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famwhy · 4 months

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Ignore that other reblog but HELL YEAH WE IN HERE WRITING SOME COD FICS BECAUSE WE GAMERS FR 😌😌😌

"I'm not getting in the Addison Lee..."

"...unless you pack your bags, you're comin' with me."

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

Synopsis: The car's outside but Ghost doesn't want to leave tonight.

Or... in which, your husband would rather hold you than the phone he uses to call you whenever he's away.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

"You're always leaving."

Ghost pauses...

...then turns his head to look your way.

You're hugging your arms, hands rubbing up and down as though you can already feel the chill of an empty household, as though there's already nothing—no one—left to keep you warm... as though he's already gone.

But he isn't. He's right here. Right with you. Can't you see?

"Sorry, that just slipped out."

The pitter patter of the rain outside almost drowns out the whisper in your voice. It's bittersweet—how your words seem to sing with the beat their droplets hit the ground in. So beautiful. So perfect. So... you.

"Don't be," his voice is coarse as it slips out—dry from the lack of usage, and gruff with his normal texture. It has him clearing his throat, hand forming a fist over the mouth of his mask as though it'll do anything.

Then, his phone rings.

Your pupils trail down his other hand, and not a word leaves your mouth. But not a word needs to, for your eyes tell him thousands more than your mouth ever could.

They bring him back with how dull they seem, how clouded and heavy and conflicted the feelings within them grow.

They bring him back to when he left previously, and the time before that, and the time before that.

They bring him back to when he was sitting in his room at the base, staring at the same, bland, four walls as he held the cold metal of his phone tight, and so close to his ear, that it practically sent a chill through his mask; a chill that mercilessly bit his bare skin underneath.

He found himself craving the warmth of your hand instead, the heat of your love that burned so bright, it could melt away even the coldest of hearts. Just like it did his.

You ruined him—completely ruined him for anyone else. You left an imprint on that cold heart of his, tattooed your initials on it before sculpting a hole in the form of your silhouette, a hole that always felt empty when you weren't there to fill it; a hole that forced him to fall asleep feeling incomplete without you by his side.

But he wouldn't have it any other way.

His phone rings again.

Ghost blinks, and he's once more met with your stunning figure leaning against the doorway, arms still crossed and lips curved down.

His gaze averts.

The clicks of your heels start to echo through the room.

"Lemme help."

Your hand's reaching out for a bag, and his is over yours before he can even realise. It's big, engulfs your smaller one like two pieces of a puzzle made for each other. Two pieces that are continuously pulled apart and put back together over and over and over again.

What a cruel hand fate must have to doom you both so.

"Don't bother, I've got it."

Your lips fall further down, but you make no moves for a second attempt.

It's then that he picks up his bags, fingers winding around the rough material of his handles. They rub against his skin, friction tricking him into feeling a warmth, but not a comfort. No, not a single bit of warmth in the world can bring him comfort like yours can.

Not a single bit.

Once his grip is secure, he starts to walk out the door. And you're right behind him.

Ghost's footsteps are heavy, his shoes weighing him down more than usual, as if pleading with him to stay—begging him not to leave you.

He can feel your eyes boring through his skull from behind, and, for the first time in his life, his mask starts to feel suffocating rather than comforting, stuffy rather than warm.

He doesn't like it.

The older man stops abruptly. You bump right into him.

A sniffle then makes its way into his ears, and the next thing he knows, his bags are on the floor and his arms are forming a hoop that fits you flush inside.

He takes in a breath, then his chest erupts in pain.

It's horrible. His heart feels like it's being ripped apart, and that familiar sense of emptiness eats away at him as he watches your shoulders start to shake. There's pain coming from the areas your nails dig into, but it's nothing compared to the heartache that claws away at him, the looming sense of loneliness towering over him.

It's an unfamiliar feeling, but he knows it so well.

You are his beautiful princess and he: your dutiful knight—off to serve and protect you from the threats that loom over your palace, your kingdom, while you are forced to bid him adieu, while the two of you embrace like the star-crossed lovers you are.

The moon's glow is so powerful, that she's capable of hugging you through the window, framing your face with that comforting warmth he'll be stripped of soon. She cups your cheeks as you tilt your head up at him, and not even all of the city lights can shine as bright as your eyes in this agonising moment.

