it was just something funny.

Tiff panted heavily as his fingertips tickled her stomach, looking up at him as he was positioned over her body, looking into her eyes. He suddenly felt rather bashful as he saw her lightly panting underneath him, chest softly rising up and down with each breath. He slowly pulled himself off of her, allowing her a moment to compose herself as he did the same.

“You’re really fucking something, you know that?” James Cook said under his breath, eyes slowly raking over her.

“Cook. Stop it,” Tiff said, this time less playful as she involuntarily made a face.

“No, no, I’m serious,” he assured her. “I mean, like… you’re more than fit.”

“Thanks,” she replied curtly.

He loudly sucked his teeth in exasperation, frustrated as she didn’t seem to understand what he had meant by that.

“No, Tiff, I mean like… Your features and stuff, yeah?” he questioned, hoping she followed.

“What about them?” she inquired.

“They’re just… I don’t know. They look right,” he expressed, strangely impassioned, “You know?”

“My face looks right?”

“Stop being a tit!” Cook complained. “I’m trying to tell you… Your face… It’s just perfect-looking. Like, if I was to try and picture good eyes, or a good nose, or good bones, it would be yours, every time,” he breathed, in awe of her.

“You’re fucking pissed out of your mind,” she concluded, more than observant of the way he was slurring his words.

“I am,” he admitted, “Which means I’m being extra-honest!”

“But you also just want to shag me,” Tiff reasoned.

“Two things can be true at once, can’t they?” he pointed out. “I can want to get you naked and think you’re beautiful. Wouldn’t I want to shag you because you’re beautiful?”

Tiff stopped for a moment, a satisfied grin on her face.

“The Cook thinks I’m ‘beautiful’?” she concluded.

She was delighted to watch as a look of realization slowly took over his features as he caught his mistake.

“Did I use that word?!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, you did!” Tiff cackled triumphantly.

“Shut the fuck up!” Cook complained, angrily tossing a pillow at her.

She caught it with ease, fully aware of the fact that he’d made it seem like he’d thrown it harder than he had. That was the thing with Cook; he always made his throws look harder than they were. The only reason Tiff hadn’t written him off when they’d first met as just another shallow, thoughtless wanker who could’ve cared less about her was because of the way he treated her.

Yes, Cook was wild, and funny, and playful, but he was rarely mean-spirited. Cook’s behavior was hardly ever targeted; it was just impulsive and essentially coincidental. Most boys Tiff had known would constantly be tearing others down or trying to prove themselves superior in every wild, crazy thing they did. That wasn’t necessarily the case with Cook.

Cook hurting someone was almost always a coincidence rather than an act of inconsideration. He treaded more carefully than one would’ve expected him to. Tiff knew that, when he hurt people, it was never intended at all. In fact, Cook usually meant to do the opposite. His outlandish antics and reckless behavior were meant to entertain and inspire; he was strangely inclusive in his antics.

Cook watched quietly as Tiff took another brutal swig of less-than-chilled vodka, gulping it down as she sat beside him.

“Tiff?” his voice cut through the pregnant pause between them.

“Yeah?” rasped as she looked back up at him.

“…Will you touch me?” he asked her with a concerning politeness.

Tiff just scowled, automatically writing this off as another weird joke.

“Go fuck yourself,” she replied, meaning what she said quite literally.

“No, not like that,” he said dismissively, a haze of intoxication guiding him as he chased his every whim. “I mean, like… Just hold me, or something. Like I’m your friend.”

“…You are my friend,” Tiff reminded him, starting to realize that this wasn’t a joking moment.

“Then will you just… be here with me?” he asked hopefully, blue eyes glassy as he fought the drunken urge to fall asleep.

“What about the girls you fuck?” she asked him. “Don’t they hold you after? Or, whatever it is you’re into.”

“Sometimes,” he remarked, deep in thought. “Not as often as you’d think, though. Besides. Doesn’t feel like you.”

“How do you mean?” she questioned, expecting a flirty response of some sort.

“I mean, like… When they touch me, it’s like I know we’re about to fuck. Which, you know, is cool, and everything,” he chuckled, eventually snapping back out of it. “But, I don’t know, Tiff, when you touch me, it’s different. Like when you touch me, it doesn't feel like you want something… Like, I can just be, you know?”

“I think I do,” she nodded. “Cookie… Is it possible that you appreciate that I’m not just here to fuck you?” she guided his thought process.

He paused for a moment, having to really consider.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “But, I’d still be game if you wanted to play with my willy a bit,” he added in quickly, prompting her to roll her eyes.

He just laughed as he laid down on her pillow, looking up at her for permission. She laid down beside him, reaching to turn her bedside lamp off before she settled in completely. Tiff laid down on her side of the bed as Cook slowly leaned into her, his body curling into a ball as he used her like a pillow, comfortable as his eyes began to close.

*****

Tiff’s eyes slowly opened to let in the light dimmed by the black curtains. And as she’d half-expected, Cook was gone in the morning. The only trace of him left behind in her bedroom was the empty bottle still rattling around on the messy bed, and the nearly empty pack of cigarettes left behind on the bedside table littered with garbage.

That was all Cook was, Tiff realized. Empty. Empty, and garbage. Empty garbage.

#james cook #james cook fanfic #skins cook #skins gen 2 #skins fic #skins uk #jack o’connell fanfic #jack o'connell #jack oconnell

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satansapostle6 · 1 month

Text

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

“Kids”

“Break Stuff”

It was completely silent in Christy Gomez’s backyard as everyone looked between Rodrick and Matt. Matt’s nose was bleeding, and his hand was catching most of the blood, which was a lot, as everyone at the party slowly began to panic.

“Rodrick!” Bill yelled, horrified.

“I’m gonna fuck you up!” Matt interrupted, shoving his way at Rodrick.

Rodrick didn’t seem fazed at all as he stepped to him, eyes empty and darkening as something snapped in him.

“Yeah, you’re gonna fuck me up?” he spat.

“Yeah, I’m gonna beat your ass!”

“Then shut the fuck up and try it, punk bitch,” Rodrick Heffley snarled, as the guys started to cheer him on.

“Come on, Rodrick!” Ben exclaimed. “Kick his ass!”

Other guys at the small party started to join in on the yelling, although most of them seemed to be on Matt’s side, given his popularity.

“Trust me,” Rodrick glared in his direction, “I am.”

“Sure, Heffley,” Matt scoffed as he sloppily wiped blood off on his sleeve. “I bet your fucking slut girlfriend’s a better fighter than you.”

“Don’t fucking talk about my sister like that, you little bitch!” Bill threatened as he and Sara both glared at him with animosity.

Jack and some of Matt’s friends began to close in on Rodrick and his friends, slowly becoming more and more threatening. It was clear a huge fight was more likely than not about to break out. Lauren was livid, supporting Rodrick’s desire to fight seemingly everyone at the party.

“Rodrick, can we go home now?!” Rowley’s crying cut in.

“Guys, go wait outside, please!” Lauren shouted, eyes still locked on Matt.

Sara reached behind her for the nearly empty bottle she’d abandoned before, sensing that things might get out of hand.

“We wanna go home!” Greg pleaded.

“Come on, Heffley,” Matt laughed in amusement, “Go take your pussy little brother home.”

“Don’t fucking talk about my brother,” Rodrick hissed, shoving him, head, as everyone excitedly made room for them. “Or Sara.”

“Why?” Matt challenged. “Are you gonna go home and cry because your girlfriend’s fucked half of the losers at school?”

Sara’s eyes widened as Rodrick threw a hard punch, knocking Matt back as the other guys lunged at him. It took a second for everything to register before she realized Bill, Chris, and Ben had all jumped in after Rodrick. She realized she was fairly turned on watching Rodrick tower over one of the guys on the football team as he bashed his face in.

Sara looked to the girls, trying to decide what to do next. Lauren was ready to go on the offensive, fists clenched tight as she turned to look at Christy and Jenna, who were now more aligned with Matt and the others.

“Sara,” Lauren breathed, eyes trained on the other girls, “What do you wanna do?”

Sara could tell from the look in her best friend’s eyes that, whatever she said, she would go along with, without hesitation.

“I don’t know about that fucking skank, but I just wanna have fun,” Christy muttered to Jenna under her breath.

Sara didn’t miss a beat.

“Do you have a problem with me?” she confronted the girls.

“Nobody was talking to you,” Christy scoffed in disgust.

“Have you ever been punched in the face?” Lauren Do snapped to her best friend’s defense, her box-dyed red hair and giant hoops starting to make sense.

“You’re about to,” Christy nodded, ready to fight.

Lauren hit back as Christy charged at her. Just then, another loud scream cut through the air with the sharpness of a guillotine as Sara swung twice, breaking in half the glass bottle in her hand with the first, and slashing at Christy with the makeshift weapon on the second. Once again, there was even more screaming and blood.

Genuine terror seemed to break out as Sara just stood there, chest rising and falling with each steady breath, as she looked at Christy, whose chest had been lightly but sufficiently gashed by the broken glass. But before she had even fully processed, Sara’s attention was quickly redirected to Rodrick and the boys: it was ugly.

Ben was nowhere to be seen, lost in the hectic crowd of people. Bill had gotten jumped by five different guys, and Rodrick and Chris were dragging guys off of him. It truly was a mess. Sara and Lauren both looked at each other, knowing they were now officially in over their heads.

“Rodrick!” Rowley wailed, genuinely sounding like a kid. “I don’t like this!”

Greg nervously pulled Rowley and himself even further away from everyone else, starting to actually worry about the violent scene. They both watched in fear as Sara and Lauren both came to Bill’s defense. Even Greg started to cry a little out of sheer concern for everyone’s wellbeing as he saw two broken bottles thrashing about in the air.

Sara was completely driven by adrenaline, hardly taking any time to breathe as she fought to help her brother. The kids could hear Bill crying out in pain as he was still getting stomped out by four grown men. Sara cut and slashed with the broken bottle, forgetting herself completely before she was pulled off at the waist by Rodrick.

*****

Sara, Rodrick, Lauren, and the guys and the kids were all gone before the cops could be called. What happened at the party would ultimately remain a secret that everyone knew. Bill drove Sara, Rodrick, Greg, and Rowley home to the Heffley residence, while Lauren gave rides to Chris and Ben. Everyone was silent the first few minutes before getting in Bill’s car.

Rodrick had a black eye he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain. Bill was bruised and bleeding in many different places. Greg and Rowley were both shaken, and might as well have pissed their pants.

“Tonight never happened,” Rodrick said after a while, “Understood?”

Everyone had the same response.

“Yeah.”

Sara worriedly looked to Rodrick in the front seat next to Bill. He just looked at her sympathetically, a sad smile on his face as he responded with a silent ‘you’re welcome’.

“Black Hole Sun”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick fanfic #rodrick rules #rodrick x reader #doawk rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #doawk #devon bostick

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satansapostle6 · 1 month

Text

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part three.

part four. safe space.

“Where are we going?” Tiff complained, cigarette in hand as she and Cook trudged along.

Cook might as well have been a mile ahead of her.

“You’ll see!” he called as he walked ahead of her, too giddy to concentrate.

“I don’t want to walk anymore!” she called, trailing behind him as she haphazardly switched between halves of the sidewalk like a swerving car.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, stopping as he turned to face her.

He looked at her with curiosity, observing her pouty expression.

“My feet hurt!” she told him.

He looked down and realized that she was wearing platform heels.

“Well, fuck, Tiffy, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he questioned, walking back to where she was.

“I did! Twice now. You just weren’t paying attention.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. Here you are, little one!” he said with a drunken excitement as he approached her.

Tiff shrieked in surprise as Cook sloppily knelt down and wrapped his arms around her body, lifting her up off the ground completely. He threw her over his shoulder like a towel, refusing to stop, not even adjusting so that she wasn’t obstructing his vision. He consented to continue like that, swinging her around like a ladder he was carrying as he made turns.

“Cookie!” she exclaimed. “Put me down!”

“Why?” he challenged.

“Because! You can’t see where you’re going!” she reasoned.

“Ah, I don’t need to see where I’m going!” he insisted. “I’m fucking Cook!”

He continued announcing himself like a Pokémon, carrying Tiff over his shoulder all the way to the pub he was headed to.

“Hey! My skirt’s riding up!” she told him.

“You’re welcome, Bristol,” was all he had to say.

Everyone who passed them seemed annoyed, or at least confused, by what was happening. After all, it was about 5:00 on a Monday. No one seemed keen on ducking beneath the seventeen year-old girl’s swinging legs or listening to Cook’s screaming of various classic rock hits, or Tiffany’s loud laughter, which Cook was glad to be extracting.

“Keith!” Cook greeted the man who was strangely like his father as he finally set Tiff down on the floor.

She brushed herself off with some embarrassment, playfully rolling her eyes at Cook.

“Who’s the lovely lady?” the older man asked in a friendly manner.

“This, Keith, is the lovely Tiff!” Cook responded, “Who I am not shagging, because we are just friends,” he announced to the entire room.

No one even responded; Tiff could tell that this was definitely the kind of place where worst outbursts would be had still without affecting anything much.

“Freddie! JJ!” Cook said distractedly as he spotted his friends.

Tiffany followed him to a booth where two other boys their age were waiting.

“There you are, Cook,” Freddie McClair remarked. “Tiff,” he greeted her with a friendly smile.

“Hey, Cook.” JJ added shyly, “Hi, Tiff.”

“Hello, boys,” Tiff smiled, accepting as two beers were instinctively served to her and Cook, who began downing his automatically.

Although Freddie was much more discreet and indifferent than JJ, both boys seemed to be momentarily distracted before they promptly remembered that Tiff was a friend. Cook looked over in amusement as JJ seemed to have a hard time lifting his eyes up to Tiff’s face.

“I can see her undergarments,” he whispered to Freddie, who nearly choked on his drink, “Is that intentional?”

Freddie leaned in, whispering facetiously as Cook laughed. “Yes.”

JJ gulped visibly. Tiff didn’t seem to mind, sitting down as she silently prompted for Cook to do the same. The boys exchanged casual remarks before the other girls eventually all showed up. Tiff felt a cold, sneaky hand on her shoulder, and didn’t have to look up.

“Hey, Eff,” she grinned, as Effy Stonem took the empty seat beside her, Pandora trailing along as usual.

Effy sat down in silence as Katie Fitch took the chair next to Panda, seeming eager as usual.

“Hey, Effy,” she smiled, as her twin sister Emily sat down.

Effy didn’t have anything to say to Katie.

“Hi, Tiff!” Pandora said loudly after greeting each of the boys, individually.

“Hi, Panda,” Tiff said with a smile.

Out of everyone, she loved Pandora the most; Pandora was a beautifully weird girl who mostly went unappreciated, especially by Effy, but Tiff saw her. Panda, of course, was always very excited about this.

“So, Tiff!” Panda said, unintentionally cutting through everyone else’s side conversations. “Are you and Cook making monkey?!”

Katie nearly spit out beer as everyone looked between Tiff and Cook. Cook looked to his ‘friend and only friend’ with a grin, as Tiff just chuckled at Pandora’s adorable attempt at girlhood.

“No, Panda, we are not,” she promised her. “Unless you count Cook’s dreams.”

There were a couple amused smirks around the table, as Cook laughed, welcoming the subject.

“Now that you mention it, actually,” he spoke up, Derby accent thicker the more he drank, “I had this great one about us last night, in a field! It was beautiful! Flowers growing around us, and everything! Even got to whip it out and compare with a horse!” Cook said stupidly as Freddie just shook his head.

