"He said five more minutes... he always says five more minutes."
☆ Listening to "R u mine" by Arctic Monkeys while writing this. ☆
Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem reader (18+).
Warnings: none.
Synopsis: you want to sleep but Rodrick keeps keeping you awake.
Author's note: oh Rodrick, how I love you... I've been rewatching the movies these days hahah. I hope you like it!
The reader is of legal age (I will never write for underage readers, only 18 and up).
Minors must not interact (MDNI).
If you want to make any requests, feel free to do so!
English is not my native language so I ask you to have a little tolerance :)
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Rodrick's room is a mess, but you're used to it. Low lights, wrinkled sheets, a Löded Diper t-shirt thrown on the nightstand, and his half-broken amplifier humming in the background.
You're there, lying on his bed with your head buried in his pillow, while he pounds away on the drums as if he was playing at the height of a world tour and not in his room, late at night.
"Rodrick, I swear to God, if you don't stop... I'll smother you with the pillow." He doesn't respond, or rather: he laughs, but without stopping. He's being a bastard on purpose, and you know it.
"Come on," he says between shots, without even turning around. "Just five more minutes." "You said 'five more minutes' twenty minutes ago, I'm about to die." "Die in style, then, with a chilling soundtrack."
You huff and turn to the side, tired, exhausted, your temples pounding. You're here to spend the night with him, not to be tortured by his inner drummer at indecent hours.
After a few more seconds - which seem like an eternity - he finally stops. A final, sharp thump, then silence. You hear him huff and drop his drumsticks somewhere. The stool creaks as he rises, and then the mattress dips behind you.
"Hey," he says, his voice hoarse and thick. You feel him slowly approaching, his arm brushing against yours. "Are you offended?" "No," you reply dryly. "I'm just praying you get an infection." "Hot."
You laugh slightly, even though you're tired. Rodrick leans closer, and his breath touches your neck. You feel his warm hand run slowly over your waist. There's something sweet in that gesture, even if he would never admit it.
"You should have told me you were so fucked up," he whispers. "I'd let you sleep first." "Bullshit, you like torturing me." "Just a little." You roll onto your back, meeting Rodrick's gaze in the dim glow of his desk lamp.
His fingers trace lazy circles on your stomach through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, his touch gentle despite the rough skin from years of drumming. "Fuck, I'm tired," you mutter, closing your eyes for a second too long.
Rodrick's hand slides up to rest against your cheek, thumb brushing your temple. "Then stop talking," he says, but there's no bite to it. You groan in response, but don't protest as Rodrick's fingers move from your temple to your hairline, threading gently through the strands.
His touch is light and deliberate, as if he's trying to soothe you... or maybe just appreciating how he can do this to you - knock you out with exhaustion, then keep you awake.
"You're lucky I don't smother you," you murmur, opening your eyes to slits. His face is close now, lips curled into that infuriating half-smirk that means he's amused by you. His dark eyes shine in the dim light, reflecting the glow of his overloaded desk lamp.
"Lucky?" "Yeah, lucky. You're lucky I care enough about you to stay here while you torture me." You stretch lazily under his touch, the exhaustion still weighing on you but somehow eased by his presence.
His fingers keep working through your hair, slow and methodical, as if he's memorizing the way it feels. The steady pressure helps you relax, your muscles loosening one by one.
"You're lucky I don't kick you out," he counters, but there's no real threat in it. His thumb traces the curve of your ear before moving back to your temple. "If you were anyone else, I'd let you leave."
"Oh, sure," you scoff, but don't move away from his hand. Rodrick hums in response, his fingers still moving through your hair with practiced ease. His touch is warm, grounding, and you let your eyes drift closed again, focusing only on the way his hand feels against your scalp.
The mattress dips slightly as he shifts his weight, bringing himself closer, and you sense his breath against your cheek before his lips graze the shell of your ear. "You're gonna fall asleep on me?" he murmurs, voice rough and low.
You make a noncommittal sound, half groan, half sigh. His mouth brushes the side of your neck next and your breathing falters, but you don't open your eyes. Not yet. His mouth stays there, warm and firm, his lips pressing just enough to send a slow tingle down your spine.
You're too tired to respond properly, but your body betrays you anyway - your fingers curl slightly against his wrist where it rests near your shoulder. "Don't," he whispers, barely audible.
Your eyelids flutter open at that. Rodrick's face is inches from yours now, dark and unreadable in the low light. His eyes search yours for a second too long, something unspoken passing between you.
His hand moves from your hair to cradle the side of your neck, thumb brushing over the pulse point beneath your jaw. His lips are still close enough that you can feel his exhale ghost over your skin, warm and steady.
He watches you intently, waiting for something - permission, a reaction, a sign you're still awake enough to care. "Rodrick," you murmur, his name slipping out softer than you intended. His thumb pauses against your jaw, pressing lightly before resuming its slow motion.
"You're really gonna sleep now?" His voice is rough, lower than before, carrying something you don't quite recognize. There's something almost... tender in it, despite the teasing edge. You should be tired. You are tired.
Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
From the same series:
⤷ 𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐 (Warnings: none. Synopsis: you prod each other until you fall asleep.)
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Hii, is it okay if I request Rodrick Heffley x Reader who is shy but loves to bake? Reader ends up baking Loded Diper cupcakes for Rodrick and his bandmates. Thank you!!! Can I be 🐰 anon?
oh mon chérie ! of courseee, & yes you can be the bunny anon <33 (or rabbit?)
you weren’t the type of girl people expected rodrick heffley to date.
you were quiet, soft-spoken, the kind of person who still got nervous ordering your own food. you loved baking because it made sense—measuring, mixing, following steps that always led to something sweet. it was calm. predictable. nothing like him.
but you loved him anyway. loved his noise, his energy, the way he filled up every room like he was allergic to silence.
so when löded diper started practicing nonstop for an upcoming gig, you decided to do something nice. he’d been stressed out, skipping meals and living on energy drinks. you stayed up late making cupcakes—black frosting, messy white letters spelling löded diper across the tops. not perfect, but honest.
the next afternoon, you showed up at the heffleys’ garage clutching the box, the sound of drums echoing through the driveway. you hesitated at the half-open door, heart racing.
you barely got two knocks in before one of the band guys spotted you.
“hey! yo, it’s rodrick’s girlfriend!” he shouted over the music.
you wanted to melt into the pavement. everyone turned. rodrick nearly dropped his drumstick.
“babe?” he grinned, hopping off the stool. “you came!”
you nodded, holding up the box like a shield. “i, um… brought cupcakes. for you guys.”
the room went quiet for a second. then one of the guys—bill, maybe—blinked. “you baked for us?”
you bit your lip, suddenly regretting everything. “yeah… they’re, uh, löded diper cupcakes.”
the guys burst out laughing, but it wasn’t mean—just surprised. “bro, she made merch you can eat,” one said, already reaching for a cupcake.
rodrick looked at you like you’d just handed him the moon. “holy crap, babe. these are awesome.”
he peeled the wrapper off one and took a bite, frosting smearing on the corner of his mouth. “oh my god—this is actually good. like, really good.”
