dark-vader28

[dark-vader28]

She’s Not Afraid

spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis: based on the one direction song she’s not afraid 🙏

warnings: implied sex sorta? fwb. angst

The job you and Spencer shared, yes, it understandably took its toll — watching brutal lives day in and day out, a restless cycle. Families torn apart, lives lost, lovers watching their desire die. Some craved real love after seeing such debauchery and mutilation, others’ minds were warped into believing no such ‘real love’ is plausible. Spencer was the former, you were the latter.

How could he explain his accompaniment with such a woman? Love? Settling down, so unlike the vision before him. Lust? On the nose but misses the mark. Spencer was discardable, a simple lucky pick in a flock of options. If desired, he would sink as a stone, forgotten in your mind if you so sought another. Casual? Possibly the notion in your mind but so contrasting from the rapid beat of his heart with a mere mention of your beautiful melodic name.

It’s not as though Spencer wasn’t trying, by God, he tried too hard to seek such validation. Tender touches, adoring eyes, the promise to give his heart, mind, body, and soul for this woman. Love — what a mistake to utter such a word to a neglectful woman. Disregarded, he’d spent the rest of the night dejected. How could you claim love wasn’t real? Had you never been properly loved? Such a bizarre and improbable idea in his mind.

But no amount of apathetic indifference could debilitate the feeling he possessed in his very being. With every request of something more, he found the door slammed in his face — a terribly disheartening gesture but not enough to relent. It was incurable; a poor infectious case of love, doomed to a fate of misery. But he could not shake tenacious hold of love, not as he spent his nights wrapped up in you.

It was a late night, tangled up in the sheets in your apartment, momentary passion encased for such a fleeting time before slipping from his clutches. Catching his breath, he rested beside you, trying to properly transfer air back into his lungs but your overwhelming presence left his heart stuttering as much as his speech.

Silence corrupted the air, weighing a pressure on his still sheened skin. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, combing through the tangles you’d caused from where your hands had once been buried. The question bubbled in his chest, nerves sending panicked distressed signals throughout him. His lips parted in a hesitant gesture to speak, his ever busy mind working overtime to carefully craft his words.

But one glance in your direction and the IQ he so prided himself on was slashed.

“What are we doing?” Spencer managed to ask, voice helpless and pleading to understand. “Please, angel, I- I just need to understand and rationalize why you’re so terrified of falling in love,” he whispered, searching the gorgeous features of the woman beside him. “You’re not afraid of anything but love.”

The hollowness that followed was enough to have already restless limbs now tremble with nerves. Meticulously studying your contemplative expression, ticking the seconds from the standard outburst, demanding his departure and reprimanding him back to the notion this was nothing but physical. But the silence persisted, clawing at the walls of his restraint, daring him to fill the vacancy of the air.

“Maybe you should go,” was the whispered reply he received — normally heated words now deflated and empty, the request lacking its habitual heft. A foolish spark of hope flared up, praying he could cut your fraying feigned apathy.

“Why?” he challenged, propping himself up onto his forearm to properly meet your eyes, unsurprised by your averted gaze. “I’m only asking for an answer,” he pried again.

“One you don’t want to hear,” you snapped in turn, familiar bitterness seeping into your voice, causing a sharp jolt in his chest. He hesitated, considering that he should acquiesce, conform to the idea this was all either of you deserved and would ever be.

“I do,” he argued gently, fingertips reaching out to gingerly brush over his cheek, delicate touches met by your hand batting them off. He hurriedly sat up as you did, pleading eyes finding your back as you kept it to him. An exasperated sigh left his lips, nails biting at the rustled fabric of your sheets, tempted to press further until he was given an unlikely straight answer. But you were silent.

He slipped from the once warm comfort of your bed, now cold with the hostility he received from the one he loved. Achingly, he tugged his clothes back on, trembling fingers fumbling with unwilling buttons of his dress shirt, urging him to fight against your haste orders and plead until the correct concept corrupted your mind.

A resentment bubbled in his throat, harsh truths tearing at his vocal cords, only willing to relent if he spoke them. Sharply, he turned back towards you, your eyes still downcast, halfway turned away from him as if distance could quell his feelings.

“I love you.” His words broke the silence, echoing off the walls that closed in, letting the idea infect your mind as much as it had ruined his own. “Against my better judgement, beyond the means of any logic, I do,” he stressed.

Soft steps lightly tapped against the floor, filling the space between sentences. He crossed the room, stopping in front of your curled form. Your eyes landed on vibrant patterned mismatched socks, so informal and starkly contrasted the pristine outfits; carefully pressed and ironed clothes, now rumpled from being haphazardly littered across your bedroom floor. His shirt was untucked, tie far more askew than it was perpetually. He’d always been imperfectly perfect — a facade of composure and intelligence, but underneath was nothing but a broken kid forced to grow up too soon with disregarded love, seeking it in untimely places from those who refused to give.

He dropped to his knees, a soft thud diverting your attention up to his eyes. His own were glassy, a coat of tears over pained love-ridden eyes, nothing short of helpless. His hands twitched forward, hovering tentatively over your own, preparing for the inevitable push away but as yours remained still, he let his fingers encase your own.

“Please,” he whispered. “You’re the most beautiful thing in my life.” His sentence broke off into a shaky inhale, a subtle tremor to his bottom lip. “Love’s just a chemical reaction, a feeling science explained with oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin…” he let his voice trail away, willing away the intellectual arguments screaming protests. “But you made it real… For once, I get to feel it, and I don’t-” A halt, swallowing down a painful lump of tears threatening to overwhelm the dam and flood his decaying functionality. “I don’t wanna stop feeling it.”

Your eyes finally raised, meeting teary ones, watching a drop linger precariously on the rim of his dark eyes before dropping, sliding down the pale expanse of his cheek. For a fleeting moment, something flickered — understanding, maybe. Remorse. Guilt for the turmoil you force him to endure, one he takes on the chin without a spoken word of protest. But it left quicker than it came, fading into an empty mask of withdrawal.

“Goodbye, Spencer.”

A sharp slice pierced through his diaphragm, broken remnants of his heart cutting through previously operational organs in his chest. He swallowed roughly, blinking the tears back as he fought to get air back into his punctured lungs. Your words had knocked the breath from him, nearly making him heave, all suppressed under a blank look he forced across broken features.

He raised to his feet, knees bruised and buckling beneath the heft of pain bearing down on his back, a storm crackling in his mind, flooding his thoughts. He nodded curtly, voice stolen from his red raw throat. A shaky inhale was the most he could manage, lungs unable to properly assist in the action anymore as the futilely recovered from the shatters of his heart. Pain so foreign he wasn’t sure he could ever claim a word fitting enough for it.

With a sharp turn, you left his peripherals, rewarding him with a minuscule reprieve. With hurried steps, he fled, closing the door, albeit too roughly to be akin to Spencer.

There was a rough week of silence, his throat closing in on itself any moment he’d catch a flash of those eyes. His feelings refused to diminish, mundane movements from you enough to satisfy the insatiable itch of being with you. He’d observe from his desk, unamended heart constricting in his chest as you drowned yourself in work. Bitterness melted to pained adoration, falling for you all over again, neglecting the pain he was inevitably going to face.

By Friday, he was beckoned back, returning to his desired home beneath your sheets, a habit he’d been unable to kick amidst the torture.

Maybe he liked the pain.

a/n: i meant to listen to she’s not afraid while writing this but i listened to let down by radiohead instead. enough said about how it turned out 😭

[dark-vader28]

minors dni

okay this is kind of a raunchy post but honestly it’s just my take on the whole dom vs sub spencer reid argument

ain’t no way anyyyy of you think early seasons spencer is capable of anything remotely dominant. that man is a sub through and through. i’m almost certain lila was his first or second kiss and i really can’t imagine he’d been laid more than once in the first seasons. mid seasons, same thing but i do believe in service top spence 🙏

however, post-prison spence i think is kind of like a sam winchester case. probably a switch but he is starveddd. i haven’t gotten that far in cm but based on clips of how he kisses cat, good god he is hungry but i think that’s it. i still can’t see him being a dom. slapping? degrading? no he’s just trying to devour you, kiss you until neither of you can breathe. when i say he’s rough, i mean he doesn’t understand the amount of force he’s exerting, grabbing your hips too hard cause he’s annoyed that it’s physically impossible for you to be any closer to him, biting down on your lip not cause he’s mad but because he’s spiraled for so long and you’re the only thing grounding him. he doesn’t even realize he could be hurting you because he’s too busy trying to fuse himself with you to reconcile every second he’s been gone.

also doggy style sort of feels like a no, that could just be me. i feel like he’d only do it if you asked or if it was convenient to the situation but i feel like he’d much rather be able to look in your eyes

edit: absolutely not kink shaming or claiming that you can’t write what you believe or what interests you. this is purely my personal opinion on what i think he would like and what he’d be like. i just feel like with being in the BAU and all the shit the team sees day in and day out, the last thing he’d wanna do is hit you or hurt you in any form, even if it was consensual and he seems like he’d favour your pleasure over his own because he is constantly demonstrated as an extremely caring person. like what you like though! this is just my take on this

[dark-vader28]

Friends or…?

rodrick heffley x fem!reader

synopsis: you and rodrick were childhood best friends. after your family moved away, you fell out of touch. A few years later, you two reunite, but that line between friendship and something else blurs (basically childhood best friends to lovers trope)

warnings: mentions of sex, no actual smut, swearing, sort of angsty near the end? reader is described to be shorter than rodrick, good ol’ fluff

Ecstatic wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how he felt when he heard you were coming back into town. It’d been at least six years since your family had moved out of Plainview, out of your neighboring house to the Heffleys. He was so beyond ecstatic that for once, he bothered to pick up his room and actually take a proper shower. He haphazardly threw clothes in the washer, using far too much detergent but he was determined nonetheless to be at least somewhat put together. He even made his bed and straightened up collections of old objects (to the best of his ability).

He didn’t sit still the entirety of the drive to the airport, the smile unable to vanish from his lips as they got closer and closer. As he got closer and closer to finally seeing you again.

When the car came to a stop in a parking space, and he was already clambering out, hastily unbuckling his seatbelt. He was tempted to sprint to your gate, wanting to great you the moment you stepped foot off the plane, only to instead be stopped by a very disapproving hand and an annoyed look from his mom. He sighed and relented, waiting (impatiently).

Arms folded across his chest as his eyes darted to the clock every 30 seconds, anxiously anticipating your arrival. When a rush of people started to flood in, he was on the tips of his feet, trying to spot a glimpse of anything that could remotely resemble you.

Scolded by his mother to remain patient, his eyes snapped to her with a prominent frown settled on his lips, his attention diverted long enough for something — or rather someone — to crash against him. He lost his breath, the wind being entirely knocked out of him. Finally regaining his senses, he found you snuggly tucked against his chest, clutching onto him with a smile on your lips.

He breathed out your name in a soft sigh, burying his face into your hair as he kept you wrapped in his arms. There were conversations around him, other family members engaging and reuniting but all their words fell on deaf ears with you in his arms. He couldn’t even remember if he’d ever hugged you this long before, or if he had ever even hugged you were you were kids. But now he was intoxicated by you; your perfume, the same old shampoo that brought such a sense of comfort and familiarity that it made his heart ache.

