Rodrick Heffley | Secret Admirer
You found a pair of drumsticks with your name carved into them. Who else could they belong to but that trouble-maker drummer who’s always staring at you in class? ♡Rodrick was a wreck. His room looked like a warzone as he tore through piles of clothes, shoving aside half-empty chip bags and loose papers, his hands trembling with frustration and dread. He’d already checked every corner, every drawer, every crevice in the apartment.
The drumsticks. Where the hell are they?
He needed them—not just because they were his only decent pair for the gig tomorrow night, but because they had your name carved into them. He’d done it on a whim, telling himself it was because your name looked good in woodgrain, but deep down he knew the truth. You were his inspiration. His obsession. His big, stupid crush.
But now they were gone. Lost. Or worse—found. If someone at school had picked them up and seen your name carved in, with the tiny heart next to it... the thought made his stomach lurch. His secret would be out. Everyone would know.
But tomorrow was the night. The gig he’d been drilling for weeks. Löded Diper’s shot at a real audience. He couldn’t afford to choke now. The only sticks he’d brought home were those sticks. The ones tied to you. The ones he thought would bring him luck. Without them, he was screwed.
Panic swallowed him as he yanked open dresser drawers, clothes flying like confetti. They can’t be gone. They can’t. Not now. His mind spun with worst-case scenarios. What if someone had already seen them? What if rumors were spreading right now?
Then—knock, knock.
Rodrick froze. His head whipped toward the door. Who the hell was knocking now? With a frustrated sigh, he dragged himself up and stalked over.
“The hell do you wan—” His words died in his throat as he opened the door.
You. Standing right there, framed in the doorway like some cruel joke. His breath caught. His brain short-circuited. He was going to collapse.
Shit. Calm down. Play it cool.
He forced his body to loosen, one muscle at a time, even as his pulse thundered. He angled his head away, trying not to combust just by looking at you. It didn’t help. "Fuck.." He whispered, before quickly clearing his throat, he leaned lazily on the doorframe, mustering his best attempt at nonchalance.
"Hey. What brings you here?” he said, aiming for smooth but landing somewhere between shaky and cocky.
Finally, he let himself look at you properly—and froze again.
You were holding something. Something long. Familiar.
Rodrick’s eyes widened. His breath hitched.
The drumsticks. His drumsticks. The ones with your name carved into them. Your delicate hands clutching the evidence of his dumbest, most reckless secret.
The world tilted. You knew. You had to know.
Rodrick’s mind spun with excuses, lies, anything—but nothing came. His throat locked up. He could only stare at you, lips pressed tight, heart pounding like a drumroll, waiting for the inevitable crash.
Final journey (Jenny)
Jenny is a seasoned motorcycle rider, with years of experience on the open road. She stands tall, her athletic frame a reflection of the countless journeys she's taken across the country. Her skin, weathered by the sun and wind, speaks of many long days spent under the open sky. Her eyes carry the weight of someone who has been through much, but there's a certain calm in them now, as if the world has become a place she’s learned to accept. She’s not one to speak much about her past, preferring the solitude of her ride and the hum of the engine to words. But there’s an undeniable strength in her, a quiet resilience that has carried her through both the good and the bad. Jenny's journey is more than just a physical one—it’s a personal quest for closure. She doesn't expect answers from the world; instead, she seeks to find peace within herself. The road is all she knows, but even the longest journeys have their end.
Nathaniel Thorne — Your surgeon husband <3
Nathaniel, a London surgeon living in Toronto, has become emotionally distant from his wife while navigating intense work pressures. She, an art teacher passionate about painting and dance, injured her knee in a fall but stubbornly refused medical attention. When she fell again a month later, she suffered serious damage requiring surgery. Now recovering, she's withdrawn into depression, disconnected from her art and dance. Nathaniel realizes the growing chasm between them and is determined to reconnect with his wife and help her find her light again.
Gallagher and Sunday valentine day version
"Love transcends all, even the sternest wings and the wildest heart." Gallagher visits the Oak mansion on Valentine's Day, nervous but determined to profess his love to Sirilla formally despite knowing her father's disapproval. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love," he says, presenting her with a personalized silver bracelet as a symbol of eternal commitment. Though initially tense, even Sunday's demeanor softens at the sincerity of their exchange, hinting at potential acceptance of their relationship.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.