“it’s just a box mix,” you mumbled.
he shook his head. “nah, you put, like, love or whatever in it. that’s gourmet.”
the band tore through them in seconds. crumbs everywhere, wrappers on amps, frosting fingerprints on guitars. you tried not to cringe at the mess, but the sight of them enjoying something you made made it worth it.
one of the guys nudged rodrick. “dude, if she keeps feeding us, we might actually survive tour practice.”
rodrick slung an arm over your shoulders, smug. “see? i told you she’s the best.”
you could feel every pair of eyes on you. cheeks burning, you ducked your head, but rodrick just grinned and pressed a quick kiss to your temple.
“you don’t have to hide,” he murmured. “they already know you’re cooler than me.”
“not true,” you whispered.
“pretty sure it is,” he said, still smiling.
after practice, the guys left one by one, thanking you between mouthfuls of frosting. the garage was quiet again—just the two of you, the faint hum of amps in the background.
rodrick leaned against his drum set, twirling a stick between his fingers. “you always do this,” he said.
“do what?”
“show up when i’m about to lose it,” he said. “like, i’ll be one meltdown away from smashing my cymbals, and then you appear with cupcakes and those shy little smiles, and suddenly everything’s fine.”
you laughed softly, brushing at the frosting still on his face. “you still have some right there.”
he grinned. “you gonna kiss it off?”
you rolled your eyes but leaned in anyway, and he caught you halfway, lips sweet and warm. it was quick—just enough to make you dizzy.
when you pulled away, he was still grinning, eyes crinkling. “y’know, you’re like… the calm to my disaster.”
“and you’re the noise to my silence,” you said quietly.
he blinked. “that’s deep.”
“yeah, don’t get used to it,” you said, smiling.
he laughed, brushing a bit of flour off your sleeve from earlier. “you’re stuck with me, cupcake girl.”
You’re not just any type of girl, yeah!
My one true love and you’re my world, yeah!
Bobby Sox, Green Day
Rodrick Heffley x female reader
Oneshot
Part 1 of 2 ☆ 2,634 words
part 2 // all works
SUMMARY: Rodrick Heffley is notoriously known to be the world’s largest academic slacker, but that still doesn't stop the silent crush you've had on him for the past year. With midterms approaching, Rodrick is given two choices: ask the cute girl who sits two rows in front of him to be his tutor, or risk failing the class (again).
(Sorry if this is super ooc, I rewatched all the movies so I hope I did him justice T^T)
Author's note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!! yes, my social media has been flooded with all the rodrick x regina artwork/edits, yes this sparked my crush on devon bostick again, and yes, i did watch the 100 only because he was in it.
October has finally rolled around, meaning midterm tests and grades are on the horizon. I slide into my seat in first period English, doodling in the margins of my notebook. I take small peeks at the door each time someone walks in, wanting to see Rodrick before he walks past to his seat, as lame as it is. I never could bring myself to talk to him, leaving him to only be nothing but a simple hallway crush.
Last year I would walk past his locker during passing period. He was always talking so animatedly with his friends Ben, Ward and Chris. I've seen him hang up some flyers for their band that upon a closer look were filled to the brim with spelling errors, but had some nice graphics. The most recent one tacked onto the school's bulletin board is advertising their CD, and I've been tempted to ask for one.
I catch a glimpse of him entering the classroom with his backpack slung lazily over his shoulder. One of the pockets is half open, a couple crumpled papers teetering on the edge of spilling onto the floor. He shuffles past me, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Even though I know he barely ever tries on any assignment, I wouldn't mind being his partner. To have the chance of him actually looking at me. I'd be okay with doing all the work if I had to.
Class continues on as normal, but when I get up to leave I'm called to the front by the teacher. Surprisingly, Rodrick stands beside him looking almost sheepish as I approach the desk.
"Y/n, Rodrick here is in need of a tutor. Since you have the best grades in the class I think you’d be a great fit. You up for it?"
I nearly jumped for joy. As if some higher power above has heard my silent pleas for any interaction at all with this boy, it has finally come true. His dark brown eyes meet mine, desperation seeping out of them into my own.
I smile, "Sure."
"Great!" Mr. Wilson claps his hands, ushering us out of the classroom. "I'm sure you can figure it out between yourselves."
Rodrick fumbles with his bag strap, trailing after me like a lost puppy as I walk into the hallway. He finally speaks up, "So, uh, when should we meet up?"
"I gotta get all the way across campus for my next class but I'm pretty sure we have the same lunch period, so come find me then."
"Right, right. Oh, here," he twists his backpack around, fishing out a black marker. He pops off the cap, gently taking my wrist to scrawl his phone number onto my palm. "In case I don't see ya."
I nod, not exactly sure what to say, watching him finally zip his bag fully closed. It was straight out of those crappy rom-com movies that my mom likes to watch. The ones where the girls act all sappy after the male lead says a single sentence.
"Okay."
"Sweet. Text me," he lazily smiles, waving as he starts to walk down to the opposite end of the corridor.
Time seems to either completely fly by or move at a slow crawl as I wait in anticipation of seeing him again. I slip my phone into my pocket when I go to the bathroom, pressing down the little keys to create a new contact. I type and re-type my message twice before I finally decide to send it. If I waited any longer I would overthink too hard and accidentally stay in this stall till the end of class.
Hey, it's Y/n :p
I slide the keyboard shut, heading back to class.
I stop at my locker to switch out my books before lunch, checking my texts to find a message from Rodrick.
Hi
Whare do u sit
I send him back my usual table location, grabbing my lunchbox. I take my seat, opening up my planner to review my schedule to see when I would be free. Suddenly a lunch tray is tossed on the table, followed by my crush dropping hastily onto the bench.
"Okay, I got band practice most days, but I'll be free Saturday morning-ish," he messily shoves some fries into a little ketchup cup that's practically overflowing.
"Sounds good! Would you be okay with meeting at Ronnie's? I really like their french toast."
He gets more energetic in response, "Yeah! They've got great apple pie, I haven't gotten any in years."
"Oh yeah, their pies are good!"
I dig around my backpack and pull out a notebook and our newest unit's book, Animal Farm by George Orwell. Seeing the book cover seems to make Rodrick a little nervous, drumming his fingers against the edge of the table.
"Here, let's make a little plan for us to follow," I flip open to a fresh notebook page. "What part do you struggle with the most?"
He huffs out a breath, looking like he is debating between two different responses. Eventually his gaze drops to his lap in defeat.
"All of it," he mumbles.
"No worries, I'll keep it simple" I reassure him. "Have you started the first chapter yet?"
"No."
"Well, ya kinda have to otherwise you can’t do the homework," I tease. “How about you read the first three or four chapters for Saturday?”
"Uhm, I kind of...can't."
I furrow my brow, "Oh. Like as in you can’t read it?”
He tentatively nods, refusing to look at me.
“Do you have dyslexia?" I softy pry.
"Maybe? I don't know. I mean, I don't really care about all this crap but my dad is gonna be on my ass if I fail," his demeanor flips back into a cool-guy persona that I've seen him use when he's trying to impress someone (usually when he talks to Heather Hills).
I tilt my head, "There's nothing wrong with that. I'm sure there's some strategies we can figure out to make it a little easier for you."