“Roddy.” Your voice was soft. Just as soft as he had remembered, almost causing him to crumble at your feet. And that damned nickname he used to hate and whine about you calling him. But now it felt like heaven to hear again, like everything he missed while you were gone was sewing back up. When had he ever been this soft? For anyone? You had every wall breaking in a matter of moments.

You finally managed to separate yourselves, not quite all the way yet. Your hands stayed on his arms, his hands on your waist, as you leaned back just far enough to take him in, finally getting a look at him after so many years apart. He was almost (totally and completely) stunned.

When’d you get so…

You were torn from his arms, getting greeted by Susan and Frank instead. He watched his mom hug you, gushing over how much you’d grown. Doing the standard grown up routine where they tell you the last time they saw you, you were about ‘yay’ high with vague inaccurate gestures to how tall you really were. You really had grown. Unfortunately, Rodrick didn’t give a shit about your height. When’d you become a stunner?

After mildly dazed greetings to your parents and little brother, he finally returned to you. He was staring, which he could easily excuse as ‘it’s been so long since i’ve seen you’ rather than admit he didn’t remember you being so damn pretty.

“How have you been, Rod?” you asked, and he nearly melted again. You were sweeter than he remembered too. Maybe he had been a bad influence on you back when you were kids. He almost felt guilty. Almost. But nothing would replace every moment with you.

“Same old. Still as cool as ever,” he said, attempting some sort of badass bravado but ultimately failing as he missed the pole he was trying to lean back on, nearly toppling over. The giggle that followed from your lips almost made him wish he had fallen over just so he’d heard that sound for longer.

“Clearly,” you teased, lips curling into a playful smirk. He swooned. Every word from your lips, every syllable scratched an itch in his brain that’d bugged him for years without you. He forgot how good you made him feel. There was existing and then there was what he felt with you; liveliness, a rush of adrenaline, a safe place. How’d he go so long without you?

“You grew up,” he pointed out, taking a moment to look you over without seeming like there was any intention behind it, though all he wanted to do was admire you. He didn’t care about art, but you seemed like a damn masterpiece in his eyes, all hell to any cliche about how cheesy that’d be to admit. You were gorgeous.

“So did you,” you mimicked, scanning him from head to toe. “Finally had your growth spurt?” you teased, earning a smile from him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, shorty,” he retorted, not an ounce of malice behind his words. You laughed and he found himself doing the same, unmistakably enamored by such a warm, sweet sound coming from your lips he took for granted when you were kids.

You shoulder bumped against his as you walked to the car, already talking like you’d never been apart. You stumbled as you walked, too busy laughing to be watching your footing, which gave him the perfect opportunity to grab onto your arm to keep you upright. He’d held you like that before, pulling your arm along to drag you with him when you were younger, but now his skin felt on fire at the contact, sending sparks through his skin.

You climbed into the very back seats of the car beside Rodrick and his little brother, Greg. The rest of your family took the middle row of seats and his parents took the front, the car essentially packed to the brim. And terribly noisy. Everyone was still catching up, laughs erupting from every row of the car, especially from you and Rodrick who were nearly tossing around with laughter, earning looks from Greg. Which only ended up in Rodrick and Greg fighting, leaving you to watch with an amused and affectionate smile. They hadn’t changed.

The car pulled to a stop in the Heffley’s driveway. With you beside him, he could’ve sworn it was 6 years ago all over again. The two of you coming home from school or the park, or the movie.. and then he was lost again, too caught up in memories to notice when you climbed out of the car.

“Coming, Roddy?” That familiar sweet voice asked and he was quick to follow it like a siren’s song, beckoning to him and pulling him in. He helped you with your bags, attempting to appear somewhat strong around you and possibly a gentleman? Whatever got your attention was fine with him.

He led you to his room, a proud smirk on his lips when he noticed your astonished look at how damn clean it was in contrast to everything you ever once knew.

“Who are you?” you teased, eyes scanning the uncharacteristically tidy room.

“I’m a new man,” he joked back, setting your bag on the floor.

“Then where’s my Rodrick?” you asked, taking backwards steps towards his bed so your eyes would stay on his. “Because he would never let this atrocity slide.” You collapsed onto his bed, bouncing back against the mattress as you lied on your back. All he could do was watch for a moment, hypnotized by how something so mundane could still make you look ethereal.

“Right here,” he replied, following you towards the bed. He flopped onto the space beside you, putting his hands behind his head.

“What’d I miss while I was away?” you asked curiously, turning on your side to face him. His head tilted to the side to meet your gaze, feeling the same magnetic pull all over again.

“Where do I start?” he mused. It almost sounded like he had matured a bit. That scandalous, teenage dirtbag of a boy you once knew finally grew up (hardly the truth).

“Greg got the cheese touch,” he said, a smile pulling at the corners of my lips. Your eyes widened a bit. You’d forgotten all about that.

“Jesus, that’s still around?” you laughed, your smile starting to mirror his.

“It was,” he corrected. “Long story but it’s been dragged away from us. And it’s off the blacktop. Stain’s still there though,” he explained, his eyes flickering between yours.

“Such a sacred thing, thrown away,” you tsked, shaking your head in mock disappointment, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Greg was in the school play too,” he recalled, shifting to lie on his side, facing you. The laugh that escaped your lips made him desperate to hear it again.

“How’d that go?” you asked, voice laced with humor and amusement.

“Like shit,” he answered. “He got into a fight with a girl… and the dumb shit lost.”

Both of you fell into laughter. He watched your eyes squeeze shut, nose slightly scrunching up, lips curled into a smile as your giggles filled the space between you. He could stare at you all day and never get tired of the sight. He felt flutters in his stomach, a feeling he’d only ever felt around Heather Hills or some other girl he was pining after you. But you…? He’d never once dared think about you that way. But your sweet voice, warm laugh, soft eyes, every imperfection, every line, mark, scar, anything. You topped any other girl he’s seen before. He could still see the remnants of the little kid he once knew in your smile, in your eyes, but you had grown. And so had he. And now something was stirring inside him that refused to be put to rest. And he really didn’t want the feeling to go away.

“Anything else I should know about?” you asked with raised eyebrows, wishing you could’ve been there through it all.

“I threw a party,” he started, a subtle smirk appearing on my lips. “Nearly everyone was there.”

“I must’ve missed the invite,” you sighed. He almost felt guilty and he might’ve if you hadn’t let a smile follow your words.

“My parents and Manny were out for the weekend, or they were supposed to be,” he explained with an eye roll. “The house was trashed and me and Greg had to pick it up in under an hour. We ended up having to replace the bathroom door,” his words broke up with a bit of laughter, triggering a laugh of your own. “The door we replaced it with didn’t have a lock and I nearly convinced mom of it.”

“You got caught, didn’t you?” you teased.

“I’m an excellent liar,” he defended. “Terrible at deleting camera footage though,” he added. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head in amusement.

“There’s the idiot,” you taunted.

“Missed me, huh?”

“More than you know.”

The rest of the night was essentially the same. Your families ate dinner together — bringing back memories of the countless number of times you ate Susan’s cooking to be with Rodrick — and managed to sit through a movie together with a few disruptions from Manny followed by groans of annoyance from the two older brothers and your laughter.

As the end credits of the movie rolled, your parents headed to the guest room followed by your little brother. Susan and Frank retired to their rooms, putting Manny down and sending Greg off to bed. You and Rodrick made your way to his room, surrounded by a comfortable air of silence.

“I can take the couch,” he offered again. “Or the floor. I can sleep anywhere.” You laughed and nudged him to shut him up.

“We’ve split a bed before, Rodrick,” you teased. Not when I felt like this, he thought, his eyes following you as he saw you sit down on his bed. “I’ve dealt with your drool before.” He groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I’ve dealt with your snoring,” he shot back, collapsing on the bed beside you.

“I do not snore!” you protested, gasping in mock offense.

“Do too!” he argued back, the childish banter making him feel more at home that he had in years. More than he had since you left.

“Yeah, well, at least I don’t leave a wet patch on the pillow every night,” you countered, trying to hide the grin on your lips.

“That’s why there’s two sides to the pillow,” he defended.

“Gross!” you cried out, your words mixing in with your laughter. Everything in him softened and melted at the sound. How were you doing this to him? Reducing him to a puddle of affection for you.

He launched towards you and pulled you down, wrestling against you. His arms locked tightly around your waist, pressing you against him just so he could hold you. You gasped and squirmed against him, in a fit of laughter. That sound so close to his ear had his mind in a maelstrom, never wanting the noise to end.

Eventually you relaxed in his arms, exhausted from travel. You ended up a tangled mess of limbs as you laid wrapped up in each other’s arms. Silence fell over you and turned into nothing but your soft, steady breaths. He watched with undeniable amounts of affection in his eyes. Your eyelashes against your cheek, the peaceful expression on your features. He would drown in you if he could, swim in your ocean, be stranded without a chance of being saved. He was helpless.

Notorious for sleeping, Rodrick slept most of the morning away, you wrapped up in his arms, never moving from the position you fell asleep in. He was more content than he had been in years, surrounded by the warmth you brought, leaving him in pure bliss. The room stayed dark as minutes turned into hours, never a disturbance in either of your slumbers.

Well… until there was a bang on the door, startling you both into consciousness.

“Mom said get your lazy butts out of bed!” Greg called from the other side of the door.

“Greg Heffley!” Susan scolded, earning a scoff from Greg followed by the patter of his feet walking up the stairs and away from the door. Rodrick grumbled under his breath and you let out a quiet huff of a laugh. You slowly separated, untangling yourselves. He collapsed back against the pillow, reluctant to leave the comfort of his bed. You pushed yourself up, eyes still on his form. His shirt rode up a bit. Something so insignificant and mundane that it shouldn’t matter but it’s where your eyes seemed to land for a moment.

“You heard the boy. We have to get up,” you reminded, gently pulling on his arm to get him up. He mumbled into his pillow in protest, his words muffled. You rolled your eyes and stood up, heading over to your bag still in the same spot it’d been since Rodrick set it there. He slowly rolled off the bed and got himself on his feet, trudging over to the door.

“You drooled on my shirt,” you pointed out, glancing at the small patch on your shirt.

“Did not,” he scoffed, stretching as he walked. You turned towards him and gestured to the spot. “Huh,” he huffed.

“I liked this shirt,” you complained, biting back the smile that threatened to appear.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised.

“With what money?” you teased.

“Shut up.” He smiled.

Breakfast was far more chaotic than dinner. Rodrick dumped the burnt food into the trash can, a prominent frown on his lips as he stared at the charred remnants of something that was edible at some point. Once again, in an attempt to impress you, he thought he could make pancakes for breakfast. But he saw you across the room, every step seeming graceful to him. The way your hand would tuck away loose strands of hair behind your ear, your lips moving as you spoke, the warm feeling your presence brought. He was so wrapped up in you, drowning in you, only to be snapped into reality at the smell of burning beside him.

“Think you overdid it,” your voice said from beside him. He shot you a glare, not an ounce of real malice behind it. His annoyed look faded the second he saw your lips curl into a smile. Why was he upset again?

