#diary of a wimpy kid rodrick

[lalalychee-x]

"Teenage Dirtbag— I think I'm okay"

Angst! Rodrick Heffley x reader pt 6

"She's walkin' over to me, this must be fake" romantic. + platonic

♡ Ayyeee, I'm back with part 6, this will NOT MAKE SENSE WITHOUT PART READING THE OTHER PARTS, SO DO MAKE SURE TO READ THEM! GOD THIS ONE IS SO LONG I'M SORRY GUYS IT'S LIKE 8K+ WORDS... like wtf, but this is basically Spring Dance (idk I'm British and the American school system baffles me) gone wrong and stupid garage afterparty. Welcome to part 4 of "Think I'm okay!" CW: self harm (sh) reference, the chocolate fountain thing , cheating (on You), misogyny, toxic relationships, cannon characters in this part word count: 8409 masterlist of all parts song4this: "Teenage Dirtbag" by Wheetus

-------story starts here-------

And yeah, you didn't. You didn't see him for the whole of midterms, even the music room was closed during exam season just before spring. You keep thinking about him though; thinking about how he probably skipped all his exams while staring at your phone half in regret that you never got his number.

What were you? Friends? Friends don't look at each other that way. "Just-friends" don't meet when you're about to off yourself, nor do they lay on bathroom floors with you and drown your dress in antiseptic.

You're halfway up a ladder, arms stretched above your head as you staple one last Spring Fling poster onto the bulletin board by the gym. The air smells like chalk dust, cafeteria bleach, and cherry lip gloss—yours, obviously. The sleeves of your cardigan keep slipping down as you reach, but you don't care since you're like 6ft above everyone else on this thing and yeah its a breath of fresh air from a crowded highschool gaggle.

Then you hear it.

The distinct, dragging shuffle of scuffed boots on linoleum.

You don't even need to look to know who it is. The air just feels different when he's around—denser, like everything's about to tilt off-balance.

Rodrick.

Of course it's him. Back like nothing happened. Same bandshirt from God-knows-how-many-days ago, same hair like he lost a fight with a lawn mower and still came out cocky. He's got a flyer in his hand—probably picked it up off the floor or stole it from a desk—and he's just standing there, staring up at your legs.

"Real subtle," you mutter without turning, keeping your focus on the staple gun. God, why did you say that? What happened to hi? Hello?

Rodrick blinks, mouth twitching. "I wasn't—okay, maybe a little."

You roll your eyes, stepping down off the ladder with a little thud. The moment your heels hit the ground, the weird tension drops too.

"So, what—finally got tired of ditching class and pretending you're too punk rock to care?"

Rodrick smirks. "Nah, I just heard there'd be glitter. Couldn't resist."

You pause, holding his gaze for a beat longer than you should. He looks... the same. And also like he's been living in grayscale until now.

You shove a poster into his chest.

"Here. Make yourself useful and tag along. The more the merrier."

Rodrick stares at it. "'Spring Fling: A Night to Remember'? Kinda dramatic, don't you think?"

You barely have time to roll your eyes at Rodrick's sarcastic comment before the sound of thundering footsteps barrels down the corridor like a stampede. You already know who it is. Only one pack of teenage boys is ALLOWED to be that loud, that obnoxious, and that full of expensive body spray.

"NATHAN! Yo!" one of them shouts, tossing a football down the hall like you're not literally standing in the way. You duck instinctively.

"Sorry, babe," Nathan grins, suddenly appearing at your side with an arm slung over your shoulder like a claim. His team hoots and hollers like they're in a music video, not a hallway. He's already sweaty from warm-ups, jersey clinging to his chest. You feel Rodrick stiffen next to you, just barely—arms crossed, jaw tight.

"Didn't know you were out here putting up decorations," Nathan says, glancing at the posters with a lopsided smirk. "That's cute."

You force a small smile, leaning away from his grip a little too subtly. "Yeah, well. Not all of us get excused from student body work just 'cause we can throw a ball."

Rodrick lets out a low chuckle behind you. You can practically feel the "get his ass" energy radiating off him.

Nathan ignores it, eyes zeroing in on you. "Practice is starting up soon. Come by the field? I want you to see my new plays—Coach says I might be MVP again."

You nod, "Yeah, sure."

Nathan plants a quick kiss on your cheek and jogs off, yelling something back to his team. And just like that, the hallway returns to its low buzz hum of chatter.

You don't turn around at first. You just stare at the floor, a little too long.

"Must be nice," Rodrick mutters, and when you glance back at him, he's not looking at you—just at the now-empty corridor like he's trying to burn a hole through it with his eyes. "Having the whole hallway clear out just 'cause your boyfriend walks by."

You blink. "You jealous of the hallway?"

He shrugs, eyes flicking to yours, guarded. "Nah. Just wish people cleared out when I showed up."

You snort, shaking your head. "They do. They just run the opposite direction."

"You're meant to selling this dance to me, not acting like a prick so I don't want to go." Rodrick scoffs, though there's no real bite behind it. 

"Well, come if you want, just don't oh, I don't know..." You pause, deliberately to drag it out, "Knock over the chocolate fountain this time?"

Rodrick could absolutely sock you for that, but the little smirk you have on your face makes him pause and he just... can't get mad.

"Oh shut up." He groans a little, half annoyed and half relieved he's talking to you again after so many months.

Rodrick wants to die. And certainly doesn't want to go anyway.

.

"You're going," Susan said, arms crossed, voice firm in that I've had three kids and I will not be tested tone.

Rodrick flopped dramatically on the couch like his bones no longer worked. "Why? Why would I willingly walk into a school function where they play Pitbull and judge your shoes?"

"Because it's a dance, Rodrick. A school dance," she emphasized, moving to block the TV screen so he'd actually look at her. "You're a senior. This might be one of the last chances you have to make a real memory before you graduate and start... whatever it is you think you're going to do."

"I have a band, Mom," he groaned, trying to peer around her, nochalantly shrugging at whatever she says. "We were gonna go mess with someone's car again. You know. Real memory-making stuff."

Susan didn't move. "Your band can wait. Besides—" she tilted her head with a mom smirk—"I heard someone's been skipping a few too many classes lately. Maybe this is your chance to show you're still involved."

Rodrick looked personally attacked. "Who told you that?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I have eyes, Rodrick. And the school sends me emails. You'd know that if you checked anything besides your phone."

"Unreal," he muttered, sitting up halfway. "I don't even have anything to wear. What do you want me to do, show up in my Slayer tee and jeans that smell like pizza rolls?"

Susan smiled too sweetly. "I bought you a shirt. It has buttons."

He stared at her, betrayed. "A button-up?"

She patted his shoulder, already walking toward the stairs. "You'll live. Be ready by six. And Rodrick?" she paused at the top, eyes twinkling. 

Rodrick groaned, his hands hitting his leg in annoyance as he peered down at her from his room.

"Maybe try brushing your hair this time."

He groaned again, flopping back down with a dramatic thud, staring at the ceiling like the world was ending. A button-up. And worst of all—he had a weird feeling he might run into you.

And that terrified him more than Pitbull ever could, enough that he had to redo his buttons like five times because he kept attaching them on a diagonal.

Okay, maybe it wasn't pure horror that was making him do that, maybe it was because he genuinely can't button up a shirt because the last time he wore one was when he got kicked out the church for showing up without pants.

He's so damn useless.

.

The bedroom looked like a boutique got drunk and exploded. Dresses clung to door frames, half-zipped garment bags draped over chairs, and the scent of heat-damaged hair and Bath & Body Works body mist made the air humid and nostalgic.

  "Somebody find the lash glue!" someone yelled, probably Madison, because she'd been pacing around in nothing but a towel for the last twenty minutes, clutching a tube of Baby Lips like it was a mic. You should know because she was screaming at you to get out the bathroom because you took too long covering your scars with thick layers of foundation; I guess foundation doesn't stick to glitter very well.

"I'm not going if my eyes are naked. I will simply perish." Trust me, no one's eyes were naked; all very much smoky eye and lip gloss.

You adjusted the sweetheart neckline of your dress in the smudged vanity mirror, trying not to flinch at the flyaway curl that refused to obey gravity. You debated whether adding MORE glitter spray would fix it... or just stick that lock of hair into a random braid. It was pissing you off, and you really did consider gluing it down with lash-glue.

Everywhere was one of the bold jewel tones; electric blue, hot pink, royal purple, or the classic black 'nd silver sparkle combo and it made your eyes hurt like you were staring directly into strobe lights.

 Someone's curling iron hissed behind you. Pop music from a Spotify playlist blared through tinny speakers—something Ke$ha-y and glittery. Every few seconds, a flash went off. The Valencia-filtered mirror selfies were piling up already, each one messier than the last.

"Okay but is this dress too much?" you asked no one and everyone, smoothing the skirt down nervously. It was a poofy, hi-low dress that made you look a bit like a peacock: cut short at the front, but trailed behind you around the back.

A chorus of "nooo, you look hot" echoed without pause, followed by "Nathan's gonna lose his mind when he sees you," and then someone cackled, "or whoever else is looking."

You smiled, but didn't answer. Instead, your thumb hovered over your phone screen, checking Rodrick's story again. Nothing. Not that you were checking. Not on purpose. Not like he'd even go. Not like he'd even care, since they banned student-performances after what happened at Heather's sweet-sixteen and she threw a fit at the Principal.

Still.

You looked back at your reflection—mascara still slightly clumpy, the hem of your dress brushing your knees just right, the chunky rhinestone bracelet twinkling under the bedroom light. You didn't feel perfect. But you looked it. And tonight, that would be enough.

Downstairs, someone's mom yelled, "LIMO'S OUTSIDE!"

Shrieks. Scrambling. Perfume mist in the air like fog. 

It wasn't a limo, of course, it was some jock dude's dad's convertible, Nathan in the passenger seat already manspreading like he owned the damn road.

"Shotgun's mine, losers," he called as you stepped out in your heels, balancing a tiny purse and your phone like your life depended on it. He leaned back with his arm slung behind the seat, tossing you a wink. You smiled, but it didn't reach all the way.

"Ugh, I'm sitting bitch again," Madison groaned as everyone crammed in. Someone had to sit half on someone else's thigh; someone else's hair immediately got caught in the door. There was a shriek of "MY DRESS!" before the engine roared to life, and the car peeled off into the suburban road, glitter and chaos trailing behind.

The drive felt like the start of a music video—wind whipping through carefully styled hair, cheap jewelry rattling, everyone laughing too loud, too forced. Die Young by Ke$ha blasted from the speakers, and someone yelled, "This is our night, bitches!"

Nathan reached over to put a hand on your thigh, just a casual flex of control. You didn't pull away, but you didn't lean in either. Your eyes were on the road, on the way the sun dipped behind the school gym's roofline in the distance. That weird feeling was back—like a pit in your stomach dressed in rhinestones.

The school parking lot was already packed. String lights lit up the path to the entrance, and some teachers awkwardly hovered outside like underpaid bouncers. Balloons in spring pastels framed the doorway, and you could faintly hear the thump of bass inside, like a heartbeat behind the walls.

Nathan swung the car into a crooked spot, barely braking before hopping out and offering you a hand. "Ready for prom 0.5?" he said with a smirk.

"It's not prom, babe" you muttered with a half-smile, fixing the hem of your dress as you stepped out.

He didn't hear. Or pretended not to and continued to clutch your hand as you walked inside.

The gym had been utterly transformed. Streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, fairy lights hung like stars, and the DJ booth was already pumping out some remix of a song that was barely a year old. People were crowding the dance floor, others were perched around the edges like it was some glittery battlefield.

You blinked, heels clicking against the gym floor as you walked in, Nathan's hand ghosting the small of your back.

And across the room—somewhere near the bleachers, still as ever—Rodrick Heffley stood like a misplaced shadow. Mismatched black tie. Slightly wrinkled dress shirt. Hair a little messy, but not in the usual 'I just woke up in a trash can' way.

He was here.

And he was staring right at you.

But somewhere between Call Me Maybe and an aggressively off-key group scream of Timber, you lost track of where Nathan was.

The dance floor was a minefield of sweaty bodies and sticky soda spills, and you were caught right in the middle—arms looped around shoulders that weren't yours, your own hand gripped by some girl you barely even knew from chem, spinning you like you were best friends.

"Dance with us, oh my god, stop being a priss!" someone squealed, pulling you closer. A guy in a shiny vest bumped into you hard, laughing like he didn't notice. Even suits, on guys were obnoxiously shiny with vests and open-collar shirts like some Shakespearan twink.

You stumbled a bit, catching yourself, heels wobbling on the gym floor.

"Jesus," you muttered, trying to laugh it off, but your smile was pinched. The music vibrated through your ribs.

And in the corner of your eye—through the haze of disco lights and poorly ventilated fog machine clouds—you caught sight of him.

Rodrick.

He was raiding the snack table with the confidence of someone who clearly had not been invited, tongue out slightly as he tried to stack like, six cookies on a single flimsy napkin. Dressed like someone whose mom had ironed his shirt five minutes before he left and gave up halfway through. Tie crooked. Hair not quite right.