I start to jot down a couple ideas, making a basic outline of the due dates and when we can meet. I eat a couple apple slices while I chart out the chapters he would need to read to stay on track. I can feel Rodrick's eyes following my pen between large bites of his food and I try not to feel too self-conscious. The chatter of the cafeteria feels overwhelming, our conversation having shut down earlier when we reached the topic of why he was failing. I don’t want him to just give up right away or feel that I thought he was a lost cause.
"I've seen the posters for your band in the hall. You made a CD right?" I say, attempting to get him to talk again and lighten the mood.
All of his fidgeting stops as his attention becomes laser focused on the new subject. "Yeah! We got a full track list that’s forty-five minutes, it's like, super professional. I designed the album art too,” he brags, with a slight smirk spreading on his face.
"Cool! What instrument do you play?"
I already know he plays drums, I've witnessed the beat up sticks clatter on the floor of the hallway a handful of times. Seeing him practically lunging at the opportunity to talk music is too cute to pass up, so I’ll keep feeding into it.
"Drums and vocals, I’ve got a full drum set and everything. I’ve been playing for so long I’m pretty much a pro. I wouldn’t be surprised if Löded Diaper went on world tour right after we graduate.”
“Well then rockstar, I’ll make sure to get your autograph sometime.”
My comment seems to make him flustered, Rodrick running his hand over his already messy hair, roughing it up even more. He clears his throat, hiding behind the action of finishing up his lunch while the corners of his mouth lift into a small smile.
We solidify the time of when we’d meet, and continued talking about music for the rest of lunch. I've learned that Rodrick is actually quite playful and a little dorky underneath his punkish appearance, only adding more to his charm.
I made sure to give myself enough time to look extra nice this morning, wanting to leave a lasting impression on him, even if that sounds silly. I wore one of my favorite sweaters so I didn't have to bring a jacket to fight the slight October chill. A small brass bell hanging on the door chimes when I enter, being greeted by the nearest waitress. A warm feeling surrounds me as I go to my favorite booth in the little diner, taking out my supplies for our study session.
My phone vibrates on the table, alerting me to a new text.
Almost thare
A little puff of air come out of my nose, finding his small spelling mistakes to be amusing. It seems that he tends to mix up his a's and e's the most, or adds them in based on the phonetic sound of words.
I peer out the window just in time to catch Rodrick’s van skidding into a parking spot. He pulls down the driver’s mirror, touching up his hair a little. A small fluttering feeling erupts in my chest, my mind spewing out thoughts of the possibility that maybe he likes me too. I try to shut them down quickly so I won’t be weird or awkward.
The bell sounds again. Rodrick scans the diner, eyes ringed in black lighting up when he sees me. He hurries over, dumping his bag on the seat before scooting into the booth himself.
“Hey,” he greets.
“Hi,” I grin.
A waitress sets down our menus, taking our drink orders.
"Alright, so I'm assuming you haven't read anything yet, right?"
He nods.
"That's okay! I looked into some stuff online and I think I figured out something we can do. You like to draw right?"
"Yeah, art is one of my best skills."
"Oh! Do you have a sketchbook or anything? I mean, if you don't mind sharing."
Rodrick seems to get almost embarrassed that he's being so open about himself right of the bat and that I'm taking interest in what he likes.
"Yeah I do, here," he pulls out a beat up black sketchbook covered in half-peeled stickers.
I start flipping through, and he's actually not that bad. It has this kind of emo style that I see all over MySpace with his own personal flair. Lots of sharp line work and curly spirals mixed in.
(I think it would look like sirpopepic on insta's style, so coool)
Once I get to a specific page he seems to panic as I turn to the next.
"Wait!" he exclaims just a bit too late.
It's me. My name at the bottom written in his chicken-scratch. The portrait of me is so delicate and intricate I feel my face getting warm, my breath stilling in shock. Rodrick's hand that was reaching out to grab it from me drops. He hides behind his hands, sighing at the fact that he didn't catch me in time.
“This is...“
“Don't! Just—"
"...beautiful," I compliment. "When'd you draw this?"
"Oh. Uhm, it was during lunch one time," he admits while gently tugging on his ear.
The waitress comes back before we can say anything else. She sets down our drinks, both of us saying our food choices, then handing over our menus.
I give Rodrick back his sketchbook. "You should enter something in the art show, submissions don't end till late November I think."
"You think so?"
I smile, "I know so."
"Then maybe I will."
A passing emotion of companionship silently passes between us through our banter. I was surprised how comfortable I was becoming with him, that he seemed to be letting any kind of guard down almost instantly.
"Anyways, when I was looking online I found this forum of teachers who had dyslexic students talking about ways to help." I open my English notebook to the page where I had written some of my research, "and since you like to draw, I think this is the best option. Instead of taking written notes, you can draw out stuff instead, like make little sketches or something. How does that sound?"
He plays with the straw in his drink, "Hm, I guess that wouldn't be too bad. Does that mean I still have to actually read anything though? Cause the words kinda move around, if that makes sense. Like they're having some crazy mosh on the page and I can't get them to stop."
"Huh, I had no idea. I'm sure there's an audio book out there or something, I should've checked... Maybe the library has one you can rent out..." I mutter, biting on the pad of my thumb.
He shifts around a bit in his seat. "I know it sounds super lame n shit, but would you maybe be okay with uh, with reading it out to me? Just until I find an audio book or whatever."
I nervously tuck some hair behind my ear, "Sure. I don't know if I have the best reading voice, but uh, sure."
"Okay cool."
Our food arrives and we slide back into our comfortable dynamic as we had before, trying to cool our nerves and not address the slight romantic tension we've developed.
Once we've finished up, I suggest going to a nearby park to read outside, since I'd have to ask my parents for a boy to come over. I would never hear the end of it, 40 minute lecture about why he can't go upstairs and everything. He agrees, mentioning he should have a blanket in his van that we could sit on.
We walk out to the van, Rodrick wrenching open the back doors to crawl in, digging around haphazardly to find said item. It's incredibly messy inside, with old show posters taped to the sides, dirty clothes, an extra pair of sneakers, a random basketball, and some other odd objects too. I try not to be nosy and glance around outside.
He scrambles back out with a large piece of worn plaid fabric. "Got it."
We meander down the block, reaching the park in record time. Fallen leaves litter the grassy area, speckling the muted green with bright bursts of red, orange and yellow. Rodrick picks out a spot underneath an old-growth oak tree, and I spot a rugged "R" carved near the base. I don't mention it, but I have a sneaking suspicion he must've done it.
Rodrick spreads out the blanket, tossing his backpack down, then spreading out his lanky body on the material, getting comfortable.
I poke his leg with the tip of my shoe, "Hey, lazybones, unless you're some secret psionic artist you need to get your notebook out."
"Psi-what now?" he cranes his neck up to see me.
"Like a psychic, y'know, move things with your mind," I point to my temple while setting down my bag.
"Oh," he draws out. "What if I was one?"
"That'd be cool, if you could keep it a secret. Then the evil government scientists would take you away, and you'd never get to read Animal Farm."
He groans in annoyance, twisting on his side to dig out his sketch book, flipping onto his stomach to draw. He takes out a pencil case, uncapping the same black marker he used to write his number on my palm.
I settle my back against the tree bark, opening to the first chapter.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
"Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes."