If he could, he would trade both those lights and the stars strung over the night sky for a minute more...

...but the car's outside, and his friend's called twice.

So, ignoring the feeling of a thousand blades being stabbed straight through his heart, of that familiar void that starts to grow within the depths of his soul, his fingers swipe at the crystals gathering beneath your glossy eyes before he lifts his mask just enough so that his lips can place themselves on your forehead—warm and firm and oh-so-full of love.

Then the mask is back down, and he grabs his bags before starting to walk away again.

But he doesn't get far, for you soon call out to him.

And Ghost pauses mid-step.

"I'll miss you!"

Stuffy. Suffocating. Uncomfortable.

"I always do... as soon as you get in the car..."

This damn mask is getting too fucking annoying.

With that thought, the rough hand previously hanging by his side moves up to snag the edge of the material before pulling it off in one fell swoop.

And suddenly, the world seems so much more clearer.

That feeling of being without you feels so much more stronger.

And the want within him grows so much more louder.

Simon is tired. He's tired of loving from afar, of never being where you are. And he doesn't want to leave you anymore.

So he turns his head to look your way.

You're stood there, eyes glossy as ever, pricked in the corners and swirling with a storm he's never had to brave before.

But he'll face it this time. He'll face it because he'd rather hold you than try to catch this flight.

"I'm not..."

You squint, lips quivering as you utter a weak, "What?"

"I'm not getting in the Addison Lee..." he talks slow, and observes the way your pupils expand with a light feeling in his chest, "...unless you pack your bags, you're comin' with me."

You pause, blinking those glossy eyes of yours at him as though in disbelief.

But when he makes no move to say or do anything else, your lips part, and you speak once more.

"You want me to come to the base with you..?"

The words cause his shoulders to bounce, head shaking side-to-side as he lightly chuckles. "No, love, we're not goin' to the base. We're goin' on 'oliday, just you and I."

You blink a few more times before your cheeks begin to glisten with more salty water, before you're picking up your skirt and running and almost tripping over yourself—but Simon's there to catch you.

He's always there to catch you.

And when you're in his arms again, it's like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders, like an airy cloud has engulfed him with nothing but comfort and solace.

The feeling is foreign—new but not unwelcome.

So is the lack of emptiness that flows through him when you pull away, and a smile teeming with excitement is stretched across your lips.

"Don't forget to close the windows and lock all the doors," he teases with a smile.

You wave him off as you head back up the stairs, but he can't find it in himself to be mad.

So, instead, he just places his mask back on and awaits for the moment you come back to him, for the moment he gets to hold you again. It doesn't take long—no, it doesn't take long at all. With how quickly you packed, it's almost as though you waited your whole life for this moment.

And if that's the case, then he's so sorry for having to make you wait for so long.

As soon as the both of you are outside, Simon makes his way over to Soap's Addison Lee with you trailing behind just like you were a few moments before—though, this time, there's a clear pep in your step.

Soap is quick to unlock the door, pupils following Simon before quickly shooting to the next pair of feet that enter.

The lieutenant can sense the query in his co-worker's eyes, and answers accordingly, "Takin' those vacation days off. Do me a favour and tell the captain after drivin' us to the airport, yeah Johnny?"

The lower-ranking soldier raises a brow.

"Yer crazy for this one, L.T.," says he after a beat, lips quirking up before he's turning back around to grip the wheel once more.

Simon merely smiles, his calloused hand reaching for your own before your fingers intertwine and your rings meet with a clink of nothing but holy matrimony. "I know."

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famwhy · 4 months

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"I'm not getting in the Addison Lee..."

"...unless you pack your bags, you're comin' with me."

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

Synopsis: The car's outside but Ghost doesn't want to leave tonight.

Or... in which, your husband would rather hold you than the phone he uses to call you whenever he's away.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

"You're always leaving."

Ghost pauses...

...then turns his head to look your way.

But he isn't. He's right here. Right with you. Can't you see?

"Sorry, that just slipped out."

Then, his phone rings.

Your pupils trail down his other hand, and not a word leaves your mouth. But not a word needs to, for your eyes tell him thousands more than your mouth ever could.

They bring him back with how dull they seem, how clouded and heavy and conflicted the feelings within them grow.

They bring him back to when he left previously, and the time before that, and the time before that.