He looked...exactly how you remembered him. Out of place. In his own world. And weirdly invincible for it. You're a little jealous.

You stared a little too long. Like you were trying to memorize him again. Then someone yelled "Move!" and a pair of shoulders shoved past you. You blinked and looked away.

Time blurred after that—chattering girls, photos with forced smiles, soda spills that smelled faintly of fake fruit, Mr. Lacey threatening to shut everything down if someone didn't stop making obnoxious sex noises by the speaker.

You needed air.

The gym doors creaked open as you stepped out, the cold night air biting pleasantly at your cheeks. The lot was mostly empty now, just the sound of music echoing faintly behind you, until—

You froze.

The convertible. That convertible.

Heather Hills sat perched in the driver's seat, her legs up, golden hair tousled like she'd just come from a magazine shoot. Lip gloss smeared in a way that wasn't accidental. And Nathan—your boyfriend—was leaned in close, hand on the headrest behind her, laughing. That quiet, smug kind of laugh.

You watched as she touched his chest, planting another fat, wet one on his lips.

And he didn't move away.

Something inside you sank slow and sharp, like someone had cut the strings holding you up.

You just stood there like an idiot, glitter catching on your lashes like it was trying to decorate the silence. You can't even go down there and confront him because you're sure if you even tried to walk down the steps in your current condition you'd tumble over and break your back.

Behind you, the gym doors creaked open again, and a familiar lazy voice groaned, "Dude, they ran outta punch, what the hell—"

Rodrick.

He spotted you immediately. Stopped mid-step, still holding his cup and a tragically bent cookie. Brows furrowing, head tilting.

"...Hey," he said, quieter this time.

Upon closer look, you realised looked unusally thick and creased with a faint outline of another shirt underneath. This dork.

And even though the air was freezing, and your heart had just cracked clean down the center, you gave him the tiniest, smallest, fakest smile in the world.

Rodrick didn't even clock your expression. He felt like something had just neuron-activated in his brain, seeing you in that obnoxiously bold dress, sweetheart neckline around your breasts and the glitter catching in your collarbones and along your shoulders like you were dipped in stars or wearing a real life Instagram filter—he swore he forgot how to breathe.

Jesus Christ.

Why did you have to look like THAT.

He felt like some part of his teenage loser brain just got sucker-punched awake, but no he couldn't discern the expression on your face.

Or maybe he did and was just, y'know...being Rodrick.

"Yo, you know they've got mini donuts in there?" he said, voice way too loud for the dead quiet outside. He held one up proudly, like the tiny thing would hide his reddening face. "I thought it was a meatball at first so I like, bit it and I was like, 'Why's this meatball sweet?'—"

"Rodrick," you hissed, panic snapping through your throat.

He paused mid-ramble, donut halfway to his mouth.

"What?"

"Shut up."

Your hand latched onto his wrist and you yanked him back toward the gym before he could even blink. He staggered a bit, mouth full, confused as hell but letting you drag him anyway.

"What the—, I just got out here! You dragging me for round two on the dance floor? Because I'm telling you now, I don't grind. That's like, against my religion or whatever."

You spun him around by the back door, ducking beneath the glowing EXIT sign, breathing hard.

Rodrick blinked down at you, finally catching the look on your face. Your shoulders were tense, hands still clenched, chest rising like something was caught there and wouldn't go down.

"...Okay," he said slowly, "either someone pissed in your punch or you just watched Nathan pull something seriously dumb."

You didn't say anything.

But you didn't have to.

Because now Rodrick's eyes flicked past you, through the cracked door where Heather's laugh floated on the breeze like a knife. And something in his face settled into that rare, quiet stillness that only came out when things weren't a joke anymore.

"...Shit," he muttered. "That's what you meant by shut up."

You crossed your arms, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurt. "No, Rodrick. I just really didn't want anyone to interrupt your story about donut meatballs."

He winced. "Okay. Fair."

Silence. Not even the fun kind.

Just the kind where the music from inside bled through the gym doors, thumping like a heartbeat neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

You had your hands hovering just above your face—not touching, not really—just... floating there. Like you wanted to press in, hide behind them, but you remembered the effort it took to get your eyeliner symmetrical and said no thanks to the meltdown. Your fingers twitched near your temples. A sigh tried to escape you and everything was annoying you even if it was unfair you said:

"...are you wearing a..." You squint, leaning in so close he swears he's going to get dusted in glitter too, examining the scratchy letters that formed a sort of V-shape, "Rammestein shirt?"

"Look, this button-up isn't even mine, its my dad's."

You pull back, laughing softly and he thinks its music (not his screaming-metal type but more like a catchy pop song) to his ears, especially after seeing you so disraught only a moment ago.

"That's so fucking stupid." 

Rodrick stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, holding back a grin that you knew the band, but was still calling him stupid.

"I dunno a single word in any of their songs. German sounds badass though."

You roll your eyes, "Did you fail German back in middle school? Or did you try taking Spanish instead?"

"Neither. I can't read shit in English, why would I know Spanish?" Rodrick deadpans, clutching his tiny donut and cup of punch.

You smile, your lips suddenly feeling stupidly sticky with lipgloss and everything you were wearing was suddenly a sensory issue.

He scratched the back of his neck like his skin suddenly didn't fit right either. He watched your glitter catch the light and decided this was the most painful crush he's ever had.

Yeah, he's gonna admit it, he has a crush on someone else's girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, in the near future probably, but it still felt weird because he's self-aware his ego isn't that inflated to pull someone else's girlfriend.

God. Yeah. He had a crush.

Not just a "oh, she's hot" kind of crush either. Not the kind he used to have on some older chick from a magazine, or even that stupid, overhyped thing with Heather Hills because she had blonde hair and nice legs. No, this one was personal. Sharp-edged and humiliating. It made his stomach knot and his face burn and his tongue trip over itself anytime you looked directly at him for more than three seconds, even if most of the time you looked at him like a piece of shit.

And it sucked.

Because you had a boyfriend. Quarterback dude with abs and a car and one of those faces that parents love, even when he's a dick. And Rodrick wasn't gonna pretend he was some noble guy about it either—he wanted to hate the guy just for existing, but also...didn't feel like he was even in the same league. Not with the band tees, the sarcasm, the chronic inability to ask for anything without sounding like a joke.

Still.

He watched the glitter on your shoulders flicker like starlight. Heard the way your laugh cracked like glass earlier when you were trying not to cry. And it hit him. Hard.

Yeah, no way out of this one. Rodrick Heffley had a full-blown, pathetic, slow-burning, feels-like-getting-punched-in-the-gut crush on you. And losers with crushes do stupid things.

"Wanna dance?" he blurted out, because clearly his mouth didn't have the same filter as his brain tonight.

You stared. Hard.

Eyes over your manicured fingertips dolled out with heavy press-ons, blinking slow.

His confidence wavered fast, like a kid realizing the slide is way taller than it looked from the ground. "I mean—not like, grind or anything. I got kicked out of church but I still feel like Jesus or something is watching me," he added quickly, joking but also kind of wishing the floor would eat him.

You just kept staring.

Then—

"...You're such an idiot."

And you dropped your hands and let out a breath that might've been a laugh. Maybe. Almost.

But you didn't walk away.

Didn't scoff or shoot him down or roll your eyes like he half-expected. Instead, you just kinda... melted. Like all the fight had slowly drained out of you and left behind something soft, something sad and open. Your hands hovered awkwardly near his arms before settling at his shoulders. Close. Closer than he thought you'd ever let him be.

Rodrick blinked. Panic set in—but only for a second—because holy shit you said yes. You were dancing with him.

Or, well, trying to.

Because within five seconds, he'd managed to step on your toe and nearly elbow someone behind him in the ribs. His hands were hovering somewhere between your ribs and waist like he was holding a bomb. His knees bent weird. His head was doing something strange.

You stared up at him like you were watching a toddler try to walk.

"The fuck are you doing?" you blurted, half-laughing, half-offended. "That's not how you—what even is that?"

"I dunno!" he whisper-yelled, defensive already. "I panicked! I've never slow danced with someone before, okay? I thought it was like...swaying or some shit!"

You couldn't even be mad. You just snorted and leaned your head forward, bumping into his chest lightly. "You're such a dumbass, take that shirt off you look far too...hot."

You had to pause at the double meaning in that; yeah, maybe you did have a thing for Rodrick but you felt like you had nothing to lose now.

"What, right here—"

"Like, warm! You're literally overheating," You tug him to the side, waddling backwards in your sparkly shoes and start to unbutton his far-too-large dress shirt behind the desserts table.

Rodrick let you drag him like some half-reluctant, half-thrilled mannequin, his boots scuffing awkwardly across the gym floor as you pulled him behind the dessert table, all glittery and glowing and far too determined.

"I mean, who wears flannel over a band tee to a dance?" you muttered, fingers already popping open the buttons like you were defusing a bomb. "It's like ninety degrees in here."

"I didn't know there was a dress code," Rodrick grumbled, standing there all stiff with his arms half-raised, heart thudding hard enough to make him dizzy. "Also, rude. This shirt's vintage."

You gave him a flat look as you yanked the flannel fully open. "It's a worn-out Rammstein tee with a mustard stain on the hem."

Rodrick looked down. "Battle damage."

You didn't dignify that with a response. You just slid the flannel off his arms and tossed it somewhere behind the punch bowl, huffing. But you didn't step away. Not yet. You stayed close, fingers lingering a second too long on the edge of the tee like you were thinking about something you shouldn't think about.

And Rodrick? Rodrick was fighting for his goddamn life.

You looked like that—like this—and your lip gloss was catching the light and your dress was hugging your waist in a way that made his brain static. And for once, you were touching him, tugging at him, focused entirely on him.

So yeah. He took the moment to admire you. A little too long. A little too obvious. Eyes trailing over your neck, the curve of your collarbones, the shimmer along your jaw.

"You done gawking?" you said, quirking a brow.

Rodrick cleared his throat. Loudly. "Yeah. No. Maybe. Shut up."

"Too many maybes, I'm going to flip out." You groan, fiddling with his buttons, "I mean, maybe I'm some slut who dances with the first guy she sees after her boyfriend cheats on her since well, you're a fucking loser and I'm a hypocrite huh?"

The words just started tumbling out your mouth, tightly-laced with frustration, before you could stop yourself.

Rodrick's mouth dropped open. Like his brain had blue-screened. Just static in his skull, completely unprepared for the self-destruction you just spit out. He blinked hard, hands twitching at his sides like they wanted to hold you but didn't know how, didn't know if they were allowed to.

"No—wait—you're not—I mean, you're not like that, you're..." He made a strangled noise. "You're cool, like really... like you're just—fuck—you're wonderful, okay?!"

It came out like he was having an allergic reaction to sincerity. Like the word "wonderful" had to be ripped from the back of his throat.

You just stared at him.

"...you just call me wonderful?" Your voice cracked half in disbelief, half in... something else. Of all things, he picked something corny like that? Talking like an almond mom?

Rodrick immediately turned red, like he'd been caught naked mid-thought. "I—I didn't mean it like a grandma way, I just—like, you're—shit, you're so much sometimes, I mean it in a good way, I swear—"

You blinked at him, wide-eyed. And for a second, just a second, the ache in your chest loosened. Just from how sincerely bad he was at saying something nice. And how hard he was trying anyway.

You laughed.

Not a cute, closed-mouth laugh either. An actual, full-on, open-mouthed cackle that made your lipgloss smear just slightly across your top lip, catching the light in a way that made Rodrick's already-fried brain just fully implode. Your shoulders shook, eyes crinkling, and he could feel the way your fingers tugged at the last button on his shirt—pop—and it all felt way too intimate for something happening behind the dessert table at a high school dance.

And then it happened.

In his dazed, flustered haze, he shifted his foot—just slightly—bumping into yours as you leaned closer. You both tilted, a shared gravitational pull, and—

CLUNK.

The table jerked. Something metallic creaked. The both of you turned just in time to watch the chocolate fountain wobble like it was trying to decide its own fate. You didn't breathe. Neither did he.

Then, in slow-motion doom:

CRASH.

Chocolate. Everywhere. Cascading like a sticky waterfall of regret.

You both froze. Silent. Horrified.

"...Shit," Rodrick whispered, eyes wide, hair sticking up from stress like static. "Was that... expensive?"

What is this stupid sense of deja vu?

The room exploded.

A collective gasp. A shriek. Someone yelled "MY SHOES!" from across the gym like it was a war crime. The scent of cocoa thickened in the air, hot and dramatic and very visible. A freshman slipped trying to escape the blast zone. One of the chaperones shouted something about liability. Phones were already out—flashes popping like gunfire.

Rodrick's eyes were wild.

"Okay—nope—nope," he mumbled, grabbing your wrist before you could even form words, yanking you behind him with all the coordination of a guy who'd only ever sprinted to avoid doing chores. "We're leaving. I'm not getting banned again."