“What? You don’t like your pancakes well done?” he joked back, regaining his composure once his eyes weren’t on you. He grabbed the bowl of batter and poured more into the pan, making another attempt at pancakes.

“Shoot for medium next time,” you teased, watching him with a humor-filled look, hoping it masked the utter feeling of fondness. His hair was messy than usual, never tamed from his bed head, the faintest hint of rasp to his voice, traces of sleep still ever present. And was it so wrong just to miss someone that was the biggest part of your childhood? Even if this felt like more than just that.

With a few ‘gentle’ reminders and too much laughter to be taken seriously, he managed to get a couple of non-disastrous pancakes out. Perched up on the counter beside one another, finding familiarity in such a simple thing. It was hard to imagine you’d ever been apart.

“What was it like.. wherever you were living?” Rodrick spoke up after a while with a mouthful of pancake, realizing you had only listened to him ramble about his time here. You huffed out a quiet laugh, your attention shifting over to him with a faint smile.

“Boring. Just some shitty small town. Nothing important,” you shrugged, setting the empty plate down on the countertop beside you.

“Cause I wasn’t there,” Rodrick teased, nudging your shoulder with his.

“You’re not wrong,” you agreed, nudging him back. His smirk softened into a smile, hoping that he meant as much to you as you meant to him. “Which would be a first,” you added jokingly, earning a fake frown from him.

“Well, first time for everything, right?” he managed, attempting to seem casual as he leaned a fraction closer to you. His fingers twitched, terribly close to yours but he wasn’t bold enough to reach out. He nearly gathered the courage, swearing he saw your gaze slip down to his lips before the moment was lost.

Susan’s voice spoke your name, snapping your attention in her direction while Rodrick internally groaned. Cockblocker.

“How long are you guys staying in town?” Susan asked, a warm smile on her lips as she cleaned up the dishes in the sink.

“Couple weeks, I think,” you answered. Rodrick frowned again. Couple weeks was all he got? Just to lose you all over again?

“Why don’t you move back?” Rodrick voiced, his eyes on something distant in the room. Both yours and Susan’s eyes snapped over to him, Susan seconds away from reminding him of manners and that it’s your parents’ decision.

“I wish,” you mumbled, finding Rodrick’s gaze again. Susan quickly silenced, looking between the two of you. She turned away without a word.

“Miss me that much?” he teased, attempting to lighten your seemingly off disposition.

“Are you crazy?” you shot back, pushing his shoulder before hopping off the counter. He clutched his shoulder, groaning in faux pain.

“After all that I’ve done for you?” he frowned, leaning slightly closer to you.

“Be a pain in my ass?” you remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s my way of showing my care,” he huffed, tilting his chin up with mock arrogance.

“You should work on that,” you teased.

The next week or so was relatively the same. Chaotic, crowded meals, catching up on all the lost time, Rodrick. Practically attached to each other. Wherever he went, you followed. You asked for something and he was diving to get it for you. It earned smiles from your parents, saying “some things never change” but something was different. Some weird flutter that’d never been there before. Some stupid spark you’d only hear in cheesy romances. But to think that you.. and Rodrick? It wouldn’t work, or at least you reminded yourself of that and decided to bury whatever it was you were feeling. You just missed him. That’s all it had to be.

Rodrick suffered the same torment. It had to just be something hormonal which is why he got so damn excited when he saw you or why he suddenly wanted you in every way imaginable. But, subtlety wasn’t his specialty and Greg caught onto his feelings before he recognized them himself.

“You’re staring,” he would mock, watching Rodrick’s eyes follow you across the room before snickering to himself. It didn’t take long before he was blabbering to your brother about it. Thankfully, the word never got around to you.

Bothered by all the comments and remarks, he made it his mission to only be around you when Greg wasn’t around. He’d steer you off to his room or drag you out to his van to take a drive. It became so common that your mom eventually prompted taking all the kids on a drive. With a white-knuckled grip and an awkward silence in the air, the drive was short-lived before the youngest were dropped off at the house and you and Rodrick were off again, driving off to a diner.

“Little pricks,” Rodrick grumbled with a mouthful of fries. “Can’t believe I had to drive those little shits around.”

“Rodrick, it was a 10 minute drive,” you reminded, an amused smile pulling at the corners of your lips. He pauses his chewing, sending you a hard look across the booth.

“Worst 10 minutes of my life,” he retorted before taking another bite of his burger. “If I wanted to drag them along, I would’ve done it.”

“You’re dramatic,” you teased, stealing a fry off his plate. He shot you a glare and slapped your hand away as you reached for another, a laugh leaving your lips. Every ounce of annoyance faded nearly instantly, but he kept the frown on his lips.

“Quit stealing my food. Not my fault you didn’t choose fries as a side,” he huffed, shaking his head in faux irritation.

“Dickhead,” you scoffed, leaning back with a smile on your lips only to have a fry tossed at you. “Rude.” He batted his eyelashes innocently.

“I thought you wanted a fry?”

The night was the same. Scarfing down his food before urging you off to his room so he didn’t have to be stuck with the other family members. He flopped on his bed as he watched you look through old collections of items in his room. His eyes never strayed away, watching every step, every slight movement of your fingers, tracing over shelves, picking up old toys his mom refused to let him get rid of “in case Manny wanted them”. He watched the sway of your hips, tracking every step you took; everything seeming nearly angelic to him.

“Can’t believe you still have this,” he heard you say, effectively snapping out of whatever trance you had put him in. He propped himself up on his forearms, focusing on the old action figure toy in your hands. “Remember when you managed to get it stuck on the roof?” you recalled, glancing back at him with a smile.

“Oh shut up,” he huffed, rolling his eyes to mask the affection he felt. He dropped back onto the bed, leaning back against the pillow. You set the toy down and headed over to him, sitting on the bed beside him.

“You alright?” you asked, watching the way he adverted his eyes onto the ceiling.

“Never better,” he breathed, resting one hand behind his head and the other splayed out on his stomach over the fabric of his shirt. He managed to shift his eyes back over to you, choking back the urge to throw caution to the window and wrap his arms around you.

He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse when you made that move for him, laying down beside him. He hesitated for a long moment before letting his arm wrap around you, pulling you into his side until you eventually fell asleep. He didn’t sleep for a while. He hardly even breathed, not wanting to disturb you from that peaceful look on your features that somehow made you prettier to him.

No surprise that you woke up before him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest with his face half buried in the pillow. You stayed beside him for a while, reluctant to move from such a warm embrace. Fingers carded through his hair, already tousled from shifting on the pillow. You hugged him a bit closer which eventually triggered him to wake up but he didn’t move or speak, content with staying where he was. It was a while before either you made any move to show you were awake.

“Remember that old arcade we used to go to?” Rodrick spoke as you came back into his room from the bathroom. You paused in your steps for a moment.

“Back when you used to break into Greg’s piggybank so we had money?” you teased lightly, earning a smile from him.

“Still would,” he joked back with a reminiscing sigh. He sat up on his bed after a moment, running a hand through his hair.

“What about it?” you asked, standing at the edge of the bed, eyes flickering over his sleep-filled features, the lingering peacefulness still there.

“We should go,” he prompted, leaning back on his hands. “Without the little shits,” he quickly added, a small scowl on his lips. With a laugh from you, it softened.

“Then get your ass out of bed,” you huffed, nudging his leg before turning away to get changed.

In record time, he was ushering you out the door, dragging you out of the house before his mom could even suggest bringing your little siblings along.

As the evening settled in, the sun dipping past the horizon, Rodrick leaned back against the hood of his car, watching the view. It was something he might’ve never given thought towards, but a simple request from you to watch the sunset and he found himself as lost as you in the blended colors lighting the sky. Yes, he was appreciative of such a sight but nothing compared to the golden glow seemingly softening your features as you sat on the hood, watching the very same view he was. The glint in your eyes, hair lightly blowing in the wind, just enough to blow a strand of hair in front of your eyes which he was tempted to move out of the way for you. His gaze lowered from your eyes to the stuffed animal in your lap, one he had spent countless tries and endless tickets on to get for you. An imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the image of how you lit up fresh in his mind.

“Not thinking of stealing him, are you?” Your voice broke his trance, noticing his zoned out gaze focused on the toy in your lap. He shook his head, his smile growing a fraction.

“Wouldn’t be stealing considering I was the one that won him,” he teased back, his eyes settling on yours again, an uncharacteristic look of utter fondness in his eyes. The look only intensified as he watched you hold the animal tighter against you in a protective manner.

The air filled with comfortable silence, for once feeling unpressured to carry on meaningless conversation. His thoughts had finally quieted too, content in the bliss of your presence. It wasn’t until he felt the subtle touch of your pinky brush against his that seemed to disrupt the emptiness in his mind. His eyes lowered, watching your hand linger so close to his that he wouldn’t have to move more than an inch to interlace your fingers with his — a tempting notion that he managed to surprise for a grand total of a couple seconds. His hand nudged towards yours, pinky interlocking with his until he built up the courage to fully take your hand in his.

His mind got busier and busier with every second your hand remained tangled with his, a million ‘what if?’s and worries swarming his thoughts. The once atmospheric calmness was now disrupted by the maelstrom of possibilities tearing through his mind. Your attention was diverted back to him as his hand subconsciously tightened around yours, trying to ground him back to the present unsuccessfully.

“Something wrong?” you asked softly, the worry in your voice sending an unfitting shock of fear down his spine. You cared, and that was enough to make his heart ache, reminded of all the negative outcomes and how the quantity of those greatly outweighed the positive outcomes. For a moment, he had simply let himself get carried in such an unreasonable fantasy; that you would ever be his.

“Nothing,” he answered a bit too harshly for his own taste, pulling his hand from yours. The cold shock that ran through him was immediate, already missing the warmth against his palm and between his fingers. Human touch, or rather just your touch had never been such an insatiable craving, not until you came bounding back into his life. How was he to deal?

After the unsettling feeling of coldness against his skin, your hurt expression was the next thing to hit him. Panicked and remorseful eyes — as if you’d done something wrong — sent another pang through him. He wanted to apologize, explain that he was in WAY over his head and he had no right to take it out on you. But pride and stubbornness kept those words on the tip of his tongue, forcing his gaze away.

“Rodrick… can we talk?” you asked tentatively after the tense stretch of silence that had followed his dismissal. He quickly rejected the idea, shaking his head as he stepped away from the hood of the car, managing to put distance between you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine.” A terrible lie and an obvious one at that. Notorious for lying and cheating his way out of things but this was the one thing he couldn’t manage?

“That wasn’t my point…” you sighed, pushing away from the car, sitting the bear on top of it. He might’ve cracked a smile if his heart hadn’t been a couple beats from escaping his chest. “I meant about us,” you started, searching his eyes for any sort of gauge to his reaction.

“What?” he scoffed, wide eyes a dead giveaway to the utter shock and fearfulness that ran through him, something you should’ve called him out on. “We’re fine. We- w-wha..” he rambled, one hand raised in a frantic gesture as he begged for an explanation to appear in his mind.

“Something just,” feels different were the words planning to follow but Rodrick was already rushing to speak, determined to postpone your words, thinking they’d be less real next time you’d say them.

