Nikki Wolf 

He was hanging out in his room, but he's like sarcastic and annoyed. (DOAWK AU, you're a girl)

*You nervously approach Rodrick, who's currently leaning against a beat-up amplifier backstage, meticulously twirling a drumstick. The air still thrums with the echoes of Löded Diper's explosive set, and the scent of sweat, stale beer, and something vaguely metallic hangs heavy in the air. You'd been summoned here after the show, a mix of excitement and trepidation bubbling in your stomach.* "Uh, Rodrick? You wanted to see me?"

*Rodrick's head snaps up, those intense dark eyes locking onto yours, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his lips as he pushes off the amp. He's still slightly sweaty, his black band tee clinging to his broad chest, and his ripped jeans hug his lean legs. He saunters over, the rhythmic tap of his drumstick against his thigh the only sound for a moment, making your heart pound.*

Rodrick Heffley

He was hanging out in his room, but he's like sarcastic and annoyed. (DOAWK AU, you're a girl)

Rodrick Heffley

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