"Wait—again?!"

But he didn't answer. He ducked under streamers, sidestepped a trail of melted chocolate like a landmine map, and beelined for the back door like a man with zero dignity and zero intention of getting caught. You stumbled after him in your sparkly shoes, glitter flashing with every chaotic step.

The gym doors slammed behind you. The cool night air bit your skin. You both half-tripped, half-tumbled down the concrete steps like some low-budget romcom crash cut.

You swear you meet Nathan's eyes as he perks up alarmed at the commotion coming from inside—of course, with Heather's dress half undone beside him in the front seat.

You knew you could never do that with him; not with your scars because you're so sure someone like Nathan would pull away. Maybe that's why he went for a valley girl like Heather who's only got "first-world problems". Not the kind of problems where you think you should kill yourself every other day.

Not that it mattered right now, because they passed across in a big, glittery, half-naked blur.

The parking lot was dark and half-empty, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as  but its not like you stopped there and he dragged you across the ashphalt.

"RODRICK!" 

You barely manage to keep ahold of your tiny purse as he practically shoved you in the back. You hit your head on a stray cymbal on the floor.

Rodrick finally crawled into the cab of his van, settling into the driver's seat with relief, unaware you're sprawled like a ragdoll. "Hide in there," he panted, "...they won't know."

That was the least of your worries right now. Your heart was thudding in your ears, god you want to punch him. He sensed a disturbance in the force and he slowly turned around, peeking into the back and staring right at your irriated, glittery, smudged face.

He smiled a bit nervous, "Uh.."

"You have made me snap my heel."

He looked concerned, brows furrowing, "What like a broken bone?!"

"No," You say, shuddering like you're trying to compose yourself, "My fucking SHOE."

He winces with an apologetic expression that makes your anger melt.

"Just step on it." You slowly get up, groaning at the ache in your back.

"What? Where you going? Because last time I pulled up to your house, you got your ass beat."

You sigh, crawling FROM the back into the passenger seat with immense difficulty, legs first, "Ugh, well, where are you going? My parents aren't expecting me back until like 11. Let me stay out since it was Nathan."

Rodrick's mouth goes dry as you push past him and setting down into the passenger seat, your massive poofy skirt taking up half the space in the front cab. You looked like one of those CUPPATINIS dolls with skirts so big and round they would turn into a teacup when you flipped them inside out.

"Uh, home..."

You stare at eachother.

Rodrick clears his throat, his hands gripping and shaking on the wheel, "Is it too early to invite you over?"

You note the crack in his voice and let your arms flop down into the sea of organza around you. Your voice comes out small, whispered almost, "...no, that would be great."

Rodrick had to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. Not that you didn't see it. 

The van rumbled to life, coughing like it had chain-smoked a pack before prom. You settled into the seat with a sigh, your sparkly skirt ballooning around your legs like some kind of cursed prom-themed marshmallow. Rodrick had to keep peeking over the tulle just to see the gearshift.

The radio buzzed to life without either of you touching it—blaring loud, thrashing rock from some crusty band he probably thought was underrated genius. You braced for the usual impulse to eye-roll or snap at him to turn it down, but... you just laughed instead.

Rodrick side-eyed you with suspicion. "You didn't just—laugh?"

You shrugged, chin resting on the edge of your seatbelt. "You've got a whole chocolate crime scene on your shirt, I'm not exactly in a position to complain."

So the rest of the drive passed like that—quiet, charged, and awkward, with guitar riffs filling the space neither of you had the guts to fill. You'd occasionally catch him sneaking glances, drumming fingers on the wheel like a nervous habit. Your leg brushed his once on a turn and neither of you moved it.

By the time the van slowed in front of the Heffley house, you were starting to feel the buzz of adrenaline wear off. The porchlight was on, buzzing gently. Rodrick put the van in park and turned to say something just as the front door slammed open.

"GREG, I SWEAR TO GOD—"

"RODRICK?!"

The screaming overlapped. A blur of plaid pajama pants and bare feet skidded to the threshold, Greg looking like he'd aged a decade. Manny barreled into view right after, shrieking like a banshee with a Nerf gun in hand and chocolate smeared across his face.

You blinked. "Is he—does he have a sugar problem—"

"Don't engage," Rodrick muttered grimly, already opening the door. "He feeds off attention."

Greg stood frozen in the doorway like he'd just been hit by a brick. His eyes ping-ponged between Rodrick—disheveled, flushed, still chocolate-stained—and you, standing behind him in a glitter-covered prom dress that had clearly been through war. Like, literal war.

"...What," Greg said slowly, "is that?"

Rodrick groaned. "She's a girl, Greg. Ever seen one before?"

"No, why is she here? You look like you mugged a bakery and she looks like she was dragged backwards through a limo."

"I was not—" you started, trying to smooth down the giant puff of your skirt, which had now collected an impressive bouquet of twigs and cupcake frosting. Greg just stared, slack-jawed.

Manny screeched again and shot a Nerf dart right into your cleavage. You flinched and tried to fish it out and Rodrick had half the mind to do it himself but he'd look like a perv. Rodrick grabbed it from your hands instead and threw it back at him with surgical rage.

Greg finally came to. "Wait—are you bringing girls home now? Like to the house? What the hell is happening, did someone swap your brain out or something?!"

Rodrick spun on him, wild-eyed, palms out. "Greg, shut up! Don't say anything to Dad—please."

That was all it took. Greg's brows shot up so far they nearly vanished into his hairline.

"Ohhhhhh," he said slowly, eyes widening with glee and horror at the same time. "You brought a girl home, and you don't want Dad to know. Oh, he's gonna kill you."

Rodrick looked like he was about to throw up.

"Greg, please."

"...What's in it for me?"

"Greg—I'll give you twenty bucks and I'll do your chores for two weeks just please shut up—"

You stepped around him and blinked at Greg, arms crossed over your sparkly, sticky chest.

"Listen, I just watched my boyfriend cheat on me and the heel on my shoe has snapped, I'm not in the mood."

Greg's mouth clamped shut, mumbling something to Rodrick,

"I thought you were one of those dudes like, up for hire like a male prosti—"

Rodrick smacks him in the back of the head. And you hope you didn't hear that correctly.

Rodrick exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Okay. Okay. Cool. Let's go before anyone else sees us."

You followed him in, glitter trailing behind like fairy dust, and Greg just stood there, staring after you like Rodrick had just brought a literal alien home.

You limped across the hall, one sparkly heel in hand like a war trophy and the other still dangling off your toes, threatening to break apart with every uneven shuffle. Your other foot was bare and probably sticky from the frosting you'd stepped in during the Great Chocolate Fountain Escape, but you were too fried to care. You just followed Rodrick through the narrow hallway past the kitchen and down into the garage.

It looked exactly like something out of a teenage garage band fever dream.

Old, cracking band posters lined the walls—some peeling at the corners, some held up with duct tape and what looked suspiciously like chewed gum. A rusting drum kit sat in one corner, half-covered with a flannel shirt that was either drying or being used as a dust cloth (who knew). Empty soda cans and crumpled fast food bags littered the floor around the amp cords, which tangled like snakes on the concrete. A crooked whiteboard on one wall had half-faded notes like practice tues?? and call Bill abt gig??? scrawled in Rodrick's barely-legible all-caps.

A makeshift couch made from what was probably three different pieces of furniture sat crooked beneath a flickering basement light, cushions long worn into a cratered shape by hours of teenage boy lounging.

You blinked at it all for a second before flopping down onto the couch with a soft "ugh," your skirt puffing out like a broken parachute around you. Your glitter left an instant trail on the old corduroy cushions.

Rodrick stood awkwardly in front of you, scratching the back of his neck and shoving some guitar picks off the seat next to you with his foot. "Uh...yeah. This is the garage."

You gave him a tired look. "No shit, Sherlock."

He cracked a weak smile. "Sorry. I just—uh—don't usually have girls in here. And they don't wear...you know." He vaguely motioned to your massive glittery dress.

You smirked, holding up the snapped heel. "You're welcome for the fashion upgrade."

Rodrick snorted and sat down beside you—close, but not too close—shoulders brushing for just a second before he shifted a little like he didn't trust himself not to combust. His knees jutted out wide, his band tee slightly wrinkled, hair still messy from running and a little glossy with sweat.

"Want water?" he asked after a beat. "Or like...a popsicle? That's all we got."

You smile. That sounded really good.

You both ended up sitting there—half-dazed, half-recovering from the sugar crash—sucking on those cheap neon freezer pops from the back of the fridge like kindergarteners at recess.

Rodrick had a red one. You had blue.

There was nothing but the low hum of the mini fridge, the distant muffled sound of Greg yelling at Manny to stop biting things, and the occasional squeak of the garage door shifting in the wind. Your knees were curled sideways on the couch now, dress cascading down onto the floor, heels abandoned by the amp like a glitter crime scene.

"These always make my throat weird," you muttered, voice raspy as you sucked on the end of the plastic tube.

Rodrick looked over at you, lips stained crimson and already half-dissolved popsicle in hand. "Yeah. It's like you're eating frostbite."

You laughed, your voice a little choked. "Why do they taste like window cleaner?"

"'Cause they are, probably." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and immediately winced when he saw the bright red smear he left behind. "Shit, I look like I just kissed a clown."

You stuck your tongue out at him, stained bright blue and freezing cold, like a cartoon character. "You look like one."

"Oh, real mature," he grinned, half leaning into your space now. "Say that again, smurf mouth."

"Smurf mouth?" You let out this tired, high-pitched giggle, cheeks glowing even in the dim garage light. "You're one to talk, blood mouth."

He blinked slowly, letting the silence hang for a second before cracking a smile so wide it made his nose scrunch. "This is the dumbest afterparty ever."

You nodded, sucking the last bit of blue juice from the corner of the tube. "Afterparty while the actual party is still going. Shit's sad but I kinda don't wanna leave though so it must be something."

Rodrick shrugged and stared at the half-melted popsicle in his hand, the red streak dripping down his fingers and soaking into his palm.

You were both just sprawled out now—melting, basically—like a couple of discarded action figures tossed onto a couch. The couch springs poked through a tear in the side, and Rodrick's bare socked foot was resting dangerously close to a pair of drumsticks crusted in god-knows-what.

The popsicles were finished. Your lips were tingling and throat felt weirdly numb, but your body was relaxed in a way it hadn't been in weeks.

You glanced sideways. "Hey...that your electric?"

Rodrick followed your gaze to the chipped black guitar leaning against a busted amp, duct tape hanging off one corner like it was trying to hold the instrument's soul together. "No it's Drew's spare." He tilted his head, squinting at it. "Still technically works."

You hummed, eyes dragging over the fretboard. "That's like the one I played that night, huh?"

He blinked. Then gave a sharp exhale through his nose. "You mean the night you emotionally obliterated me with, like, three chords and a death glare?"

A lopsided smirk formed on your gloss-smudged lips. "I was going through it."

Rodrick picked at a loose thread in his jeans, mock casual. "You wanna play again? I mean—I can, like, back you up this time. Or, y'know...hover awkwardly while pretending I know how chords work."

There was a beat. Then a short laugh from you, almost disbelieving.

"I don't even remember how."

"Good," Rodrick said, eyes flicking to yours with this soft, crooked grin. "You'll fit right in."

Rodrick plugged in the guitar with a dramatic flourish like he was in some kind of budget movie trailer, then immediately fumbled with the amp knob because it made a loud crackkk sound and nearly blew both your eardrums out.

You laughed so hard you doubled over, your poofy dress spilling over your knees like a deflated balloon. One of your press-ons popped off earlier while opening the popsicle wrapper, and you'd gotten fed up trying to save the rest. So now you were unceremoniously biting them off with your teeth, balancing the last one between your molars like some kind of petty act of rebellion.

Barefoot and exhausted, your skirt gathered around your lap like a quilt, you watched Rodrick make a face at the buzzing static coming from the amp.

"Okay," he muttered, pressing buttons he clearly didn't understand. "That's, uh...a noise. That's fine."

You just grinned at him. "You're such a pro."

Rodrick gave you a side-glance, but it was laced with this boyish pride he couldn't quite mask, and he perched the strap over his shoulder. "Alright. What do you wanna hear, Your Majesty?"

"I dunno. What do you think?" you said, tossing your chewed-off nail to the floor and shaking out your curls like a messy queen on a throne made of old amps and pizza boxes.

The minutes blurred as you picked up the guitar and he slumped behind his drumkit. Between messy rhythm, out-of-tune strings, and you humming nonsense lyrics to nothing in particular, it was the most alive either of you had felt in weeks.

Eventually, the music tapered off. Not because you ran out of energy—though, to be fair, your eyelids were getting heavy—but because the moment didn't need anything else.

Rodrick flopped back dramatically onto a pile of bedsheets, the guitar sliding from his chest with a soft thunk. "I'm dead. You killed me. Congrats."

You peeled your dress off the floor where it had pooled and curled your legs to the side. "You've been dead. You're like... undead. A walking cringe."