“We’ve gotta head back. It’s getting dark,” he awkwardly excused, already making a beeline for the drivers seat.

“Curfew’s not until-”

“Fuck, I don’t care about curfew!” he snapped, his eyes darting back to yours, once freaked look now hardened. His jaw was tense for a moment longer before he slumped, unable to last under the sight of your frightful eyes.

“I’m just asking to talk,” you tried to start again, hoping to lower the guards blocking your way from him.

“I don’t wanna talk. Just get in the fucking car,” he mumbled, his hand hovering over the door handle to the drivers side before slipping in.

The car ride home was torturous.

The passenger door shuts and he starts the engine, snapping him out of his thoughts. Wordlessly and in painfully tense silence, he begins the drive home.

He zoned out, street and traffic lights seeming like a blur of color in his vision, nothing distinct enough to be memorable. Stubborn, neither spoke a word, the only sound being the small clatter of objects in the back with every bump in the road. The space felt too small. In a perfect world, he would’ve let his hand rest on your thigh. But of course… you weren’t his. It wasn’t his right to do such a thing.

The ride lasted an eternity but finally he could see the familiarity of their house coming into view. He couldn’t have been more grateful. He was undoing his seatbelt before it had fully come to a stop, beyond anxious to get an ounce of relief and a breath of air. You watched with worried eyes as he hurried inside like the car was on fire, instantly feeling a pang of guilt as if you’d done something wrong. Slowly, you followed inside.

You trudged downstairs to his room, the space vacant and feeling strangely emptier than usual. He wasn’t there either. You sighed and rummaged through your bag for a fresh set of clothes to change into after you showered.

His door swung open a while later, too absorbed in your own worries and guilt-filled thoughts. Your gaze snapped up from where you were sitting on the floor. Rodrick, fresh from a shower, paused in the doorway, his gaze fixating on you. He opened his mouth to speak but you were beating him to it.

“Did I do something wrong?” you blurted out, that pit in you stomach getting the better of your rationality. He panicked, dodging the question instinctively.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” he asked, seeming to disregard your question.

“Rodrick,” you reprimanded.

“There’s more comfortable places to sit,” he continued, slightly panicked eyes looking around his room.

“Rodrick,” you tried to intervene again.

“The bed, the chair-”

“Rodrick!”

He finally shut up as he saw you rise to your feet and heard the snap in your voice, finally gaining his attention. He gave you a guilty look, like a puppy being scolded for destroying a toy.

“What did I do?” you asked, voice just as pleading as the look in his eyes. His heart clenched a bit. You hadn’t done anything wrong. He just couldn’t get a grip. “You keep running away. Did I do something?” you asked worriedly again, anxiety skyrocketing with every moment he managed to stay quiet.

How did he explain this? He was falling. Hard. Harder than he understood and faster than he could wrap his head around. It was some force to be reckoned with, but he couldn’t deal. He didn’t even know what the feeling was. The flutter in his heart, the turning in his stomach, the heat coursing through him, the twinge in his gut. His chest ached. He craved you more than anything he ever had before. It was a sick feeling. Yearning, longing, pining, utter desperation to have something he knew he couldn’t and shouldn’t have. He couldn’t ruin this. This feeling would pass.. it had to. It was just hormones or he just missed you and he was mistaking it for something he couldn’t name yet.

Then there was the look in your eyes again. The same eyes he found himself getting lost in a little too easily. The same gaze he wanted to hold through it all. But the pained and troubled look in your eyes is something he never wanted. He missed seeing the smile in your eyes, the brightness, the liveliness. Or the way they’d shut when you laughed too hard. How your lips would curl into a smile, or a pout when he kept poking fun at you. All things he had missed so dearly. He hadn’t known he had missed them until he finally got to see them again, suddenly reminded of every good moment spent with you. Every moment you saved his life without trying. Every moment he fell harder and harder. Every moment he loved you…

He’d seen you everywhere when you were gone. In the simple things. Beautiful things. You were in the stars, in the water, in the flowers, everywhere. Everything could remind him of you. He could think of music and hope that you’d like it too. Or hope that you’d be proud of his band, which he found made him think of you often. He saw you in the moon, wondering if you’d be staring be staring up at the dark sky too, watching the moon and hoping he was thinking of you. Had he done all these things? Had he thought of you this much? Had he always loved you like this? Love… That stupid fucking word. He hated it. He couldn’t love you.

“Rodrick,” you spoke softly, dragging him out of his thoughts. His eyes refocused on you and it really hit him. He loved you. More than a friend loves another. Not in the way he used to force himself to believe. How could he mistake such a feeling?

He lost his logic. The burn in his chest, the whirlpool of thoughts. It was too loud, too tormenting. He couldn’t deal. He missed the spark of warmth whenever his hands were on you. He missed the tingly feeling his skin got. He missed how much better he felt when you were close.

His hands flew to your waist and pulled you in until your lips crashed against his. He’d regret this, he was almost sure of it, but he couldn’t live without one taste of your lips. How many times had he thought of this that he disregarded? How many times had he blocked that idea out of his mind, banishing it from his thoughts? Why hadn’t he given in?

The voices and questions slowly quieted, everything resolving to one simple truth as his lips stayed on yours. He loved you. That was final. It’d been final all this time, it just took him so long to come around.

Every inch of his skin ignited. The softness of your lips against his, your waist under his touch. He wanted more, so much more. He wanted to worship you. Kiss every inch of skin to make up for every moment he’d denied himself of it. To finally show you just how much he cares. Just how much he softens around you. How the boy that normally cares about nothing shows endless amounts of affection for you. The one who loved you. Who always had.

His lips broke away from yours, his eyes slowly fluttering open to find you wide-eyed and completely speechless. He was too content with his realization to panic for a moment before he abruptly tore his hands away, craving the contact again already.

He opened his mouth to speak, the words he meant to say being ‘I’m sorry’ but what he managed to say was, “I love you.” The hell was he thinking? That’s not something you spring on someone.

“What?” you asked. What was the appropriate response? Surely ‘I love you too’ should be the right thing to say, but that crossed the boundary of friends. Thank you? Is that the right answer?

“I don’t wanna repeat myself,” Rodrick grumbled, trying to keep a shred of his dignity in tact if this didn’t go in his favour.

“Rodrick-”

“Forget it,” he huffed, taking another step back. He could hear the denial in your voice and the last thing he wanted was to suffer some pitiful rejection. ‘I love you as a friend’ or ‘this won’t work’. The last thing he wanted to hear was that he ruined what he had.

“Rodrick, stop it,” you tried to intervene, trying to close the distance he had created but he stepped back again.

“I don’t need some stupid-” he attempted to protest again, putting his hand up to stop you as his eyes lowered with another step back.

“Goddamn it, Rodrick, listen!” you snapped, your voice rising louder than you meant it to. He recoiled, his eyes elsewhere before slowly finding their way back to you, glassy. You took a shaky breath, pinching the bridge of your nose before finding your voice again. “Would you stop running?” you pleaded, voice softer than before.

“I’m not running,” he defended weakly, the lie obvious on his lips. All he’s done is ran. Ran from the possibility that he could ever feel something for you and that maybe he always has.

“Rodrick.”

He broke.

The sweetness in your voice, the care, warmth. Despite himself, a tear escaped, silently rolling down his cheek. He was already wiping it away before it could get far, a bitter taste in his mouth at the mere thought of seeming weak in front of anyone.

“Roddy…”

Another tear. Then when he felt your arms around him, he clung onto you like a lifeline, the fabric of your shirt bunching up in his grip. Such high walls he’d built up for years crumbling with just his name from your lips. A stupid nickname he scowled at when he was younger. One he’d frown at if anyone else called him that. But it was perfect coming from your lips. Everything was.

His eyes fluttered shut, his face buried into your neck as he held you against him. He took a deep breath, your scent filling his senses, wishing he could drown in it. The warmth of your body against his overrides his mind, leaving him breathless.

A few shuddering breaths later and he managed to gather himself enough to meet your gaze. His hands lingered on your waist, unwillingly to put much space between you. He leaned heavily into your touch when you gently cupped his cheek, nuzzling against your palm like he was starved of affection. He watched the way your eyes softened and he nearly trembled again.

“Do you…?” he managed after a moment, the question trailing off but the implication was clear. Did you love him? There was a long pause, your throat closing up as the threat of tears started to burn in your eyes. He swore his heart stopped when he saw you nod. His lips parted in surprise, feeling the world stop turning around him.

“Of course I do,” you mumbled, brushing the remnants of a tear from his cheek, feeling your own threaten to spill over. “And if you would listen once in a while instead of being a dumbass,” you added with a breathless laugh, a weak smile finding a way to both your lips. You took another deep breath, trying to calm the maelstrom of thoughts. You opened your mouth to speak before eventually closing it again, failing for the right words.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his hands moving to your back to push you flush against him. One hand stayed on the small of your back while his other hand found its way to your cheek, his touch nearly featherlight, a side to him that anyone would’ve deemed impossible years ago. His eyes flickered between your eyes and lips, a silent request and understanding passing between you without another word mumbled. With one more glance, his lips were on yours. He let out a shaky sigh against your lips when your hands found purchase in his hair. His hands moved to your hips, pushing and pulling you against him, trying to erase any possible distance.

The kiss broke, his forehead leaned against yours. He took a moment to catch his breath, still feeling the rush of emotions coursing through him. He watched the dazed smile on your lips, the smile mirrored into his own lips. His nose brushed against yours before he captured your lips in another soft kiss, needing some confirmation that this was real. With a quick break again, his lips were covering yours, deeper this time.

Maybe some instinct still lingered in his mind but his steps were clear as he backed you towards his bed. He was lost, unable to think about anything else but you, which wasn’t something he seemed to mind. He only managed to snap out of his trance when his lips felt cold again, realizing you’d broken away. Then your breathless laughter.

“Rodrick, have you forgotten your family and mine is currently in this house?” you reminded him, lightly pushing him back before your legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, already chasing after your lips again but you pushed him back again, a frown forming on his lips.

“I do,” you laughed. He pulled back, letting his hands hold your waist, scared that if he let go, you would disappear. “And… I don’t wanna rush this,” you added, lightly poking his chest. He rolled his eyes and eventually let go of you, flopping onto his bed.

“Whatever,” he jokingly grumbled, burying his face into his pillow. You scoffed and slapped his arm lightly. You could see the smile he tried to hide with the pillow.

“You’re really gonna be like that?” you sighed, sitting down on the bed beside him. His arm draped over your lap, trying to tug you closer.

“You could make it up to me,” he mumbled, picking his head up to look at you, a shit-eating smirk on his lips.

“I hate you,” you said, the smile on your lips conveying just the opposite. He sat up, his smirk softening into a smile. He leaned slightly closer, one hand resting on your hip while the other landed on your cheek again.

“Go tell them there’s a fire or something. Get them out of the house,” he jokingly ordered, a whine to his voice that earned a laugh from you. “So then I can have you to myself,” he added, letting his thumb trace over your bottom lip before pulling his hand away.

“Not sleeping with you,” you reminded, tilting your head slightly. He groaned loudly, flopping against the bed. “Yet.” He perked up again before groaning again, realizing that required waiting. He sighed, covering his face with his arm.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“I love you.”