No one could really tell if this was true to any degree. Most knew him too well to say ‘no’ automatically.

*****

In the later hours, the girls, except for Effy, had disappeared, and the group had ended up in Freddie’s shed, the designated hangout spot belonging to him, Cook, and JJ. Everyone was considerably drunk and smoking, except for JJ, who seemed much more alert. There was a very intimate party happening.

More mellow music was playing, and Effy was swaying along, fairly out of her mind as Freddie just watched her, fascinated. Cook was sitting in a chair, bored and spectating, while Tiff enjoyed a cigarette, aimlessly wandering about the messy room, high. She eventually stopped and settled on a place to stand, watching, fascinated, as JJ showed her his various magic tricks while Cook laughed.

“That’s brilliant, JJ!” Tiff exclaimed happily at his conclusion.

“Not really,” he blushed at the compliment, “It’s really quite elementary…”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Tiff said sympathetically, “You’re really quite entertaining. I could watch you for hours.”

“Really?” he asked almost in disbelief. “They’re just basic tricks…”

“Not just the tricks,” she corrected him, “You.”

“Me?” he inquired, not understanding.

“Yeah. There’s something cool about you, you know?” she asked. “Like, your delivery, or something.”

“Me? There’s something cool about me?” he clarified.

“Yes, there is,” Tiffany assured him patiently.

“Sorry,” he apologized hastily, “People hardly think so. Especially girls.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Effy chimed in as she stopped dancing for a moment as she looked around, messing with Freddie’s belongings scattered around the room. “Girls ought to pay attention to you.”

“W-Why?” JJ wondered.

“Because you’re everything,” Tiff replied simplistically. “Sweet. Funny. Charming. Smart… You’re everything other people have to pretend to be get girls.”

“No one thinks I’m those things,” he laughed nervously.

“We do,” Effy supplied platonically.

“Well, how would anyone else know that?”

“I have an idea,” Effy said humorously, holding up a digital camera she’d found.

JJ had no idea what was going on as Tiff chuckled, her intoxicated brain catching onto what was going on in Effy’s. Cook was sitting forward, curious as he tuned into the conversation.

“W-What’s the idea?” he looked between them.

Effy just chuckled lightly, standing beside JJ as she held the camera up, snapping a quick photo as she suddenly leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to JJ’s cheek. The camera caught his reaction just in time as his eyes widened and he looked as if he were about to faint. Cook’s laughter rang throughout the room as Freddie just observed, seeming envious of JJ.

“Oh,” the startled boy said, feeling undeserving.

“You know what’s even better than one girl?” Effy asked him.

“…What?”

“Two,” Tiff smiled, taking her place on JJ’s other side as she also lightly pressed her lips to his cheek, as Effy did the same again and took a picture to commemorate the moment.

Effy took the camera and showed the picture to Tiff, who chuckled fondly.

“Wow!” JJ said blankly, as Cook just watched him. “T-Two girls at once!”

Cook burst out laughing again as JJ once again failed to hear himself out loud.

“See, JJ?” Tiff said playfully. “You’re a stud.”

“I don’t feel like one,” he admitted, sitting down in fefeat.

Both girls sat down on either side of him, trying to be of support in their own unique ways. Tiff chuckled sympathetically, now visibly high as she seemed to genuinely feel for him.

“Oh, I could kiss you,” she cooed affectionately, very obviously not sober.

“Same here,” Effy said softly.

JJ’s eyes widened as he quickly looked back and forth between the two girls, as Cook sat forward, literally on the edge of his seat.

“Fucking hell, this is turning into real life porno,” he realized.

“I-I wouldn’t mind it if you did!” JJ jumped at the opportunity.

Effy smirked at his naïveté, taking his hand in hers as she soothed him.

“Breathe,” she said laconically.

He nodded quickly and silently, perfectly obedient as he did everything in his power to show the girls his compliance.

“I… I know this is just out of pity,” JJ remarked candidly as Effy’s hand gently combed through his hair, “But I don’t mind!” he blurted out, appreciative of the entirely foreign sensation.

Cook was loving every moment of this, unlike Freddie as he watched Effy’s hand slowly turn JJ’s head to look at Tiff, who he was equally taken with.

“Oh, J,” Tiff murmured, hand cupping JJ’s face as her thumb slowly traced over his lower lip. “Does this feel like pity?”

She slowly leaned in, as JJ realized he should do the same. He was completely confused at first, scrambling and panicking as he tried to remember step by step how kissing worked, but he seemed to calm down once he’d remembered Effy’s words, or word; breathe.

He gradually closed his eyes as he prepared himself for humiliation, but felt something else entirely. JJ felt Tiff’s lips meet his as she eased him into the tender kiss, taking her time before gently taking his bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a playful bite before releasing it. JJ’s breaths had been slow but shallow as he slowly opened his eyes. He’d forgotten that he’d existed in another state before the kiss, and was disappointed once he had to reacquaint himself with the real world.

Cook chuckled in disbelief, watching with widened eyes as Freddie just sulked beside him, simultaneously jealous and uncomfortable.

“That… That was amazing,” JJ confessed breathlessly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank her.”

JJ turned eagerly as Tiff turned his head back to Effy. His breath hitched with excitement as he felt a reassuring hand from Tiff resting on his thigh. Cook’s fantasy, he realized, was coming to life before him, with him as an observer as JJ sat between the two girls. He was looking readily at Effy as Tiff’s hand caressed his thigh. Effy’s gaze was fiery and piercing as she slowly crawled forward, hands cupping JJ’s face as her lips met his, tongue slowly making its way into his mouth.

Cook quickly shifted in his seat, hoping no one would notice as he just watched, speechless for once. He felt his mind wandering to godless recesses as JJ tentatively rested a respectful hand on Effy’s hip, starting to really relax as Tiff studied him, her hand massaging his thigh. Effy smiled as JJ let out an involuntary, high-pitched sigh, clearly in ecstasy.

Cook nearly screamed at them like a football match when JJ and Effy pulled away from one another.

“…Oh my God,” JJ wheezed, pale in the face. “I-I just kissed two pretty girls!” he realized.

“You’re so cute, JJ,” Effy promised him.

“So cute,” Tiff agreed in an almost sappy manner. “I promise you. Girls see it.”

“Thank you,” he blurted out again, still processing.

”You’re safe with us, JJ,” Tiff whispered with a smile.

Both Cook and Freddie could still hear, even with all the other noise in the room.

“Call us if you ever need to feel ‘safe’ again,” Effy said cheekily.

Both girls giggled mischievously as Freddie pouted, and Cook grew more and more envious.

part five.

#james cook #james cook fanfic #skins uk #skins cook #skins gen 2 #skins fic #jack o'connell #jack o’connell fanfic #jack oconnell #skins effy #skins jj #jonah jones

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

Text

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part two.

part three.

“Tiff?”

No response.

“Tiff!”

Tiffany Wheeler irritably jumped out of bed, fully aware that it was far too early to be waking up even for school, pants-less with disheveled hair as she heard her name being called from downstairs.

“What?!” she yelled as she opened her bedroom door.

“Your friend’s here!”

Tiffany frowned in confusion.

“Who’s here this early?!” she called from the top of the stairs.

“Dunno him!” was the only answer she received.

Tiff ran back into her bedroom, haphazardly throwing her pink robe over her clothes before running down the stairs to see who could possibly be showing up so early.

“Cook?!”

She ran a hand through her messy hair, flabbergasted.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Cook shrugged.

The more Tiff actually looked at him, the worse he looked. His hair was a mess, there were dark bags under his eyes, and he smelled of liquor and spliff. He looked half-dead.

“You mean to tell me you didn’t sleep at all last night?” she questioned.

“That’s right,” Cook confirmed proudly, swigging from the bottle in his hand.

To her horror, Tiff quickly realized he was swigging vodka, in continuation from the night before.

“Fucking hell. Did my mum see that?!” she demanded in a harsh whisper.

“No idea,” he responded truthfully.

“Get upstairs!” she ordered, rushing him up the stairs as her mother had decided to start on breakfast in the kitchen before she had to leave for work. “Now!”

Laughing the whole way up, James Cook fished a loose spliff in his pants before Tiff smacked him on the arm.

“You can’t smoke in here, twat!” she reprimanded him like a child.

“Why the fuck not?” he demanded, spliff hanging by his lips.

“Because I have a normal mum, you tosser!”

“Ooh, that’s not very nice, Tiff,” he mocked her. “You know my mum kicked me out!”

“Probably fucking deserved it!” she spat, shaking her head angrily as she pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it onto the bed behind her. “Stay in here.”

Cook’s eyes widened as Tiff casually went shirtless, disappearing into the bathroom across the hall as he was left sitting on her bed, sitting up quickly as he tried to peek. He somehow got a glimpse of nothing, desperately watching for movement of the bathroom door as he heard the shower turn on.

He slumped back down lazily onto Tiffany’s bed, already bored out of his mind as he took another swig from his bottle, waiting for her to come back. He wasn’t allowed to smoke, and he wasn’t allowed to wander. Naturally, he decided to at least respect Tiffany’s mother’s rules, carelessly bounding off into the hall.

The first thing that Cook noticed was that there weren’t many pictures in the Wheeler home, if any. This, for some reason, stood out to him. He slowly realized as he wandered around Tiff’s home that her childhood home, which he had visited once when he was only six years old, was practically littered with family photos, of Tiffany, and Andrew, and their younger brother, Nate, who Cook had only heard about.

He didn’t quite understand why there were no pictures. The rest of the house downstairs was fully furnished and decorated already. But for some reason, Tiff’s mother had hardly hung up or displayed any photos. Cook had only noticed one downstairs, of Tiff, Nate, and their mother, taken recently, which Cook partly noticed because of the absence of Andrew.

He eventually wandered into the bedroom up the hall from Tiff’s, taking a swig from his bottle as he looked around. There wasn’t much in the room; it was mostly furniture, with a single family photo resting on the nightstand. This one, he saw as he slowly picked it up with care, had Andrew in it.

Cook stared at the framed photograph for a moment, studying the energy between Tiff and her late brother. Tiffany actually looked happy in the photo, something Cook rarely saw. She was standing between her two brothers, hand rested on her little brother’s back as her elder brother wrapped his arm tight around her, almost in a joking manner, like a protective bear hug.

Cook nearly jumped when a sound interrupted him. He whipped around in a delayed, nearly-drunk fashion, seeing a woman with brown hair entering the room behind him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Her tone was surprisingly not accusatory, as far as Cook could tell, seeing as he’d been reprimanded by the owners of many different dwellings he’d entered for various reasons. Tiffany’s mother didn’t sound accusatory, or angry; she just seemed to be confused.

“Er, sorry,” Cook apologized as she watched him set the picture frame back down. “Just… Looking,” he offered.

“Oh,” she said, seeming surprised as she came into the room. “We took that on Andrew’s sixteenth birthday,” she continued, pointedly ignoring the large, mostly-empty bottle in Cook’s hand.

He nodded, looking back down at the picture.

“He looks happy,” Cook remarked as he pointed. “Or, looked, anyway,” he corrected himself politely.

“He was,” Tiffany’s mother agreed. “But only because Tiff was there… Me and him, we got into a spat, a few minutes before that was taken. Caught him smoking weed in his room.”

Cook nodded as he took in the information.

“I had to call Tiff back early. She was with her friends… I had to beg her to come home. He wouldn’t stop yelling at me,” she remarked wistfully. “But the moment she stepped through that door, it was like nothing had happened.”

Cook smiled through the sadness of the story.

“At least your son loved somebody, Mrs. Wheeler.”

She looked at him funny after he spoke, as if thrown off by what he said. Cook didn’t understand why; he thought he’d been polite, but he knew he had a tendency to muck up conversations with people’s parents, especially the mothers.

“I’m not Mrs. Wheeler,” she told him somewhat bitterly. “Haven’t been for almost two decades…”

“Then what do I call you?” Cook inquired, curious.

She looked at him, almost admiring his lack of decorum. “‘Rebecca’ will do. I’ve been Rebecca Meeks for thirteen years now.”

Cook beamed handsomely, excited at the prospect of a mother, any mother, who actually liked him.

“Smashing, Rebecca. How do you do?” he joked.

“I’m trying,” she said simply, looking at the time on her watch, which had been a birthday present from her father. “Now, what might your name be, freeloader?”

“Cook,” he smiled, appreciating her sense of humor.

“Very well then, Cook. You want a real breakfast, or do you want to keep drinking that glorified toilet bowl cleaner?”

Cook chuckled as he followed her downstairs, rushing eagerly. Cook sat down at the table, across from twelve year-old Nate, who was watching him like a hawk as he ate his eggs.

“Hello there,” Cook said with a smile. “Nate, isn’t it?”

The young boy stared at him blankly, cautiously poking at his food with a fork as he continued to observe him unsparingly.

“Nate doesn’t speak to guests until he gets used to them,” Rebecca sighed as she scooped the remainder of what was in the breakfast pan onto his plate. “Took him three years to get used to his father.”

“Thank you,” Cook said as he accepted the food. “Where is he, anyway?” he asked out of curiosity.

“Same place as Andrew,” the woman said. “Since six years ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he apologized, genuinely feeling as if he was tormenting this poor woman.

“Cook, it’s been six years now. If anything, I was hoping the ‘I’m sorry’ phase of it all was over.”

“Right,” he nodded, glad she felt how he thought he would’ve in that situation.

“So,” Rebecca said as she quickly sat down to eat, “You got a last name, or is it just ‘Cook’, like Eminem?”

“It’s James Cook, Rebecca Meeks,” he quipped.

“You seem like the kind of lad to be yelling out his own last name at a party,” she stated.

“Really?” Cook laughed, as she pointedly glanced at the bottle sitting on her dining table.

“Yep.”

“Well, I won’t lie. I like to party,” he shrugged.

“I know,” she assured him. “That’s why I don’t mind you hanging out with Tiff.”

Cook looked at her strangely, not understanding.

“You want me going to parties with your daughter?” he asked her.

“Strangely, yes,” Rebecca nodded thoughtfully. “I used to hate the way she used to go out… But Tiffany’s hardly spoken much to anyone since her brother’s passing. She doesn’t seem like she’s had any real fun in months, she’s been drinking and smoking like her father. She comes home smelling like cigarettes and spliff, and half the time she’s drunk and out by nine…”

Cook looked into her cold blue eyes, taken with her features that somehow looked so much like her daughter’s.

“Suddenly, I’d love for her to stay out until one in the morning again,” she confessed, a distant look in her eyes as she looked down at her plate.

“You knew what she was doing?” he asked.

Rebecca just scoffed bitterly. “How could you not?” she demanded. “And I knew Andrew was drinking, and doing drugs, too… My mistake was believing he had it in him to stop, eventually.”

Cook just nodded. For a moment, he didn’t speak, listening to the sadness in the woman’s voice as she sat beside him. He’d never really heard a parent say such a thing before, and he wondered if he ever could have heard something like it from his own mother.

“I’m only telling you this, Cook, because I trust that you and Tiffany are good friends,” she informed him.

“And why would you trust in that?” he asked.

“Because. You’re the first and only friend she’s had over since we moved in,” she replied simply.

Cook ate in silence, contemplating what she said in surprise.

“Thank you, Rebecca. For the food,” he said, changing the subject.

“You’re welcome, Cook. Tell me… What’re your parents like?” she wondered. “Anything like you?”