He found himself craving the warmth of your hand instead, the heat of your love that burned so bright, it could melt away even the coldest of hearts. Just like it did his.

But he wouldn't have it any other way.

His phone rings again.

Ghost blinks, and he's once more met with your stunning figure leaning against the doorway, arms still crossed and lips curved down.

His gaze averts.

The clicks of your heels start to echo through the room.

"Lemme help."

What a cruel hand fate must have to doom you both so.

"Don't bother, I've got it."

Your lips fall further down, but you make no moves for a second attempt.

Not a single bit.

Once his grip is secure, he starts to walk out the door. And you're right behind him.

Ghost's footsteps are heavy, his shoes weighing him down more than usual, as if pleading with him to stay—begging him not to leave you.

He can feel your eyes boring through his skull from behind, and, for the first time in his life, his mask starts to feel suffocating rather than comforting, stuffy rather than warm.

He doesn't like it.

The older man stops abruptly. You bump right into him.

A sniffle then makes its way into his ears, and the next thing he knows, his bags are on the floor and his arms are forming a hoop that fits you flush inside.

He takes in a breath, then his chest erupts in pain.

It's an unfamiliar feeling, but he knows it so well.

If he could, he would trade both those lights and the stars strung over the night sky for a minute more...

...but the car's outside, and his friend's called twice.

Then the mask is back down, and he grabs his bags before starting to walk away again.

But he doesn't get far, for you soon call out to him.

And Ghost pauses mid-step.

"I'll miss you!"

Stuffy. Suffocating. Uncomfortable.

"I always do... as soon as you get in the car..."

This damn mask is getting too fucking annoying.

With that thought, the rough hand previously hanging by his side moves up to snag the edge of the material before pulling it off in one fell swoop.

And suddenly, the world seems so much more clearer.

That feeling of being without you feels so much more stronger.

And the want within him grows so much more louder.

Simon is tired. He's tired of loving from afar, of never being where you are. And he doesn't want to leave you anymore.

So he turns his head to look your way.

You're stood there, eyes glossy as ever, pricked in the corners and swirling with a storm he's never had to brave before.

But he'll face it this time. He'll face it because he'd rather hold you than try to catch this flight.

"I'm not..."

You squint, lips quivering as you utter a weak, "What?"

"I'm not getting in the Addison Lee..." he talks slow, and observes the way your pupils expand with a light feeling in his chest, "...unless you pack your bags, you're comin' with me."

You pause, blinking those glossy eyes of yours at him as though in disbelief.

But when he makes no move to say or do anything else, your lips part, and you speak once more.

"You want me to come to the base with you..?"

The words cause his shoulders to bounce, head shaking side-to-side as he lightly chuckles. "No, love, we're not goin' to the base. We're goin' on 'oliday, just you and I."

He's always there to catch you.

And when you're in his arms again, it's like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders, like an airy cloud has engulfed him with nothing but comfort and solace.

The feeling is foreign—new but not unwelcome.

So is the lack of emptiness that flows through him when you pull away, and a smile teeming with excitement is stretched across your lips.

"Don't forget to close the windows and lock all the doors," he teases with a smile.

You wave him off as you head back up the stairs, but he can't find it in himself to be mad.

And if that's the case, then he's so sorry for having to make you wait for so long.

Soap is quick to unlock the door, pupils following Simon before quickly shooting to the next pair of feet that enter.

The lower-ranking soldier raises a brow.

"Yer crazy for this one, L.T.," says he after a beat, lips quirking up before he's turning back around to grip the wheel once more.

Simon merely smiles, his calloused hand reaching for your own before your fingers intertwine and your rings meet with a clink of nothing but holy matrimony. "I know."

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #female reader #x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of duty #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #angst #cod angst #simon riley angst

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famwhy · 4 months

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Hi! I just want to say that your Right Way Up series is very good. I would say it's the best I've ever read in the Stranger Things theme. And I just want to ask if you're planning an update? I don't want to pressure you it's just been a long time since the last episode so I'm just curious. :D

Awww, thank youuu <333

Honestly, I'm working on it but it's at a super slow rate, probably like a sentence a day? There's a scene I need to write that I don't particularly want to just because I wanna get to the good stuff already but I'll try my best to push past it for you guys. It's not a bad scene dw, I just don't like writing it for some reason.