He smiled, his eyes closing in bliss at those three words, never realizing how badly he’d longed to hear them fall from your lips.

“Not gonna say it back?” you teased, nudging his side.

“Was once not enough for you?” he jokingly shot back, peeking an eye open to look over at you. You shot him a stern look and he instantly caved. With a mock sigh of exasperation he spoke.

“I love you too.”

Your lips met his in a sweet, brief kiss, the gesture already seeming so natural.

He sighed when he felt weight lift off the mattress, watching as you started to head towards the bathroom.

“I’ve gotta shower,” you told him, lingering at the bottom of the steps.

“I could join you in there!” he called out, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Rodrick!” you scolded again. He snickered.

“I’m just saying!”

a/n: this has been in my drafts for probably a year now, sorry i’ve been MIA for forever hopefully more soon 🤞 also sorry if this feels a little unfinished there was a huge part i took out cause it just wasn’t fitting

[dark-vader28]

with both capcut and tiktok banned i might actually try to be productive 🙏 send requests if you have any!!

[dark-vader28]

so sorry about the lack of any fics lately, i have a million drafts and a bunch of requests im working on but i promise ill try to post soon!

[dark-vader28]

Hey. Just wondering if you are still taking requests for Marty Mcfly or just in general? Since you haven't posted in a while was just double checking before sending in any requests. Hope you're doing good.

hey! sorry i’ve just been really busy with home and school so I haven’t had much time to write lately but yeah my requests are still open and i’m working on a few of them right now. i’ll try to be posting soon!

[dark-vader28]

Movies

alex turner x reader

synopsis: alex is in love with you, boo. enjoy.

warnings: swearing, maybe a little angsty?

a/n: this was made at 3 in the morning and probably poorly proofread, fair warning

————————————————————————————

You and Alex were friends, sure, but you were those type of friends. The ones that anyone with a pair of eyes could see were in love with each other. But, like all melodrama TV and cliché romantic chick flicks, you both were oblivious. And your friends, rather than try and point it out, let you two waste your time dancing around one another. Which was fine (and entertaining), for a while, since neither of you dared to make a move. What’s more, you and Alex went on what anyone else would call dates, but you guys wouldn’t dare call it that. You went to diners, and movies, and parks all the time. Hell, Alex even took you to dinner, alone, when he turned 18 as a celebration. And if that wasn’t enough, the two of you held hands walking home, both of you claiming it was because “your hands were cold”, but you both knew that wasn’t the reason.

After finally working up the courage to actually do something, Alex planned a whole evening for the two of you. He heard you talking to one of your other friends about a movie that just came out in theaters. So, naturally, about 5 minutes later he was planning a date. A real date. But he wasn’t gonna tell you it was a real date until he had everything perfect.

The two of you went out for dinner at a restaurant near the theater. Sounds like your typical dinner and movie date which you somehow failed to pick up on. Alex couldn’t tell if he was relieved or beyond irritated that you hadn’t figured it out if yet. Not to mention, it was one of your favourite restaurants.

During the movie, Alex seemed to watch you about as much as he watched the screen. He always stole glances at you, some more subtle than others. He was still collecting his courage, bracing himself for when he’d actually tell you how he felt later in the night. Unfortunately, that had kept him on edge, which was something you did notice. So, for the entirety of the movie, you both kept your arms on the armrest, shoulders pressed against each other. Your idea, not his, but he was extremely grateful and also terrifyingly nervous from the gesture.

The two of you laughed and talked about the movie as you walked out of the theater room like you always did, stepping out of the silence so you could be as loud as you wanted. Your jokes seemed to ease his nervousness for the moment but as the two of you approached the exit, his nerves doubled. He had originally told you that it was just gonna be dinner and a movie, but he had other plans. Now he’d have to work up the courage to actually ask you to accompany him on those plans.

When the two of you stepped out of the theater, Alex’s heart dropped. It was raining. Fuck, it was raining. He let out a heavy sigh and a groan, slumping his shoulders as the ran pattered on the ground. This was the exact opposite of what he planned.

You, however, lit up when you saw it was raining. When a quiet laugh fell from your lips as you stepped out into the rain, Alex’s grumpy demeanor almost faded. Almost. But the realization that everything he had planned had now gone to shit had completely ruined his mood.

You stepped into the mostly empty parking lot, letting the rain fall onto you. Your hair and clothes were staring to become damp but you hardly cared. You didn’t care about anything, really, until you saw that frown on Alex’s face as he stood off by the theater, away from the rain.

“What’s wrong, Aly?” you called out to him, staying out in the rain. He was used to the nickname you gave him, but it still made butterflies form in his stomach like some schoolgirl with a crush. And the nickname is exactly what had him reluctantly walking over to you, letting the rain fall onto him now as he made his way towards you.

“It’s raining,” he stated grumpily, nearly pouting like a toddler who didn’t get their way. It was a little amusing but you decided to push past it and try to lift his spirits.

“It’s not that bad. It’s not a far walk back to my house,” you started to sympathize, hoping to ease that look of irritation in his eyes. He was quick to cut you off, speaking over you, which was rare.

“It’s not about the walk,” he quickly said, speaking faster than he normally did. “I had this all planned out perfectly,” he mumbled, seeming like he was talking to himself. He put his head down, his eyes fluttering shut, like he was trying to shut down.

“Had what planned out?” you asked curiously, your interest piqued. As far as you knew, this was just supposed to be a movie date (a friendly date, of course).

Alex threw his hand up in an annoyed gesture before rubbing his brow, trying to calm down. “I was gonna take you to the perfect spot, watch the stupid stars with you, make the perfect moment and finally tell you.” It didn’t seem like he was talking to you. His eyes were shut, his brow furrowed, his expression showing clear signs of frustration. But, despite his demeanor, your heart fluttered at his words. He was gonna do all that for you?

Before you could get a word in, he was complaining again, turning his head away from you as he shook his head with annoyance. “God, of course this had to happen. Of course it had to fucking rain.”

“Alex,” you quickly intervened, stopping him before he beat himself up anymore. “What were you gonna tell me?” you asked, stepping into his line of vision to bring his attention back to you and away from his thoughts. Alex sighed, taking one look in your eyes before the words came tumbling from his lips.

“I like you,” he blurted out, his voice rushed and even a bit desperate. But those words were enough to send your heart rate skyrocketing. You weren’t blind. In the back of your mind you had always assumed it there was something between the two of you, but the reality and the truth felt like a wave of emotions washed over you.

“Alex,” you sighed, your gaze softening to a level of affection and outright longing. But you didn’t get a chance to say anything else before he was speaking again.

“I was gonna tell you how I can’t imagine a future where you’re not in it. How it simultaneously feels easier and harder to breathe around you, because you’re the only one that calms me down but you’re the only one that makes my heart stop, just from the mere sight of you.” He was rambling now. Well, slowly rambling, like he was struggling for all the right words to finally convey what he felt. “It feels like I’m one of those toys you have to wind up. Every time you leave, I stop. But every time you return, you wind me up again. And it’s a continuous notion, the same repeating pattern. And I’m so far down the rabbit hole of my love for you that I don’t see the light anymore. There’s no way out, and I’m forced to just accept that I don’t want anyone but you.”

You didn’t know if the world stopped or if that was your heart stopping. It felt harder to breathe, like you had just gotten the wind knocked out of you. Your eyes searched his, trying to read his expression to see if this was some sort of cruel joke but all you saw was an unfathomable amount of love and sincerity. And pain. Like it hurt for him to tell you all this.

You were speechless. You opened your mouth, hoping the words were come out, but you shut it again when all you did was stammer for a moment. Your eyes darted around, trying to remind yourself of your surroundings but it felt like everything was fading into the background and all that mattered was him. The rain against your skin, soaking your clothes and hair seemed to fade and any sound other than his voice was nearly nonexistent.

“You’ve ruined me, love,” Alex spoke quietly, drawing your attention back to him. “I can’t think of another without imagining you instead. I can’t even walk down the street without passing by somewhere that reminds me of you, and it’s all I think about.” He sighed, rubbing his eye as a way of trying to calm himself. When he opened his eyes and met your gaze again, that’s when you finally saw the glassy look in his eyes, realizing he was close to tears. That instantly made your eyes burn.

“I tried to get over this. I did,” he went on, his voice a bit more choked up at first, an obvious sign of his tears. “Because I’d rather at least have you in my life as a friend than not have you at all. But, God, love, you’ve completely taken up my mind. You own half my heart. Fuck, you probably own it all.”

You wanted to stop him and finally tell him that you felt the same, but all the words were caught in your throat. Your mind went blank and the only thing that filled your head was his words. They repeated on loop in your mind, echoing as if they were tormenting you, in the best and worst way possible.

The problem is, if you didn’t shut him up, he was gonna keep talking.

“I wanted this to be perfect.” He sighed in defeat, looking around aimlessly at the nearly vacant parking lot of the theater. He bit his bottom lip for a moment, staring at the pavement. You knew that look. He was close to breaking. “I took you to that restaurant I knew you liked, I know you like the movies and I heard you talking about going to see that one, and I remember you liked looking at the stars, and you like flowers, and I knew the perfect spot for all that, and I-”

“Alex,” you interjected, trying to speak over him but he interrupted you before you could continue.

“’M sorry, love,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as he kept his head down. You didn’t know if it was tears or the rain but water ran down his cheeks, a few drops on his eyelashes. “But you have me whipped. It feels like I need you more than air. You’re all I think about, all I talk about. The mere idea of getting to see you has me more awake than any shot of espresso could make me. You’re like-”

Whatever words he wanted to say died on his tongue when your lips pressed against his. His whole body tensed, his mind going into overdrive. He had dreamt of his moment a million times, and he had created the perfect image of this moment with the two of you under the stars, just as he thought you wanted. But here you were, under a cloudy sky with rain cascading down on the both of you. Your clothes were nearly soaked now, stuck against your skin, but that all felt insignificant.

He couldn’t come to his senses, completely frozen from the feeling of your lips on his. When you pulled away, his mind went blank for a brief moment before swarming with thoughts and realization. He opened his mouth, planning on blurting out one of the million questions in his mind. But he shut his mouth as quickly as he had opened it, deciding all his questions were meaningless because you had answered them all with your kiss.

Once his mind finally caught up, he drew you back in, his hands gently cradling your face as he brought his lips to yours again. Everything else faded away because this was all that mattered… you were all that mattered to him.

[dark-vader28]

7

wpsiatwin!alex x fem!reader

synopsis: all based around the song 7

warnings: alcohol, swearing (like once?)

You pulled open the door to the bar and let it swing shut behind you. You slid into a stool at the bar, slipping out of your jacket. The bartender walked over to you, cleaning a glass. You ordered the same thing you always got. Waiting patiently, you glanced around at the other faces in the bar, recognizing a few of the regulars. The same couple near the back who sat way too close to each other and spent more time making out then drinking, the same middle-aged man who drank the same beer every night there was a game playing on the tv, the same kid who was barely old enough to drink who would end the night hurling into a toilet.