James Cook couldn’t help but be captivated by her wit, and perception. “Yeah… My dad’s just like Tiff’s dad, I reckon. And my mum… Well. She’s not like you,” he concluded humorously.

“What am I like?” she asked as she ate.

“Responsible,” Cook said, “Normal.”

“Ah. I see,” Rebecca nodded. “Well… If you ever need breakfast… I’m usually here,” she offered, as her son watched in silence.

*****

“Ready to go?” Tiff called as she came downstairs, dressed for school.

Cook looked up at her as he stood up in front of the sofa. She wore nothing she hadn’t probably worn in front of Cook before, just a sleek black top and a nice pair of jeans, but as he looked at her, black bangs, green eyes, and almost pearlescent skin, he found that he felt something, other than aroused.

“Hell yes, I am,” he nodded. “Heading up to your room, then?” he grinned.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tiff rolled her eyes as she stormed off toward the door.

part four.

#james cook #james cook fanfic #skins uk #skins cook #skins gen 2 #skins fic #jack oconnell #jack o'connell #jack o’connell fanfic

14 notes · View notes

satansapostle6 · 2 months

Text

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part one.

part two. the system.

“Oi! Tiff!”

Tiffany Wheeler turned around as she headed home from school, realizing Cook was following her, naturally.

“Cookie,” she remarked.

“Going home?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Me too,” he said with approval.

He walked by her side as they went in the same direction, heading back towards their shared neighborhood.

“Did you catch what that assignment was?” he asked her. “JJ had me distracted. Pulled a chocolate out of my ear. Don’t know where he found a chocolate…”

“Sure,” she nodded with sarcasm.

“What do you say, Wheeler?” he asked hopefully. “Help out your best mate? For old time’s sake?”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Tiffany scoffed.

“Alright!” Cook exclaimed enthusiastically. “Fuck yeah!”

Tiff just smiled as she walked, fully aware of Cook’s behavior.

“So, since you won’t be a good mate and shag me, how do I repay you?” he wondered. “Spliff?” he offered.

“Don’t love it, if I’m being honest,” she said as she plucked a cigarette from the pack she was holding and stuck it into her mouth as she lit it.

“Vodka, then?” he guessed. “Drugs?”

It was Tiff’s turn to give a mischievous grin, satiated by the offer.

“You’ve got a deal, mate.”

“Alright. Sorted,” he nodded, happy with their arrangement. “Come over to mine, then?” he invited her insistently.

“Yeah. Sure,” she agreed.

She objectively observed, somewhat fascinated, as he pulled out a spliff, loose somewhere in his pocket, smoking it out in the open as they walked home together. Tiff quickly realized that Cook constantly had to be doing something; if he was talking, he had to be loud, and animated.

If, for some reason, he wasn’t talking, he had to be active, running, or jumping, or otherwise doing something, like flicking or punching something. Cook had the mannerisms of a primary school student; he just needed to feel excited. All the time.

He found that he surprisingly didn’t mind Tiff’s silent, aloof demeanor, because even if she wasn’t speaking, she was always listening. And he liked to be listened to. Cook felt that Tiff had a unique way of fucking with people. It wasn’t in anything she said or did; it wasn’t in anything. Nothing about the way she would just stay there in silence was inherently wrong, or offensive, but just something about the space that she took up could make someone need more from her.

Cook kept rambling and raving throughout the entire walk to his house, secretly needing for Tiff to actually join in. She was speaking, of course, and fully engaging in whatever topic they had currently landed on throughout the entire ordeal, but she never brought herself up to his level and ranted or raved herself. She was almost always level, and cool.

“Say, Tiff,” Cook said as he sat down on his bed, passing her a half full bottle of vodka. “How come you moved back here?”

He remembered Tiffany Wheeler had moved away from Bristol just before their fourth year of primary school. At seven or eight years old, he had actually been quite disappointed when he didn’t see her that first day of school.

“My dad wanted to be close to the family again,” Tiff replied, searching her pockets as Cook held his hand out for the pack of cigarettes.

“Any reason why?” he asked curiously.

“You remember my brother, right?” she said as he took a cigarette.

“Yeah! Andrew, right?” Cook lit the cigarette. “What’s he up to?”

“He’s dead,” Tiff said matter-of-factly as he just stopped for a moment.

“Oh. Fucking hell,” James Cook remarked, seemingly genuinely taken aback. “When?”

“A… A few weeks ago,” she cleared her throat. “Or a month ago…? Honestly can’t remember, exactly. The funeral’s next weekend…”

“Jesus. Rest in peace,” he mumbled.

Tiff just nodded appreciatively. This was much more recent than he would’ve guessed. He began to feel guilty for his casual attitude, knowing he wasn’t exactly great with these things.

“How’d he die?” he asked, optimistically hoping for something standard like illness, or perhaps an accident.

“He killed himself,” she told him, seeming as if she was trying to spare Cook’s feelings more so than her own, which he found peculiar.

“Oh…” he thought awkwardly. “Was it peaceful?” he hoped.

“Car exhaust,” she informed him, as his face slowly twisted into an uncomfortable grimace. “Choked on exhaust fumes.”

“Oh.”

This certainly did not sound like a very ideal death to Cook, not that there really was any such thing.

“It’s alright. I can talk about it without turning into a weepy twat,” Tiff promised him.

Cook looked at her for a moment, nothing mischievous or teasing behind his eyes in that moment as he just nodded, silently conveying his unspoken apology for his general behavior.

“You know I, er… I remember Andrew. Sort of,” he offered. “He was a couple grades above us… Always trying to make friends with people. Drawing them pictures, and shit,” he recalled, taking a rough swig of vodka.

“Yep. That was Andrew,” Tiff nodded pleasantly. “Definitely Andrew.”

Cook did what he could to help, handing her the bottle as she accepted it gratefully, downing a decent amount of the foul-tasting alcohol as Cook handed her his cigarette.

“He was your best mate,” he said.

Tiff nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed pleasantly. “He was.”

Cook felt awkward and aimless in the heavy conversation, despite the fact that Tiff seemed complete fine. He took another long swig from the bottle, starting to really feel tingly in many different ways, between the spliff and the vodka.

“To Andrew,” he dedicated the thoughtful act of alcoholism.

She smiled, taking the bottle, compelled to drink more.

“To Andrew,” she echoed.

“Do you know why he killed himself?” Cook asked, past the point of knowing whether or not that was an appropriate question to ask.

Tiff strangely appreciated it, never having been asked that in conversation about it before.

“Yeah… I think so. Sort of,” she provided.

She thought for a moment before responding.

“He was… He was troubled. Fucked around with pills a lot. Like, a lot. I mean, I did too, but… He was just different. Like he knew that’s how it would all end, sooner or later,” she sighed. “I guess he chose ‘sooner’.”

“That’s right shit,” Cook shook his head.

Tiff nodded in agreement, finding his take almost profound in its own way. “Yeah. Yeah, it really is.”

“Was there something you think made him do it?” Cook inquired. “Like, something that set him off?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tiff nodded with certainty, a certain bitterness or irony to her tone. “Yeah.”

He listened silently, something he rarely did for anyone, curious to hear the answer.

“He, erm… He was spiraling, after college. Barely passed to begin with. It was all drugs and weird pastimes, every day. Sometimes he’d be gone for days at a time… Mum was at her wit’s end with him… She just didn’t know what to do,” she explained. “Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she was the one to off herself.”

Cook still listened intently as she spoke, pondering on every word. He could tell this was a very recent and painful chapter in her life.

“Anyways. My brother. He was doing some really questionable shit, with really questionable people… It was fucked up. And I mean, fucked up. This guy, Seb, he used to party with? Rumor was, he would get fucked up on acid and do some crazy shit. I mean, like, dead cats crazy.”

“Jesus,” Cook thought, surprised at his own reaction.

“Mum had enough… She gave him an ultimatum. Either get his life together, and go to university, or get a job, at least,” Tiff recalled, “Or… he was out of the house,” she concluded.

Cook sat with this for a moment, not responding, just thinking as he tried to process. It took a considerable amount of silence, but he seemed to understand finally.

“So, Andrew…” the words strangely hurt him to say. “Your mum said he had to get his life together, so he killed himself?” he provided.

“Yep,” she nodded.

Cook gave her a funny look she’d never seen from him before in the short time she’d known him as an actual adult. It was almost a look of sympathy.

“Andrew… He would’ve rather have killed himself than try to live a healthy, functional life,” she admitted, an unimaginable pain in her eyes.

Cook truly had no idea how to respond.

“It’s fine,” she added quickly, her tone changing. “It’s whatever. My own brother would’ve rather have killed himself than stop doing drugs.”

“I’m sorry, Tiff,” Cook said after a pause, “If I’m being completely honest… I only got to talking to shag you.”

He waited guiltily for a response of any sort as she just looked at him for a while, fully aware of his patterns. Cook half-expected her to get uncomfortable in some way, or scream, or yell, or throw him out of her home, but she did no such thing. He watched in awe as she didn’t even seem to bat an eye at the confession.

“I figured,” she said, prompting him to wonder if this was all she had to contribute.

Completely flabbergasted, Cook began to spiral as he tried to communicate with her.

“You—You did?” he asked cautiously.

She nodded emptily, no longer worried about being allowed to attractive people. He still found himself praying she wouldn’t punch or disembowel him.

“Of course I did,” Tiff responded indifferently. “Most people only hang out with me because they want to shag me.”

“Yeah, I reckon so,” he said regretfully, a guilty expression on his face.

“But it’s okay,” she said, reading him easily. “I have a system; I always hang out with people at least three times. If they leave by then, then I know they just wanted to shag me.”

“But… what if they’re playing the long game?” Cook geniunely wondered.

“Well, at that point,” she thought. “If I want to shag them, then, I do.”

A large grin slowly spread across Cook’s face as he shifted the mood back to lighthearted stupidity.

“So, what if I’m still here after the third time?” he proposed excitedly.

“Then I’ll know you’re an idiot,” Tiff concluded.

part three.

#james cook #skins uk #skins cook #jack oconnell #jack o'connell #james cook fanfic #james cook x reader #cook x reader #skins gen 2 #cook fanfic

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

Text

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

“French Inhale”

“Kids”

“Rodrick!”

“…Hi, Mom.”

Rodrick Heffey looked around awkwardly as he stepped through the threshold into his home with Sara.

“You’re home! And you brought Sara! How was school?” Susan Heffley asked enthusiastically.

“Uh… It was okay,” he responded, embarrassed by his mother’s presence.

He had thought she’d be at the store or something when he got home, giving him enough time to settle into his room with Sara before she arrived.

“How about you, Sara?” Susan asked with an almost too friendly smile. “How was your day?”

“It was alright, thanks, Mrs. Heffley,” Sara smiled courteously.

Things were fine ever since everything that had happened between the two of them, but still, there was a distance between Sara Walter and Susan Heffley that seemed to bother Susan more so than it did her son’s girlfriend.

“Oh, I’ve told you a hundred times! Call me ‘Susan’!” she said with the widest smile Sara had ever seen, creeping out of ‘smile’ territory and more into ‘grimace’ territory.

“Okay… Susan,” Sara said uncomfortably, trying her best to continue the flow of the conversation as naturally as she could.

But Susan was giving her almost nothing.

“Anyways… We’re just gonna go upstairs,” Rodrick announced hastily, “I already finished all my homework…”

Sara gave one final shy smile as she promptly followed her boyfriend upstairs, only for Susan to look up at them in a panic as she still held a full laundry basket in her hands.

“Okay! Remember to leave the door open, Rodrick!” she called hopefully, as Rodrick only half-closed the door, leaving just enough room while still ensuring at least a small amount of privacy.

Rodrick sighed as he threw his backpack at the wall, flopping onto his bed as Sara just watched.

“What’s wrong?” she wondered, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Nothing. My mom just tries too hard,” he groaned.

Sara paused for a moment, understanding where he was coming from as she thoughtfully ran a hand through her shoulder length, balayaged hair.

“It’s sweet,” she offered.

“Yeah, I know,” Rodrick sighed, feeling somewhat guilty. “But it’s weird.”

“I don’t really mind,” she shrugged. “I appreciate it. In its own weird way.”

“It’s so embarrassing, though,” he complained.

“Hey,” Sara reminded him firmly, “Your mom’s trying… Why do you think we’re always at your place instead of mine?”

“Because your mom goes for losers?” Rodrick guessed.

“Wow,” Sara scoffed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby,” he apologized quickly.

“I didn’t say you were wrong,” she reminded him as she lay next to him on her side, head propped up on her arm as she looked at him expectantly.

Rodrick just melted at the sight of her, sighing as he gave in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. It seemed Sara had a plan, her subtly affectionate kisses slowly becoming more drawn out and purposeful. Rodrick was beginning to enjoy himself even more as her rested a hand on her hip, before a loud interruption.

“Rodrick?!”

He grunted irritably as he pulled away from her with reluctance, closing his eyes for a minute before he responded.

“Yeah?!” he yelled.

There was a quick pause.

“I’m going to the fundraising event for Greg’s school! I’m taking Manny, but Greg doesn’t wanna go, and Rowley’s here, so you’re in charge!” Susan shouted. “Make sure they behave! I’m already running late!”

“Okay!” Rodrick agreed, waiting for a response before he turned back to Sara.

He grinned, seeming rather pleased with himself despite not having done anything.

“Looks like we get the house to ourselves,” he remarked, as Sara chuckled softly.

She slowly sat up, swinging a leg over Rodrick’s lap as he watched her with sleepy eyes, a goofy grin on his face as she leaned in to kiss him. He pulled her closer, hands softly brushing over her form as she threw her arms around him. Rodrick felt even more smug as her tongue entered his mouth. He brushed his tongue against hers, flicking it playfully before another loud sound caught his attention.

“Hey Rodrick, I wanted to ask you— AAAAHHHH!”

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!”

Two loud yells filled the room as Rodrick looked to the doorway to find his younger brother looking petrified at what he’d accidentally walked in on. Completely panicking, Rodrick screamed loudly as he did whatever he could to make the situation appear more normal, the very first thing he instinctively thought to do unfortunately being shoving whatever was on his lap off of the bed.

Unfortunately, it had been Sara that was on his lap, landing on the floor of his room with a loud thud.

“Get the fuck out, you little pervs!” Rodrick boomed.

“I’m sorry!” Rowley Jefferson whimpered apologetically, sounding traumatized.

“I’m sorry! It was an accident!” his younger brother Greg exclaimed, as he and his best friend Rowley both stood with their hands covering their eyes as if someone was naked.

“What the fuck are you guys even doing in here?!” Rodrick demanded as Sara frustratedly picked herself up off the floor, sitting back down on the bed as she panted slowly.

“I-I just… Wanted to ask you a question!” Greg Heffley told his brother.

“No! Get the fuck out!” Rodrick yelled at him.

“Please, can I just ask you something?” Greg pleaded.

“Please?” Rowley begged, eyes still tightly covered.

“What is it, Greg?” Sara asked, in spite of Rodrick’s protests.

“No!” Rodrick said bitterly.

“Rodrick, please?” Greg looked at him with his childish puppy dog eyes. “Just hear me out, please—”

“Alright, fine! If it’ll get you to leave!” Rodrick caved. “What is it?”

Rowley slowly lowered his hands as he looked around the room, paranoid.

“Mom said we can’t leave the house unless it’s with you,” Greg told his older brother. “And we really wanna go to this party at Dani’s house—”

“Dani?” Rodrick scoffed. “What makes you think a girl like that would wanna hang out with you two fucktards?”