{ ! } contains: rodrick heffley x reader, senior year / last homecoming, mutual pining, mild insecurity & self-doubt, intense kissing / makeout, smudged makeup, rodrick being rodrick, moms meddling,friends gossiping, fluff with tension
you’ve known rodrick heffley so long that it doesn’t feel like a choice. he’s just… there. always has been. your moms became best friends sometime before either of you could form memories, which meant shared holidays, shared carpools, shared birthdays where rodrick blew out candles too hard and spit everywhere. it also meant you grew up hearing his name constantly, even when he wasn’t in the room.
his mom adored you in a way that felt aggressive sometimes. she called you “sweetheart” and “angel” and once told your mom, right in front of rodrick, that she wished he’d “end up with someone like you instead of some girl who scares her.” rodrick nearly died on the spot.
you and rodrick had always existed in this weird in-between. too close to be strangers, too familiar to be anything else. he teased you relentlessly, but never crossed certain lines. he acted like you annoyed him, but showed up every time you needed help. by senior year, people noticed. friends whispered. classmates stared. your group chats wouldn’t shut up about it.
“just go together,” your friends said.
“it’s your last homecoming,” they reminded you.
“his mom already wants you dating,” someone laughed.
they weren’t wrong.
the idea didn’t even come from rodrick. it came from his mom, sitting at your kitchen table one afternoon, smiling like she’d cracked some secret code. “it’s your last homecoming,” she said, pouring herself iced tea. “you two should go together. it would make sense.”
rodrick stared at the wall like he’d dissociated.
“mom,” he said. “no.”
“why not?” she asked innocently. “you already know each other. i trust her. her mother trusts you. and it would make me feel better.”
that last part was what sealed it. guilt. obligation. mom logic.
two days later, rodrick stood on your porch, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, hair clearly not styled so much as existing. “my mom won’t leave me alone unless i ask you,” he said flatly. “so… do you wanna go to homecoming with me.”
it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t smooth. but it was honest.
you said yes.
now it’s the night of homecoming, and rodrick is sitting in your bedroom because both your moms insisted he come early “so you wouldn’t be nervous.” he’s wearing a striped button-up that looks like it was pulled straight from the back of his closet, a black tie loosely knotted like he gave up halfway through, sleeves not even rolled neatly. his hair’s brushed, barely, like someone reminded him at the last second. he smells like deodorant and that same old cologne he’s been using since sophomore year.
you do your makeup first, carefully, because you don’t trust yourself not to mess it up once the dress is on. the dress hangs in your closet, staring at you. you thought it was cute when you bought it. white fabric, tiny black polka dots scattered across it, a fitted top and a flared skirt that falls in soft layers. black piping along the edges, a thin black ribbon tied at the waist. it felt sweet. pretty. simple.
now it just feels… young.
when you step into the closet to change, rodrick turns away without being told, suddenly quiet. when you come back out, the dress feels heavier than you expected. not physically. emotionally.
you face the mirror.
and immediately hate it.
“oh my god,” you say. “i look like a kid.”
rodrick turns. stops short.
“what are you talking about?”
you tug at the skirt, watching it sway. “the polka dots. i thought they were cute, but for homecoming they just look childish. like i’m going to a birthday party, not a dance. i look stupid.”
he exhales sharply, frustrated, and steps closer. “you don’t.”
“yes, i do,” you say. “i look like i’m playing dress-up.”
“no,” he says, firmer now. “you look… different. like you’re not the same person who steals my fries and yells at me for breathing too loud.”
you glance at him. “that’s not helping.”
“you look grown,” he says instead. “like, actually grown.”
you shake your head. “you’re lying.”
something in him snaps. maybe it’s senior year. maybe it’s the way you keep tearing yourself down. maybe it’s the fact that his mom’s stupid idea is suddenly making too much sense.
he grabs your waist and pulls you into him, hard enough that it knocks the breath out of you. his mouth crashes into yours, urgent and rough, like he’s done pretending. his hands slide up your back, fingers digging in, kissing you like he’s been holding this in for years and finally gave up trying to be normal about it.
it’s intense. messy. heated. the kind of kiss that makes your thoughts short-circuit. you kiss him back without thinking, fingers gripping his shirt, heart racing. he kisses you like he’s frustrated and relieved all at once, like this is overdue.
when you pull away, dizzy, you shove his chest.
“are you kidding me?” you snap. “my makeup.”
he looks at your smudged lipstick, then grins. “worth it.”
you groan and grab your makeup bag. “sit down. don’t move.”
he does immediately, watching you redo everything, eyes glued to you, quiet in a way that feels serious. you fix your lipstick, clean the edges, smooth everything out. when you’re done, you look at him through the mirror.
“you barely even tried,” you say, nodding at his outfit.
he shrugs. “yeah, but you did. that balances it out.”
you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.
“everyone’s gonna talk,” you say.
he shrugs again. “let them. it’s the last one anyway.”
for once, rodrick heffley doesn’t sound like he’s joking.
The sound of Rodrick's van honking outside my house instantly excites me. Tonight is our first-ever sleepover. I grab my bright pink duffle bag and bound down the stairs, where I find my mom in the hallway giving me a concerned look.
"Y/n, you be careful. I don’t want you getting into any nonsense," she advises.
I nod, blow her a kiss, and then smile at my dad who's practically glaring at the beat-up van with 'Löded Diper' amateurly spray painted across it.
I leave the house, shivering in the cold air, and start walking towards the van. Rodrick jumps out at the last minute, eagerly opening the door for me before wrapping his arms around me, then hopping back in.
I step into the van and chuckle at his hurried behavior.
"What's got you in such a hurry, Roddy?" I ask.
"You know your dad creeps me out," he admits as he steps into the car and leans over to give me a quick kiss, letting out a contented sigh.
"Mhmm. I missed you so much," he murmurs.
"Did you miss me or just my lips?" I ask playfully.
"Both," he answers, giving me a sly smile and booping my nose before starting up the van.
Rodrick practically drags me into his house. When we get inside, I try to greet his mom and Greg, but Rodrick is pulling my hand up the stairs, so I just give them a sorry smile and follow him. Once we're in his room, he gives me a hopeful smile.
"So, what now?" he asks.
"I don't know, Rodrick. What do you wanna do?"
He sits down on the edge of his bed.
"How 'bout we put on a movie or something?"
And that's exactly what we do. He selects some obscure emo film, and I lie down next to him, resting my head on his chest.
Eventually, the air grows heavy with sleepiness, and the movie loses its appeal. I sit up and look at Rodrick, paying close attention to his expressive eyes and fluffy eyebrows.
"Hey, can I sit here?" I ask, straddling his stomach.
"Mhmm," he says, his hands instinctively finding my waist and toying with my pajama pants from Victoria's Secret. I lean in close, running my thumb over one of his eyebrows, watching the arch in awe.
"You have great eyebrows, Roddy," I say with a touch of amusement.
He chuckles, his hands moving up to my stomach, giving me a gentle squeeze.
I can tell he's getting tired, and I am too. I run my fingers over his eyelids, gently coaxing them closed. I trace over his nose and brow bone, until after a few minutes, I hear his breathing soften. He's asleep, and so should I be. I reach to turn off the light and lay my head down on his chest, listening to the comforting rhythm of his heart.