The bartender set your drink down and you smiled and nodded as a thank you. You took a few sips, scanning the room again. Your eyes found a boy with short brown hair, a white t-shirt with a hoodie over it, and a bottle of beer in his hands. You glanced away, trying not to stare. You rested your elbow on the counter and rested your face in your hand. You stole another look at him and for a moment caught his eyes staring back at yours. He quickly snapped his eyes away from you and a smile started to form on your lips. A blush crept on your face and you turned your attention away.

This went on for a while, stolen inviting glances and thoughts racing through your head. He was panicked, desperately wishing he had an ounce of courage that could convince him to finally go talk to you but he was frozen, only able to make the eyes at you. He went through a few bottles of beer and you went through a few glasses of your own drink. He had his number scribbled down on a napkin, something he had never done before, hoping he’d give it to you before the end of the night. When he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he left money for his drinks and rushed out the door. You watched with sad, disappointed eyes as the doors closed behind him. You slammed the rest of your drink, feeling the alcohol burn down your throat. You thought about following him out but thought better of it.

You waited a while, running your fingertip over the rim of the glass as you stared blankly at the counter. You shook your head, clearing your mind. You paid for your drinks and fled the bar quickly. If you had stayed even a few more seconds, you might’ve caught Alex running back into the bar to come and talk to you after being eaten alive by regret. But he was left disappointed when you had vanished from the bar, nothing left in your place but a dirty glass. He trudged home, thinking of you the whole time with the napkin with his number on it crumbled in his pocket.

It was a while before you went back to that bar, too busy with the other shit in your life to enjoy a drink. You swung the bar door open, drowning in the sounds inside. A crowd cheered and booed for the teams on the tv and a smile started to creep on your lips. You had missed this place.

You started to head to the same seat you always sat in. Normally no one sat in the seats near it but this time there was someone right beside it. In that all familiar hoodie, you recognized the guy you had seen last time you were here. You slid into your seat, looking straight ahead, pretending not to notice him, as you tried to fight back the smile starting to form. You felt his eyes on you, looking shocked but all the more delighted to see you.

He offered to buy you a drink and then the two of you finally started talking, getting along easier than you had with anyone in a while. You talked about anything, everything and nothing. Talking about music, movies, stupid embarrassing stories that left you both in a fit of laughter. You often got distracted, studying all his features and listening to his voice, not his words, as he told stories. You could listen to him talk for hours.

As the night neared its end and the bar was closing up, you scribbled your number on a napkin and gave it to him. “Before you run out on me again,” you teased as he glanced at your number. And there was that stunned look of happiness is those brown doe eyes again. A smile formed on your lips and you walked backwards out the bar just so you could see that look in his eyes a moment longer. You started to walk down the street to your car but you stopped. You ran back to the bar and back to Alex. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head slightly when he saw you, opening his mouth to ask if you had forgotten something but you cupped his face with one hand and pressed your lips to his cheek. His eyes widened slightly and he felt his face go red. A grin stretched across your face and you glanced at his flustered, panicked expression for a moment before running out the bar.

He called you later that night, saying he couldn’t wait.

And he said he’d pick you up at 7 tomorrow.

[dark-vader28]

i can’t stop thinking about prof!alex turner im actually going insane

[dark-vader28]

sorry i’ve disappeared for like a month 😭 i have so many drafts and a few anon requests im working on, but i’ll try and post something soon

[dark-vader28]

before I start I love your work you’re literally my favourite writer on tumblr atm :)

(I never do requests so I might be a bit stiff 😭)

I was wondering if you could do something where the reader is Rodricks neighbour and one of his best friends. And it’s like friends to lovers?

Rodrick takes us on drives with his van often and loves spending time with us. And then one day he confesses. (Idk I’m waffling atp)

aww this is so cute i love this idea and tysm!!

a/n: i’m sorry this is so lazy and poorly edited, i’ve just been so swamped with work but i didn’t wanna wait any longer to write this cause it’s such a cute idea.

———

Greg and Rowley were getting tossed around in the back of Rodrick’s van, flying across with every bump in the road. Music blasted through the van and out the open windows as you and Rodrick sat in the front. For a moment you felt bad for the two boys in the back, one of them being your best friend’s younger brother. But you were over the feeling as Rodrick air-drummed along to the song, nearly crashing the car for the millionth time. You’d gotten used to his reckless driving and if anything, you enjoyed it like it was some rollercoaster.

The van slammed to a stop at Rodrick’s house and Greg slammed against the back of your seat, causing you to laugh. You turned to look back at them, unbuckling your seatbelt in the meantime. They both looked horrified, wide-eyed and disheveled clothing and hair, but they didn’t look hurt. No visible signs of bruises or bleeding anyway.

The radio shut off and you hurried out the car and to the back to help Greg and Rowley out. You knew Rodrick wasn’t the biggest fan of either of them but you didn’t mind them and the sinking feeling of guilt started to return as you watched them stumble out the car.

“Guess he shouldn’t have taken out the seats in the back,” you commented, grabbing Greg’s backpack that had been thrown around.

“Ya think?” Greg replied, pissy and sarcastic. Rowley scrambled to his feet, swinging his backpack onto both shoulders.

“Maybe I can convince Rodrick to let me drive next time, alright?” you suggested.

“Only if you’re better than that,” Greg scowled, glaring at Rodrick who was running inside.

“Be nice,” you warned.

“Why?! Rodrick nearly killed us!” Greg defended.

“He’s my best friend like Rowley is yours. Be nice or I won’t do you a favour and ask Rodrick if I could drive.” Greg frowned but kept his mouth shut, dragging Rowley along with him as they ran inside.

You were closing up the back of the van when Rodrick came running back out. You heard his quiet footsteps and quickly turned around before he could try and scare you.

“You know, maybe I should drive next time,” you told him, going to the passenger seat to grab your backpack.

“What? No way,” Rodrick replied without missing a beat. Your backpack hung from one shoulder as you closed the car door.

“Why not?” you questioned.

“My van, my keys,” he said, dangling his keys in the air. “I drive.”

“Yeah, well one day you’re gonna end up killing Greg and Rowley back there,” you added, shooting him a disapproving look.

“So?” he retorted. You pushed his shoulder, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as you hid a smile.

“You’re a douche, you know that?” you laughed, heading towards your house (which was right beside Rodrick’s). He followed after you. He tossed an arm around your shoulder, a gesture he started doing more and more often that you had grown accustomed to.

“Well, chicks dig bad boys,” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes again, pushing him off of you and he laughed harder.

Rodrick stayed over until about 7 that night, leaving when he figured he should go home before his mom had a fit about him missing family dinner. The two of you hung out nearly every night. More often than not, you were at his house, sat in his garage as he played drums or in his room watching scary movies until you were left holding onto him. You often weren’t that scared but watching horror movies at 3am is a different story. The only reason you ever hung out at your house was when Rowley was hanging out with Greg to spare the both of you from being bothered by them.

You and Rodrick had been friends since your family moved to town. The house right beside the Heffley’s was for sale and your father bought it without hesitation. You then met Rodrick at school, around the beginning of 8th grade. The two of you were sat in the back and you made some half-witted comment about how arbitrary and ridiculous the lecture and class was. Rodrick overheard and the two of you spent the next few weeks insulting and cracking jokes about the teacher in that class. Your desks would always scoot closer together and you had to cover your mouth to stifle the laughter and hide the smiles. By the end of 8th grade, you had spent a majority of the year sitting at his lunch table and hanging out after school. You used to go to the park near your house and torment the other kids there; hiding behind play structures and jumping out to scare them. It became more after that, especially when high school hit. You used to spend an afternoon together once in a while but he started to become an everyday thing, taking drives together when he somehow managed to get his license. Fortunately for the two of you, Rodrick’s mom adored you. Which may be why his parents never had a problem with you spending endless nights there.

But, despite what your parents thought at first and what Greg and Rowley think, you never had any romantic feelings for him. He didn’t feel like a brother to you either considering the way you saw Rodrick and Greg relentlessly bicker and fight. You weren’t like that with Rodrick. Sure, you teased one another but never fought in the way you’d watched Greg and Rodrick fight. You loved Rodrick, not in a brotherly way or in a “i’m in love with you, and i know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable” way. Or at least you thought.

Saturday evening rolled around and you sat up against the headboard of your bed, flipping through some old book you’d had for years. Your eyes flicked over the pages, hardly taking in and reading a single word. Your headphones blared music into your ears and you couldn’t help but tap the spine of the book along to the rhythm until you lost all interest in the book’s entirety. You tossed it aside, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. Normally, it would’ve been a day where you and Rodrick hung out but he had never picked up the phone and called you, or came pounding on your door, or even had failed attempts at climbing through your window (considering your parents were a little less fond of Rodrick, calling him a bad influence and whatnot). His absence left your day empty and it felt tedious with how slow the hours seemed to pass.

Around 9 o’clock, when you planned on having an early night due to your lack of things to do, you could hear honking from the front of your house. Then a shout of your name echoed through the house. You pulled on a jacket, covering up your bare arms, and practically flew down the stairs. Your mom stood at the front door, arms folded over her chest with a scowl.

“That boy, Rodrick, is honking outside. I just put your sister to bed and now she’s up, crying,” your mom frowned. You pursed your lips briefly and glanced at the door.

“Sorry, mom,” you mumbled, sliding into a pair of shoes before hurrying out the door. As you closed it behind you, you saw Rodrick hanging out the window of his van, one hand over the horn while the other held him up. His hand seemed to slip and he honked again. You rushed to the car and hit him as he flopped down into his seat. “Quit honking, or my mom’s gonna kill you,” you urged. Despite the darkness of the night, the pale moonlight lit up his face just enough to see the red of his cheeks as he looked away from you.

“Get in then, or I’ll honk again,” Rodrick joked and you rolled your eyes, smiling, before willingly getting in the passenger side.

“I should’ve asked, where exactly are we going?” you asked, turning your attention to him as he began driving. He was driving slower and much more carefully than he ever had before. His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug and he failed to look in your direction.

“I just wanted to take a drive,” he replied simply, sounding a little sheepish, which wasn’t like him. Taking drives with him wasn’t an unusual thing per se, but the way he seemed quieter and damn near stunned around you hadn’t fit his typical demeanor. Quite frankly, it worried you.

“Don’t you have a curfew?” you asked. He tapped the wheel, looking nearly everywhere but you. He nodded cautiously.

“Yeah, 9 o’clock,” he muttered. You laughed a bit, hoping it would lighten the mood or ease the tension that was weighing a ton.

“Well then, Rodrick, I-” but he interrupted.

“Have you ever liked anyone?” he blurted out. Your brow furrowed, stunned by the randomness of the question. His knuckles looked white from the way he gripped the steering wheel and you feared he would break it off.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” you questioned, avoiding answering. He drew in a sharp breath.

“I was just wondering,” he replied. You bit the inside of your cheek, hesitating on your response.

“Why, you like someone?” you asked, still delaying your answer as you tried to conjure up something to say. What did it matter to him? Better yet, why had the question made you so nervous? You and Rodrick told each other nearly everything. Rodrick ran to you asking for advice when he had a crush on Heather Hills. Why was it so different now?