“She said we could come!” Greg exclaimed. “Come on, Rodrick. Please?!”

“No! Fuck off!” Rodrick complained.

“Wait,” Sara said, looking between her boyfriend and the two kids. “You wouldn’t happen to mean Dani Gomez, would you?”

Greg looked at her funny. “Yeah. You know her?”

“That’s Christy Gomez’s little sister,” Sara deduced, turning to Rodrick.

He didn’t get it right away. “Who?”

Sara leaned in, whispering so that only he could hear. “The girl who sells molly.”

Rodrick’s eyes slowly widened as he turned to look back at the two middle school boys, quickly coming to a conclusion.

“Alright. Grab your shit. We’re going,” he determined.

“Yes!”

Greg and Rowley were both ecstatic as they ran off to Greg’s room. Rodrick thought for a moment as he addressed Sara.

“Babe, do you have any cash?” he murmured. “Cuz, I got none.”

“Lemme check,” Sara murmured, reaching for her bag.

She pulled a decent wad of bills out of her wallet. Rodrick watched her quickly counting the money as it passed through each of her hands, sounding like one of those machines he’d seen in the movies. He found it weirdly attractive how fast she could count money.

“20, 40, 60, 80… Yeah. We’re gonna party,” she assured him with a grin.

*****

When Sara and Rodrick arrived at Christy’s house that random Wednesday, they quickly found out that this was one of those rare occasions on which she did not have any molly to sell. So, Sara and Rodrick decided to stay and make do with the various ‘refreshments’ they had been provided with.

They were sitting in the backyard with the fifteen or so other kids around their age or so as everyone either talked, smoked, or drank, or most likely some combination thereof. There were enough people that either of them knew for them to stay without feeling awkward, but there was no one they knew particularly well. So, Sara had texted Lauren, while Rodrick had texted the guys from the band.

Chris, Ben, and Bill would all be arriving together within the hour, meanwhile Lauren would be coming once she got off of work. So, as they sat on a table talking with Christy and a couple of others while they waited, Rodrick and Sara sipped on cold Banquets, trying to hide their boredom as they listened to the two guys Christy and her friend Jenna were standing with.

Christy Gomez was a couple of years ahead of Rodrick and Sara, having graduated Crossland the year before. She was best known for her Jersey Shore-esque fashion sense, oddly elitist personality, and of course, chronic possession of molly, and chronic. Sara couldn’t stand her, but pretending she did came with a lot of perks.

Although she sold a lot of different things, from drugs to designer shades, Christy was one of those girls who stood in the back judging the girls actually dancing at raves. She was popular, but not well-liked. She was one of the few girls with an alternative fashion sense who still befriended the boys who seemed like they committed hate crimes on the weekends.

The two boys standing with them at the moment were Matt Lewis and Jack Garrett, a jock and an irritating skateboard owner. Sara specifically described Jack as a skateboard owner due to the fact that, despite him carrying one wherever he went, nobody had ever seen him actually skateboard.

Lauren wasn’t exactly pleased to find Sara and the guys standing around talking with her ex from sophomore year when she arrived.

“Dude, I don’t even know why I fucked her!” he laughed obnoxiously as he told a story.

Sara looked at Rodrick, unimpressed, as he just responded by silently taking a sip of his beer as he continued listening. Lauren was currently on her third eye roll of the night. Between having to walk there and not having any molly, Rodrick was in a somewhat irritable mood, especially having to deal with Matt Lewis, the football star who had made fun of him freshman year.

“Did you at least hit it doggy style?” Matt asked him. “Cuz you know she’s got a dog face!”

The two guys cackled as Christy and Jenna did everything in their power to validate them, seeming as if they were trying to one-up their laughs. Things only got more ‘interesting’ once Chris, Ben, and Bill showed up three beers later, adding fuel to the fire of the conversation as Sara sat with her leg draped over Rodrick’s, quietly sipping her drink as the guys talked.

“Fuck, I hate girls who are into politics,” Matt announced, “They just always talk too much!”

Sara and Chris immediately looked at one another as Jack and Ben hopped on that bandwagon. It took a while for the sexist laughter to die down, but the second it did, Rodrick looked to his girlfriend to try and gauge what was going to happen next. He grinned slightly, already buzzed as he realized things were about to get interesting.

Chris and Bill, on the other hand, we’re becoming increasingly worried.

“As opposed to what?” Sara said quietly.

Everyone turned to look at her as the conversation came to a natural lull. Christy and Jenna were quiet, judging in silence, but the boys were too far gone to hold in their reactions in any way. Lauren, on the other hand, was already giggling readily.

“Huh?” Matt said stupidly.

“Sara,” Bill said quietly, not disagreeing, but pleading.

“As opposed to two guys who seem to hate women so much, they seem to wanna fuck each other?” Sara provided, hopping off the table as she just stood there.

“Hey, what are you trying to say?!” Matt demanded, shoulders stiffening.

“I’m sorry, should I take it down to a first grade reading level?” she retorted.

Rodrick hid a smile behind the beer in his hand as he and Lauren looked at one another.

“Yo, what the fuck is your problem?” Jack demanded, taking a swig of his drink.

“I don’t have a problem,” Sara said lightly. “If you two want the room, you can have it.”

Rodrick could see plainly that Matt was fuming, as Jack stood next to him, angrily trying to contemplate their next move. Sara doubled down, glaring up at Matt as everyone remained dead silent. No one knew exactly what was going to happen next, until fortunately, a small voice interrupted the conversation.

“Rodrick?!”

They all turned to see Greg standing by the back door, panting.

“What?!” Rodrick yelled, not feeling like dealing with him.

Sara glowered in Matt’s direction, then turned to Bill, who was silently asking her to stand down. Begrudgingly, she looked at all of them one last time before grabbing Lauren and leading Greg away.

“What is it, Greg?” she asked urgently.

“…A lot!” he decided, grabbing her arm in fear. “Sara! They-They were playing spin the bottle, and then Rowley, he-he—“

“Okay, breathe!” Sara instructed. “Focus!”

Greg nodded, slowly centering himself. “We… We were playing spin the bottle, and then it landed on me and Holly… But then Fregley came in, and he stole a beer, and—”

“Hold on, Fregley was invited to this thing?!”Lauren cried.

“Focus!” Greg yelled back.

“Okay, sorry.”

“Fregley snuck a beer, cuz Dani told him to, and he gave it to Rowley, and Rowley threw up, and he’s crying…!” Greg summarized in a panic. “I don’t know what to do!”

Sara looked back in Rodrick’s direction, not seeing him paying attention, before she let out a long sigh as she and Lauren locked eyes.

“Where is he?”

“Come on,” Greg dragged her along, sounding somewhat relieved.

He led the two girls into Dani’s bedroom, which all the kids, except for Dani and Fregley, had deserted due to the mess that had been made. Rowley sat on the floor, ginger hair a mess as he sobbed uncontrollably in front of the mess. Sara huffed irritably as she sat beside him, hand on his shoulder.

“Rowley. What happened?” she asked him.

“I-I-I…” the kid was a mess. “I tried to drink the beer… But I drank it too fast, and I threw up…”

“He had turkey for lunch!” Fregley interrupted, as Sara, Lauren, and Greg all looked at him in disgust.

“Fregley, shut the fuck up!” Sara said impatiently. “You know what, everybody out! Everybody who’s not Rowley or Greg, get the fuck out!”

“But, my room!” Dani complained. “It’s a mess!”

“And we’ll clean it up,” Lauren told her. “Now get out, or I’m telling your parents you told Fregley to get the beer!”

That seemed to work as the other two kids cleared the room, leaving the girls with Greg and Rowley.

“Greg, go with Lauren and get me some paper towels, and some water, please,” Sara said as calmly as she could. “Or ginger ale, if you can find it.”

“Okay,” Greg agreed, getting up automatically.

“Rowley. How do you feel?” she said softly, hand resting on his back.

“Sad,” he mumbled, sniffling aggressively. “Thank you, Sara.”

She could tell he was having a rough time.

“Honey, I need you to think for me, okay? Do you still feel sick in any way? Like you’re gonna throw up again?” she asked him, examining him in every way possible.

“N-No,” he shook his head as she carefully felt for his body temperature.

“Do you feel clammy? Like you’re gonna faint?” she asked.

“…No.”

She sighed, still uneasy about the whole thing.

“I think we have to call your parents,” she said quietly.

“But… Greg says we’ll get in trouble!” Rowley protested half-heartedly.

“I’d rather you get in trouble then get really sick,” she pointed out.

“But… I don’t feel sick anymore!” he offered.

“Rowley… This is really serious. If something happens… or your parents find out somehow, everyone could get in a lot of trouble. Not you, but me, and Rodrick, and Mr. and Mrs. Heffley, and Dani’s parents, too,” Sara reasoned. “I really don’t like this.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Heffley could get into trouble?!” Rowley cried.

“Possibly, yes,” Sara nodded. “You’re a kid. Giving you alcohol is a crime, dude.”

“But, Fregley’s a kid, too!”

“Fregley wouldn’t be the one held accountable. It would be Dani’s parents, because this is their house, and also Greg and Rodrick’s parents, because you were under their care,” Sara tried to explain.

“But, I feel better! Really, I do!” Rowley insisted. “Please don’t tell my parents! I’ll never drink again!”

Sara sighed exhaustedly, sitting with her own thoughts for a moment until Lauren and Greg came into the room with paper towels and a bottle of water.

“Will you please not tell my parents?” Rowley begged as Greg just sat down on the floor, anxiously awaiting Sara’s decision.

“Rowley…” Lauren said regretfully, a sympathetic expression on her face.

Sara paused for a moment, stressed and somewhat inebriated as she cracked open the water bottle and handed it to Rowley. Sara knew that she had built up a certain level of improved responsibility in the past few years, but then again, she also knew the kind of things she was doing at Rowley’s age.

“Drink this, slowly,” Lauren instructed him. “Finish it. If you’re fine by then…” Sara trailed off for a moment. “Me and Rodrick took you to Dani’s house. You’re tired. If you seem kinda sick, you don’t know anything about it. Got it?” she said quietly.

Rowley nodded vigorously, grateful for her discretion. “Thank you! Thank you, Sara!”

She just sighed, shaking her head as she bundled up the paper towels and got to work. She told Greg and Rowley to wait out in the front yard as she and Lauren told Rodrick that they were all leaving, explaining to him what had happened.

“Shit… Okay,” he eventually came to terms with it. “Let’s go. I’ll tell the guys.”

“Okay,” Sara nodded as she followed.

Chris, Ben, and Bill were still stuck outside with Christy and the other two guys, talking about God knows what. Rodrick met Bill’s eyes as he told him that something had happened, and they were leaving.

“Already?!” Ben complained. “It’s not even seven yet!”

Sara and Rodrick both ignored him completely.

“We’re leaving, guys,” Rodrick reiterated. “Catch you later.”

“Oh, you’re so pussy-whipped!” Matt laughed, as Ben laughed with him. “Seriously, dude? For a girl who’s probably had more guys inside her than a locker room?”

“Shut the fuck up, Matt,” Lauren snapped, as the guys only got more annoying. “Everyone knows you’re a pathetic sack of shit with a shrimp dick!”

The expression on Rodrick Heffley’s face, however, quickly changed from playfully exasperated to completely void of humor. Bill also was growing increasingly uncomfortable as he visibly seemed to take a more aggressive stance.

“What did you just say?” Rodrick asked Matt, slowly stepping toward him as everything else disappeared for him.

Matt laughed awkwardly, seeming for some reason surprised by the reaction.

“Yo!” he protested.

“What the fuck did you just say, man?!” Bill boomed as some heads began to turn in their direction.

“Woah! Calm down, it was just a joke, man,” he laughed insufferably. “Come on! You can’t take a joke?!”

“That’s not a joke,” Lauren said warningly, as Rodrick just remained quiet.

“Rodrick? Sara?”

Rodrick was already too far gone, but Sara looked toward the back door, alarmed, as Greg and Rowley both stood out in the backyard, waiting for them to leave.

“Yeah… No one talks about my sister like that,” Bill towered over him, pointing an accusing finger.

“Greg! Rowley!” Sara warned. “Go outside!”

“But, Sara,” Greg protested, seeing what was going on with Rodrick.

“Go!” Sara boomed.

Neither of the boys listened, and she was too preoccupied with Rodrick.

“Don’t make me make you regret that, you fucking piece of shit,” Rodrick threatened Matt, on an aggressive high.

“Jeez! You and your fucking feminazi girlfriend!”

A loud, distinctive cracking sound filled the air. There were gasps, shouts, and even a couple screams. Greg gasped silently, while Rowley started to panic. Sara saw as the poor kid looked like he was about to start crying.

“What the fuck?!” Christy shrieked in horror.

Sara didn’t speak, and Lauren was completely stunned as she just stood there for a moment, mouth agape as she stood beside Bill, who instinctively rested a protective hand on her back. For a split second, Sara had no idea what had happened, but one thing was for sure. Matt’s nose was broken.

“Break Stuff”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick fanfic #rodrick rules #rodrick x reader #rodrick x y/n #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #doawk rodrick #doawk #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick heffley x reader #devon bostick

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

Text

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part one. those girls.

Cook was in need of something to get his day going when he left the house that morning. He had just woken up and was completely sober, no alcohol, and no spliff. Yet. He was about to be on his way to school, before he saw her.

New neighbors had moved in across the street a few days before, but James Cook hadn’t really seen any of them, until this very moment. The new neighbors, it seemed, had a daughter. Most likely his age. Cook was stunned for a moment, forgetting where he was as he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, just looking at her.

There was something so strongly familiar about this girl, as if he’d seen her before, as if he knew her. But he thought it couldn’t have been; she’d only just moved in. Cook studied her features eagerly as he took in her appearance.

Her white T-shirt sporting the logo of a popular beer, he was delighted to find, had no undergarments beneath it. Her jeans, he thought as he slowly scanned her tall form, were fitted, at least in the right place. She had long dark hair, with bangs that hid eyes that, even from a far, were quite alluring.

Already having made his decision, he ran straight across the street as he saw her walking in the same direction he was meant to head in. He had to shag this girl, he knew.

As he ran up behind the girl, he was frustrated by the fact that she wasn’t particularly alerted in any way by his presence. He’d assumed that since he’d ran up to her, she’d at least look to see who was just behind her, but she didn’t really seem to notice any as she kept walking.

“Got some sort of death wish, do you?” Cook asked her as she finally turned her head.

“No more than anybody else,” she responded.

He smiled, appreciating her devil-may-care sort of nonchalance.

“What’s your name, death wish?” he asked her.

“Why don’t you tell me yours?” she challenged softly.

Cook grinned, enjoying whatever game she was playing. “I asked you first,” he pointed out with a foolish expression on his face.

“I already answered your first question,” she pointed out patiently.

“Alright. Fair enough,” he conceded. “I’m Cook.”

He saw as the girl paused for a moment, thinking before she finally spoke.

“You wouldn’t happen to be… James Cook, would you?” she said finally.

“Why, have we shagged before?” he asked eagerly. “If so, that’s nothing to me, I’ll do it again.”

“Absolutely not,” the girl scoffed, crossing her arms. “We were ‘best mates’. In primary school. Remember?” she teased.

Cook froze, petrified as he traced his memory as far back as he could, trying to place this girl’s face.

“Wait, wait…” he trailed off in awe, slowly able to place her brown hair and green eyes, “Wheeler?! Bollocks, Tiffany Wheeler?!”