He groaned into his arm. "Shut up."

But when he peeked at you through his messy fringe, something soft flickered in his face—like he was still reeling from the fact that you were here, in his garage, glitter and all, sitting right beside him on the floor in silence.

Not that the silence was awkward.

It settled over you both like a warm blanket, heavy but comforting, punctuated only by the soft hum of the amp still idling in the background and the occasional creak of the garage walls cooling with the night. Outside, you could hear the faint bark of a neighbor's dog and the distant whoosh of a car driving past.

You sat cross-legged now, your dress poofed around you like a wilted flower, toes peeking out. Your lip gloss was half-smudged, your makeup fading in that kind of raw, human way that made you look even more real. More you.

Rodrick turned his head toward you from where he laid, the back of his wrist under his skull, and just stared for a second too long.

You noticed. Of course you noticed.

"What," you said, barely more than a whisper, lips quirking up like you were about to tease him. But you didn't. You just looked at him. Really looked.

And he swallowed.

"I dunno," he muttered, voice rough and caught in his throat. "You're just...here. In my garage. Like it's normal or something. And it's not."

You blinked. "Why's it not?"

He sat up a bit, propping himself on his elbow. "Because. You're...like..." He gestured at you vaguely, his hand flopping uselessly. "That. And I'm me."

You didn't say anything for a second. He was still staring, and you didn't break eye contact. It was like neither of you could. There was a buzz in the air, but not like the amp—this one was electric. Right beneath your skin.

Then softly, you said, "You're not just you. You're..."

You trailed off. Because you didn't know what you were going to say. Or maybe you did, but it was stuck behind your teeth.

He was leaning in before either of you realized it. Just a little. Just enough to feel the shift.

His hair was falling in his eyes again. His breath tasted like cherry popsicle and cheap soda, and yours was barely held together behind glossed lips, parted slightly because you were frozen. That little breathless moment, like someone pressing pause right before something stupidly irreversible.

You leaned back on your palms ignoring it the best you could, dress folding around you like a crumpled cupcake wrapper, your chest rising slow under the sweetheart neckline. Your lips were glossy again, faintly smudged with the remnants of red dye, and your eyes—though tired—were fixed on Rodrick with this glimmer of something he didn't think he was allowed to name.

He blinked slowly. "...Are we doing this, y'know like...? Because I wanna know if I should admit I haven't done this before or if that would just embarrass myself."

Your laugh was so small it could've cracked. "I—I don't know."

He was really focused on your face, but he had no idea where to look. 

Nothing everything down to the way your lashes casting little shadows across your cheeks. He didn't even think—you were this close. Your hand twitched toward his, fingers brushing his wrist like a test, feeling the bumps of healing scars under your hand.

"Don't," you said suddenly, sitting a little straighter. "Don't look at me like that. I'm gonna get confused."

His brows creased. "Confused?"

"Yeah. Like..." You trailed off, eyes darting between his. "Like maybe I'm supposed to feel something. Like maybe you do."

Rodrick's throat bobbed. "And what the hell do I do if I do?"

Your noses were nearly brushing now, your breath hot with sugar and artificial cherry. His eyes dropped to your lips for a second, then to your eyes, to your chest to anywhere because yeah he didn't know what he was doing despite the big game he talks. If anything, your head tilted just a little.

And right when his mouth nearly brushed yours—

"RODRICK! YOU LEFT THE MILK OUT!"

Greg.

Rodrick flinched so hard he nearly fell backwards, knocking over a pile of empty soda cans.

You just sat there, blinking in disbelief.

"...Was that a jump scare?" you mumbled.

Rodrick groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Kill me. Just actually kill me."

You laughed softly, breathless, flopping back onto the rug. The kiss didn't happen—but god, it almost did. And now the air buzzed with it. Like electricity crawling up your spines. But also with relief because you're not sure what you would have done if it did happen.

"I DID NOT LEAVE THE DAMN MILK OUT."

Greg cleared his throat really loudly and you paused.

"I SAID YOU LEFT THE MILK OUT."

Rodrick's eyes widened. His mouth parted, breath catching, and he turned sharply toward you like his body made the decision before his brain caught up.

"Shit." He was up in a second, grabbing your hand—not harshly, not rough, just fast. "You gotta go. You have to go."

"Rodrick—"

"No, I'm serious," he hissed, low and urgent, already guiding you toward the back of the garage, stepping over guitar cables and a torn drum pad. "My dad's back. You can't be here. He'll—he'll lose it."

You didn't need him to say it. You already saw it in the way his voice shook, in the little tremble in his fingers as he fumbled with the old, creaky side door near the tool shelf, where the scent of oil and old wood hung in the air.

You hesitated. "I can't just leave you here."

"You have to."

There was this split second—just one—where you wanted to fight it. To grab him and scream 'come with me then,' to drag him into your glitter-hairspray world with your own blood and scars, and tell him you'd protect him too.

But you weren't at that point yet. Neither of you were.

So you slipped your broken heel into one hand, and the other he still held like it was a lifeline, and you let him lead you out the side door into the cool night air.

He didn't kiss you goodbye.

He just looked at you—really looked at you, again—and whispered. "Uhhh, I'll find you, promise."

He paused just as he ushered you out, with a sarcastic half grin, "Maybe we can continue where we left off, yeah?"

And then the door shut. Just as the familiar bass-heavy bellow of what you assumed was Frank Heffley's voice echoed from somewhere in the house.

You didn't protest to stay. Because you were barefoot outside on their driveway and you were wondering yourself how you were going to get home in the dark in a dress like this. And explain to your own parents what had happened. 

click for part 1 click for part 2 click for part 3 click for part 4 click for part 5 click for part 6 click for part 7 click for part 8 click for part 9 click for part 10 click for part 11 click for part 12

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you! Please do leave requests!

[fablehaven-rulez]

hehehehheye

okay but imagine this . . .

you get hired to babysit manny for the night—just manny, susan assures you—but as soon as you walk through the door, it’s clear you’ve inherited all three heffley boys.

greg follows you like around like a puppy. he talks nonstop about how middle school is full of “juvenile morons” and how people say he’s “wise beyond his years” (no one has ever said that). he keeps trying to bring up high school drama he barely understands.

rodrick clearly didn’t know you were coming, because when he sees you, he immediately vanishes upstairs. a few minutes later, he reappears—wearing heavy eyeliner and smelling like half a can of axe. (“oh, didn’t know you were here tonight,”) he orders pizza, leans over the back of the couch and tries to impress you by talking about his band.

manny is barely a factor. (greg handed over a sleeve of cookies and let him play with his gameboy in exchange)

when susan and frank finally get home, the house is unusually quiet and suspiciously tidy. manny’s already in bed, and greg is wiping down the counter. rodrick, of all things, is vacuuming the living room. frank stands in the doorway, eyeing his sons like he’s trying to figure out if they’ve been replaced by aliens.

susan thanks you with a smile, handing you your payment, and the boys? they’re already plotting to make sure you come back next week.

[lustagel]

౨౿ rodrick who is such a loser, the first time you kissed he moaned into your mouth. his body leaning into yours, his hand sliding around your waist—the movement is so confident you think he’s getting cocky until you hear it, the light sound of satisfaction. you do nothing but smile into his lips before pulling away, “you’re cute.”

now, the loser loves making out with you sitting in his chair. your legs on either side of his hips as your shorts ride up your legs. to center himself like before, his warm hands slide from your hips to your sides, slightly making you shiver. your lips are wet with one another’s spit, both your heads spinning, noses hitting every now and again as you breathe in each other's air.

“rodrick!”

as if nothing has changed, noises slip from his mouth while you taste each other, your hand scratching into the short hair on the back of his head, not making him any better. his hands slide further up until he’s grabbing a handful of your breast but before you can even think about getting the shirt off greg’s voice takes over the room.

“rodrick, mom sa- EW!” the two of you pull away immediately, you look over at greg with a shocked expression while rodrick simply stuffs his face into your chest with a groan. he mumbles something, but it doesn’t reach either of your ears. “i think i’m gonna hurl,” greg says, making exaggerated gagging noises as he begins to leave. “oh my god,” rodrick moans into your chest in aggravation. he lifts his head to shoo greg from the room further, “get out.”

you hear the soles of greg’s feet hit each step as he leaves. rodrick leans back into the chair and you finally get to take a good look at him; his hair messy, his lips almost as pink as his cheeks, the pinkness creeping up his neck a little, lips slightly agape. you can only grin, “you’re really cute.”

[pixiexdusts-world]

Meet the Heffley’s

Rodrick Heffley x reader

Summary: Rodrick’s girlfriend meets his chaotic family, and Manny tries to steal her. She loves it anyway.

Word count: 1010

Notes: this is very random but I love Rodrick so I needed to write something

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Title: Meet the Heffleys

Meeting your boyfriend’s family is supposed to be a big deal, right? Like, one of those moments where you dress nice, bring flowers or something, and sit down for an awkwardly polite dinner while his parents judge you.

Yeah. That’s not how things work with Rodrick Heffley.

When he invited me over for dinner, it was more like, “Hey, my mom said you should come over and eat with us or whatever.” Super romantic. But I agreed because, well… I wanted to meet them. Rodrick talks about his family all the time, mostly to complain, but still. I was curious.

So, here I am, standing on the Heffleys’ front porch, wondering if I should have brought something. Probably not. This doesn’t seem like the kind of house where formal dinner etiquette exists.

Before I can knock, the door swings open, and there he is.

Rodrick smirks, leaning against the doorframe like he’s so cool. “Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.”

I roll my eyes, stepping closer. “I’m on time.”

“Yeah, well, you were supposed to be, like, ten minutes late so I could say something sarcastic about it.”

I laugh and kiss his cheek, just to make him flustered. It works. His smirk falters for half a second before he clears his throat and steps aside. “Alright, come in before my mom starts thinking I made you up.”

The inside of the house is exactly what I expected. A little messy, with random shoes lying around, a stack of newspapers no one’s bothered to throw away, and a distinct family chaos vibe. The smell of dinner cooking comes from the kitchen, something warm and homey.

And then I hear it.

“Rodrick! She’s here?!”

Before I can react, a woman appears—short, blonde, and way too excited. I barely have time to brace myself before she pulls me into a hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’m Susan, Rodrick’s mom. Oh, you’re even prettier than I imagined!”

“Uh, thanks,” I manage, shooting a look at Rodrick, who just shrugs like, Yeah, this is happening.

His mom pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. “Rodrick never tells us anything about his personal life. You should’ve seen my face when he said he had a girlfriend. I almost dropped my coffee!”

Rodrick groans. “Mom.”

“What?” She waves him off. “I’m just happy to meet her. Oh, come in, come in! We’re just about to set the table.”

I follow her into the dining room, where a younger boy sits at the table, flipping through a comic book. He glances up, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re Rodrick’s girlfriend?”

“Greg,” Susan scolds. “Be nice.”

“What? I’m just saying.” Greg shrugs, then looks at me. “You do know he’s, like, the worst, right?”

“Hey, shut up, loser,” Rodrick snaps, dropping into a chair.

I grin. “Oh, I know.”

Greg blinks, clearly not expecting that. Then he mutters, “Huh. Okay.”

That’s when I feel a tiny hand grab mine.

I glance down to see a little kid—Manny, I recognize him from Rodrick’s rare stories about him—staring up at me with big eyes.

“I have a girlfriend too,” he announces proudly.

Susan gasps. “Manny! Since when?”

“Since yesterday,” he says, like it’s obvious. Then he looks back up at me and asks, completely serious, “Do you like dinosaurs?”

I nod. “Who doesn’t like dinosaurs?”

Manny grins, clearly satisfied with my answer. “Okay. You’re my second girlfriend now.”

Rodrick groans. “Oh my God.”

Greg snickers. “Dude, you already have competition.”

Manny tugs at my sleeve again. “Rodrick is gross. Do you wanna be just my girlfriend instead?”

Rodrick drops his fork. “Are you kidding me? Mom, tell him he can’t steal my girlfriend!”

Susan barely holds back a laugh. “Manny, sweetie, she’s Rodrick’s girlfriend.”

Manny huffs. “Fine.”

This is amazing.

Dinner is… interesting. The food is good—spaghetti and garlic bread—but the conversation is pure chaos. Susan keeps asking me questions about school, my family, my plans for the future (Rodrick groans at that one). Greg watches me like he’s trying to figure out why I’d willingly date his brother. And Manny? He spends the whole meal making dramatic faces at Rodrick and occasionally whispering, “Rodrick is a doo-doo head.”

Rodrick spends most of the meal making sarcastic comments and kicking me under the table whenever his mom gets too nosy.

At one point, their dad, Frank, comes in late, looking exhausted. He gives me a polite nod, sits down, and immediately starts ranting about something Rodrick did last week. Rodrick barely reacts, just shoveling food into his mouth while his mom scolds him and Greg smirks like he enjoys watching his brother get in trouble.

It’s loud. It’s messy. It’s so different from my own family’s quiet dinners.