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t,” he added, his voice going even quieter.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t?” you inquired. His jaw clenched and he brought the car to a stop. You looked around outside for a moment. There were no houses. There was nothing at all really. Just empty land.

It was silent except for the distant chirp of crickets. It took Rodrick a moment before he finally spoke. “Y/n, I-” he stopped, finally looking at you. All words escaped his mind and the rest of his sentence trailed off. He averted his gaze as quickly as he had found it and cleared his throat. He shook his head and shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He buried his face in his hands and your worry reached its peak. He seemed outright miserable.

“I like you,” he spoke, voice muffled by his hands. Your jaw went slack and eyes went wide.

“What?” you asked quietly, not because you hadn’t heard but because you couldn’t fathom the fact he liked you of all people.

He lifted his face out of his hands and repeated himself, louder this time. “I like you.” Your gaze softened.

“Rodrick,” you began softly. His hands fell to his lap, then raised again and gripped the wheel, running his hands over it. Your mind was going nearly a million miles an hour, trying to sort out his and your own feelings. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest and you could hear the thump of it through the silence. You were hoping he would say something as you tried to carefully pick out your words but your head was just a jumble of all the things you wished you could say.

“Yeah, no, I get it,” he said, sounding defeated. You shook your head and your mouth opened but no words seemed to pour out. When there was a lack of your response, Rodrick jumped in. “I’ll take you home. Forget this ever happened, alright?” He finally met your gaze again and you could see the way his eyes were glassy and on the verge of bloodshot. You felt your eyes start to pool up. He turned his attention to the road and started up the car again.

“Rod, I, um, I didn’t mean for you to take it like that.” You desperately racked your brain for any of the right words that seemed to be forming on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t deliver it properly. “To be honest, I don’t know how I feel.” You let out a light laugh, keeping yourself from the tears about to flow down your cheeks.

You were so enveloped in your mess of thoughts, you hadn’t noticed when Rodrick’s van pulled to a stop right in front of your house. You swallowed the lump in your throat and a hot tear rolled down your cheek. You’d come to the realization you liked him too, and maybe that you always had. It had never made sense to you though; that you felt that way for him. It didn’t made sense now either but it was clear that you did. You both got out of his van and you rushed over to his side. He was heading up his driveway and you stepped in front of him. He stopped, looked down at you through a few strands of his dark shaggy hair that covered his glassy doe brown eyes and you felt your heart stop for a moment. You cupped his face, and moved up to press your lips to his. There was a moment of bliss and ignorance where it felt like the world fell away. But you felt him tense underneath your touch and you slipped away. You let your hand fall away and felt the sinking feeling of regret in your stomach as you started walking away. Maybe if you had seen the dorky bright smile illuminate Rodrick’s face as you walked away, you might’ve felt better but you scurried home and spent the rest of the night thinking you made the worst decision of your life; ruining your friendship with Rodrick in a way that couldn’t be recovered.

The doorbell echoed through the house, startling you awake. You groaned, rubbing your eyes and turning on your side to look at your alarm clock. It was barely 9 am. You yawned and stretched as you sat up, finally getting up as the doorbell rang impatiently again. Your eyes had dark rings and were still red from your night of crying over Rodrick (shamefully and feeling ridiculously stupid for caring so much) but you hardly thought about how you looked as you stumbled to the door. The doorbell rang a 3rd time and you were sure your parents would be mad at you for not answering the door sooner. You swung the door open carelessly, not bothering to look through the peephole first. Despite your tiredness blinding your senses, the strong scent of flowers filled your nose when the door opened and when your eyes focused, you noticed the bright arrangement of colors before you, all blooming and full of life, which you weren’t sure you’d be able to maintain for long.

“My mom picked them, I didn’t know what you like,” the voice mumbled. Your attention flicked up from the flowers to the one holding them. You suddenly wished you looked better; your hair tangled from bedhead, bloodshot eyes, and some old tank top and pajama pants you had for years. Your eyes found Rodrick’s deep brown eyes and messy hair with a crooked smile on his lips. You nearly swooned, gaze softening as you could feel your heart melt.

“Rodrick,” you started quietly. He held the flowers out to you and you took them, a grin spreading across your face. You were speechless. You never took him as the type to give flowers, especially after one impulsive kiss. Not to your knowledge, Rodrick had run to his mom that night and begged her to help him. He didn’t trust most of her advice but took her ideas and turned them into The Rodrick Way. Except for the flowers. That was all his mom’s idea.

“Wanna take a drive?”

———

a/n (again): this was kinda lazy and i hate this but i felt bad for postponing posting this for so long and i can’t keep rereading this and trying to fix it 😭 anyway, i loved the request so much!

[dark-vader28]

Aoao, your post about Roderick Heffley is so deeply imprinted in my heart. Can I make a request for Rodrik/reader(girl)?

The reader is the younger sister of one of Rodrick's friends from the rock band. (just a year younger than our emo boy😉)How about, Roderick himself doesn't realize that he has fallen in love with a friend's YOUNGER sister, the reader's brother with "What the hell dude!? She's my sister!" and Rodrik's graduation ball, to which he confusedly invites the reader...

Sorry for the English, I hope everything was clear 🙏

pls i love this idea so much im climbing the walls

———

Löded Diper, your brother’s band, was practicing tonight. Normally, you took no interest in it and it had little to no importance to you, but tonight was a different set of circumstances. Your parents were off to dinner and they demanded that you and your brother hang out, no matter where it was that you went. Not to your surprise, your brother was quick to call up the rest of his band and suggest they rehearse. Which meant you were forced to go along.

His car rolled to a stop on the Heffley’s driveway, the garage open with the other band mates standing around the drum set with the name Löded Diper painted on it. You groaned as you exited the car, realizing you were to spend the rest of your night listening to them play.

Your brother greeted the rest of the band, already exchanging jokes and banter. You had been relieved that they hadn’t noticed you and you snuck past them, hoping to find some spot in the corner where you wouldn’t receive any attention.

As you searched for a neat spot to sit (without spiders), the laughter seemed to stop and the room was quiet except for the shuffle of your feet against the floor. You froze before turning around to face the band.

“Who’s that?” the one sitting at the drums asked, pointing at you with his drumstick. You narrowed your eyes slightly, glaring at the boy for his lack of manners.

“Is that your girlfriend?” another asked and a chorus of “ooh”s and laughter filled the air. Your brother was quick to dismiss it, hushing the band.

“Gross, man, she’s my sister!” he shouted over them. Your arms crossed over your chest as they all simmered down. “She has to stay here. She won’t talk or do anything,” then he turned to you, “right?”

“Yes sir,” you mocked sarcastically, flopping yourself down into an old lawn chair you found.

It wasn’t long before the floor was practically vibrating with the volume of their music and the sounds filled your ears. You sat and picked at your nails, imagining what the family inside the home must’ve thought of the blaring music coming from the garage. Surely if it were you, you would’ve been exhausted of hearing your son play all the time.

They played for hours but it hadn’t felt as long as you thought it would’ve felt. You had spaced out most of the time, daydreaming of anything your mind dreamt up which occupied your time. Occasionally, you found yourself unconsciously tapping the armrest to the rhythm of whatever tune they were playing but you would stop anytime you caught yourself doing it.

It was pushing 10 o’clock when two of them started to pack up. Unfortunately, your brother was not one of them. Even after the departure of two band mates, your brother and the drummer played on for a few painfully long songs.

You were on the edge of the seat, elbows resting on your thighs as you anxiously fidgeted with the rings on your fingers. The final song wrapped up and you clapped absentmindedly and your brother gave you a puzzled look, assuming you had been paying no attention.

Your brother started to pack up his guitar and you rose out of your seat, eager to leave. You were already exiting the garage when your brother stopped you.

“Slow down. I’m going to the bathroom first, then we’ll leave,” your brother explained before rushing off to the bathroom. You lightly sighed and turned back to the garage. The drummer was pacing around, avoiding looking even in the vicinity of you, as he spun the drumstick around in his hand.

Your brother seemed to be M.I.A., leaving you and his drummer alone in the garage for an extended period of time. Trying to soothe the awkwardness and silence in the room, you attempted to spark up a conversation.

“I never got your name,” you spoke quietly, turning to face him. His pacing came to a halt and he glanced at you.

“Why do you wanna know my name?” he asked curiously, sounding mildly irritated. You rolled your eyes and sighed lightly.

“I was just trying to make small talk, alright?” you explained, frustrated. It was a simple question, you didn’t understand why he was trying to make a big deal out of it.

After a moment of silence, he finally answered. “It’s Rodrick,” he mumbled. He stole another glance at you. “You?”

“Y/n,” you replied, letting a small smile stretch across your lips. A grin began to form on Rodrick’s face, lighting up from your smile. He faced away from you, trying to cover it up.

The room went still again and you caught Rodrick stealing glances at you as his pacing resumed. You walked to the driveway and sat down, looking up at the stars, waiting to leave. You could hear Rodrick stop, and you turned back to catch him staring at you, brows furrowed. You shifted your gaze back to the stars, admiring the way they lit up the darkness of the sky. Footsteps shuffled closer to you and Rodrick was sat beside you, leaving a wide space between the two of you. Both of his drumsticks tapped against his leg as he looked around anxiously.

“How do you do that drumstick spin?” you asked curiously, turning your attention to him. “I saw you do it when you guys were playing.” He shrugged a little, seemingly acting shy or embarrassed. “Could you teach me?” you asked quietly and a faint smile started to stretch across his lips.

It was a little while before your brother had returned, mouth full of food. You and Rodrick had been talking as he tried to teach you. You both turned around, pausing your movement with the drumsticks, as your brother stumbled out the door.

“Man, you’ve got some great food in there,” he started, muffled and laughing. His face dropped when he noticed you were beside Rodrick, closer than you had started. He pointed between the two of you and started to swallow the rest of the food in his mouth so his next string of words would be clear. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” you replied, standing up. Rodrick quickly scrambled to his feet after you, nearly falling over again. “I just asked Rodrick to teach me something.” You were being vague and you could tell it was setting your brother off.

“Y/n, get in the car. I need to talk to Rodrick,” your brother demanded. You frowned a little.

Handing Rodrick’s drumstick back to him, you walked to the car and tossed yourself in the passenger seat, slamming the door shut. You pouted slightly, crossing your arms over your chest. Despite your initial thought of Rodrick, you had a better time talking to him than most guys your age. Granted, Rodrick was only a year older, but it was different. Maybe it was the added aspect of him being your brother’s bandmate that made it more exciting. But you were unbothered by that fact, you had just wished you had gotten to talk to him more.

Rodrick and your brother talked for a while and when your brother got in the car, he seemed pissed. He stayed silent through the car ride and the tension was practically suffocating you. It’s not like you and Rodrick had done anything.

Your parents were already home by the time you pulled into the driveway. They were sat on the couch, watching some movie together. It was nearly 10:30 but your parents had long since given up on a curfew for the two of you.

You greeted your parents and wished them goodnight before running off to your room. You hoped your brother wouldn’t hold a grudge against you and the whole Rodrick thing would just blow over in the morning. Unfortunately, that wasn’t Rodrick’s intention.

The bell rang, signaling the school day’s end. Kids poured out of classrooms, their laughter and shouts filling the hall. You rushed to your locker and fumbled for the lock.