”That’s me,” she nodded, watching with satisfaction as he lost his mind over the fact.

“Fucking hell! No way that’s really you!” he cackled in disbelief. “I remember you used to let me copy off you in second year!”

“You said it made us best mates,” Tiffany nodded, watching him as he reminisced.

“I did. We were best mates,” Cook insisted. “You were the only one who didn’t laugh at me cuz I didn’t know my letters.”

“You still seem like you don’t,” she pointed out.

He just laughed, jumping up in excitement as he lazily threw an arm around her.

“We’re still best mates!” he jeered, playfully tousling her hair as she laughed.

Cook was just as she remembered from when they were small, loud, rambunctious, and excitable. He looked how she would’ve imagined even before, disheveled and reckless with his short, messy hair and collar half sticking up.

“Okay, Wheeler,” he beamed, still following her more so than walking alongside her. “We go to the same college?” he wondered.

“Probably,” she deduced.

“So… Since we’re, you know, best mates, and classmates, and neighbors, and such,” Cook trailed off, somehow sounding as if he were speaking with a mouthful, “Come to my place later? Like… you know. Come?” he grinned.

“Fuck no, Cookie,” Tiffany said firmly, much to his disappointment. “I’ve already heard enough about you.”

“Really?” he demanded. “From who?!”

“Friends.”

“You’ve got friends already?” he realized.

“Yeah,” she nodded, intentionally giving him nothing.

“Like who?” he questioned skeptically.

“Effy. And Katie. And Karen,” she said pointedly.

“You’re friends with them?” Cook asked skeptically.

“I mean… I don’t really have friends,” she said with disdain, not a particularly social person. “But if I did, they’d be Effy and Karen. And Katie, I guess. I met Effy and Katie at a pub. Then we saw Freddie, and he spotted Karen. She told me she liked my top.”

”Fucking hell,” he remarked. “You’re one of those girls, eh?”

“‘Those’ girls meaning?” she interjected.

“You know,” he responded playfully. “The kind you mostly just have to wank to… They show you enough, but they’re usually too good to give it up to you.”

“…If that’s how you want to see it,” she said indifferently.

“You know, Wheeler,” Cook thought as he lingered behind her, “You certainly grew up nice…” he smirked, only for her to nearly shove him into the street.

*****

Cook was seated in English beside Freddie and JJ, his closest friend since childhood. There was an empty seat next to Cook, and he knew exactly what he wanted with it once he saw Tiffany Wheeler come through the door. All eyes were on her when she walked in; most of the people in the room had never seen her before, and she was certainly worth looking at.

Cook watched as even some of the people he knew were taken with her. JJ was the first to spot her, giggling awkwardly and avoiding eye contact as he realized a pretty girl had entered the room. Freddie noticed her too, but went back to pining over Effy once he realized that she was pretty, but not Effy.

Naomi spotted her, but just rolled her eyes upon seeing all the boys in the room glancing in the same direction. Emily Fitch looked at her for just a moment, while her identical twin, Katie Fitch, excitedly waved her over, pointing to an empty seat next to her.

“Hey, Tiff!” Katie called.

Effy Stonem’s cold blue eyes were trained on Tiffany, as if finally recognizing an equal.

Effy watched with great interest as Tiffany saw Katie, and smiled politely, before spotting Cook, who was now grinning and looking to the empty chair next to him. Effy allowed herself a little smirk as Tiffany knowingly walked past and sat down next to Cook, who turned to greet her pleasantly.

“How you doing, Tiff?” he asked her.

“Alright,” she shrugged.

The two of them both faced forward, separate smiles plastered on their faces.

part two.

#james cook #skins uk #skins cook #jack oconnell #skins gen 2 #skins fic #cook x reader #james cook fanfic #jack o'connell #jack o’connell fanfic #cook fanfic

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

Text

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Violence. Smut. Oral(both receiving).

“Meet the Fuckers”

“French Inhale”

“You’re so stupid,” Sara laughed happily.

“You’re so mean!” Rodrick Heffley complained.

“Am not,” she rolled her eyes derisively.

“Are too,” Rodrick teased as they lay together on his bed.

“Maybe you’re just sensitive. Did you ever think of that?” she questioned.

“Wow,” Rodrick scoffed, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean it,” she assured him jokingly, ruffling his hair as he just stared at her with admiration.

“…I forgive you,” he sighed after a long pause.

He smiled with his eyes closed and everything as he nuzzled his head into Sara’s hand as she cupped his face affectionately. The two of them had just finished splitting a joint and three bowls between them out Rodrick’s window, and both were in a comfortable, relaxed mood.

However, for Rodrick, after a certain amount of weed, ‘relaxed’ tended to mean horny as long as Sara was there. He didn’t know why, but this time, it was something about the way the warm afternoon sunlight indirectly hit her face as it shone through the window. In that light, and every other light, Sara just looked absolutely beautiful to him, beautiful to the point of being surreal.

“Rodrick?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you roll another blunt?” she asked sweetly.

“Mhm,” he nodded automatically.

From the way that he spoke, she knew he would’ve done anything she asked, with the utmost enthusiasm. He rushed himself so that it wasn’t long before he and Sara were sitting by the window, taking turns blowing smoke out of it. He watched her as she did a masterful French inhale, thick cloud of smoke trailing from out past her lips up to her nose.

She beckoned him forward, taken with his air of innocent obedience as she took a deep hit, carefully breathing the smoke into his mouth as he felt a rush of ecstasy. Rodrick let out a long sigh as he blew out the window, the two of them both in a state of romantic euphoria as they returned to lying on his bed together, laying flat on the mattress like one big blanket.

Sara smiled with amusement at her boyfriend’s admiration of her, moving in to kiss him. He chuckled softly into their kiss as he softly connected his lips to hers, the warmth between them causing him to moan slightly, completely unexpected as he tried to cover it up with the clearing of his throat.

But Sara had already caught on on her own, letting out a soft ‘hmm’ as she began to test him. The amount she’d smoked was also somewhat affecting her, but not quite in the same way as Rodrick. As she leaned in to kiss him again, she angled her body more towards his, hand creeping onto his thigh as he felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Baby,” Rodrick gasped, gulping loudly. “I’m so turned on right now,” he confessed breathily.

“I know,” Sara whispered, fully aware that she was completely in control.

Although Rodrick liked to pretend otherwise in front of other people, Sara was the one who wore the pants in the relationship. Everything was determined by her; Rodrick’s world revolved completely around her. She knew this, of course, and tried to reward him for his affection as often as possible.

Rodrick moaned again softly as Sara’s hand slid up his pants, gently palming the one place where he needed her. She enjoyed his desperation as he tried to keep up with her kiss, gasping in a flustered manner as she seemed to be massaging him gently.

“Sara,” Rodrick stared at her in awe as a hard bulge began to appear.

He just laid there, a dumb expression on his face as the palmed him through his pants. He couldn’t even think of anything better to say; he was too excited, eagerly anticipating her next move.

“I know, baby,” she nodded, “I know.”

“Sara…”

Rodrick locked eyes with her in desperation as she gripped him, hard.

“What’s the matter?” she teased. “Hmm?”

“I need it, baby,” he begged, “Please?” his voice hitched in his throat as he spoke.

She watched, thoroughly entertained, as he looked at her with the most helpless expression left on his face.

“Even just a little bit…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” she promised him, crawling towards him on the bed as she stopped to unzip his jeans.

Rodrick watched her blankly, no longer feeling like begging her as he just sat back, allowing her to completely take control. He was so high and so horny, he didn’t even feel like pretending he wanted to win this battle of control.

“I got you, okay?” she reassured him, pulling his pants down.

He nodded silently, looking at her with complete and utter trust as she helped take his pants off and slid his dark grey briefs down. His eyes widened as his erection finally sprang free. Sara leaned forward, wrapping her fist tightly around it as she slowly pumped up and down, watching him as he stared at her expectantly.

“Aw, so pretty,” she complimented him as he nearly blushed. “Look at you…”

She grinned as she pumped her fist up and down, pace picking up as he began to breathe with his mouth agape. He struggled not to let sound escape, but she still picked up on this.

“Aw, so excited and I haven’t even gotten to sucking yet,” she remarked.

“You—” Rodrick had to stop himself as he felt it twitch. “You’re gonna suck it?” he asked her almost stupidly.

Sara was amused at his slight lack of experience. Rodrick had done things before, but not consistently enough to understand the way these things worked right away. He looked at Sara gratefully as her stroking grew more intense.

“Yeah, baby,” she told him. “You want that? Hmm?”

“Yeah,” Rodrick gasped, his voice more of a whisper than anything. “Oh… Fuck!”

His mouth was left agape as he silently screamed, the sensation currently feeling unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The warm and wet feelings were all he could concentrate on as he saw nothing but blonde hair and perfectly lined eyes below him.

“Feels so good,” he said in a husky whisper. “Fuck, baby, my shit’s on fire… In a good way,” he thought, highly aware of his own strangeness.

He let out a surprisingly high-pitched gasp, sounding more and more like a porn star as she went on.

“Sara!” he yelled her name as his fists clutched the sheets in excitement. “Sara…!”

He groaned involuntarily as he felt her hands squeezing his thighs, a feeling which was, for some reason, incredibly heightened.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t take it anymore, I need to come…!” he whined. “Please, baby… Lemme be your little porn star!”

The surprisingly cold hands gripping his thighs tightened their grip as Sara looked up at him with her eyes narrowed in victory, resisting a smug chuckle as she felt it shooting down her throat, swallowing with a sick enthusiasm.

“Ohmygod!” he panted, eyes squeezed shut, “Ohmygod!”

Rodrick was in shambles as Sara lifted her head, grinning as she wiped her arm across her lips, going to sit on his still half-hard dick. He smiled almost in relief as he realized she was playing the long game, a phrase which Sara would’ve felt aptly described what he had going on.

“Come here, baby,” he said impatiently, pulling her down towards him, planting a needy kiss on her lips. “Mmm... I love you,” he raved.

Sara’s response was nonverbal. She grinned further into the kiss as she grabbed a fistful of his hair, making him gasp lightly. He looked at her in shock, waiting impatiently for her to do something else.

“Baby?” he said meekly.

“What.”

He found her dominance alarming, as all the blood rushed to a single part of his body.

“Can I lick your pussy?” he asked hopefully. “Please? Pretty please?”

High on his love, she needed no further explanation and tossed what remained of her clothes over her shoulder as she positioned herself on top of him. Lazy as he was, Rodrick was set on being on bottom.

“Come here,” he huffed, “Lemme show you how much I love you…”

He replicated her earlier treatment of him, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as he pulled her down on top of his face, groaning at the feeling of her. She sighed, content as he instinctively sucked on her clit, needing to give her the most euphoric feeling of gratification possible.

She felt his warm hands moving all the way up from her thighs to her breasts, grabbing and pawing at anything he could. He grumbled and moaned all sorts of nonsense into her as he kitten-licked up and down, knowing exactly which sounds of hers meant to keep doing what he was doing.

Sara threw her head back, quite literally riding out the high, desperately thrusting into his face. He was living for all of it. She sat up for a moment to give him a break, watching as he pouted.

“Why’d you take it away?” he complained breathlessly. “I want you to come on my face.”

He had gotten pretty carried away. She giggled at his sweet pouting, leaning down to kiss him as he eagerly kissed back. Unexpectedly, Rodrick used her pleasure to take control for a brief moment, quickly and lightly flipping her over as he buried his face in her neck, planting soft, wet kisses all over her neck as she sighed. His lips trailed all over her naked body, lingering the whole way down.

Her skin truly felt as if it were on fire as he slowly kissed the inside of her thighs, chuckling to himself as he watched her hips instinctively bucking upwards, in need of some relief. Rodrick grinned as his face hovered over hers for a moment, distracting her with a charming smile until she suddenly felt two long fingers slowly entering.

She moaned quietly as he returned to his comfort zone between her legs, licking long stripes up her pussy as his fingers rapidly pumped in and out of her. She sighed as aggressively kissed her clit, taking a moment to spit on it before lapping it back up again.

Sara closed her eyes for a moment, sighing as she prayed for the world to end at this very moment. Her breath hitched slightly as he suckled on her swollen clit, suddenly bringing her to an unexpected but welcome climax as he groaned hungrily into her body.

The sudden head rush of pleasure made her laugh aloud as she wrapped her legs around his head, respecting the eager way he held onto them like his life depended on it. Rodrick moaned excitably as he lapped up the wetness, taking his time to lick all over her thighs as she finished on his face. He looked up at her with a grin, feeling rewarded as he jumped onto the bed beside her.

Sara carefully wrapped her arm around him, feeling his soft black hair as he burrowed into the space adjacent to her body. Eventually, the two drifted off into a peaceful nap as they hid themselves beneath the covers of Rodrick’s bed. Sara turned onto her side as Rodrick lay behind her, spooning her as he felt her butt poking into him as an act of comfort.

Kids

#rodrick heffley #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick x reader #doawk rodrick #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick heffley smut #devon bostick #rodrick fanfic #rodrick x y/n #rodrick smut

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

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Dangerous Men | Klaus Mikaelson

“Dangerous men make good pets.”

Regina makes a powerful friend in Klaus Mikaelson.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content

Chapter One: Cherry

Klaus Mikaelson watched like a predator stalking its prey. He knew he had more important things to be doing, but he couldn’t help himself. The way that girl danced was something he couldn’t explain.

He was under her spell in a way he’d never been with any woman before in his life. He never would’ve guessed that the devil could know heaven.

“Would you like a dance?”

Niklaus Mikaelson looked up, without consequence, as one of the girls working the floor of the club approached him.

“…No, thank you,” he shook his head politely, blue eyes locked on the beautiful dancer up on the pole with the long ebony locks and perfectly bronzed skin. “What’s her name?” he pointed, determined to find out everything he could.

“Cherry,” the young vampire informed him.

“No. Her real name,” Klaus insisted.

“But, Mr. Mikaelson,” the young woman began, “The club policy—”

“I don’t care about the fucking club policy,” he warned her, a threatening look in his eyes.

She immediately cleared her throat, terrified of the Original vampire.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry. Her name’s Regina.”

“Regina what?” he asked impatiently.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know,” the dancer apologized quickly. “You can ask Steve!” she provided.

Klaus Mikaelson grinned, finally having gotten somewhere. “Alright. I suppose I’m asking Steve.”

He found himself at the club until long after closing. After the customers cleared out and the dancers all made their way to the back, he waited patiently in front of the white Porsche parked out in the lot, the car he had found out belonged to Regina Lugo. She was outside within the next half hour at the most, lavish fur coat draped over her black dress.

Klaus’s eyes were fixed on the beautiful woman, cracking a darkly seductive smile as she dropped her arm, designer bag in her hand.

“Hello, love.”

“The club has security, you know,” Regina said curtly. “They stay until all of us leave”

Klaus chuckled, admiring her composure. “I’m not some customer asking for your number,” he told her patiently.

“Aren’t you, though?” she wondered.

It was becoming more difficult for him to contain his amusement. Regina was, of course, a beautiful woman. Beautiful in a different way than many of her coworkers. Her beauty was timeless, and sacred; there was something indescribably mystical about the darkness of her eyes and the natural cascade her hair.

“I don’t want your phone number, love,” he assured her, his voice nothing more than a suggestive purr.

“Then what do you want?” she asked him, still cautious of him. “Again, keep in mind, security.”

Klaus humored her, as if security could actually stop him.