I'll get to working on it today and try my absolute hardest to bash it out for you all, sorry for making you wait and thank you for your patience so far 💞💞💞

#rara answers #I'm sorry #I'll try to get it out as soon as I can #I really mean it this time

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famwhy · 5 months

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Hi! This is my first time requesting something so sorry if it comes out wrong 🫶

could you post a part 2 to the billy loomis fiction called "you were too smart for your own good"? It's alright if you can't! 💕

Hello! So nice that I'm the first person you ever sent an ask to, thank you!

As for your request, I'm afraid I can't really do a part 2, it defeats the whole open-end purpose of the oneshot and a part 2 would never do it justice. Imo, it just takes away from the scary factor of the oneshot since I've already written the climax which is Billy being discovered and holding a gun to Reader's head, there's not much else I can do 😅

Please don't let this deter you from requesting anything else! I'm sorry about not being able to fulfil your request though.

#rara answers #no Billy loomis part 2 either

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famwhy · 5 months

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why did you stop writing your miles morales (x 2) story? It was fantastic.

I'll be very honest here but I haven't liked the story since the first part being released due to some rather negative and extremely rude comments I had to delete so every time I even think about that story, all I think about are those rude comments I got and it's incredibly demotivating.

I know a lot of people like it and I'm so thankful for that, but the amount of negativity I woke up to that day made me extremely upset and I personally hate reliving it so I hope you guys can forgive me when I say that a part 3 would not at all be good for my mental health.

#rara answers #bereavement pt 3 might not happen #sorry guys

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famwhy · 5 months

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Hi! I recently found your stranger things fic and I must say that is amazing !! I loved the way you wrote the characters and y/n, recently it's been really hard for me to find a good story where y/n isn't the good innocent girl . Just wanted to say thank you for the amazing story's I now how hard it is to make them. (Sorry if I wrote something wrong english isn't my first language)

Oh my gosh, you're so sweet, thank you so much! And don't worry about your English, I can understand just fine and you did quite well! 💞

I'm so glad to hear that you think so highly of my story and y/n. I tried my best to make her a realistic teenage girl 'cause I know for sure that the chances you come across an actual innocent teenage girl irl are so low, and I wanted that sort of accuracy for the fic.

Omg, I remember reading a fic the other day where the MC judged other girls for lusting after a character before proceeding to do so herself??? Like, girl what? The pick-me hypocrite vibes were so prominent and it really made me disgusted. It's fics like those that made me write the y/n of my fic to have normal teenage flaws and yk, not judge others for normal teenage reactions.

Sorry, I ranted a little there but I'm so so so so happy to hear you consider my fic a good story! The overwhelming amount of support it has received since release really has me over here giggling. Thank you 💞💞💞

#rara answers #y'all are being sweet again #thank you

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famwhy · 5 months

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Hello love 💕

I just wanted to ask if you would consider writing for Count Vronsky from Anna Karenina?

Hi babes 💞

I actually remember watching Anna Karenina a while ago, I never finished it because it wasn't my thing but ATJ was hot af in it so ofc I would write for Count Vronsky!

#rara answers #I'm such a simp for ATJ

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famwhy · 5 months

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Just checking in since we haven't heard anything from you in a while.. are you currently working on posting anything? I miss reading your writing! ESPECIALLY your stranger thing fic!!!

Omg, to think people over the Internet care about me enough to check in on me, I'm absolutely flattered, thank you 💞

I am actually working on the chapter but I have other projects that I'm working on at the same time. On a different website (that website unfortunately being Wattpad - though thankfully I haven't come across any of their infamous misogynistic comments. Just a few rude people demanding updates 🙄), I'm working on a cowboy thriller fic that is so fun to write because of western accents. If you wanna read it, my profile is @/Fam_Why but like without the /

I'm so happy to hear someone misses me, thank you ever so much! 💞

#rara answers #still alive thank you for checking in #💞💞💞

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famwhy · 6 months

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1 year anniversary!

I don't usually celebrate milestones but I feel like this is maybe a little too big to ignore. It's been exactly one year since I joined tumblr. From just yandere oneshots to my first 1,000 notes BSD to my recent stranger things fic and spiderverse fluff, I've been on a bit of a wild ride this past year and I almost can't believe my own fluctuations in interest. Like seriously, who would've thought I'd go from liking anime men only to also liking real men? Crazy.