And I kind of love it.

After we eat, Rodrick grabs my hand and tugs me toward the stairs. “Alright, we’re done here. Bye.”

“Rodrick, wait—” Susan starts, but he’s already leading me to his room.

The second he shuts the door, he groans. “I told you my family was annoying.”

I flop onto his bed, laughing. “I like them.”

He gives me a look. “You like them?”

“Yeah. Your mom is sweet, Greg is funny, and Manny… well, he’s trying to steal me, but other than that, he’s adorable.”

Rodrick snorts. “I knew that kid was trouble.”

I smile and lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Not worried, are you?”

He grumbles something under his breath, but I can tell he’s relieved. And maybe even a little happy.

Yeah. I think I’m gonna like being around the Heffleys.

[stxrrkissed]

── ۶ৎ FILL ME UP .ᐟ

꣑ꦌ rodrick heffley x fem!singer!reader ৴ LENGTH 1.1k

DESCRIPTION rodrick sees a perfect time to start the process of baby making.

CONTENT breeding kink ꣑ dom!rodrick ꣑ sub!reader ꣑ lil praise kink ꣑ dirty talk ꣑ aftercare mentioned ꣑ rodrick’s is in his twenties.

THOUGHTS ahhh, i know i did a slight rodrick smut headcanons before but this is my first full fic smut for him and i'm excited. i hope y’all enjoy this.

𝒾. masterlist 𝒾𝒾. previous fic 𝒾𝒾𝒾. prompts

“HOW WAS THAT?”

You ask, looking at Rodrick who has a smile on his face, you just got done singing a new song you wrote for the band. You were pretty nervous about it too, it was one that gave you writer’s block since you wanted to be perfect.

“You always sound good,” Rodrick comments, laying back on the couch manspreading; gripping onto the drumsticks he held in his hand.

“I’m happy you liked it.” You question, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, you walk over to where he’s sitting, immediately taking your seat on his lap, taking his sticks out of his hand, placing it on the couch cushion, as his hands cups your waist, moving slowly towards your ass, squeezing it while he captures your soft lips with his after staring deeply into your eyes.

You knew what you two were doing was bad, intimacy between band mates was against the rules so no conflict were to ever happen if breakups were to concur but the magnetic pull that keeps bringing you two together since you met is so strong that you can’t just walk away from those feelings.

Whenever he looks at you when he thinks you are not looking, it gets you all giddy inside, the butterflies that form in your stomach whenever you sing in front of him because his opinion always mattered the most out of everyone.

His hands grips the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head breaking the kiss for only a second, he unclamps your bra, discarding to the ground as you grind over his growing bulge that you can tell was aching to be released from the restraints of his jeans. 

Your hands travel down to his lower waist, unbuttoning his jeans, zipping down the zipper while you lift your body for a minute so he can take off both his jeans and his boxers, his hard cock springing up once it’s released. 

“Let me check the waters,” Rodrick says, bringing his hand under your skirt, feeling the wet spot on your panties, a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips as he pulls your panty to the side, lining up his tip to your entrance. “Look at my princess, all wet for me.” 

Your face heats up at his comment as you sink down slowly, biting down on your bottom lip as you enjoy every inch until you flush against his pelvis.

You hold on to his shoulders as you start to grind your hips slowly to get used to his length briefly before you start to bounce up and down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut from how good he feels inside of you. It was like your pussy was made only for him as it fits perfectly better than your ex ever did.

His hands grip your waist tightly as he guides your movements, the sounds of your moans mingling with each other filling the garage as if anyone was to walk by, they would hear what was going on and it excites you more.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, keeping eye contact with you as you continue bouncing, loving the squelching noises your pussy was making. You moans spill out your mouth as you’re loving every second of this. 

Rodrick arms wrap around your waist stopping all movement as he holds you while getting up, placing you on your stomach near the edge of the couch not disconnecting from your greedy cunt.

“If only you can see how pretty you are as you take all of me,” He comments, admiring the sight beneath him as he rolls his hips into you, soft moans escaping out of your slightly parted mouth as you grip the couch.

“Perfect, little pussy suckin’ me right in,” He groans as he keeps his pace looking into your pretty eyes. “Fuck— please…” you whimper.

“Please what? Use your words, tell me what you want, love,” Rodrick watches you try to form complete sentences as he thrust deeper inside of you, your moans filling his ears. He smirks once again, knowing he got you too fucked out to talk. 

Your boobs bouncing with each thrust, he looks at your sweat-slick belly, he reaches down to your breasts and his mouth trails down the valley of your breasts, biting and nibbling on the soft flesh, tongue swirling on the marks forming on your skin as his saliva leaves wet spots behind.

"So soft for me, (name), look at you" he huffs out, trailing downwards, reaching your stomach and something in his eyes change a shade darker, pounding into your cunt, the mewls in response from you drives him crazy, his mind going to places he shouldn't but the only thing that came to his mind was you full with his baby, your belly so round and soft. It would be one way to mark you as his, to stop all the guys from flirting with you after shows.

“Please… let me come,” you finally get out as you dig your nails into his back. 

“Go ahead, come all over my cock,” he groans as he uses his fingers to rub on your clit. Your cunt clenching around his dick, and your body starts to convulse, painting not only his cock but his lower waist as well with your release. 

“Good girl,” Rodrick praises in your ear as you try to catch your breath. “Gonna fill you up real good, would you like that, love?” He pounds harder and deeper as his cock twitches inside your cunt loving the sight of you nodding your head yes to his question, your gummy walls gripping him tighter. “You’d look so beautiful while carrying my child,” He places his hand on your stomach as he is picturing the sight. 

The mere images made his cock twitch inside you, your lewd noises of overstimulation just making it hard to back off from actually doing it, the pace he set is ruthless, pounding inside your sopping hole, slippery with your juices as he chases his end. 

Your lips parted, whined spewing out of your mouth as he fucks you, hitting the spongy spot repeatedly, nearing his own orgasm as he fills you up to the brim with his hot white spurts of seeds, his breath warm on your neck, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, perfectly fitting inside, hitting the spots in an angle never before, catching up with his depleted air levels as he looks down at your fucked out state, hands connected while your bodies connected as well with his cock still buried deep to the hilt inside your warm core, the images still plagues his mind. 

Rodrick slowly pulls out and as he does, he watches some of his cum ooze from your hole, he scoops it up and pushes it back into your pussy earning a whimper to escape your mouth.

“I know baby, just needed to make sure none of it goes to waste, let’s clean you up,” he picks you up in bridal style, you snuggle in his chest while he carries you inside your home, leading you to the bathroom, happy of what’s to come in the future, putting aside the thought of the band finding out your secret relationship.

COMMENTS (if you want to be tagged in doawk fics, click here) @cherriespopsicle, @rain-likes-purple, @lover-of-books-and-tea.

thank you for reading! © stxrrkissed 2024. all rights reserved — do not claim, copy, repost or translate.

[fragoleeknoww]

Rodrick headcanons.

————————————

Author’s note: just some fluff headcanons about our favorite drummer <3

————————————

Rodrick is the type of boyfriend that takes the bus only because you take it too

Or he would be driving you to school, but when he found out that he could sleep on the bus too,

He was taking it everyday.

He falls asleep on your shoulder, and to wake him up you have to give him an hard shake.

Like really hard.

If you buy him a good eyeliner and a good makeup remover, he’s gonna be the happiest man alive.

He never really takes off his makeup

And he ends up looking like a panda

So you saved his life.

Nap dates!

At school, he sleeps, stares at you, and writes some lyrics for his band.

He doesn’t really listens

Because he knows you’re gonna explain everything to him after school.

Doesn’t know how to read the room.

Rodrick has to look cool, so he can’t show to anyone how smitten for you he actually is.

Especially in front of his family.

Will ask you to do his makeup, only if he notices that you wear it everyday

And that didn’t happen soon

(He’s a bit slow)

He thought you were only gonna do his eyeliner

But then you show up at his house with all your makeup products

And he’s forced to put all those things on his skin.

Will complain a lot about the foundation

And you definitely will poke his eye with both the eyeliner and the mascara.

after Heather's birthday (iykyk) he went back home in shame and cried

as his best friend, you had to comfort him

and after that, he noticed how much you take care of him

like…always

things that he never gave importance to

and he started liking you

fuck Heather (real 😔), there was you

now he was around you even more

calling you late at night

he confessed on the phone because he was too shy

(but you accepted anyway)

and the morning after, he came to pick you up

(his cheeks were so red)

you gave him a kiss on the cheek instead of the usual small hug

and he melted

you didn't really really talk to him at school, but then confronted him about it

and you made official your relationship

at first you didn't tell anyone

(even if it was obvious)

but then Greg saw you two all snuggled up in his bed

and he told his mom just to spite Rodrick

————————————

and from there the whole world knew.

here's part two

[cyberskulzzz]

rodrick bf hcs!!? 💗🤗

Omg hi pinkie! Thank you for the request,lysm (those are as always not proofread sorry /:)

Boyfriend Rodrick Headcanons

•You‘ll get invited to dinner/family trips each and every time.Rodrick hates it,you adore it more than anything. 

•I feel like Susan will adore you no matter what (unless you really give her a reason not to,midwest reader x rodrick au cough cough). 

•You teach that boy HYGIENE. From properly showering,shaving,to taking care of wavy hair,makeup,makeup removal all that. 

•Sitting on his lap in front of a mirror as you teach him skincare first,then makeup and later that night makeup removal. 

•That causes him to figure he actually ADORES self care,being pampered. 

•You buy him his own little cosmetic bag with patches you sewed on to it,just as a small gift. 

•The type of guy to laugh,crack jokes during sex,at least when you guys are long term and comfortable 

•After school hang outs contain going to buy cds,getting fast food and if its the weekend staying the night at his place (susan wont let you stay on school days),usually cleaning his room first before you feel like you can actually sleep in peace.

•Rodrick does feel a bit embarrassed whenever you clean for him but you know he just doesn’t know any better cause no one taught him how,and its not like he’s unwilling to learn. 

•On days where he has classes longer than you (when he is actually present,his attendance is at like 14%) he lets you wait in his van and reorganize his cds.

•His cds and vinyls are sacred to him,youre the only one allowed to reorganize them. 

•He owns a small black basket where all his cds are in cause he refuses to get a cd folder,but then again he doesn’t want them to fly around his van while driving. 

•Bad at losing,wether that is playing video or board games,he’s a sore loser. 

•Im projecting on this one but if youre a tim burton girly and show him the movies,I feel like he’d secretly ADORE corpse bride. 

•Loves when you cook but will be fully honest if he doesn’t like something,even just on accident.This will probably result in an argument. 

•He‘d prefer junk food anyways but he gets the whole healthy food thing too. 

•If youre a trinket gal he will buy a happy meal just so you can put the toy on your shelf. 

•Loves to gossip with you,as soon as he sees you and your girl friends whispering in class he‘s listening in or waiting for you to pass him a note. 

•Burns you cds every anniversary 

•Hates taking pictures but loves the spontaneity of photo booths. 

•Has lots of pictures and polariods of you and the band around his room. 

•I feel like he’d like smells a lot,as in he’s really attracted to your scent. 

•Will ask you what perfume you use,you tell him you‘ll find one he’d like for himself. 

•Loves making vision boards on new years eve with you cause that guy dreams big,so he makes a music tour themed one. 

•The type of boyfriend to buy anything from the store that has your special interest on it,or a food you mentioned once. 

•Susan has your schedule hung up besides Rodrick‘s,which she wrote down neatly and with doodles,so Rodrick remembers what you have going on. 

•He looks at it like once a month when your over and is like 'oh you had that going on how’d that go?‘

[agaypanic]

One More Problem (Rodrick Heffley X Jefferson!Reader Smut)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: You were a good girl; straight-A student with extracurriculars, nice to your brother, the worst curse word you’d say in public was “damn.” But behind closed doors, your boyfriend Rodrick can turn you into an entirely different kind of girl.

A/N: inspired by a jefferson!reader ask i answered. did i go overboard with this? who knows lol 

C/W: corruption kink, dom/sub dynamic, dumbification kink, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!), degradation kink, praise kink, cockwarming

***

Nobody could really wrap their head around why you and Rodrick were dating. You were different, too different. You were the good girl. Model student, a golden child, practically perfect. Rodrick, on the other hand, was a complete neanderthal who would probably end up dropping or failing out of high school. 

You supposed that that was something you liked about Rodrick. He was different from the expectations that you had to live up to. He practically lived on energy drinks, played loud ass rock music wherever he went, and wore eyeliner that was always smudged beyond any kind of definition. When you were with Rodrick, he made you feel alive.

Plus, the sex was amazing.

You sighed for what felt like the thousandth time, staring a hole into the homework that sat on your desk. Rodrick had come over to hang out, mainly because the rest of your family was out of the house, but you wanted to finish your homework before goofing off with him. But for some reason, this math worksheet was kicking your ass.

“Babe, just take a break,” Rodrick said, sitting up on your bed.