“I’m not like all the others, you know,” he remarked, dangerous and debonair in his leather jacket. “I could actually give you what you want.”

“And what do you think it is I want?” Regina wondered, crossing her arms.

He smiled, understanding her skepticism of his character.

“Anything you want,” he promised, stepping closed as she just watched him, not quite disturbed enough by him to perceive him as an immediate threat. “I could offer you anything. Not just a spliff, or a Chanel bag.”

Regina looked at him with curiosity, pulled in by his confidence.

“Who are you?” she questioned.

“Niklaus Mikaelson,” he answered truthfully.

She stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed as she tried to place him. The one thing Klaus liked about Regina was that she seemed resourceful, and strategic; she aimed to know everything about the world she was a part of, in order to thrive in it. Not necessarily conquer it, but thrive in it.

Her lack of trust in him, as well as her lack of enchantment, drew him in to her even more.

“You’re one of them,” she realized, looking into his dark blue eyes.

“‘One of’ what?” Klaus asked her coyly, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know exactly… But you're one of them. The ones who get whatever they want when they come in, week day or weekend. The ones who own this city,” she said thoughtfully. “And I’m not talking about through government, or corporations. You’re one of the ones who really own the city. Aren’t you?” she concluded.

Klaus felt himself genuinely impressed by her insight. She was smarter than most of the people in New Orleans, he gathered. She had put together almost all the pieces when most weren’t even aware of the puzzle.

“You’re a perceptive little thing, aren’t you?” he said softly, his undeniably handsome face only inches from hers.

She didn’t answer the rhetorical question. She didn’t seem afraid of him at all, like a little girl pressing her face against the glass at the zoo to see the pretty tiger.

“What are you, Niklaus?” Regina asked curiously. “A rock star? A millionaire? A gangster?”

The guesses she’d made were funny to him.

“Right question. Wrong solutions,” he assisted her.

“The club owners and some of the other girls are afraid of you,” she remarked, seeming to have deduced this completely on her own. “Why? I mean, it’s obvious you have some kind of money, and influence. But why?” she stared at him with curiosity.

“You’re a smart girl. Why don’t I let you figure it out for yourself?” Klaus encouraged her.

“And in the meantime?” Regina wondered, watching him as she observed everything about him.

He looked at her with sharp eyes as he made up his mind, determined to gain her complete trust. Her trust, he had realized, was something of value.

“Tell me something you want,” he told her, before changing his mind, “No. The thing you want. Something that can’t just be bought in a store… Something with character,” Klaus told her.

“Anything?” she questioned.

“Anything.”

“What if I wanted the queen’s jewels?” she asked him.

“Then I suppose you’d be getting the queen’s jewels, wouldn’t you?” Klaus said without a second thought.

She knew in the specific way that he’d said it that he was completely serious. This man could get her the queen’s jewels. Regina didn’t know how, exactly, but she could tell he could. There was a pause as she tried her best to test him.

“Carmela Soprano’s fur coat,” Regina decided, knowing the point she was making.

Klaus stopped with satisfaction as he eyed her, appreciating her sense of humor.

“That’s what you want?” he asked eagerly.

“That’s what I want,” Regina said with finality.

“Consider it done,” was all he had to say, before he completely disappeared.

Regina had no idea at all where he went, or how he had done it, but Klaus was just gone, nowhere to be seen as she was left panting softly as she tried to reason with her own mind as she quickly got into her car. There was something definitely strange about the man she’d met. What it was, she didn’t know.

All she knew was that everyone at the club had known who he was, to different degrees, and strictly referred to him as ‘Mr. Mikaelson’, even if he wasn’t in the room. Regina knew that it was impossible for people to just disappear into thin air, but she also knew that men with Niklaus Mikaelson’s influence may as well have been the gods of New Orleans.

She knew for sure that she’d made a powerful friend when she returned home to her apartment the following night to find a large, black garment bag hanging inside of her apartment, a note card hanging off of it bearing nothing but a set of initials.

- K.M.

Chapter Two

#klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #tvd #tvdu #the originals #to #joseph morgan #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus x reader #klaus x y/n #niklaus x reader #niklaus imagines

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

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The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan

Spotify Playlist Link

Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Smut. Oral(both receiving.) Face-fucking. Fingering. Mommy kink. Degradation. Spanking. Slight choking. Switch dynamic.

A/N: I’m so high, this isn’t really written I just pushed the buttons so the letters would jump out

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty: Rotting Away

After a couple of a weeks or so of resting and relaxation, Katherine found herself feeling good for the first time since everything that happened. She was calm, and she was content. Everything between her and Luke seemed to be almost normal again.

Luke was also getting to a place of comfort after everything they’d went through together. He’d finally began to feel less awful for his argument with Katherine before she’d left. She’d noticed that he’d started to feel more comfortable with her again, not afraid to spoon her at night when he woke up feeling cold, or kiss her all over as she lay next to him.

Katherine also noticed that, as they spent most of their time in a hotel room and in bed, Luke’s mannerisms would become a bit suggestive at times, the way they used to be. She could tell that his sex drive was starting to return again, but he just didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted, considering the argument that they’d had before.

His little tells were very subtle, but Katherine knew him in and out. She knew that when he would start to want her as they watched TV or slept together, he’d start to gently squeeze her thigh, or nuzzle his face into her chest, or even slowly press himself into the back of her as they slept. It wasn’t too obvious, but it was apparent to Katherine, who knew Luke’s behavior.

That night, however, it was very obvious that he was thinking about her. Before he’d gotten into the shower, he’d seemingly made it a point to leave the door wide open the entire time, and even going so far as to come in and out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel on around his waist, looking for something that undoubtedly didn’t exist.

Deciding she’s bait him, she made sure that she was wearing his T-shirt, taking her shorts off so that all she had on under was a pair of panties. She even took a seat at the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for him. Luke eventually came out of the bathroom, in nothing but his briefs. Katherine chuckled darkly, her eyes washing over him, taking her time to take him in.

Despite the briefs, she was drawn to his upper body, admiring his strong, lean build and scarred ribcage and back.

“What?” Luke questioned with a smile on his face, standing there in front of the bed like a Calvin Klein model.

“Nothing,” she shrugged nonchalantly, watching as he gradually stepped in front of her, until his legs were touching her knees.

She looked up at him, trying not to giggle as she utilized the most explicit blowjob eyes.

“Aw, baby,” Luke cooed, hand playfully lifting her chin up to look at him, “Don’t look at me like that…”

She could tell he was growing more confident.

“Like what?” she teased.

“You know like what,” he reminded her. “You know what you’re doing. Wearing nothing but my shirt.”

“I’m wearing more than you’re shirt,” she promised him.

He watched, completely stunned as he a black pair of lace underwear fall to the floor.

“Now I’m just wearing your shirt,” she grinned, looking for a challenge.

“Is that your angle?” he asked roughly, hand suddenly wrapped around her throat. “Talk like a whore so I shut you up?”

He knew how to make her see stars, pressing the pads of his fingers just slightly on the pressure points.

“That’s usually how it works,” Katherine said pointedly, her brown eyes full of lust as he gripped her throat.

“Well, not this time. You’re not gonna get what you want just by being a little slut,” he told her, fully committing.

He released her throat, taking a second to consider his options.

“Or maybe you will get what you want by being a nasty little slut,” he decided, slapping her across the face as she grinned.

It was soft enough to be fun, but just hard enough to really excite her.

“Take off my shirt and lay down. Facing me, on your elbows,” he ordered. “And stick your ass up in the air.”

“Yes, sir,” she teased, tossing the shirt aside as he stared hungrily.

She got on her hands and knees, looking straight up at him as she slowly arched her back, ass in the air just as he’d instructed. He grinned mischievously, hands moving down her body until he reached her ass, squeezing each cheek hard before giving them two rough slaps.

“Look at you,” he smirked cockily, hand harshly slapping her pussy. “Already wet… Such a fucking whore. I’m gonna fuck that pretty face til you cry,” he murmured.

She grinned as he dropped his briefs, hand running through her hair as he pulled her head up.

“How does that sound?” he asked, intentionally asking as he slowly inserted himself into her mouth.

He could hear her as he hit the back of her throat. She looked him right in the eyes, humming with pleasure as she bobbed her head up and down, cheeks hollowed out as she sucked.

“Fuck me,” he gasped, eyes locked on hers. “Look at my good little slut, taking me like a champ,” he teased, tweaking her nipples just to mess with her even more.

He watched, completely enamored as she went faster and faster, getting to the point where most people’s eyes would’ve began watering.

“Fuck, you’re such a slut for me, I don’t even know what to do with myself half the time,” he groaned, thrusting in and out as she gasped for air. “So beautiful…”

He saw her eyes start to water after a while, still completely focused on him. He almost came listening to her quiet whimpering as he fucked her throat as hard as he could.

“It’s okay,” he huffed, softly moving her hair out of her face, “I know, baby. I know…”

He gasped at the warm feeling of her throat, pulling out of her mouth before she came. She took a moment to catch her breath, looking at him with disappointment.

“Hey…” she whined jokingly.

He knew that she’d been genuinely enjoying it, which made him smirk.

“Uh-uh,” he shook his head. “You wanna be treated like a slut? You’re gonna be treated like a slut. Turn around,” he demanded.

He watched as she pouted, turning around on the bed, completely naked as she laid down, slowly arching her back for him to watch. He came forward, roughly forcing her head down as she stuck her ass out even higher.

“Oh, so messy, baby,” he mumbled, fingers swiping against the wetness between her legs. “All this, just from having my dick in your mouth? You fucking love me, don’t you? God, I’m a lucky man…”

She giggled as he slapped her ass out of nowhere, enjoying the genuine reactions she was getting out of him. She playfully squealed in excitement as she felt the sting of his hand smacking against her from behind, over and over again as she chuckled darkly, loving the attention he was giving her.

“Look at that,” he praised, hand slapping her pussy again. “So fucking wet… I’m gonna ruin you. You want that, huh? You want me to stretch you out and come all over you?”

Katherine had gotten exactly what she wanted.

“Ass up, baby,” Luke huffed, ignoring manners.

She obediently arched her back even further, head resting comfortably on her arms. She gasped softly as he roughly pinned her down by her hips, face buried in her from behind as he swiped his tongue up and down, devouring her savagely.

She let out an involuntary whine as he ravaged her, living for the way his strong hands dug into her hips. She was in her own world, completely unaware that Luke had even more in mind. She watched in disappointment as he pulled away after a long while of pulling various sounds out of her, sitting down beside her on the bed. She watched with curiosity as he exhausted sat down behind her, spreading his legs so that she was sitting between them.

“Come here,” he decided, his demeanor shifting. “Lemme finish you off like a princess.”

Katherine sighed contents as she slowly got up and settled in between his legs, her back resting against his bare chest. She slowly leaned into him, reaching a hand back to tangle up into his short sandy hair as his big, cool hands slowly massaged her breasts as she subconsciously spread her legs.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Spread those legs for me,” he murmured as his grip on her breasts began to intensify. “Let’s play with that pretty, hmm?”

She sighed, feeling his hands grope her desperately as she spread her legs more.

“Wider,” Luke instructed her. “Come on. I know you know how to act like a slut.”

She whimpered softly as she spread her legs as far as possible, feeling his right hand move down between her legs while the other still fondled her breast. She shut her eyes in ecstasy as she felt his hand slowly massaging the opening, hips bucking into his hand for more.

“Come on, pretty baby,” he coaxed her affectionately, “Lemme hear you.”

He began to tease the opening even more, scissoring her open with his fingers, slipping the tip of his finger in as he pulled downward, making her feel even more full. She sighed as her fingers got tangled in his hair, searching for something to hold onto.

“That’s it, baby. I wanna hear you falling apart while I’m inside, you think you could do that for me?” he asked.

She nodded quickly, moaning as he slid two of his long fingers in at once. His squeezing of her breast became more random and playful as her moans grew louder and more breathy. He smiled lovingly at the sight of her sitting in front of him, sloppily kissing on her neck as she started to come to a soft climax.

“Mmm… You’re so fucking perfect, baby,” he sighed, nose buried in her. “Fuck. Your perfume… It’s like fucking pheromones. Fuck, I wanna come so bad…”

Katherine could feel Luke unintentionally rutting into the bed beneath him, searching for any kind of friction. She gasped as his fingers thrusted in and out of her faster and faster, realizing she would probably come again. She sighed, breath heavy with lust as the lewd sound of wetness and skin filled each of their ears.

“Wait, stop,” she interrupted suddenly.

“Is something wrong?” Luke asked immediately, unable to discern her exact tone.

“No, no,” she said quickly, drunk on love. “Wanna come on your cock.”

Luke knew that Katherine normally hated that word, unless it was quite literally mid-fuck.

“Whatever you want, princess,” he nodded quickly, pulling his fingers out as she lifted her hips up.

She sat up for him to adjust, allowing him to sit down beside her as she sank down onto him, laughing hysterically with pleasure as she felt him filling her up. She felt powerful with him inside her, knowing that he was back there losing his mind behind her as she bounced up and down at her own eager pace.

“Fuck, baby!” he moaned loudly. “I’m yours… All yours…”

“You feel so good…!” she groaned. “Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

They both rode out their highs together, as Luke’s hand rested on Katherine’s thigh for support.

“Katherine?” he said softly, whining as she bounced up and down.

“Yeah?” she breathed out.

“You wanna turn around?” he gasped, trying to ease his excitement, “Wanna see your tits.”

“Oh, of course, baby,” she said quickly, stopping as she got up.

He cried out as she moved off of him, fighting to contain himself in more ways than one. He tried to catch his breath, throwing his head back as he leaned back against the headboard.

“Oh, look at you,” Katherine cooed breathily, her hand resting on his cheek.

His beautiful blue eyes stared into hers helplessly as he melted into her touch.

“Katherine,” he gasped again, still panting.

“What is it?” she asked him. “You tired?”

“No,” he shook his head, promising her it wasn’t that.

She couldn’t help but admire the desperate look in his eyes. She could tell he was about to burst. She listened intently as he started to mumble something incoherent, sounding strung out on pussy.

“What’s that?” she asked, not able to make out the words.

Luke quickly composed himself as he realized he was asking for something he’d only had to ask for himself on several occasions.

“Will you—Will you choke me?” he pleaded, silently begging the hand on his cheek to do more. “Please?”

“Oh, baby,” Katherine grinned, smoothing his hair back teasingly, “I didn’t know you were feeling like that…”

“Please, Katherine, I need it,” he gasped, “I just need you to handle me,” he said passionately, anxiously writhing beneath her.

He grew more restless as she didn’t answer immediately.

“Pretty please?” he asked hopefully.

“Well. Since you’re feeling so needy, I think we’d better get you extra comfortable, huh?” she proposed thoughtfully.

“H-How?” he asked nervously.

She smirked mischievously as she got up off the bed, walking to one of the duffle bags resting on the chair in the motel room. She reached into the side of it, pulling out a little pink toy.

“What do you say, baby?” Katherine asked. “You want me to get you nice and relaxed?”

“Oh, yes please,” he moaned at the sight of the toy, waiting for her to do something, anything at all.

She grinned as she got back on the bed, one leg draping over him as she settled. She looked down at his lap, amused by his arousal.

“Aw, so hard, baby,” she mocked him affectionately.

“It hurts,” he whimpered.

“Oh, I know… Here. Lemme help you.”

He watched her every move, gasping almost silently as she turned on her small vibrator, placing it right where he needed it most.