Thank you to all 1,800+ (wow, that's a huge number) of you for supporting my fics and giving me a follow. You all mean the world to me 💞💞💞

Next post you see from me (unless someone sends an ask to say something to me) should be the next part of my stranger things fic! Stay tuned guys! And thank you all again 🥰

#1 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone #I hit 1 year #can't believe it

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famwhy · 6 months

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I think the reblog is just so your fans can ask you the questions. It doesn't seem to mention sagau or anything so I think it is just in general in regards to wips and such if you have them. Sorry, but you were one of the few that came to mind I could think of that still posted.

Lmao, no worries, I just got confused for a second. I'm still not used to this site 😭

#rara answers

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famwhy · 6 months

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woah woah, wait, idk how this works. Is this you asking me these questions because just a head's up, none of my answers are genshin or honkai related (thought I still play both games and I'm currently waiting for HORebirth's rerun)

WIP (Work In Progress) It Good

Reblog and let your followers ask!

🗣️Talk about your favourite WIP

❌What WIP do you find the most challenging? Why?

📄What’s a WIP you never finished that you would like to go back and revisit?

🤬Is there a WIP that you hate?

❔Choose a random WIP and talk about it.

📝Share a snippet of an unposted WIP, with or without context.

🔍Give a clue (a picture, emoji, a word, etc) and let your followers guess what a WIP is about.

💗Is there a scene you can’t wait to write for a WIP?

👻Is there a scene that you find intimidating that you have yet to write?

🤔Do you have an WIPs where you wish you had chosen a different fandom/character?

#rara answers?#srsly what am I meant to do

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famwhy · 6 months

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Ur work is amazing !! Thank u for sharing it

My heart—

You're so sweet, thank YOU so much for giving me your time of day and reading my work 🥰🥰🥰💞💞💞💞

#rara answers #oh BTW exams r done now #gonna try ease back into writing #been a bit

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famwhy · 7 months

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Bereavement is so amazing!!! Love it💖

Thank you! And thank you for not demanding an update as well, it means a lot 💞

#rara answers

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famwhy · 8 months

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"Do you have any idea how long I've waited..."

"...for this moment?"

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Yandere! Rodrick Heffley X F!Reader

Synopsis: Rodrick Heffley couldn't believe his own luck; you noticed him—you noticed him. This must've been fate, right? You must've loved him, there was no way you didn't. And if you loved him, then what he was doing was okay, right?—there was nothing wrong with it? Of course not, after all, you two were going to get married in the future, he was sure of it! All of this would just turn out to be a silly story you would tell your future kids about how you two first met. Yeah, that's all this was—one big, silly story.

Warnings: Mean!Reader, Depictions of toxic relationships, Stalking

"Dude, you're staring again."

Rodrick knew; he knew that he was staring again. But, how could he not? How could he not stare when the most drop-dead gorgeous girl in school was within just 10 feet of him?—when you were right there, before his very own eyes?

So close, and yet, so far.

"Dude!"

You stood by your locker—lips painted in that really pretty shade of cherry red to match with your striking eyeliner—basically demanding everyone's undivided attention; attention which you undoubtedly got.

Though, even if you—by some chance in this fucked up world—didn't receive that attention, Rodrick wouldn't hesitate to give it to you; Rodrick would give all of that attention times ten to you. Hell, if you so much as asked him for it, Rodrick would give you the world.

"Hey!"

He was melting—he knew he was—turning into putty at your very arms, even if they weren't anywhere near him. Regardless, his bones morphed into mush and his face went as red as the lipstick you adorned on that pretty mouth of yours he longed to get a taste of.

He could gaze at you for days and never get enough.

What he couldn't gaze at for days, however, was what occurred next.

A pair of strong arms sprung out of nowhere, wrapping around your torso and lifting you into the air in a way that had molten lava coursing through the Heffley's veins, heating up his insides and igniting a fire within; a fire that ached to burn the male adorning a bright, varsity jacket beside you.

His eyes narrowed, teeth grinding over one another and skin losing all hints of previous colour, going as blank as an empty canvas sat aboard an abandoned easel at the sight before him.

That man—Lenwood Heath—oh how Rodrick loathed him; despised the very air he breathed; cursed the very home he inhabited. If the ground you strutted over was worshipped by the aspiring musician, then the ground that Lenwood trudged over was spat on by him.