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes. “Just one more problem.”

“You said that four problems ago.” Suddenly, Rodrick was standing next to you, looking down on you. “Don’t you want a break?”

With the way you were acting, you should’ve said yes. But instead, you shook your head. What you wanted was completely different.

Rodrick noticed the pleading look in your eyes and had to stop himself from laughing. “Do you want me to help you?” You nodded. “Say it.”

“Yes.”

Any other person would immediately say no. But you knew that Rodrick wasn’t offering to help you with the math. 

Rodrick grabbed your wrist, helping you get up. He scooted the chair back a little before sitting down and unbuckling his studded belt. Your mouth watered as you watched your boyfriend pull his half-erect cock out of his jeans and boxers.

“Come on, baby.” He said, one hand stroking himself while the other went under your skirt, cupping your aching pussy through your panties and making you mewl. “Aw, you’re soaking. Needy thing.” 

Rodrick moved you to stand in front of him. He tucked the hem of your skirt into the waistband and moved the seat of your underwear to the side before guiding you to sit on his dick. You let out a whiny moan when Rodrick bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You leaned against his chest, trying to adjust to his size while he stroked your hair.

“You’re just useless without my dick in you, huh? Isn’t that right, pretty girl?” He hooked your legs over his spread ones to put your stuffed pussy on full display. Rodrick looked at the sight from over your shoulder. “What a pretty pussy. Look, baby. Look at how my fat dick is stretching your little cunt.”

You shuddered at his words, incredibly aroused by the way he talked to you. If you had told yourself a year ago that not only would you be dating Rodrick, but you’d also love the way he degraded you during sex, she would’ve thought you were fucking crazy.

“Okay, you know the rules.” Rodrick brought you out of your thoughts by grabbing your chin and making you look at the neglected paper you had been working on. “Finish your homework, and you can get fucked like the dirty girl you are. You only have one problem left, right?” You nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for Rodrick. His hands went down to your hips and pulled you even further down on his cock, making you squeal. “I thought you were a good girl.”

“I am.” You whined, gripping his wrist. “I am, I am.”

“Then answer me. You only have one problem left, right?”

“Yes!” Pleased, Rodrick let go of his iron grip on your hips, making you both relieved and disappointed. His hands settled on your inner thighs while you grabbed your pencil and started to read over the problem again.

But he just felt so good. You tried to discreetly grind on him, but a hard slap to your thigh deterred you from any further action.

Rodrick must have sensed that you were still having problems. “I thought my dick was supposed to help you, baby.” He cooed, fingers ghosting over your clit. “But you’re just getting dumber and dumber, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” You gripped your pencil as Rodrick pinched your clit, making you jolt. 

It felt like a million years before you finally finished the math problem. With every second that passed, you just became more and more needy and cockdrunk. It didn’t help that Rodrick would play with your clit every time you actually started to concentrate.

You set the pencil down on your desk. “Done?” Rodrick asked.

“Uh-huh.”

He looked over your shoulder, smiling when he saw that the paper was completely filled out. He, of course, didn’t know whether or not you were actually correct, but the fact that you finished the problem was its own accomplishment. “Looks like my girl deserves a reward, huh?”

You furiously nodded, and Rodrick grabbed your chin to smash his lips against yours. It was a sloppy battle of tongues and teeth. Not wanting to ruin your work, Rodrick moved the worksheet to the side before standing up, bringing you with him, still impaled on his cock. He broke the kiss and had you bend over the desk, staring out the window that was right in front of you.

He slowly started to pull out, spreading your cheeks so he could see how soaked his dick was in your juices. He stopped when just the tip was in, smirking at the sound of you whining about feeling empty before slamming back into your greedy cunt. Rodrick kept up a brutal pace, balls slapping your clit with every thrust.

Your eyes rolled back as Rodrick grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up so you were arching your back and looking out into the neighbor. “Imagine your family saw you like this.” He grunted in your ear. “What would they think? Seeing their precious daughter being a dirty, cockdrunk whore for me right now.” You whined loudly, incredibly grateful that the house was empty. “If only everyone knew that the golden girl gets dumb from me dicking her down.”

Rodrick reached around to start rubbing at your clit, making your legs tremble. Thank god the desk and Rodrick’s grip on your hair were holding you up. “Roddy!” You whined, screwing your eyes shut. “Roddy, I’m gonna come. Can I come?”

“Beg.” Your boyfriend responded sharply, keeping up his relentless pace.

“Please, please, please. I’ve been such a good girl for you.” You whimpered at the feeling of Rodrick continuously brushing against your G-spot. “I’m your dirty little girl. I wanna come so bad, please!”

“So fucking needy.” Rodrick groaned, speeding up the pace on your clit. “Since you wanna come so bad, do it now. All over my cock.”

The coil in your tummy snapped, and you let out a high-pitched scream at the feeling of your intense release. Your entire body shook as you covered Rodrick’s dick in your cum, which just made it easier for him to piston in and out of you. He fucked you roughly through your high, making you whimper and squirm as he chased his own.

“Fuck, gonna-” Rodrick cut himself off with a groan, spilling into you while his pace stuttered to a stop. 

Slowly, he leaned on top of your worn-out body, both of you hissing at the feeling of him going deeper in you. You were quiet for a few minutes, trying to collect yourselves.

When Rodrick recovered, he left a couple kisses on your shoulder. “You okay?” 

You looked back at him, a lazy grin overtaking your features. “Never been better.”

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit @screechingsandwichtriumph

[gingerteafairy]

more rodrick fics please!!

yesss, i was missing him (i always go back to my default crush)

rodrick heffley x emo!reader

summary: Rodrick never really believed in love at first sight—until he saw you. Just another girl he’d never noticed in college, walking by in a Green Day shirt.

tags n warnings: fluff, a bit suggestive. word count: 1.3k masterlist

“Oh, I…” The words slipped out before he could think, and you stopped, pulling out one of your earbuds.

“What?”

“That band… uh… band. Green Day.” He pointed awkwardly at your shirt, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “You're... American Idiot.”

“Am I?” you teased, the silly wordplay catching him completely off guard.

Rodrick blinked, his brain short-circuiting for a second. “No! I mean… no, you’re not an idiot.” He ran a hand through his hair, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “The band. The album. It’s… really good. It's my favorite. Wake me up when september ends, you know what they say.”

You let out a quiet laugh and tugged at the hem of your shirt, glancing at the design as if only now remembering what you were wearing. “Yeah…”

Rodrick stood there, scrambling for something else to say, but before he could, you were already saying goodbye.

“Bye, Rodrick.”

He blinked, stunned. You knew his name?

“Bye.” He waved, a little slow on the uptake, watching as you disappeared down the hallway. When it finally hit him, he groaned under his breath. “American Idiot? What the hell is wrong with me?”

Rodrick sighed, pressing his forehead against the wall and rubbing his face. He had never really noticed you before. Okay, maybe he’d seen your cool shirts every now and then. But now he realized just how pretty you were. How much of a total idiot he looked like around you. Love at first sight? He didn’t know. But he did know one thing—he needed to run into you again.

And that’s exactly what started happening—with suspicious frequency.

Rodrick suddenly had a newfound interest in your class schedule. The subject? Who cared? The important thing was that you were there. He started bumping into you in the hallways, always keeping an eye on your shirt, waiting for the perfect opening to start a conversation.

After that first encounter, you became an unlocked character in his universe. Now, he saw you everywhere—and for a brief moment, he wondered if you had been invisible to everyone else, just like he was. A part of him kind of hoped you were. Because, let’s be honest—Rodrick Heffley could be pretty possessive over relationships that only existed in his head.

You wore different outfits in the following days, but he couldn’t shake the image of that Green Day shirt, your earbuds in, and that distant, almost dreamy look in your eyes. That was the moment everything changed. The preppy, pink-clad popular girls lost all appeal.

“This is how I’m gonna talk to her.” Rodrick tossed his drumsticks in the air, determined. He was standing at the college entrance, waiting for you, ready to comment on whatever band shirt you had on today. "I'll ask for her favorite songs and make a playlist so we could hear together when i ask her to be Mrs. Heffley."

Ben raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “So your new thing is emo girls with dead fish eyes?”

Rodrick pointed a drumstick like a sword. “Do not disrespect her like that.” He spun it between his fingers before tucking it into his pocket. “She’s not emo. She’s simply a woman of deep, complex emotions, expressed through music—”

“Emo.” Ben chuckled, making Rodrick roll his eyes.

The truth was, Rodrick Heffley was tired of pretending to be an untouchable rockstar. Lately, all he really wanted was a girlfriend to walk around with, be stupidly in love with, and eat ice cream with. But no one seemed interested in him—especially not the popular girls. Over time, they all started feeling boring, shallow. Sure, they were good for ice cream and other… needs. But nothing more than that.

“There she is. Wish me luck.”

Rodrick cracked his knuckles, his heart hammering in his chest. You walked through the college gates the same way you always did—beautifully bored.

Linkin Park.

Rodrick grinned. This was it. Now or never.

The smile he gave was almost worthy of a horror movie villain—so wide and sudden that it startled anyone passing by. Realizing his mistake, Rodrick quickly straightened up, trying to soften his expression into something more charming. As you approached, he took a step forward, purposely blocking your path, a forced smile on his lips.

“Hey.” He crossed his arms in an attempt to look suave, but he made sure to keep his drumsticks strategically visible, as if they were an essential part of his charm.

You pulled out your earbuds and let out a quiet laugh. “Hey. How you doin?”

Rodrick smirked smugly. “Name five songs from that band.” He tilted his head, winking at you with a teasing challenge.

It was supposed to be a brilliant moment. But instead of the countless reactions he had rehearsed in his head, you frowned slightly, glancing around, visibly caught off guard.

His brain crashed.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, that was so dumb.” He waved his hands frantically, running a hand through his messy hair. “Shit, just ignore everything I said and pretend I don’t exist while I jump off that window.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. It was just so out of nowhere.” Taking a deep breath, you listed effortlessly, “What I’ve Done, Crawling, New Divide, Papercut, In the End. God, I love Mike Shinoda’s rap parts.”

Rodrick’s eyes lit up. He barely held back from jumping with excitement.

“You know Mike Shinoda?” His voice came out a little too high-pitched, betraying his enthusiasm. “Dude, I am obsessed with those raps. Like, In the End basically shaped my entire personality!”

You laughed, tucking your earbuds into your bag. “He was the father of edgy teenagers—along with gore animes.”

Rodrick placed a hand over his heart, dramatically. “Exactly! Finally, someone who gets it.”

Your gaze shifted to his shirt, your eyes scanning over the band’s name. “And this band… Loded Diper…”

“It’s mine. It’s… my band.” He admitted, scratching his head a little. “The name sounds so dumb now, but I swear it was badass in high school.”

“I think it’s a requirement for rock bands to have weird names.” You joked, surprising him even more. So you had a sense of humor too?

“Yeah, like Metallica.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s basically the same thing as a rap group calling themselves Raptalia.”

“Or U2. Like… what does that have to do with me?” You laughed, and he did too, his chuckles gradually blending into something softer, more real, as they melted into a lazy smile. 

Rodrick straightened up, puffing out his chest with pride. “But yeah, Loded Diper. No need to look it up to guess who the drummer is.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “That’s actually really cool, Rodrick.” You watched as he slid his drumsticks into his pocket. “You should invite me to a show.”

Rodrick nearly tripped over himself. “Of course I will. You’re basically my VIP fan. Exclusive backstage access. Full access to the drummer, be my guest.” He tried to sound confident, but his voice cracked slightly at the end.

“Are you flirting with me, Rodrick?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. 

He blinked, hesitating. “I don’t know… is it working?” He leaned in slightly, his nervousness slipping into his voice.

“Yes.” You shrugged, amused. “Or maybe I just have a thing for drummers.”

Rodrick froze.

"Uh… well… I guess it's kinda… common." He nodded awkwardly, swallowing hard. "Not that I'm undermining you! Actually, it’s really cool."  

"Maybe I’ll steal your shirt." You smirked, tossing your hair back as you started walking away. "I look good in black."  

Rodrick stood there, stunned, watching you disappear down the hallway. “Oh, dear God. Help me.” He muttered, leaning against the wall for support.  

"So, how'd it go with your Avril Lavigne knockoff?" Ben teased, stepping up beside Rodrick, who now looked like he had actual hearts in his eyes.  

“Damn whoever invented emo girls.” He whined, dramatically gazing up at the sky.

[ayvuhs]

Rodrick x Regina!Reader HCs

(not proofread!)