“Fuck,” he sniffled, slightly overstimulated.

She took his hand, placing it around the vibrator as he just held it there, waiting for her.

“Mmmmm…” he started to feel dizzy.

“You’re mine,” Katherine grinned, sinking down on him as he gasped.

He felt her hand wrapped around his throat, grasping it harshly as she played with his pressure points. He looked up at her with wide eyes as she lowered her breast to his mouth, thoroughly entertained as he wrapped his mouth around her nipple, looking her in the eyes as he sucked.

“I love you so much,” Katherine hissed as she pinned him down.

“I love you too,” he mumbled, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

“Hey. Uh-uh,” Katherine shook his head, lightly slapping his face. “Look at me.”

He nodded obediently, close to tears as she rode him, pace beginning to pick up.

“Who’s the slut now, huh?” she asked as bounced up and down.

“Me, mommy!” Luke moaned, stopping in his tracks as he realized what slipped out.

His eyes widened as he remained silent, not sure whether he would even acknowledge what had slipped out, but he quickly realized she didn’t seem to mind as her grip around his throat tightened with pleasure.

“God, you’re such a needy little slut,” she sighed, leaning down to sloppily kiss his lips.

He sighed into the kiss, his resolve weakening as he felt her tongue dancing against his.

“Yes, mommy,” he gave in, hungry for kisses, “I’m a needy little slut.”

“Say it again,” she ordered, having fun with him.

Naturally, he obliged.

“I’m a needy little slut and I need mommy,” he begged her. “Please, mommy…”

“What is it, baby?” she asked him, hand moving from his throat to his hair as she rewarded him for his obedience.

“Mommy, I need you to hold me,” he whimpered, “Between your tits. Please…”

“Awwww, who am I to say no to my sweet boy?” she gushed, half doting, half mocking.

“Mmmph.”

Luke was falling apart, desperately thrusting up into her out of frustration.

“Keep calling me your sweet boy,” he begged.

“You like being my sweet boy?” she asked. “You like when I pin you down and make you come?”

“Yes, mommy, so much,” he babbled a bunch of nonsense. “I love it!”

“Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love mommy’s pussy,” he whined, groping her breasts greedily, “I love playing with mommy’s tits.”

His grip tightened even more as she clenched around him.

“Look at you, falling apart,” she observed as he sucked aggressively on her nipple. “Good boy… So needy for me.”

He only responded by turning his attention to her other nipple, sucking hard.

“Such a good boy.”

“That’s me!” he whined, throwing his head back. “Your good boy…!”

“Be a good boy and come for mommy,” she teased him. “I know you can do it.”

He whimpered loudly as he felt himself getting close as she rode him.

“I need to come,” he choked out.

“Okay. You can come,” she promised him. “Go on.”

Luke suddenly grew bashful as he watched her riding him, sticking his face between her breasts before he eventually settled on whining into the crook of her neck.

“Fuck, you smell so good…”

He sounded as if he were about to cry. The mommy issues were slowly becoming more apparent.

“I love your perfume,” he sighed as he breathed her in as hard as he could. “Fuck. Gets me so hard…”

She held him close to her chest as he began to finish, listening to his adorable chokes and sobs that he would only share with her. Katherine came as she felt him pressing shy kisses to her net between moans, moving aside as he tried to catch his breath. She allowed him to lay his head on her chest as she gently wiped him off with the towel by the bed.

He threw his head back as he tried to breathe, overwhelmed by the sensation as more came out.

“Good job, baby,” she praised. “Good job…”

Luke sighed as she cleaned the both of them off, closing his eyes for a moment as he allowed her to hold him the way no one ever had before. Katherine sighed as she got rid of the towel, turning off the bedside lamp as she lay beside him.

“Katherine?”

“Hmm” she asked him.

“I, uh…” he paused for a moment as he felt tears coming to his eyes, his voice deep with exhaustion but still cracking in pain. “I just… You would’ve made the perfect mother. I wish you could’ve been one.”

He feared Katherine might interpret his thought process the wrong way, but she seemed receptive. She was silent for a moment, the pain rushing back for a brief moment as she accepted the genuine sentiment.

“Me too,” she offered, knowing that was her last chance.

Chapter Twenty-One

#luke castellan #pjo luke #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader smut #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #riordanverse #rick riordan #riordan universe #adam milligan #jake abel

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

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The Crush | Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson is a cool, simple guy who is also the famous son of Poseidon who helped save the world. But, talking to the pretty girl in his English class still seems impossible.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter One

Chapter Two: Study Date

The English project was coming along slowly. Percy would often get sidetracked bickering with Clarisse, so Chloé usually ended up having to contain her rage toward Clarisse and facilitate like a single mother with two children. That day, after Clarisse had stormed out of class and left Percy and Chloé to deal, the two of them looked to each other awkwardly.

“We still have a lot to do,” Chloé said, slowly looking at her laptop to realize just how behind schedule they were.

“Yeah,” Percy nodded in agreement, sighing exhaustedly.

“My place?” she questioned.

Percy stopped for a moment, having to recalibrate as he took a moment to think about what she had actually meant.

“To finish up,” Chloé added. “If we just cram for a couple hours, we could probably get close to finishing.”

Aggressively shutting off the large part of his brain that was still a twelve year-old boy, Percy shook off his thoughts, trying to communicate like a normal person. She looked at him strangely, waiting for an answer.

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded quickly, “Sure.”

“Okay,” she agreed as he followed her out of the classroom.

He silently left the college campus with her, as she made her way onto the neatly paved roads of New Rome to where she lived. Percy had assumed that, like many of the other adult-aged demigods who attended college, she lived in one of the barrack-style apartments built after the camp was added onto to suit more demigods.

He quietly trailed behind Chloé, following her home to her condo not too far from the school campus.

“Here,” she said softly, pulling a small ring of keys from her pocket as she unlocked the door for him.

“Thanks,” Percy said graciously, walking in after her.

As soon he stepped over the threshold, he felt the energy change. It wasn’t necessarily in a bad way, but Percy had a difficult time placing the thoughts and feelings he experienced as he entered Chloé’s sanctuary. Although the place looked relatively normal and didn’t seem sinister at all, he felt almost as if his stomach had dropped when she closed the door behind him.

He didn’t feel trapped, but he felt intensely aware. There was a darker ambience to the room. All of the windows were covered with dark curtains that seemed black with a bluish hue, and the only lights in use didn’t light up more than half the room.

Percy made his way to her living room, nearly jumping as a small, dark animal jumped in front of him along the top of the couch. He breathed softly, calming himself as he realized it was just a black cat.

“Don’t mind Jet. He’s friendly,” Chloé assured him, setting her bag down on a leather armchair. “Once he gets to know you, anyway.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Percy nodded, slowly stroking along the cat’s soft black fur as it sat down on the couch.

It didn’t seem particularly thrilled that he was in its space, disregarding him with narrowed eyes the way it would a fly as he continued petting it in long, repetitive strokes, trying to earn its favor.

“Jet. That’s a cool name,” Percy remarked as he tried to bond with the animal.

Chloé just shook her head, disappearing upstairs as Percy was left to sit alone on the couch, with the cat jumping down into the arm rest to watch him.

“Hey, buddy,” Percy cooed, trying to earn the cat’s trust. “You’re a cute little guy, aren’t you?”

Somehow, he felt the cat was unamused as he continued to look forward while he pet him. Looking around the room, Percy began to think more and more that Chloé was the most mysterious human being he had ever met. Her house wasn’t exactly decorated like a witch’s house, but it wasn’t far off.

There were intricate, beautifully woven tapestries that hung on the walls, depicting dark but beautiful scenes like a pale moon shining on the ocean in the dark of night. There were dark-colored, jagged rocks displayed on the tables that looked as though they had been pulled from the depths of Hades, or somewhere equally sinister. There were dead flower arrangements mostly consisting of thin, prickly branches still sitting in vases.

“Cats like fish, right?” Percy wondered aloud, thinking that his father was the god of the sea. “If you want, I could put in a good word for you with my dad. But you’ll have to be nice to me, though.”

The cat looked up at him for a moment, seemingly a look of consideration in his yellow cat eyes before he looked towards the stairs at who Percy had assumed was his owner, continuing to allow Percy to pet him. Percy turned, looking for Chloé as someone else ended up coming down the stairs.

He saw a tall brown-haired girl, who completely ignored him as she disappeared into the kitchen. A family member or a roommate, Percy figured. He waited patiently for Chloé, who came back downstairs, looking toward the kitchen as she heard the sounds of the other girl cooking.

“Oh. That’s my sister, Max,” Chloé informed him, walking toward the record played on a stand between her small couches.

He nodded, watching as she looked through her extensive collection of records, putting on what he recognized to be some sort of indie rock, something more soft and agreeable.

“Who’s older?” Percy asked curiously.

“I am,” she responded coolly.

Chloé finally sat down beside him, pulling out her laptop and other materials from her black school bag with the nice silver buckle on it, looking over to him once she was settled in.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” she asked.

Percy had forgotten that people typically asked their guests this question.

“Uh, maybe a water?”

Chloé looked at him as he suddenly realized how on the nose the response was, before nodding and disappearing into the kitchen. He pointedly looked back at Jet, the sleek black cat, with a pointed expression on his face.

“Is she always like this?” he remarked.

The cat naturally said nothing as he continued giving it the attention it seemed to want, as something else small came running down the stairs, the sound of a tiny, twinkling bell filling the air, somewhat startling to Percy. He saw a little grey cat jumping from the floor up onto the couch, settling into his lap as it nuzzled him with its entire body.

Percy chuckled at the little Siamese cat, petting its head affectionately.

“Hey there,” he murmured, entertaining the playful animal. “Hi.”

“That’s Ash. She’s my sister’s,” Chloé said, handing him a full glass of water. “Sorry. I forgot to ask if you wanted ice,” she sat down beside him.

“No, it’s cool, this is perfect,” he promised, “Thank you.”

She nodded as she opened up her laptop. Percy reached into his backpack, pulling out his as he watched her for what to do, feeling that she was better at being a college student and an adult than he was. Even after defeating monsters and Titans as a demigod, Percy still felt awkward around his crush.

He and Chloé spent the next couple of hours or so working on the parts of the project Clarisse had been too fussy about, leaving only the parts she would have to work on herself. Throughout the whole thing, Chloé only had to explain a couple of things to him, which he felt decidedly proud about.

Percy only realized the time once they had finally finished working. As Chloé sighed and shut her laptop, he looked around the room anxiously, making a point of it as he stretched both of his arms out behind her, yawning as he tried to find a way to fill the silence between them.

He sat there beside her as she finally looked back to him, not saying anything yet. She only looked at him with no discernible expression on her face, as if taking him in for the first time.

“You, uh, have a really nice place here,” Percy Jackson remarked, looking around her and her sister’s shared condo.

“Thanks,” Chloé said as she turned to face him.

Percy waited nervously for her to speak, wondering if she was about to kick him out. He checked his phone; it was 5:16, and she was sure to have been annoyed at him by now.

“It’s five,” she pointed out eventually, not having anything else to say.

Percy frantically looked between all of her various features, trying to deduce the hidden meaning behind her words she had assumed he’d pick up on.

“Max is gonna be home in a few minutes,” she added. “You wanna stay for dinner?”

Percy’s eyes lit up anxiously as he realized what she was asking him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Chloé nodded. “My sister made mac and cheese.”

This was more than enough for Percy to decide.

“Yeah. That sounds awesome,” he agreed, mouth watering at the mention of mac and cheese.

“You wanna come help me set the table and stuff?” she invited him.

“Yeah! Sure!”

Percy followed as Chloé led him into the kitchen, where the oven was already in use.

“Can you heat up the chicken?” she asked. “I’ll do the broccoli.”

“Sure,” he offered, seeing the pot sitting on the counter by the stove.

He looked between the pot and the stove, figuring Chloé had most likely meant for him to put it back on the burner and heat it up.

“This is a lot of food,” Percy realized as he heated up the large pot of chicken.

“Well, we have to make enough for all of us,” she pointed out.

“‘All of us’? Who else is coming?” he wondered.

“Our other siblings,” Chloé replied.

As if on cue, Percy heard the front door open as multiple sets of footsteps sounded.

“Chloé! We’re home!” Max yelled. “Go wash your hands! It’s dinner time!”

Percy panicked as he automatically went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

“Not you,” she rolled her eyes, “You’re cooking.”

Chloé pulled the mac and cheese from the oven, making sure the stove was off as she moved everything to the dinner table as he helped set the five places she’d put out plates for. Max, Chloé’s sister, sat at her place next to Chloé by the head of the table.

“Max, this is Percy. Percy, this is Max,” she said formally.

“Hey,” Percy waved in a friendly manner.

“Hey,” Max said coolly.

Suddenly, two children came running to the table, taking their seats as Percy looked to them in surprise.

“Guys, this is Percy,” Chloé announced in an authoritative voice.

“Hi, Percy,” a boy and girl chorused before they dug in, with Max occasionally helping them scoop.

As she helped put food on their plates, the two children stared at Percy blankly.

“What are your names?” he asked with a smile.

“I’m Laney,” the girl told him.

“My name’s Hunter,” the boy responded.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Percy said warmly. “How old are you?”

“I’m six,” Hunter told him excitedly. “My birthday was Sunday.”

“Well, happy late birthday,” Percy smiled. “How old are you, Laney?”

“Eleven,” she said promptly.

“Are you both Half-Bloods?”

“Yeah,” Laney nodded.

“They’re both going to school until they’re ready for the full camp,” Chloé explained.

“Are you all Nox kids?” Percy asked them.

“No,” Max said quickly. “Chloé’s Nox, I’m Mars, Laney’s Venus, and Hunter’s Hephaestus.”

“Is that even possible?” he wondered.

“Apparently,” Max shrugged. “Our dad’s a slut.”

Percy looked over at the kids in shock, slowly seeing that they were used to the way their older sisters talked and knew better than to repeat any of it in front of them.

“Do you guys take care of them?” Percy asked Chloé and Max, not seeing any parents around.

“Yeah,” Max nodded, not talking much at all as she ate.

“Why?” he looked to Chloé.

“Our dad ran out,” she explained bluntly.

“Oh,” Percy said softly, frowning.

“It’s fine,” she consoled him as she put food on her plate, “We’re better off without him. Trust me.”

“Why, uh… Why’d he leave?” he asked thoughtfully.

“He’s an alcoholic. I don’t even think it’s that he left, he honestly probably forgot how to find his way back,” Chloé scoffed.

Percy was thrown by the way she spoke about things even in front of the kids. He sat through the dinner with a different appreciation for Chloé and her sister, not that he hadn’t appreciated Chloé before. He watched as she and her sister spent the evening talking to the kids about their days at school and the after school program.

He couldn’t help but smile at the way Chloé handled the kids, speaking a little more pleasantly to them and taking the time to make sure they all finished their homework. Percy watched her as she sent them upstairs to wash up before bed, admiring her responsibility.

“You wanna go for a walk?” Chloé asked as she finished up.

“Hmm?” Percy perked up, not expecting her to say anything to him.

“For a smoke,” she stated.

“Yeah! Sure,” he accepted excitedly, standing up.

Chloé nodded and grabbed her jacket, leading him out the door. Percy dutifully trailed behind her, lips pursed together as he waited for her speak as she lit up a cigarette.

“You want one?” she asked, offering him the open pack.

“Uh…” Percy was lost as he tried to come up with an answer.