A/n: this is my first fic on tumblr, please don’t bully me and please request. I will probably write for Rodrick, jersey shore, shameless, and umbrella academy, but I’m open to requests on anyone
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a/n: some much need Rodrick fluff ! Should I do more ?
“Not happening,” you told Rodrick as you began to gather your things.
“Please, baby, please,” he begs. “I miss you, and my bed misses you a-”
“It’s not gonna happen, Rodrick.” You cut your boyfriend off. “The last time I slept, my face broke out, and my sleep schedule was ruined for a month.” You were unfortunately, not exaggerating.
“That was a while ago. Your skin is perfect, and I swear we'll be asleep by eleven.”
“P.m or A.m?”
“P…m?” he says, unsure.
You give Rodrick a stern face, saying again, “It’s not gonna happen.”. Your sleep and skin were very important to you after years of all-nighters and breakouts. You liked to stick to your routine no matter what. And if that meant early bedtimes and strict routines, then so be it.
Weeks passed, and although Rodrick respected your wishes, parts of you did miss sleeping besides the snoring boy. So after days of dropping hints, Rodrick read your mind and again asked if you would sleep over.
“So I’ve been thinking… one night won't completely ruin your schedule right ?”
“Maybe.” you say cautiously.
“So if we go to bed early and my bedsheets are washed…Can you stay tonight?”
“Hmm.” You pretended to ponder his question, not wanting to outright say yes. “Fine.”
“Yes.” Rodrick exclaims, pulling his fist close to his body before showering you in kisses.
“But no staying up, and I swear if I see one pimple,”
“Yes, yes, yes, whatever you want, baby, whatever you want-”
Your boyfriend continues to shower you in thank you’s and whatever you want’s as he hugged and kissed you. Although you were excited to be spending the night with Rodrick you’d be lying if you weren't worried. You tried your best to hide it but Rodrick could read your face no matter what.
“Trust me okay you're gonna get all your hours and this pretty face is gonna stay just as pretty.”
Rodricks kisses you, caressing your brown skin and assuring you that it would all be okay. With every stroke of his thumb, he waved your worries away.
“Pretty huh?”
“Yep, and super sexy too.” he says, pinching your cheek.
“Shut up.” you tell him as your grin grows.
After dinner with the Heffley's, you were ready to call it a night, a surprise to the family that was often up at all hours of the night. While Rodrick helped his mom with dishes for good son points. You played with Manny for a bit before helping Greg with homework, mostly giving him answers but still showing him to work a few out.
“Enough hoggin her big head.” Rodrick told his brother as he stood in his door frame.
“Stop being mean.” you told him before the brothers devolved into a back-and-forth.
“I’ll stop being mean when he stops being ugly.” Rodrick comments before you push him out of Greg's room, closing the door behind the two of you.
“Let’s go to bed.”
Rodrick smiles with an almost mischievous grin.
“What?” you question his facial expression.
“Nothing, just close your eyes, okay?”
“What?” You turn your head to the side, confused. “Why?”
“Because…” Rodrick says this as he takes your hand, guiding you to his room. “I have a surprise for you.”
Now you were even more confused, but regardless, you decided to play along with whatever Rodrick was doing. After stumbling up the stairs to Rodrick’s room, you stood there with him covering your eyes.
“Ready?”
“I guess.”
“Trust me, you’ll love it. Open!”
He moves his hands, and you open your eyes to see Rodrick's bed in silk sheets and an array of products on top of it. As you got closer and could read the products, you realized that they were skincare products. Not samples or travel-sized either, full-sized face wash, oil cleanser, toner, and moisturizer.
“What-”
“Surprise!” Rodrick says, that miscious grin bigger than before. “I know your bonnet falls off, so that's why I got the sheets and-”
You didn't let him finish; instead, your lips met Rodrick’s, and you pulled your boyfriend into a hug.
“You didn't have to.” you told him in a soft voice.
“Yeah, I did. What are good boyfriends for? Plus, if this stuff makes you look this good, imagine what it’ll do for this ugly mug.”
He gives you a kiss before handing you a pair of his pajamas to change into. Once you're both in pajamas, you and Rodrick make your way to the bathroom and start on skincare. He holds your bonnet as you wash your face and pays attention to the way you use every product.
“So this wash is for basic cleansing, then the oil one is for extra cleansing?” Rodrick questioned as he dried his face.
“Yep then toner shrinks pores and moisterizer-”
“Moisterizes!” he beat you to it.
“Exactly.” you say, giving him a kiss before the both of you move onto the next step.
Once you're finished with your skin, you and Rodrick struggle to crawl into the now slippery bed. But once you’re comfortable and in your boyfriend's arms, you're out like a light.
“My face feels so fresh.”
“I told you that double cleansing does wonders,” you say as you yawn. “Goodnight baby.”
“Goodnight y/n.”Rodrick whispers before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “My pretty girl.”
masterlist
The freak and his cheerleader
Traces of you on my pillowcase, 🍋
pairing: (boyfriend) rodrick heffley x (girlfriend!artist) female reader
summary: you got accepted into you dream school but that would mean you'd have to study abroad.
warning: college au, slight angst, and not proofread
word count: 1.7k
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Pancake batter gorgeously sizzles in an evenly oiled pan as it expands into a rich gold complexion. The delicious smell of breakfast was intoxicating, it permeated the entire dining room. Soon after each pancake was done cooking, syrup was masterfully drizzled on top with fruits added on top later. A soothing hum of leisure bounced off the kitchen walls, spreading the love all around the house. As your mom was ready to pour another mix of batter into the pan, she couldn’t help notice the excited footsteps zooming down the stairs. “Good morning, Mom!?” Your sister cheered as she ran to her seat, unable to contain her excitement any longer. Your mom chuckles, “Good morning to you too, Sweetheart! Did you have any sweet dreams?” She gives your mom a toothy smile while enthusiastically nodding till her head would probably fall off. Goodness was your mom in for a long wild story about how your younger sister was busy chasing after a unicorn while she rode on her narwhal. Laughter echoed in the room as the story continued onward. Your dad soon entered to find a big breakfast waiting to be dug into. “Damn! Now that’s what I’m talking about?!” He quickly walked up to your mom to lay a grateful kiss at her temple.
As for you, well you were still dead asleep. Plus who’d wake up this early on a saturday morning? Your parents didn’t want to disturb you too much after the brutal semester you had in your senior year of high school. That was a whole journey to hell. A lot of tears were shed, plenty of moments of self doubt, the start of developing unhealthy coping habits, some blood was even shed for your art projects, and others things to add on top of those things. As for now, you just want to enjoy the start of your summer vacation in bed without interruptions. But that wouldn’t be possible when you hear a heavy fist pounding against your bedroom door. “Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!! WAKE UP!” Your mom spouted out joyously. Groggy and annoyed, you begrudgingly got up but not before throwing your blanket over your shoulders. “This better be–...” You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before a letter was shoved into your hands. “Come on, open it! Open it!” Your younger sister chanted.