You're both juniors at North Shore High School

You're the most popular girl in school and are one of who people call the 'plastics'

The Plastics conist of you (the queen bee), Heather Hills (your right-hand girl and who knows everything about everyone), and Karen Smith (the dumb one)

And then there's Rodrick

You two met at Heather's birthday party (but in this timeline it didn't end in a disaster)

His band was performing horribly, yet you still found him charming

You wanted him, you got him

He fell for you instantly and you soon started dating

No one in school-except of course Heather and Karen-knew because dating someone like him is basically social suic!de

His family is shocked that he managed to pull the prettiest girl at school

You love his family; it's a nice break from your own rich lifestyle

At times, Mrs. Heffley may think you're a bit too mature for him and that you act a little slutty at times, she still sees you as her own daughter

I just know this man has opps and you don't have your Burn Book for no reason

You two love talking bad about anyone who hates on his band and immediatly put them in the pink notebook

Instead of him buying you stuff, it's almost always the other way around

He may buy you the occasional slushie or hot dog at the gas station, buts that's pretty much it

You buy him stuff for his band, little inside joke gifts, and skincare

You love doing your makeup on him and teaching him skincare

that's all for now!! i may make this a series soon <3

thank you so much for all the likes on my last post !! i love you all so much omggg

[fear-is-truth]

loser bf! RODRICK HEFFLEY hc

tags — fem!reader﹒sfw + nsfw﹒headcanons

loser bf!rodrick, who makes a huge show of pda whenever his brother is around. he’ll sling his arm around your shoulder and be like, “yeah, greg. my girlfriend. isn’t she hot?” greg is still fully convinced rodrick’s paying you to be his fake girlfriend, though he has no idea where he’s got the money.

loser bf!rodrick, who lets you sit in on band practice and tries so hard to keep it together, but the second his bandmates start flirting with you, he completely falls apart. his drumming gets so off-tempo that they have to stop and start over.

loser bf!rodrick, who lent you his algebra textbook and completely forgot he’d been doodling your name with his last name all over the margins. when you handed it back, smirking, he looked like he wanted to die.

loser bf!rodrick, whose idea of a date is a night drive to the gas station, where you both load up on slushies and hot dogs. you sit in the parking lot and steal bites off each other’s food (even though you have the same toppings)

loser bf!rodrick, who awkwardly asked his mom to use the “nice-smelling” laundry detergent on his shirts because he knows you like to steal them after having sex and he doesn’t want you thinking he’s gross.

loser bf!rodrick, whose mom acts like you’re already part of the family, offering you snacks and calling you “sweetie” every time you visit. she loves to (unintentionally) embarrassing her eldest son by showing you all of his baby pictures. all the while rodrick hides in the basement.

loser bf!rodrick, whose dad corners you during family dinners and awkwardly tries to sell you on how “rodrick is really a fine young man, despite, uh… some quirks.” you just nod politely while rodrick sits there, sinking into his chair with a beet-red face.

loser bf!rodrick, whose bandmates are constantly making moves on you, asking if you “need anything” during practice or offering to carry your stuff. rodrick will get so pissed that he threatens to kick them out of the band. you think it’s hilarious how defensive he gets.

loser bf!rodrick, who always gives you the front seat in his van, no questions asked. greg has to squish in the back with the instruments, too bad lol.

loser bf!rodrick, who pretends to be terrible at eyeliner just so you’ll do it for him. in return, he paints your nails—or you can also paint his (in exclusively black).

loser bf!rodrick, who acts reluctant whenever you drag him into photobooths at the mall. the two of you end up making the dumbest faces before you lean in and kiss him right on the mouth… with tongue.

loser bf!rodrick, who lets you doodle on his arm with a sharpie, and he refuses to wash them off. they stay there until they fade completely.

loser bf!rodrick, who finally starts wearing deodorant consistently because of you. it’s not even something you asked him to do—he just noticed you sniffing his shirts a little more critically and panicked. now, he’s always freshly applied before seeing you.

loser bf!rodrick, who gets hard every time you kiss him.

loser bf!rodrick, who tries his best to keep his room somewhat presentable whenever you come over. he knows it’s still a fucking disaster by normal standards, but for rodrick, clearing a path to the bed is a grand romantic gesture.

loser bf!rodrick, who’s obsessed so with seeing your hickeys on him. he never bothers to hide them—in fact, he wears them like badges.

loser bf!rodrick, who almost accidentally used the wrong side of the condom when you had sex for the first time.

loser bf!rodrick, who absolutely melts when you tug on his hair during sex. he didn’t even realise he had a thing for it until the first time you did it. now, he practically begs for it without using words, tilting his head back and grinning like a total idiot whenever your fingers get close.

loser bf!rodrick, who keeps every random thing you’ve ever given him — notes you’ve passed to him in class, concert tickets, even candy wrappers.

loser bf!rodrick, who hates being bossed around but will do anything you ask, especially if it involves you kissing his cheek or ruffling his hair in thanks. he’s so whipped and everyone knows it.

loser bf!rodrick, who brags to greg about how sexy and smart and pretty you are, just to rub it in, but secretly feels like he doesn’t deserve you. he gets this dumb, soft look on his face whenever you’re around, like he still can’t believe you chose him.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[local-gay-emo]

Man I love emos

[lustagel]

something that is so canon? loser! rodrick’s cool girlfriend being everybody’s favorite person in some way shape or form.

come on, rodrick is such a loser for you already. his heart thumping out of his chest at the smallest look of you even though you’ve been dating for so long. of course, everyone around him adores you!

manny loves to give you grabby hands when your even remotely close to him. he’ll babble and say your name so cutely until you give in and sit him on your hip. even when you’re even simply being mentioned he’s grinning and repeating your name.

greg who prefers you over his older brother. you’re always on his side and so so nice to him. always giving him a smile that makes him a bit dazed every time he sees you. so dazed that, him and his friends have developed a small crushes on you. all of them always waving when they see you so they get a smile. especially rowely who smiles the biggest and chirag who gives you the most unique compliments. you never hear but everytime chirag sees you and rodrick together, he always gives the slyest comments like, “if he has a chance with her, we all might not be doomed.”

rodrick’s band mates who say they hate you but deep down don’t. they hate that you can take him away from practice with just a simple call or text but you have to remember they’re losers just like your boyfriend so of course they droll all over you. always questioning how their leader got someone so pretty and they can’t.

susan adores you. there is never a day where she hasn’t complimented something about you when she sees you. asks you all the time to come do things with her that her boys won’t. shows you embarrassing photos of rodrick when he was younger and laughs at them with you. and yes, she has secretly thought about how cute your kids will be.

frank who always has this puzzled look on his face when he sees you because are you a robot secretly? how are you in love with rodrick of all people? always tenses up and gives you a sheepish smile when rodrick says something stupid, almost hoping you didn’t hear it and won’t leave him. wants you to stay forever so rodrick won’t throw anymore stupid parties.

[taycherouzz]

rodrick bf headcanons fem/gen reader pls? 💗🤗

this is a part of what I think Rodrick would be like, hope you liked and enjoyed it!

there is no doubt he ALWAYS invites you to his gigs and band rehearsals

As the band Löaded diper started playing, Rodrick's eyes kept drifting towards you. Every time he looked at you, he couldn't help but smile, his focus wavering. He tried to keep up with the beat, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Rodrick, dude, focus!" one of his bandmates called out, snapping him back to reality.

He chuckled and nodded, trying to concentrate, but it was no use. Your presence was too distracting, and every time he glanced your way, his heart skipped a beat. You couldn't help but blush, knowing you were the reason for his distraction.

During a break, Rodrick came over to you, shaking his head with a grin. "You're killing me here" he teased, his eyes filled with affection.

You laughed, playfully nudging him "I'm just here to support you". "Well, you're doing a great job" he said, leaning in for a quick kiss "Maybe a little too good".

when you both can't sleep (or just out of boredom), he would take you to have late-night drives

The city lights blurred past as you cruised through the streets, the windows rolled down and the cool night air filling the van. He played a mixtape he made just for these drives, the music perfectly capturing the mood.

As he drove, Rodrick took you to a secret spot he had discovered—a hill overlooking the city, where the lights twinkled like stars. He parked the van and you both got out, sitting on the hood and enjoying the breathtaking view.

"This is our little hideaway" he said, taking your hand "Just you and me" you completed his sentence while you smiled.

Rodrick wrapped his arm around you, and you leaned into him, the music still playing in the background while you both looked into the mesmerizing view ahead of you.

I feel like sometimes you both would prank greg

One afternoon, you both decided to play a classic prank on Greg: the old "fake spider in the bed" trick.

You and Rodrick carefully placed a realistic-looking spider under Greg's blanket, making sure it was positioned just right. Then, you both hid around the corner, waiting for Greg to come into his room.

When Greg finally walked in and pulled back his blanket, he let out a loud scream, jumping back in fright. You and Rodrick burst into laughter, high-fiving each other for the successful prank.

Greg quickly realized it was a fake spider and glared at both of you. "Very funny, guys" he muttered in a sarcastic tone while rolling his eyes.

he would 100% teach you how to play drums

"Okay, let's start with the basics" he said, handing you the drumsticks, he sat on the stool and he positioned you on his lap.

Rodrick's arms guided yours as he showed you the proper way to hold the sticks. "It's all about the rhythm. Just feel the beat" he explained, tapping a simple pattern on the snare drum.

You tried to follow his lead, your movements awkward at first. But with his patient guidance and encouragement, you started to get the hang of it. "That's it! You're doing great" he said, a proud smile on his face.

The garage was soon filled with the sound of your combined laughs, and the sense of accomplishment you felt was indescribable.

when you have a sleepover, you would definitely make marathons of horror films or comedies

One rainy Saturday, you decided to have an all-day movie marathon. Rodrick had a stack of DVDs ready, and you both created a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in the living room. As the first movie started, Rodrick pulled you close, his arm around your shoulders.

Halfway through the night, a particularly scary scene made you jump, and you buried your face in Rodrick's shoulder. He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her tighter "Don't worry, I've got you" he reassured.

Between movies, you'd debate which one was the scariest or funniest, sharing your favorite scenes and inside jokes.

By the end of the night, you were both sleepy but happy, the warmth of your time together lingering long after the credits rolled.

he has no problem on letting you use his löaded diper shirts, but I feel like he would make one shirt specially for you

Rodrick was incredibly proud of his band, Löded Diper, and he loved seeing you in their merch. One day, he surprised you with a special gift: a custom band T-shirt. The front had the band's logo, but it was the back that made you smile the most—it boldly read "Drummer's GF".

"You like it?" he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

You grinned and nodded "I love it! It’s perfect".

Every time you wore the shirt, Rodrick's face would light up with pride. He'd often brag to his bandmates about his amazing girlfriend who supported him wholeheartedly.

despite his though side, he has a soft spot for you, which causes him to be protective over you

One evening, you both decided to go to a local concert. The venue was packed, and the crowd was getting rowdy.

You felt a bit overwhelmed by the pushing and shoving, and Rodrick immediately noticed. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his side.

"Stay close to me" he whispered in your ear. He navigated through the crowd, making sure you were safe and comfortable.

Throughout the night, he kept a watchful eye on you, ensuring that no one got too close or made you uncomfortable.

he would definitely make you a mixtape with songs that reminded him of you, and you listen to it together in his van while he explains why that song (or which part) made him think of you

You were parked in Rodrick's van, the low hum of the engine barely audible over the mixtape he'd made for you. The song "Think About You" by Guns N' Roses started to play, and Rodrick turned to you with a soft smile.

"Listen to this" he said, his eyes meeting yours "these lyrics made me think of you".

As the song played, he explained "It's the way the song talks about always having you on my mind. Whenever I'm not with you, I miss you... God that was just so corny" he muffled with a chuckle while looking down.

But he lifted his gaze and saw you blushing, feeling your heart swell with emotion. Rodrick's hand found yours, and you sat in comfortable silence, letting the music speak for the both of you.

you would help him with homework and have study sessions together (but you always end up making out instead)

Books and notes were spread out on Rodrick's bed, ready for today's session, but it didn't took long for distractions to take over.

As you leaned in to explain a math problem, Rodrick's lips found yours in a quick kiss, and then another, and another one after that, until you find yourself making out with him instead of studying.

"C'mon, Rod, we have to study" you murmured between kisses, trying to stay focused.

"One more, and then we'll study" he promised, but his lips met yours again, and you couldn't help but kiss him back.

Your kisses grew more frequent, each one stealing your breath away. You kept trying to remind him of your homework, but his persistence made you lose track of time.

Each kiss pulled you deeper into the moment, and soon enough, the textbooks were forgotten as you got lost in each other.

[pluto-on-mars]

“Its always been you”

I wrote this for a friend, but I decided to post so enjoy Rodrick Heffley fucking you in a bathroom folks. Also if anyone wants to commission anything HIT ME UP!

Rodrick Heffley x AFAB! reader (18+ Minors DNI)

Includes: Fingering (f! receiving), drunk sex, p in v

Word count: 2,567

The party was loud, the atmosphere thick with fun and desperation, which of the two you were was lost to you as you crept through the hallways, drunken bodies pressed against you and almost spilling what was left in your solo cup.

You were trying to find your friend, a common thing that seems to happen to you despite your attempts to get it to stop. But ever the lover boy, Rodrick always got swept up in the crowd once Heather Hills was spotted, leaving you in the shadow of her spotlight. You knew this was going to happen, and you didn’t even want to go to this stupid party!