He knew he didn’t smoke, of course, but he also couldn’t come up with a great reason as to why. He didn’t smoke, but he’d also never smoked a cigarette before.

“Yeah! Sure,” he smiled, hesitantly pulling a cigarette from the pack.

He took it and just held it in his hand as she handed him her lighter, which he took, holding both in each hand in confusion.

“Uh,” Chloé stared.

Percy looked at her awkwardly, still holding the cigarette.

“Here,” she said, taking the cigarette out of his hand.

He made a sound as she stuck the cigarette into his mouth, chuckling as she lit it for him, hand shielding it from the wind. Percy silently nodded his thanks as she pulled away, lighting her own cigarette.

“You’ve never had a cigarette before, have you?” she figured.

Percy looked down in defeat. “No, I haven’t,” he confessed. “But I’ve done everything else before,” he tried to save it.

“Everything?” Chloé raised an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,” he groaned.

“You’re more of a drinker, huh?” she deduced.

“I get high too,” he shrugged awkwardly.

“And you can’t light a cigarette?” she questioned in confusion.

“Hey, I, like, never do the lighting!” Percy protested. “I always have people do the rolling and the lighting for me! Because I don’t know how,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I can roll one for you,” she offered softly.

“What, right now?” he looked at her in surprise.

“Yeah. Sure,” she agreed. “We can split some in my room.”

Percy nearly fainted at those words.

Chapter Three

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #percy pjo #perseus jackson #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #pjo #logan lerman #percy x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #heroes of olympus

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

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The Crush | Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson is a cool, simple guy who is also the famous son of Poseidon who helped save the world. But, talking to the pretty girl in his English class still seems impossible.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter One: Pussy Jackson

Percy sat behind Chloé in English. She was tall and intimidating, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to work up the courage to talk to her. Sure, he wasn’t in high school anymore, but he still felt nervous around her like he was sixteen years old again. Chloé Jardine was, after all, the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

He knew Chloé was a Roman demigod, a daughter of Nox, the Roman equivalent of Nyx, the goddess of darkness and the night. She was a fairly typical child of Nox, a sort of minimalistic goth.

She had long, pitch black hair, with tiny micro bangs partially covering her forehead. She was also noticeably pale, as if she only ever went out at nighttime. Most people thought she looked scary, but Percy thought she looked magical.

Chloé had a decent amount of tattoos, including a pretty sizable spider web on her neck. She had a lot of piercings, including an eyebrow piercing and a vertical labret on her lip. She didn’t really wear makeup, but she was very obviously a goth. She was smart, and she didn’t talk a lot at all, which drove Percy insane. He made it his mission in life to know as much about her as possible.

Every time he saw her wearing a band T-shirt of some kind to school, he’d make a note of the band name and look it up later if he wasn’t familiar, and listen to all of the songs he could find.

So far, he’d listened to Type O Negative, Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Sisters of Mercy, Kittie, and Rob Zombie, only affirming his opinion that she was the coolest person on earth. His best friend, Grover, thought the behavior was just a little bit obsessive, but didn’t really think it was that bad.

That day in his college English course, he was sitting in his seat, listening to Soundgarden during the lecture on his laptop with the tab open, secretly hoping Chloé would have some some reason to walk back and look at his computer screen. Soundgarden wasn’t goth, of course, but Percy had seen her wear one of their shirts.

“Hey! Pussy Jackson!”

Percy frowned to see Clarisse La Rue sitting in a seat a couple rows behind him.

“Move your fat fucking head, I can’t see!”

“‘I’m doing fine, thank you, Clarisse’,” he mocked her under his breath. “‘How was your weekend’?”

Percy was startled to look up to see Chloé turned around in front of him.

“Will you two shut the fuck up?!” she whispered, staring at them in disbelief.

Percy’s face must have been beet red as he tried his hardest not to explode. He was dying of embarrassment as he tried to come up with some sort of answer.

“Uh, yeah! Sorry!” he apologized in a whisper.

Chloé just turned back around, shaking her head as she continued taking messy notes on the assignment due dates. Percy leaned forward slightly, looking curiously at her notebook. He found her handwriting interesting; it was kind of small with a lot sharp edges, written in haste without being too messy, almost like a doctor’s handwriting.

Percy knew he must’ve been lost in his horny ADHD world, because before he knew it, the instructor had just finished announcing the next project, a group project worth 20% of his grade.

“Alright, the groups are posted up here, so you can all come and take a look. You’ll have the rest of this class to figure out a presentation topic and get started,” the professor, a woman in her forties, announced as she retreated to her desk.

Alarmed by the words ‘groups’ and ‘presentation’, Percy anxiously made his way down to the whiteboard with everyone else, terrified to receive his group assignment. He prayed silently that he’d get at least one smart kid in his group, and zero Clarisse’s. As he slowly scanned the list of names up and down, his face went pale as he found his other two group mates. Clarisse La Rue and Chloé Jardine.

Percy wanted to kill himself immediately. Not only did he have to work with Clarisse, but he also had to figure out how to work with Chloé, who had just told him to shut the fuck up not two seconds ago, the first words she had ever spoken to him. He glanced back at Clarisse, who was standing beside Chloé. Neither of them looked very happy about the group assignment.

Percy glanced over at the peofessor’s desk, contemplating whether he should try and get a different group. He decided against it, figuring he’d had enough embarrassment for one day. Signing as he realized he’d have to face Chloé eventually, he walked over to where the girls were standing, ready to face the music. He’d fought monsters and faced imminent doom before, and somehow this felt exactly the same.

“I’m not doing all of the work,” Chloé crossed her arms.

“What makes you think you’d be doing all the work?!” Clarisse asked defensively.

“Because I’m in a group with you!”

“Hey…” Percy waved awkwardly, trying to break the ice, which seemed to also somehow be scalding hot.

“Oh, yeah. You’re in this group too,” Clarisse rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Percy retaliated childishly.

“Okay. We need to come up with a topic,” Chloé reminded them. “Which one should our presentation be about?”

“What are the options?” Percy asked, watching as she just let out a long sigh.

The next hour of class went by as slowly as possible. By the end of it, Clarisse had stormed out of the classroom, and Percy and Chloé were left sitting together exhaustedly. Chloé sighed as she got up, heading out of the building as Percy followed her.

“Sorry about Clarisse,” he offered sympathetically. “She drives everyone who has to deal with her insane.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” Chloé nodded.

*****

Percy felt odd, and completely out of place the entire time he sat in class discussing the project with Chloé. Every time she spoke to him, he felt more stupid. He knew nothing about what he wanted to do for the project, and he was even less prepared to answer these questions when asked by Chloé Jardine. And of course, Clarisse also being a part of the group didn’t help.

But Percy figured it was almost worth it, getting to work on the project with Chloé, with her cool hair, tattoos and piercings, and blue eyes, the same icy blue eyes that mesmerized him when he spoke to her. Percy had to clear his throat and check his breath twice before smiling at her as she turned, just having ordered a coffee from the kiosk nearby.

“Hey,” Percy wheezed, realizing how eager he sounded stalk to her, cursing himself silently.

“Hi,” Chloé said with slight surprise, sipping the warm coffee.

She looked at him expectantly, wondering what it was he could’ve possibly had to say to her. Chloé had already done a brief mental scan of Percy; she knew that he was the Greek son of Poseidon, by his shaggy black hair and sea green eyes.

She knew from the perpetual dopey expression on his face that he was attracted to her in some way. She’d seen the way he looked at her and assumed that it was mostly more sexual than emotional, based on the way his eyes lingered on her skin and the way he was constantly averting his eyes from her chest.

“See you,” Chloé smiled, politely excusing herself as she walked away.

“Fuck,” Percy muttered under his breath as he watched her walk away.

He sighed in defeat as he watched Chloé walk away from him, thinking of a hundred things in that moment he wished he’d said to her.

“It’ll never happen, you know.”

Percy whipped around quickly, alarmed as he turned around in the direction of the voice he’d heard. Naturally, the disapproving voice had belonged to Annabeth, his sharp-witted child of Athena ex-girlfriend.

“What?” Percy questioned defensively.

“You and Chloé,” she responded promptly.

Percy crossed his arms. “What makes you think—”

“That you’re infatuated with her?” she asked him. “I know you, Jackson.”

“I’m not infatuated with Chloé,” Percy rolled his eyes at her.

“Well. Infatuated or not, her ex-boyfriend is Sean Morley. The son of Apollo?” Annabeth Chase smirked. “With the blond hair, and the shoulders?”

“Why are you so invested?” he ignored her, questioning her skeptically.

Annabeth smiled, patting his shoulder sympathetically. “Because. It’s fun watching you refuse to learn,” she said as her demeanor softened.

Annabeth walked off and disappeared, leaving Percy to do a lot of thinking.

Chapter Two

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #pjo series #pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #logan lerman #pjo percy #percy pjo #percy x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #perseus jackson #heroes of olympus

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satansapostle6 · 3 months

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The Best of the Worst | Charlie Kelly

Charlie Kelly noticed the pretty blonde girl just as Dennis Reynolds tried to make her into another one of his conquests.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Part One: Charlie Makes a Friend

“What’s your name?”

“Juliette.”

“Well, Juliette, I must say, you are quite eye-catching. Do you model?”

“Uh, no,” the blonde smiled, “I don’t.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” Dennis Reynolds asked her.

“Not really…”

Juliette couldn’t figure out in what way exactly, but she found Dennis extremely off-putting. He was friendly, but only in the way that serial killers were friendly, saying all the right words and smiling and blinking at the proper intervals to be considered attractive and trustworthy to the human eye.

Juliette was grimacing beneath her polite smile, and Charlie could see it from across the restaurant. He, Dennis, and Mac had decided to eat out at Guigino’s, the fancy Italian restaurant, that Monday afternoon. And when Dennis saw the pretty blonde waitress, he decided he had to have her. Luckily, Charlie swooped in as he came back from the bathroom, or at least tried to.

“Hey, guys!” Charlie exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he stood beside his friend, trying to distract from him.

“Hi,” Juliette smiled, a bit confused by the situation now. “Can I get you anything…?”

“Uh, no, no,” Charlie shook his head, trying to appear sophisticated despite the fact that his T-shirt had holes in it that weren’t there when he first got it. “My compliments to the chef on his parmesan!”

“Uh… Okay,” Juliette nodded, glad to at least be off of whatever topic Dennis had decided on.

“Hey, guys!” Mac suddenly appeared between Dennis and Charlie, feeling left out. “Are we all talking?”

“No! …God damn it, Charlie…” Dennis muttered in his breath, somewhat subtly glaring at his friend as he turned to face him, “You don’t even compliment a chef on their parmesan, it’s cheese, you don’t have to make the cheese, it goes on a dish! You can compliment the dish that it goes on, but you don’t compliment the goddamn parmesan…”

“Do you guys need anything?” Juliette interjected uncomfortably, feeling as if she were waiting on an old married couple. “‘Cuz if you don’t, I kinda have my own customers to serve…”

“Yeah, actually,” Dennis smiled, turning his attention back to her as his blue eyes filled with hope, “Your phone number?”

Juliette stared blankly, batting her eyelashes as she failed to hide how flabbergasted she was. “N-No,” she murmured, in awe that he couldn’t pick up on the fact that she wasn’t interested at all.

“A-Are you sure?” Dennis stammered, offended by her rejection. “Because, if I may be frank, a man like me knows exactly what to do with cans like yours—”

They all watched as Juliette stormed off, no longer interacting with him under the false pretenses of polite customer service. She walked away shaking her head and muttering something under her breath, leaving Dennis to awkwardly stare at the floor as Charlie and Mac both turned to look at him.

“Dennis, that was pathetic,” Charlie scoffed.

“No it wasn’t,” Dennis snapped, “Shut up Charlie, you can’t even spell ‘pathetic’.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” Charlie agreed, “Which makes it even sadder that even I know she totally rejected you.”

“No, she didn’t,” Dennis sighed.

“Oh, she totally did, bro,” Mac insisted.

“Oh come on, the two of you know nothing about women!” Dennis exclaimed impatiently. “She was probably a lesbian…”

“I don’t think she was a lesbian, dude,” Charlie remarked.

“She totally was,” Dennis insisted as he sat down, the other two automatically following suit.

Throughout the rest of their lunch together, Charlie couldn’t help but think about Juliette, the girl Dennis has treated like another thing on the menu to be ordered over and tried. He felt strangely sad, seeing the awkward look on her face as she tried to fake her way through her unpleasant interaction with Dennis.

Charlie knew he definitely wasn’t as suave, or as handsome, or as clean as Dennis Reynolds, but he knew that if he’d gotten the chance to talk to Juliette first, he at least would’ve been a lot nicer to her than Dennis was. He liked to think that if he could, he would’ve asked Juliette questions about herself, like how she felt about ghouls, or what color of jelly bean was her favorite, or if she liked cats.

The thought was on Charlie’s mind up until Dennis payed their bill with his father’s card, and so he decided to head back to the door to the kitchens by the bathroom.

“Uh, excuse me?” Charlie asked nervously, seeing a busboy coming out.

“Yeah?” the younger guy asked.

“Do you know where Juliette is?” Charlie asked him.

“Uh, I think she’s out back taking a smoke break,” he offered.

“Okay. Out back. Okay, thanks,” Charlie nodded, rushing out towards the front door before Mac and Dennis could notice.

He headed toward the back alley of the Philadelphia restaurant, familiar with the place. Sure enough, he found the beautiful blonde girl leaning up against the brick wall, smoking something that could only be described as harsh even for a cigarette. Charlie approached her shyly with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, gently clearing his throat.

Juliette looked up at him with a furrowed brow.

“What do you want?” she asked quietly.

Considering how Dennis had spoken to her, Charlie found that she was extremely polite. He noticed she looked kind of like a businesswoman, in her black work pants and white button-down shirt.

“Look, I’m not like Dennis, okay, that guy’s a total dick,” Charlie said frankly, “I don’t wanna bother you or anything. I just wanted to say ‘sorry’,” he offered her an olive branch.

Juliette studied him for a moment, taking a long, contemplative puff from her cigarette before tapping the ash off.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

Charlie nodded, glad she seemed receptive.

“I, uh… I love Dennis and all, I guess, but I think he’s really mean to those nice, pretty girls he talks to,” Charlie spoke candidly, rambling on without a filter. “I don’t get it. Like, why be mean to anybody, but being mean to nice, pretty girls is just crazy. Being mean to you is crazy. You’re so pretty, and you seem nice, and all…”

He trailed off into silence as he looked down at the ground, moving in awkward directions with his hands in his pockets like a child unable to stand still.

“Thank you,” Juliette smiled, with a different tone from before.

“You’re welcome,” Charlie said finally, feeling accomplished as he realized he’d said something that she appreciated. “Can I have one?” he asked after a brief pause.

Juliette looked down and realized he was asking for a cigarette.

“Yeah. Sure,” she nodded quickly, opening the red pack for him. “What was your name?”

“Uh, Charlie!” he said quickly, taking a second to remember his own name.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” she said calmly, sympathizing with his nervousness.

“Nice… to meet you, too,” he remarked, unable to remember the last time someone had said that to him.

He pulled a 100 from the box and allowed her to light it for him as he put it in his mouth. She watched him cough as he just barely started to inhale, pulling the cigarette from his mouth for a moment.

“Reds aren’t your usual?” she gathered.

Charlie coughed as he looked at her with watery eyes.

“Honestly, I don’t like cigarettes,” he confessed. “I just wanted to feel, like, what you feel all the time, you know?”

Chapter Two

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