Looking down, your eyes widened. Your hands were shaking, literally shaking. Holding your breath, you ripped the seal off the envelope and read the first line. And that’s all you needed to read. You stayed quiet for a moment, still unable to fathom your reality. “Well?...” Your dad asked nervously. “I got accepted…” The way you said it was so calm but internally, you're screaming your head off. Jaws dropped to the ground. “OH MY GOD!” Your mom started to cry as she hugged you tightly. “I’m so proud of you, Honey!” Your dad joined in on the hugging session. “I knew you could do it, Big sis!” Your younger sister hopped around the three of you. You couldn’t help shedding a few tears yourself, you’ve come a long way for this moment to happen. But as happy as you were, you felt a weight drop onto your shoulder. “Say ummm Mom, do you mind if I go to the Heffley’s for dinner? You know... to break the news?”
Who was she to deny you of a simple request? “Go for it! My goodness! I can’t wait to tell everyone!” She continues to gleefully ramble on with your dad and sister by her side to join in on the fun. However, you stand there contemplating your life choices. “What am I going to do?”
Night was fastly approaching and you were quite literally shoved out the front door by your mom who couldn’t wait for Mrs.Heffley to get this scoop of news. “Let me know how it goes! Remember, we’re so proud of you, Y/N. LOVE YOU” Your mom said only to fix your hair before letting you go your merry way down two blocks. “Love you too!”
With a single ring, the door opened and Mrs.Heffley’s arms opened immediately. “Y/N! What a surprise! What are you doing here? Oh not that it matters, come, come, we’re having dinner.” Her grip on your wrist never let up until she guided you to their dining room. The room went silent. Rodrick stopped fooling around with Greg and quickly fixed how he looked. Mr. Heffley seemed tense on the sudden visit. “Y/N? Is something wrong?” Mr.Heffley spoke with an anxious laugh, wondering if you finally decided that Rodrick was not the one for you. “Ummm no, I’m fine.” You gave a polite smile but you’re not fooling anyone. Especially Rodrick.
“Stop it all of you! She’s here to have dinner with us, now come on, move!” She rapidly ordered as Rodrick fetched a chair for you to sit next to him. For the rest of the night, you felt their gaze bounce around you. This was getting unbearable. Rodrick was staring at you, whether he was doing it consciously or unconsciously he sure made it noticeable. You don’t even know how to break the news with this kind of pressure. “Mom, I need a moment to talk to Y/N.” She nods, as she can sense how uneasy you’ve been the entire dinner. “Come.” You held his hand as he brought you up to safety in his room. “Alright, spill the beans. What’s going on?”
You couldn’t look at him, not now. You’d rather look anywhere but into his eyes. “Babe?” His voice was gentle, encouraging you to confess your worries. Still you wouldn’t crack. Stressed, he made you sit on his bed as he kneels down in front of you. His arms protectively wrap around your waist as he rests his head on your lap. “Is it something I did? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry...I am, really. Please don’t leave me.” You’re at your breaking point, you shook your head as you gave him a sorrowful look. “Rodrick...I…” Now his anxiety has peaked. You never call him by his name unless it’s something extremely serious. He waited, but he didn’t know if he could wait for long. “I was accepted into the university.” His heart sank. He didn’t know how to feel. He was proud and beyond happy but utterly devastated. “Great! Uh did you umm accept the offer?” He asked hesitantly.
You shook your head, “Not yet, I don’t know if I should.” You held your head in shame, shame that shouldn’t exist, not after all that you put yourself through. “WHAT?! NO! You have to accept it.” He was adamant about it. “But, but that means I wouldn’t be able to see you…” Those words hurt, it crushed his heart but it’s the truth. “I’d be on a whole different continent than you.” Again, the truth hurts. “Y/N, I love you, I support you, and I’ll respect your choice. Put yourself first, dummy.” He leans in for a kiss before resting his head back onto your lap. “You worked so hard, why throw all that hard work away?”
“Because I don’t want to leave you.” His arms slightly wrap a little tighter around you. “Well I was hoping to save it for our anniversary but I guess now would be a better time than ever to give it to you.” He slowly got up to move to his closet, in which he pulled out a small box. “Here, open it.”
You pulled the cover off the box to be surprised by a heart locket, opening it shows a memorable picture of the first time you two kissed and next to it was a goofy selfie of you two making faces. “It’s not much but I hope you—...” You got up to pull him into a kiss. “I love it.” He was relieved.
Right as he moves closer to interlock your lips once more, you hear a gasp. “I– uh I didn’t see anything!” Greg shouted as he ran down the stairs. Flustered, you hid your face into Rodrick’s chest. “He’s so dead.” He grumbled as he heard your muffled laugh. “What?” He playfully questioned as he tilted your chin up.
“Now I think we were in the middle of something?” His brow rose as you felt his love pouring into your core. “I love you, forever and always.” He spoke softly, arms wrapped around you securely. Unbeknownst to you and your boyfriend who was having a sentimental moment, the rest of his family was cheering in bliss. “That’s my boy!” Mr.Heffley thought as he hyped himself up. “They grow up so fast!” Mrs. Heffley rejoiced in silence but her thoughts then wandered off fast. “WAIT?! Maybe I should bring the topic up about protection, ooh I should take note of that.” She made herself a mental note. As for Greg, he’s just there and happy for his big brother. Even after all that Rodrick’s done, he can’t help but be happy for him. They all enjoyed the sight until they snapped out of their thoughts. “How long have you all been standing there?!” Rodrick annoyedly asked, though mostly embarrassed.
“Not long, come on guys let’s go.” Mr.Heffley responded rapidly as he shuffled everyone downstairs. “Hey, at least they're happy for us.” You tried bringing the mood back up as he smirks at you. “Not as happy as me, now say, a-are you able to stay the night?”
“Of course…” You walk over to his bed to lay down as you turn to your side, waiting for him. He wasn’t one to waste time, not around you. “But I wish I can stay forever…” You said to yourself but Rodrick heard that.
“I’m going to marry you, just you wait!” You gave him a pointed stare, moving closer to rest your head on his arm, “Take me out for dinner and then we can get talking about the wedding.” Chuckling erupted at the same time without fail.
After tiring yourselves out, Rodrick stays awake a little longer, unable to take his eyes off of you. “I love you, don’t forget about me when you leave. Okay?” You grumbled something but he’ll gladly take that as an answer. Carefully, he pulled the covers over the two of you so you get to rest in peace, in the arms of your sweet and very obnoxious boyfriend. “Goodnight, Babe.”
Summary: Löded Diper is currently going through an art block. To change it they go to a bar to get inspiration for new songs. Coincidentally a relatively unknown rock band is preforming and lead singer catches Rodrick's eye. Before he can even think of making a move the mystery girl and her band disappears. Thinking he'll never see her again he goes to school only to see the girl in his own class looking rather... different.
Warnings: grammar/typos, Rodrick rules spoilers (the story will very loosely follow the movie), non american reader
A/N: this is an alternative first chapter to this. At first I wanted this as the canon begining but couldn't rewrite the rest of the prewritten chapters to fit the new start so yeah... i change my mind a lot i'm sorry...
"Man, this sucks ass!" Ben, the guitarist and vocalist, throws a crumpled paper into a bin the rest of the band is sitting around in a circle. The little paper ball misses the overfilled bin and rolls towards Rodrick's, the drummer's, boot who kicks it.
"Come on guys, turn your brains on! We'll never make it big with just," he checks his black notebook, "five songs!"
Bill, the bassist sighs. "We've been at it the past two hours dude, give us a break."