Rodrick could be terribly convincing when he wanted to be, unfortunately, promises to stay with you this time spilling from his pretty lips, and you couldn’t do anything but say yes. It was stupid, you were stupid, having a crush on a boy who didn’t necessarily want nothing to do with you, but he certainly didn’t want you in that way.

Stepping into the kitchen, you found who you were looking for, and you downed the rest of your drink as a result. It was the same as always, Rodrick trying, and failing, to impress Heather, but it was still a sight you couldn’t bear to see.

“ ‘Scuse me.” You grumbled, trying to reach the liquor that resided behind the pair.

“ Oh sorr-heyyyyy whatsup?” Rodrick, clearly drunk, slurred out once he recognized it was you.

“ Same as always.” You couldn’t help but be a little snippy, already having talked about how you didn’t like how he just left your side at a party, especially one that he convinced you to go to.

“ Oh-Heather wait!” He scurried past you, flashing you a smile as he chased the “girl of his dreams”.

Arguably a little bit too pissed off at how he left you again, you poured yourself another drink after taking a shot. Maybe it was a bad decision, trying to put out the flames of your anger with alcohol, but your already tipsy brain didn’t have any care to give.

You left the kitchen, body instinctively going towards the vibrations of the bass, following the music to the living room where it was the loudest. You got lost in the sea of bodies, chugging your drink occasionally while your hips swayed as you let the music overtake you.

Eventually your cup ran dry, you frowned once you knocked your head back, and realized you were met with nothing. You were certainly feeling it though, and that fact compelled you to want to get another one. With the room spinning, and you definitely stumbling, you made your way back to the kitchen. Pouring yourself one more, you rested on the counter for a bit, cool tile pressing against your hot back feeling nice as you indulged, nursing your drink as a means to not feel out of place.

Unfortunately, your peace didn’t last long, some asshole tripping into you, spilling your drink down your shirt, and effectively ruining your night. Still drunk, you wandered to the bathroom that unfortunately had a line. Deciding to go upstairs to continue your search, you found Ben.

“ If you find Rodrick, tell him I’m leaving.” And that was all you hissed out before you slammed the bathroom door, not even caring to answer his questions.

Gripping the counter as you looked into the mirror, you glared back at yourself, bad decisions catching up to you as now all the emotions you were drowning out seemed to come to the surface. Roughly grabbing a wad of toilet paper, you started dabbing it against your shirt.

“ Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You chanted, getting more pissed as each word continued to leave your mouth.

Angry tears dotted your eyes, and that made you feel even worse.

“ I know I shouldn’t have gone to this fucking party oh my god.” You rambled, rubbing your shirt harshly as you started to realize it was going to stain.

Slam

“What the fuck!” The bathroom door swinging open was the last you expected as you yelled out.

“ What's wrong, why are you leaving?” His voice reached you before you realized it was him, and you hated how you couldn’t stop your heart fluttering at his presence.

“ Don’t you have something else to worry about?” You snarled out, alcohol making you much more confrontational than you would be.

“ What? No, why would I-” Rodrick stepped in more, closing the door behind him, and looking down at your soaked shirt.

“ Please I’m surprised you aren’t too busy with Heather right now.” Words spewed from your tongue, and you knew you were going to regret this later with the direction it’s going.

“ No, never, you know I care about you c’mon.” Normally these words coming from him would work, but you were just so over everything, you just couldn’t be bothered. You needed to shout, you needed to yell, you needed to express your pent up frustration, and Rodrick was sure as hell going to hear it.

“ Do you though?” Your question hung in the air, tone biting, and you continued before he got the chance to speak.

“ It’s always Heather with you, Heather this, Heather that, always Heather fucking Hills!” You exclaimed, shoving your hands in the air, wad of tissue dropping into a sad lump on the floor.

“ You care until she’s there, and suddenly you're nowhere to be seen, even though I’ve told you Rodrick.” You were close to him now, finger pressed to his chest as you glared at him, despite your wavering stance.

He fidgeted, looking down at your finger before sighing, clasping the hand pointed against him gently, he used his other hand to run a hand through his hair.

“ It was never Heather.” He muttered out, words slightly slurred as he looked down at your hand in his.

Your mind raced, waiting for the words that could come out of his mouth, trying to stop yourself from foolish hope at what that might entail.

“ I only ‘liked’ her for so long cus you were never into me.” He trailed off, eyes darting around the bathroom as you slowly processed his words.

“ Are you being forreal right now?” You stuttered dumbly, mind not being able to comprehend this wasn’t some stupid drunken delusion and that this was very much real.

A nod was all you needed before you made your next decision, fueled by liquid courage, you couldn't help but tease.

“ God Rodrick, you’re so stupid.” Was all you said before you tugged on the neckline of his shirt, his lips crashing into yours as you got the kiss you’ve longed for god knows how long.

His hands seemed to instinctively find your hips, and you hummed into the kiss, pulling his bottom lip into your mouth, you steadied yourself against him. His grip tightened, and you moved along with him as he placed you onto the bathroom counter.

He was between your legs now, and you hooked your legs around his waist. You gripped his shirt tighter as he bit your lip, pulling him into you as a means to deepen the kiss. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip and you obliged, parting your mouth to feel his tongue against yours.

Arms resting around his shoulders, and hands going to his surprisingly soft hair, you shuddered once you felt his once stationary hands trail up your thighs. He pulled away with uncharacteristic softness, and you could feel his breath fan across your lips as he looked into your eyes. Just as you were about to close the short distance, his head dipped into the crook of your neck, wet kisses left in his wake as your breath grew shaky.

Head spinning not just from the alcohol but also with how hot it was getting in the room. Feeling as though you were burning up under his touch, Rodrick lifted the hem of your shirt, and you helped him get the rest off.

“ Thank god, that thing was fucking soaked.” You sighed in relief, cold air feeling nice against your skin as you unclasped your bra.

“ Yeah I bet that's not the only thing.” You could feel the chuckle against your neck, and you laughed along despite how warm your face grew at how right he probably was.

His short nails managed to drag across your skin just right as you straightened up at the sensation, and you jolted at him pulling you closer to the edge of the counter so you could press against the bulge in his jeans.

His hands stilled as your hips bucked, a muffled groan coming from his throat as his head began to go lower to your chest. Rodrick’s presence was overwhelming, he was licking, sucking, and biting what he could get his mouth on, and occupied what he couldn’t with his surprisingly skilled hands.

Your mind was racing, your head was fuzzy, and you were growing more desperate by the second.

“ Rodrick I swear to god if you don’t get a move on I’m going to explode.” You practically begged, voice having a slight needy whine to it, and you figured you would kill him if he decided to tease you on it after the fact.

“ God calm down, hardly even done anything yet.” He teased, hands drifting down to your inner thigh.

“ That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” You groaned out, biting your lips in order to bite back the embarrassingly loud moan that would’ve left you as his hand grazed you through your underwear.

“ Jeez alright, alright.” Rodrick smirked down at you, maliciously complying as he pulled them to the side gathering your wetness with his fingers all before shoving them inside you.

“ God fuck- Rodrick!” You were grateful for the loud atmosphere of the party, shout lost in the rest of the noise.

You gripped his shoulders, legs trembling from the initial shock. Rodrick didn’t seem to want to give you a moment to breathe, setting a pace that could only be described as fast, and something made to make you loud. You couldn’t stay quiet even if you wanted to, moans spilling from your lips even though you tried to be mindful.

“ I was right by the way.” He teased, looking down at you while you stared back, face growing impossibly warmer at how he seemed to be entirely focused on you and your reactions.

“ Wha-huh?” Was all you could mewl out through the sensation of his fingers inside you.

“ You’re soaked.” He grinned wolfishly, making his pace harder, and you cried out as you clenched around him.

“ And you called me stupid, you can barely even speak right now.” His tone was downright sinful and his words only built up your continually arising arousal.

“ ‘S not fair, you’re not getting fucked right now-” you managed to get out between pants,” ‘S your fault!” You protested weakly, words falling from your lips before you could even process them.

“ My fault?” He scoffed, amused as he didn’t break his unrelenting rhythm.

“ Just like it's my fault for taking so long to realize you liked me?” He said, and you could pick up on the slight softness, like he was asking for confirmation, and you didn’t hesitate to give it to him.

Nodding profusely, you let the words you’ve always thought to say tumble from your mouth,” I’ve liked you for so-fuck-so so long!”

He hummed, smiling down at you as he picked up the pace,” Oh really? How long have you liked me, pretty?”

You could feel heat pool to your abdomen, and your legs tightened around his waist,” ‘M gonna cum fuck.”

“ No, answer first.” He said bluntly, however his fingers didn’t seem to slow.

“ Shit I don’t know.” You blurted, mind frazzled as you couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure.

“ Think for me baby you got it.” Rodrick cooed, his left hand tracing gentle circles into your thigh.

“ Okayyy- ever since-fuck- ever since the begining of this year.” You managed to whine out before your legs began to shake.

“ Wow this year? That’s a long time.” He smiled, at your words, fondness dripping from his tone.

You would’ve smiled back, but his left hand moved from your thigh to your clit, rubbing it much more intensely than where it once was.

“ Such a good girl, cum for me.” He purred knowing just how close you were.

Coming down and swallowing your moans with a kiss that turned frantic as you eagerly reciprocated; you felt your orgasm crash over you in one big wave, dissolving into pleasure as your grip around him tightened.

Pace slowing as he rode you through your orgasm, in your clarity you fumbled for his belt buckle, the metal cold in your grip as you tried to take it off. Not breaking the kiss, Rodrick’s hands came down to help you, his jeans falling to the ground as you both parted to gasp for air.

In one swift movement Rodrick’s hands guided your hips, sinking you down onto his dick. Your simultaneous moans filled the air as Rodrick seemed to still for a second, needing a moment to collect himself. The sudden moving of his hips caused any teasing to die on your tongue as your breath hitched.

“ Fuck you feel so good.” Rodrick babbled, various noises falling past his lips, failing to maintain his composure despite his demeanor earlier.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer, too lost in the rhythmic thrusts that had you seeing stars. Rodrick didn’t seem to mind though, filling in for your lack of responses with words of his own.

“ Can’t believe it took me so long to realize you liked me back.” Both of his hands were on your hips now, dragging them down to match his thrusts.

You were lost in the pleasure at this point, already sensitive from your last orgasm, your senses were overwhelmed, and you couldn’t do anything but take what Rodrick was giving you.

“ Glad you finally did.” You cried out, already feeling the buildup for a second climax approaching.

“ Fuck.” You breathed out, Rodrick’s hips beginning to slam into you harder.

Arms going up to drape across his shoulders, you clung to him, needing to ground yourself with everything going on. His pace grew erratic, getting lost in you as he began to approach his rapidly building high. The same could be said for yourself, voice growing in volume as various curses flew from your lips.

Nails digging into his back, you gripped him tighter, you could hear your name slip past his lips as you moaned his. Hips coming to a slow stop, the sound of you both trying to catch your breath filled the room.

“ Still gonna leave?” Rodrick huffed, slipping back into his jeans as he looked at you.

“ Shirts still soaked.” You said simply, and you were absolutely going home after that, you were getting tired.

“ Wanna come back to my place with me?” You asked, hopping off the counter and looking for the wet pile that was your shirt.

“ Hell yeah.”

[rodrickrulezz]

when you and rodrick first began dating, he was so shocked he bagged you, and what shocked him even more was that you actually wanted to spend time with him.

You caught Rodrick stuffing assignments that you know will definitely be done by Frank into his locker. You walk up to Rodrick, seemily too busy shoving miscellaneous things into his locker he doesn't acknowledge you until you speak.

"Hi Roddy," His cheeks tint a deep pink as he hears the nickname only you call him. "Hi," he utters. "I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come over mine tonight? My dad has a shit ton of DVDs, and he has Godzilla 2..you said you wanted to watch that.."

His eyes grow wide as he listens to you ramble. He finally spoke,"You remember that?"

Your lips curl, looking back at that fond memory, "Of course I do! You took me to that pizza place...and we shared that peperoni pizza...which most of it ended up on your shirt and then you took me to 7/11 to get slushies, and you told me in that field near my house after we talked for hours," you continued, "thank you for that, Roddy."

That sweet smile that's glued to your face made his knees buckle, "y-yeah, of course, no problem."

"So..? Do you want to come over tonight?" You grin, your nimble hand rests on his chest. He looks down at your twinkling eyes staring up at him expectantly. His breath hitches at the touch but barely plays it cool. "Fuck..yeah, I'll come over."

You squeal at his confirmation, and you shift onto your toes to plant a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you later, Roddy!" You exclaim as you start walking to your next class.

"Yeah, later." He smiles to himself, eager to tell his friends about his date tonight.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.♫⋆｡♪ ₊

ahhh he's so cute (* ´ ▽ ` *)

hope you enjoyed this!! I'm open to kind constructive criticism and tell me what you liked so I can improve :33