Oh, how he could just picture it now, wrapping his hands around the neck of that pathetic, little—

"Heffley!"

Rodrick blinked, suddenly able to register the hand waving before his very eyes. "Huh?"

The blurry form in front of him quickly grew clear with a couple more blinks, revealing one of his best friends with a brow raised, lips pulled taut, and a pointed look on his face. "You fazed out staring at her again."

A longing sigh left the lips of the drummer. "Can you blame me, Chris? She's just so... so..."

"Hot?"

"Ethereal," Rodrick smiled, tunnel vision drowning out the dumb teen next to you in favour of only seeing you. "She'll love me one day, I know it."

"Dude—" Chris deadpanned, "—she doesn't even know you exist."

"Uh, yeah she does," responded the other musician, "Of course she knows I exist."

Chris' lips pulled up after that, and—even through his peripheral—Rodrick could see the smugness radiating off his friend's smirk. "Oh yeah? Prove it. Walk over there right now and say hi."

"What do you think this is? Some high school drama? I'm not doing that."

"Alright dude," came the voice of his friend again, taking on a bit of a defeated tone this time, "just tryna help you build up your confidence, that's all."

Rodrick's face scrunched up, now turning to fully face his friend and fellow band member. "My confidence is—"

A light 'ahem' cut through the air.

The Heffley whipped his head to the side—brows furrowing and lips parting in preparation for a sassy speech—when he saw just who exactly was clearing their throat at him.

His breath audibly hitched in his throat, wind getting stuck in his pipe—hindering his ability to respire as his vision flooded with that familiar pink he knew all too well.

"Do you mind?" The question came out your pretty lips with an air of both boredom and your own bit of sass—both fists placed upon your hips as you stared at him pointedly.

Oh, you stared at him—you were staring at him.

Holy shit.

He didn't know what to do; what to say; what to think. His mind was a muddled-up mess with you sat in the middle of it all—in the eye of the storm, occupying your throne within his thoughts while the rest of his head went to shit.

But, the real you, the one stood before him right now, was quickly growing impatient. He could tell from the way you started tapping your foot against the ground in a quick rhythm—one of your cuter habits, he noticed; not that they weren't all cute.

A huff—escaping your lips; exasperated and very much fed-up. He was losing you.

No, no, no, no, no.

His eyes widened, pupils shaking as his breath grew quicker and shorter and sharper. A tightness grew about his chest, contracting his lungs—folding them in on themselves—and tensing his muscles to the point they turned into multiple ropes that unfairly seized him by the throat.

He was panicking, and so—as any panicking person would do—said the first thing that popped into his head—

"Y/N."

—it was your name, of course. That was always at the forefront of his mind.

You scrunched up your nose in that super cute way that you do before speaking again—tone sounding a little... judgemental—"Do I know you?"

A harsh jab to his side and a pair of smug eyes burning a hole through his head followed after that sentence. Annoying.

With a quick glare directed straight at Chris, Rodrick rose his right arm to rub the left—as if to get rid of the lingering buzz of pain left in his friend's wake—before devoting his full attention back to you. "It's uh, Heffley—Rodrick Heffley?"

You narrowed your eyes, staring at him a little incredulously now—but he didn't mind, so long as you were staring at him and not past him, he didn't mind at all. Rodrick was on cloud nine anytime you gave him just an inch of attention, be it good or bad.

Everything about you was just so—

"Wait..." Rodrick blinked—today must've been his lucky day because you were gracious enough to greet him with lit up eyes once you broke through his thoughts. So pretty. "Heffley as in the same Heffley who destroyed Heather Hills' Sweet Sixteen?"

He grimaced a little at the memory, but nodded nonetheless.

Your lips quirked up—by God, please place them on his—

"Y'know, I've been meaning to thank you for that..."

"Thank, uh—thank me?" Dear lord, he could feel his own heartbeat drumming against his ears.

"Yeah, thanks to you, I was able to take Hills' throne." A glint reflected off your beautiful eyes after you said that but Rodrick was too busy admiring your everything to decipher what it was. Was that a new pair of shoes? They suited you.

His eyes snapped back up to your face when a sudden warmth coated both of his shoulders, a familiar hand making its way into his peripheral. "Yup, that's my buddy."