"Two hours and we're exactly where we were in begining. No break until we have at least an idea what to sing about!" Rodrick said as he picked up his own piece of paper and pencil and waited for inspiration to hit him in the head. He stared at the empty paper. The whiteness stared back at him. His head made no effort to fill it up with lyrics or even doodles. His friend was right, this sucked.
"Hey, do you know what we could try?" Drew, bassist no.2 who sometimes takes on the role of the lyricist, spoke up for the first time in an hour. Every band member looked at him with hope and desperation mixed in their eyes.
"Let's go to a bar," he finger gunned with a smirk.
The rest of the guys groaned. "Man you're turning into a functioning alcoholic before you're even legal to drink alcohol," Bill, the only adult in the band, chuckled finding it amusing.
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that! I mean look around," he gestured around the garage, "no way in hell will any idea come to us between four walls. We need to go out, see the town, get inspired by whatever it is out there!"
Rodrick gave up on his blank paper and threw it at the bin, missing completely. "I've lived here for 17 years, drove around the neighbourhood more times than I can remember. Trust me, there's nothing that would scream 'NEW SONG IDEA' at us."
"That's because you weren't looking! Once we start actively searching an idea will pop up, I'm sure of it! It's like that one saying."
"Isn't that saying 'it will show up once you least expect it' tho?" Chris, Drew's brother and occasional guitarist chimed in.
"Same difference."
"It literally isn't."
"I think it's a good idea," Ben said, "I mean there's no better place for inspiration than a bar, right? Besides we can maybe even meet some ladies in there."
"Pretty girls don't hang out at bars," Rodrick noted but was already standing up and getting his van keys.
"You never know, maybe someone special might just surprise you!"
"If we see any gorgeous girl in there I'll personally eat my drumsticks."
*
They drove around the town for couple of hours before they settled for the perfect bar to get creative in. It was relatively small but had its own elevated stage with enough space for a band. Rodrick once tried to convince the owner to let them play but it lead nowhere so he never stepped a foot in there again out of protest. Once Löded diper is big and famous he'll be regretting the day he said no to Rodrick.
They strolled up in there with Bill in lead as if they owned the place. "Damn, this place is more crowded than usual," he noted as they looked for a table.
"You've been here before?"
"You kidding? Of course! This place has the best beer in town!"
They finally sat down and with fake IDs ordered a beer. Rodrick doesn't usually drink alcohol, the bitter taste almost made him do a totally uncool face but he saved it just in time. The rest of his friends had no such issues.
"Okay," Rodrick pulled out the notebook reserved for song ideas and placed it in the middle of the table so everyone could easily reach it. "Let the ideas pour out of us!"
"Hey, that's pretty good!" Chris scriblled it down in a messy handwriting.
"Bro, just becuase it rhymes doesn't mean it's Löded Diper worthy," Drew said.
"Just let him be, it's still better than nothing."
Unfortunatelly that one line was all they had for the next half hour. Sun was already setting, more and more people filled the bar as well as more and more empty beer glasses filled their table's surface. The poor notebook was being either passed around the members or rested on someone's lap since there was no room left for it on the table.
"Wonderful idea Drew," Rodrick mumbled into his fifth beer. The more he drank the easier it became and was now genuinly enjoying the taste. Maybe that's why adults drink so much, to get past the disgusting phase.
"Well sorry for trying more than just sitting in a garage."
They were just about to stand up and leave when the sound of a guitar shot through the air. All of them looked at the wooden stage to see a three member band. 'When did THAT happen' all of them thought as if they shared a braincell (spoiler, they usually do).
The band played the exact music Rodrick was into and was really impressed by the drummer's skill. As a self-taught professional he had an eye for these things. But what caught his eye more was the girl standing infront of the mic with a guitar in her hands. Her neon purple hair stood out against her all black leather outfit, which consisted of leather skirt, black tank top with a skull and roses in the middle, fishnet tights and gloves and bunch of metal accesories hanging from her belt.
From afar she did look kind of cute, he only hoped Ben hadn't noticed. Rodrick was really in no mood of fulfilling the bet he made before they left.
Unfortunately Ben was already smirking.
"Oh shut your trap, just because she dresses good doesn't mean-"
His words got cut short just as the girl started singing. All of the Löded Diper's member's mouths dropped to the ground. There's no way a sweet looking girl could produce vocals like THAT. And when she did a metal scream Rodrick's heart nearly beat out of his own chest.
As if he got hypnotised he walked further into the crowd and closer to the stage and closer to what he concidered his dream girl. Her face kept getting clearer with the shortening distance and Rodrick couldn't help the dumb smile crawling onto his face.
They started a new song and Rodrick forgot about the whole world around him. Some of the lyrics spoke to him on a personal level and he pretended the girl sang them only for him. At some point she sang a lyric "you look very nice" and winked right at him (totally not because he stood in the center)! He knew girls were into him this whole time! This one was the only brave one to actually admit it!
Fueled by this newfound confidence he tried to make his way to the hall leading to backstage. His plan was to wait until they end their preformance and talk to the girl. What will he say to her? That's the problem of future him.
However before he could make it any far someone pulled him back by his hood. Rodrick turned around ready to experience his very first bar fight only to see his friend Ben. "Dude abort the mission, cops rolled up infront of the bar!"
"What? Why?"
"To enjoy the show. What do you think?!"
Right. Cops of this town have the nasty habit of showing up and ruining every fun. Problem was most of his band didn't have 18 yet, let alone 21 and they drank a lot. Like a lot a lot.
"We can climb out through the bathroom windows!" Rodrick suggested and with his non-adult band members behind him they pushed and shoved through the jumping crowd, beelining to the bathroom door. Suddenly the bar door opened and the band stopped playing. Rodrick quickly checked on his girl but she was nowhere to be found, only her two friends, the drummer and the bassist, stayed on the stage. Where has she gone? Is she a highschooler too? Will he ever see her again?
Rodrick would've stayed and questioned more, maybe even run after her, if it weren't for his friends pushing him closer and closer to the bathroom. Cops started to check everyone's ID, some poor kids even got detained. When they got to Bill who effortlessly pulled out his own ID the rest of the band was already running away from the bar and to Rodrick's van.
By some miracle they made it to the Heffley's driveway safe, maybe the adrenalin sobered Rodrick up, and all guys bid eachother goodbye. Only Rodrick was more upset then ever. Not only the notebook was still blanker than ever but now his heart beat for a girl he would most likely never see again. He didn't even catch the bands name!
In frustration he threw his head back and screamed into the night. "THIS SUCKS!!"
*
In the morning he sat at the dining table and picked at his food. Usually he'd get disgusted at the idea of a healthy breakfast in the form of a yogurt with cereal, courtesy of his mom, but today his mind was somewhere completely different. It kept returning to the girl. To the way she played, the way she sang, the kind face and demonic voice coming out of her lips.
He hung his head even lower and groaned.
"Are you okay Rodrick? Do you feel sick?" His mom asked him while trying to feed his younger brother Manny.
He shook his head, not in the mood to explain to anybody, especially his mom.
"That's what you get for staying out late." His dad teased and put down the newspaper. "Greg, look at this garbage! How could they even aprove of this being in the paper?"
His other brother Greg leaned over and groaned at some stupid joke his dad showed him.