Your eyes briefly left the dark-haired male's form to flit over to his companion, and he found himself grinding his teeth against one another just as he had done before; the pink in his gaze quickly being replaced by a heated crimson.

But, as quick as the overwhelming urge to slam his own friend against the wall came—to rip his very skin off and watch as blood flowed straight out of him—it was gone—just in time for your eyes to return to the Heffley and send another explosion of those pretty, little insects to attack his insides and fill him with so much warmth, he found himself wishing to share it with you—

—God, please let him share it with you.

"Can you move now? I need to get to class."

"Oh, uh, right." He damn-near stumbled over himself in order to make way for you, harshly shoving Chris to the side too—and if he could, he would've rolled out a red carpet for you as well. Your precious feet deserved more than the filthy school floor.

"Ack! Dude!"

Rodrick paid no mind to his friend's scowling form beside him—choosing, instead, to train his gaze onto your figure as it slowly grew smaller the further you walked away.

For a moment, as you brushed passed him, an overwhelming cherry scent flooded his nose, coursing through his innards to roll his eyes towards the back of his head and whisk him up into the air so that he could sit upon a cloud as high as the earth would allow; as high as you would allow.

But, of course, not higher than you—never higher than you.

"She loves me—" Rodrick smiled; dopey and wide, "—I just know it."

"Whatever you say, dude."

'Whatever he says'? No, this was written in the stars. This was the epitome of fate; of destiny woven upon the finest of silks and stored in the most beautiful of halls—indestructible and unalterable.

This was love—true love.

And you knew it too—you must've. Why else would you have approached him the way you had?

And it's because of your reciprocated feelings, that Rodrick felt perfectly fine with leaning forward in his seat next period—right up to the back of your neck—and taking another huge whiff that knocked him straight out of commission.

"The hell are you doing, Heffley?!"

A voice snapped him out of his appreciation time—cruelly ripping him away from his blissful state of basking in your glory and forcing him to look over to his side.

Lenwood.

Rodrick rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat to kick his shoes atop his desk and rest his hands behind his head as he said, "Nothing."

The jock narrowed his eyes, brows furrowing as he parted his lips—gearing up for a threat, no doubt—when another voice cut through the air.

"Something the matter, Mr Heath?"

The jock quickly muttered out a denial before turning to face forward again.

Rodrick smirked.

"Mr Heffley, feet off the table please."

He rose his brows but said nothing, choosing to obey quietly—if only to have the opportunity to stay in the same room as you for just a little while longer.

Speaking of you, the commotion seemed to have caught your attention, because you spun around in your seat, eyes landing solely on his figure for the second time that day.

His breath hitched. It was definitely meant to be.

It stayed like that for a few moments, the two of you just staring at one another as the world dissipated into irrelevance around you. Your beautiful, E/C pools were enough for him to get lost in for hours—just as beguiling as the rest of you was.

Alas, the moment couldn't last forever, and you shattered it with the tug of your lips downwards alongside the cute scrunch of your nose before spinning back around with the elegance of a ballroom dancer.

Ah, he could stare at you all day and never get enough.

He said that already, didn't he? Oh well, it deserved to be reiterated if the subject it was referring to was you.

Today had been a good day—one that he was sure would only end up getting better with the upcoming pep rally in a few periods time. An excuse to devote his entire attention to you without getting weird or judgemental looks? Yes please.

Though, to be entirely honest, he didn't care for those looks. He was too busy hoping, wishing, praying to be the one you woke up next to in the morning; the one whose embrace you cuddled into and found comfort within; the one who'd get to spend the rest of his life with you—

—God, please let him spend the rest of his life with you.

He couldn't help it—staring at you with the intensity he had during your cheer session once the pep rally did come around.

Your lashes fluttered prettily as you peered up at the stands, hands covered by the balls you adorned and lips jutting out in that perfect pout that he just wanted to completely devour—

Ah, his throat was feeling a little dry. Just another effect you had on him.

Unfortunately, he had to part from the stands for a few moments to go grab himself a drink but, for you—his darling pretty girl—he made sure to rush back as soon as he possibly could.

Unfortunately, this speed of his meant that he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings, and not paying much attention to his surroundings could only lead to one thing: an incident.

The can in his hands slid straight out of his grasp, falling to the ground with a loud 'crash!' as liquid scattered the area, still bubbling and fizzing up even out of its container. A pair of white shoes seeped into brown at the end, and Rodrick found himself trailing the legs adorning them upwards, eyes falling upon a white skirt stained in the same brown that was slathered over the floor.