"Where even were you so late? You know I hate when any of you go to places without telling us," his mom turned back to him, ignoring dad and Greg complaining about the newspaper.
"Just out with the band. We got no songs and wanted an inspiration..."
"Did you find any at the bottom of the beer mug?" His dad once again noticed him. "You smelled quite strongly of alcohol when you came back."
His mom made a horrified expression and Rodrick needed to think fast before he'll have to sit through one of her lectures. "Bill spilled some on me while we were driving around the town. I swear I didn't have any! I mean if I did I'd have hangover, right?"
His mom narrowed her eyes in suspition. "Hangover includes nausea," she glanced at the bowl of yogurt with cerial Rodrick hasn't even touched yet.
Rodrick quickly threw half of the bowl into his mouth and ignoring his stomach's protest bid everyone goodbye and left for school. He did have to find a bucket or something in his van first, just in case his stomach will reject the breakfast he stuffed into him.
After finding something useful he threw it on the passanger's seat and went to school.
It was a miracle he made it okay and with the food still inside him. School for him was just another place to sleep at but he did enjoy some classes. Literature because he sometimes hears words that sound epic and song worthy (spoiler: he seldom knows what they mean) and biology because if his class play their cards correctly they can make the teacher ramble about their life problems for the entire period.
Unfortunately for him today had no such classes, only boring ones where he ruitinely is checked up on by the teachers and even called up to the blackboard.
One such class was math. The very first period of this day. He walked into the class and sat down just like any other day. Usually he struggles to sit at the very back during the first periods since he arrives to school fashionably late (preparing for his famous days when rockstars are required to tease their fans in this way) but thanks to his desire to escape mom and her scolsing he made it recordly early today. Besides him and some other class nerds the entire classroom was empty. Hopefully the nerds won't think of him as one of their own.
With fifteen minutes left before the class starts he glanced around still looking for inspiration. Nothing came to him so he just propped up his head on his desk and stared at the door, watching his classmates arrive and fill their desks.
However a girl he has never seen before walked through the door and meekly looked around. She looked rather basic to Rodrick. Hoodie with no design, plain jeans, converse, hair styled to get out of the way. The only interesting thing about her were the black headphones with spikes hanging around her neck. Got Rodrick thinking about the mystery of nerd's musical preference. Not that she looked like a nerd, she just gave the impression of one. He wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be one. Maybe she studied the entire night and was too tired to notice she walked into the wrong room. Rodrick smirked. This will be fun.
The bell rang and the teacher walked in. The new girl still stood infront of the blackboard, not knowing what to do or where to sit. Rodrick was so ready for the teacher, and old hag so done with her life, to scold her and throw her out only for the teacher to smile and confuse the entire class.
"Everyone, this is Y/N," she gestured at the girl who forced a quick smile, "don't make her life a living hell. And you sweetie," she adressed the girl, "since this class has only so many chairs you can sit at my desk."
Y/N mumbled a thanks and walked towards the teacher's place making all of Rodrick's classmates drop their jaws. This old hag has never been nice to anyone. And the privelage to sit where teachers do... maybe looking like innocence personified could bring some perks.
Rodrick could only frown. Another nerd to the bunch, how awesome. No doubt she will quickly turn into teacher's pet by the end of this week. It could be used to Rodrick's benefit. He has never been teacher's favourite, he was convinced they let him pass either out of pity or just so they wouldn't have to deal with him for another year. But he was more than sure teachers gave hints or spoilers about upcoming tests to their favourites. How else would all the nerds have perfect scores otherwise? For some subjects not even books were enough. He knew, he used to try.
Half of the class already passed and Rodrick's notebook was filled with lots of different plans and schemes for befriending the new girl for his own benefit. By some miracle the teacher kept calling on everyone else except for Rodrick. He still half listened to the voices around him. Not to know what the damn teacher was trying to tell them but rather to make sure the teacher will continue to ignore him.
But then someone new was called up to the blackboard to solve an issue. Apparently the person solved it in record time and also in a way the teacher didn't explain due to the confusion in her voice.
"Could you clarify the sequence miss Y/L/N?"
Rodrick looked up. Of course. He knew the new girl would be smart enough to come up with a completely different way of solving something. Nerd.
Before Y/N could make herself look even more boring Rodrick secretly slipped his earphones into his ears and scribbled on.
*
The school day was thankfully coming to an end. This one was exceptionally boring since he saw Y/N sitting neatly at a desk in every single class he had. Fortunately she wasn't nerding out anymore so Rodrick didn't have the need to gag every few minutes.
He did observe her for the sake of his future plan. She appeared to be the first in every class and the first out the door once the bell rang. If the bad came to worst he'd have to chase her down someday which would require movement from him outside of PE. But those are the sacrificies he was willing to make for the sake of an easier school life.
His van pulled up to his home's driveway. As every day. He walked straight to the kitchen and chugged milk as every day. What wasn't as every day was hearing his parents and his younger brother laughing about something in the living room. Were they watching a movie? No way, his parents had weird movie tastes. Greg most likely pulled up one of the dances he used to do to entertain his family before Manny was born. Rodrick just shrugged and looked for something to eat.
His mom's voice stopped his dire search. "Rodrick? Is that you sweetheart? Could you come to the living room for a bit?"
Sweetheart? Oh, one of the grandma's must've payed a visit.
Rodrick mentally prepared himself for 'how much you've grown' and 'you should get a haircut' as well as pinching his cheeks before he walked into the living room. Who sat on the couch right next to Greg was worse than even a thousand judging grandmas.
It was Y/N. Giggling oh so innocently behind her palm while Greg tried oh so desperately to gain her attention. How did she even get here? Did she charm hsi parents to take them as their daughter or something? Honestly, with how many grey hairs was his mom getting from him and his brothers he'd understand.
"And this is my oldest Rodrick. I know he may look a bit intimidating at first but he's a good boy."
"Lies," Greg whispered to Y/N and Rodrick was glaring holes into the middleschooler.
"We know eachother," Rodrick clarified.
"Oh, really?" His mom asked with a surprise and looked at Y/N, no doubt wondering how two people completely opposite of eachother can know eachother.
Y/N opened her mouth to explain but Rodrick was faster. "School. We have the same classes."
"Oh, right," his mom giggled. "Well you'll be seeing eachother more often than just in school. Y/N here is an exchange student and up until now has been staying with some friends of hers. Unfortunately they had to travel and so I volunteered us to be her host family for this year!" She clapped her hands as if it was the best news under the sun.
Rodrick had mixed feeling. On one hand awesome, a girl. On the other a nerd. He could already see it: Y/N complaining about his eating habbots not being nutritious enough, his band being too loud and interrupting her study session, both him and Greg being compared to Y/N and being expected to be on the same level or even worse, his mom forcing Y/N to tutor them against their will.
He was about to protest when Y/N spoke up for the first time.
"I'm really sorry for being an inconvinience. But I promise living with me won't be so bad. We can even become friends?"
"Good luck," Greg scoffed. "The only friends he has are his band mates and all of them are disgusting sweaty teenagers."
"He has a band?" Y/N said with excitement but Rodrick barely listened.
Y/N kept rambling on and on about some band facts or whatever but Rodrick could only focus on the sound of her voice. He has heard it before. Last night. Screaming so deliciously into the mic.