His gaze kept going upwards, only stopping when they met with an infuriated pair of dazzling eyes narrowed back at him; a familiar, infuriated pair of dazzling eyes.

"Ugh! What the fuck did you do, you freak?! You ruined my outfit! No wonder why Heather fucking hates you!"

No, no, no, no.

He was sorry, he was so sorry. Just don't hate him, please forgive him. God, he didn't know what he'd do with himself if you didn't forgive him.

He wanted to beg for your forgiveness—grovel on his knees and hold onto you like his fucking lifeline—but you were ushered into the toilet by those... friends of yours before he even had the chance, and he was left there, eyes wide as his whole body trembled.

Make it up to you. He had to make it up to you

But how could he when you were constantly surrounded by people who got in his way?—when you both were?

First Lenwood, then his own friend, and now, your friends.

Where could he get you completely and utterly alone?—when it could just be the two of you?

That was when it struck him, and his feet started moving before the cogs in his head even could.

He arrived before you—bathroom trips always took awhile when it came to you and your posse, so he didn't have to worry about you being faster than him.

Setting up wasn't too hard either, he knew where everything was and also learned enough from his dad about women to know how to woo one back into loving you.

All he had to do... was wait for you.

And wait he did. It felt like years had passed as he stood shrouded in darkness, each second as agonising and torturous as the last—if not, more so. But it was worth the wait—you were worth the wait—and soon, the sound of the door opening was accompanied by a loud yell.

"Mom! I'm home!"

Silence.

"Mom?!"

Again. Nothing.

"Fucking—of course."

His lips tugged down, heart practically being pulled on by the words that spilled from your mouth.

Yeah, sure it was convenient that your mom was never home, but he couldn't help the way he cursed the woman who gave birth to such an amazing being but didn't have the heart to properly stick around and bring her up.

But nevermind that, he could hear thuds growing closer to him.

A click. Then a flip. Then—

"What the actual fuck?!"

Rodrick grinned, arms opening wide as his heart picked up in both pace and volume, drumming against his ears like he often would his set in band practice. "Welcome home, sweetheart!"

"Heffley?! What are you doing in my house?!"

Your eyes were wide, pupils shaking as your muscles lost their strength and your bag went tumbling down. Aw, you must've been happy to see him.

"I wanted to apologise," said he, "for earlier."

You blinked, still staring at him with that cute expression sewn onto your face.

For a few moments, nothing was said, and Rodrick found himself lowering his hands to awkwardly clear his throat.

Then, you spoke again, "Heffley, get... get out of my house."

"No."

"No..?"

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this moment?" As he spoke, he started slowly approaching you, and you started slowly backing away.

"Heffley..."

"No need for that anymore, babe." His smile grew wider and his cheeks grew hotter as the wall blocked you from moving any further—allowing the distance between the two of you to grow... shorter. "Just call me Rodrick, or honey, if you'd prefer."

"You're crazy..."

He could feel your breath now, right up against his skin. It was perfect, and only proved to send shivers down his spine. "It's okay, babe, no one's here now. It's just you and me. You can speak your mind without worrying about anyone else. Go on, tell me you love me."

Your features scrunched up at that, teeth grinding against one another as you spat, "I don't love you, psycho."

"Uh, yeah you do." He dismissed your words with a wave. "It's okay to admit you're in love."

"I'm not, you psycho. I barely know you."

Ah, you could be so cruel sometimes.

"Sure you do. You know me just like I know you—" another whiff, "—and how I know this is your favourite scent."

You were shaking much more violently now, body leaning up against the wall for support in a way that made him envy it—all this effort to get to where he was and your wall got more attention than he did? Absolutely not.

He looped an arm around the curve of your waist, basking in the way they fit together as perfectly as puzzle pieces, before pulling you into his chest and taking another deep inhale.

And just like that, you went limp in his arms.

Oh well, at least now he got to carry out his fantasy of being the one that got to wake up next to you.

Omg guys, I acc feel so bad for turning Rodrick into a creep in this, he's such a cutie in the movies.

#yandere #x reader #female reader #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere male x female reader #yandere x you #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #diary of a wimpy kid #yandere rodrick heffley

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