You and your brother had worked things out. He had told you just to stay away from Rodrick and he said he had told Rodrick the same thing. Seems like Rodrick missed that part.

A hand slammed your locker shut, startling you. A tall figure with dark messy hair and some sort of graphic t-shirt tucked only in the front behind a pair of jeans stood there. Rodrick smirked, leaning up against the locker next to yours. You were stunned, a half full backpack in your hands with your jaw hanging slack.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, pushing him away as you started to unlock your locker once more.

“I go to school here,” he retorted. You rolled your eyes and quickly shoved the rest of your things in your bag.

“No shit?” you questioned sarcastically, closing your locker. His brow furrowed. “I meant what are you doing talking to me?” He smiled, looking away from you.

“Well, I decided I don’t care what your brother tells me to do,” he replied simply, a smirk still plastered on his lips. God, you wished you could smack it off.

“So, what, you wanna talk to me now?” you pestered, zipping up your backpack and slinging it on one shoulder.

“Who said I didn’t want to talk to you before?” he blurted out. He froze, shutting his eyes in embarrassment. You could feel a slight blush creep on your face but you dismissed it, shaking your head. You started to walk away but Rodrick followed, still trying to keep your attention.

“Do you need something from my brother or are you really just here to bother me?” you asked as you pushed open the front doors, exiting the school. Rodrick grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side, away from the crowd of students eager to get home.

“This isn’t about your brother. You could come over and I could finish teaching you-” he rambled but you stopped him.

“You must be crazy, Rodrick. If my brother sees me standing here with you right now, I’m as good as dead, and so are you,” you urged, trying to walk away from him but he pulled you back.

“Then come over tonight. Just you. He won’t see then,” Rod suggested. Your jaw seemed to drop a little and you nearly gave in. You shook your head.

“No, no, no, he’ll ask where I was or where i’m going and he won’t stop until he figures it out,” you tried to explain, attempting to flee one last time but he pulled you back.

“Then just lie. If he asks me, I’ll do the same.” You paused, and swallowed a lump in your throat.

“Why are you so determined to talk to me?” you questioned, looking at him puzzled. He looked down, biting the inside of his cheek. He shrugged and his eyes looked everywhere but you.

You hated to admit it but you were disappointed. You were hoping to get an answer out of Rodrick but as the moments passed and there was nothing but shared silence between you two, you left. And that night, you almost considered going over to his house but you thought better of it and stayed home.

The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that. And for a little while after that. He incessantly pestered you day after day. Some days, he only spoke to you briefly, asking if you knew whether or not your brother was coming over for a band rehearsal. Other days, it seemed like he didn’t know your brother existed and he only asked about you. It was getting easier to tell him no, even if you wanted to say yes. He was expecting rejection.

By the second week of asking, he was losing interest and would take no as answer right away instead of asking repeatedly after that. And on Friday, he didn’t ask at all. You saw him walking to his van, headphones in with his head down. You frowned, watching him tentatively, hoping he was fetching something from the car and he would turn back and ask you.

As the weekend came along, you tapped your desk with your pen. There was a pile of crumbled up papers beside you and your notebook was nearly halfway ripped out. You frustratedly drew a bunch of scribbles on the page when no words would come out. You torn the piece of paper out and crumbled it, tossing it with the rest of the papers. You gave up, tossing your pen on your desk and turning to your bed. You flopped down and stared at your ceiling blankly. You hadn’t managed to stop thinking about Rodrick since you had seen him walking away. You shut your eyes, trying to clear your head.

Rodrick was doing the same in his room. He blasted music in his ears, trying to occupy his time. Calling him head over heels was an understatement, but it was a statement he couldn’t wrap his head around. You were annoyed because you couldn’t stop thinking about him for a day. He’d been hung up on you for weeks. At first, he thought nothing of it. He thought you were cool, cooler than your brother, and he just wanted to talk to you again. But the more he saw you and the more he talked you (even though every time you spoke, you were turning him down), he was becoming crazy over you. He’d do anything to impress you, making a fool of himself in the process. He wished you would notice him. Every band rehearsal he had, he prayed that your brother would bring you along again. He was always disappointed. But he would never say he had feelings cause he didn’t believe he had any for you.

It was Saturday night and your guilt was eating you alive. You paced your room for a while, trying to clear your thoughts but nothing worked. You ended up surrendering into temptation. You booked it downstairs and swiped the car keys off the counter. Unfortunately, your brother was downstairs.

“Where are you going?” he asked, stopping you at the door.

“My friend’s house, why?” you replied innocently, hiding your intentions.

“Then why are you in a hurry?” he questioned. You racked your brain for a response and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Girl problems,” you answered, knowing he wouldn’t ask anymore questions after that. He made a face of disgust and walked back to the couch. You let out a light sigh of relief before scurrying out the door.

It wasn’t long before you pulled to a stop in the Heffley’s driveway. You nervously walked up the front steps and hesitated before ringing the doorbell. You thought you had the wrong house when a boy, who looked to be only 12, answered the door.

“Is Rodrick here?” you asked cautiously, anxiously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. The boy’s jaw dropped and he glanced back inside the house.

“You’re here for Rodrick?” he marveled. “Rodrick?” he asked again in shock. You smiled a little, some of the nervousness easing. He remained stunned as he invited you in.

“Who was it?” a woman’s voice called from the kitchen. You started to realize how much of mistake this was. The boy looked at you again.

“What’s your name?” he asked quietly.

“Y/n,” you mumbled.

“It’s one of Rodrick’s friends, Y/n,” the boy answered. You could hear footsteps coming closer now and you panicked, wishing you could turn back and flee.

“But y/n sounds like a girl’s name,” the woman spoke quietly and she seemed pleasantly surprised when her eyes found you. You didn’t look like most of Rodrick’s friends. Sure, this wasn’t the best you looked but you were more put together than the rest of his friends.

“Oh! Hi!” she exclaimed. Oh god, you thought to yourself, I’m meeting his parents. “I’m Susan, Rodrick’s mom. It’s so good to meet you,” she went on, extending her hand out to you. You felt bad considering your hands were a bit clammy from all the anxiety you felt, but you shook her hand anyway out of politeness. “Greg, will you go get Rodrick?” she asked the boy and he nodded and reluctantly ran up the stairs.

“I-I didn’t mean to interrupt or show up at a bad time or anything,” you stuttered but she smiled and shook her head.

“Nonsense! Would you like to stay for dinner?” she offered. Your eyes widened a little.

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you,” you quickly replied. Footsteps came running down the stairs and your attention diverted. The boy, alongside Rodrick, came running down the stairs. Your heart seemed to be pounding out of your chest, thumping obnoxiously in your ears. Your eyes frantically looked between the three of them. You could only assume your face was turning red.

“Why have you never told me about her, Rodrick?” Susan asked, a smile still on her face. “She seems lovely.” You forced a polite smile but it faltered when you caught Rodrick’s eye.

“Guess I forgot,” he lied.

“Uh, Rodrick?” you asked, your voice breaking. You cleared your throat. “Can i talk to you?” A small smirk started to form on his lips.

“Yeah, come on, we can talk in my room,” he suggested. You swallowed a lump in your throat and followed him carefully up the stairs. Your eyes were glassy and you could feel your lip start to bleed as you continuously chewed on it.

His room was in the attic which only distanced you further away from your escape route. He flopped down onto his bed, resting his back against the headboard and crossing his legs over one another. He put his hands behind his head, the smirk still on his lips.

“So, you changed your mind, huh?” Rodrick chuckled. You could feel the pink rush to your cheeks, wishing he hadn’t looked as good as he did. But, god, you wished you could slap him and take the smirk away from his face.

“If my brother finds out,” you pause, stepping closer to him. “If you tell him, Rodrick, I will-”

“You’ll what, sweetheart?” Rodrick teased, leaning forward so he was closer to you. He chuckled when your jaw went slack, flustered and speechless.

You managed to regain your confidence and you pushed him away from you so he was leaning against the headboard again.

“I’m leaving. This was a mistake,” you explained, ready to dash for the exit. Rodrick was already on his feet and blocking the staircase within the blink of an eye.

“How is this a mistake?” he asked, keeping you from leaving. You sighed and tried to push him aside but he fought back.

“Rodrick,” you warned but he didn’t budge.

“If this is a mistake, why’d you come here in the first place?” Rodrick asked, searching your eyes for an answer. You paused, looking away. Your shoulders shrugged and you could hear him faintly sigh.

“How come you keep trying to talk to me at school? I met you once at a band rehearsal, it was nothing!” Your voice was starting to raise, unaware of your emotions.

“I know that was nothing! I just don’t know what it is! I don’t know why, okay?” Rodrick shouted back. He was sure his parents would be able to hear if they walked by, but that was one of the last things on his mind.

“What, do you like me or something?” Your voice came out harsh and impolite and you wished you had shut up a long time ago. You shut your eyes, and looked down. “I-I’m sorry,” you began to ramble but Rodrick wasn’t listening, too enveloped by his own thoughts.

He couldn’t like you. He could never. He liked Heather Hills. He’s spent forever chasing after her and doing everything to impress her. That’s who he liked. You were just his friend’s annoying little sister. Just because you talked to him first or that you had an interest in his band didn’t mean he liked you. It didn’t mean you liked him either. Just because he spent weeks chasing after you doesn’t mean it was romantically inclined, right.

“Y/n,” Rodrick spoke over your stutters of an apology. You went quiet, eyes glassy. He hesitated, swallowing a lump in his throat. “You wanna go to the dance with me?” Your eyes went wide and your brow furrowed.

“What? What does that have to do with anything?” you questioned, confused and dazed.

“I was going to ask you. I don’t know why,” he added. “There’s a dance in about a month. I was going to ask you after we had hung out but I think you’d like to leave now and I just had to ask-”

“Are you crazy?” you asked, bewildered. He fell silent. He knew it had been the wrong time to ask but he couldn’t hold the words from rolling off tongue his any longer.

“Is that a yes or no?” he asked. You shook your head and pushed him aside.

“No, Rodrick. And don’t ask for a reason. There’s too many of them.”

The dismissing bell rang, marking the end of the day. You hurried to your locker and quickly piled everything inside. Part of you hoped that Rodrick would come running up and slam your locker shut, scaring you the way it always did. You stood foolishly, glancing around for any sight of him. When there was nothing, you closed it and made your way towards the exit.

You trudged to your brother’s car, who you shared a ride with, and heard him arguing with someone else. You tried to hide behind the side of the car and peek your head up to watch and listen to what he was saying. That’s when you noticed the white van parked beside you with Löded Diper painted on it. It was Rodrick.

“You asked her to the dance?! What the hell, dude?! She’s my sister!” your brother shouted. You felt your face flush and your heart stopped.

“Look, man, I’m sorry! She didn’t say yes so what does it matter anyway?” Rodrick fought back. You glanced around nervously before you decided to make your presence known before the argument got any worse.

“What are you guys talking about?” you asked, acting oblivious. They glanced at each other then looked back at you.

“Nothing, get in the car,” your brother said, sliding into the driver’s seat. Rodrick looked annoyed and hurt and he avoided looking at you, hiding the way the tears started to pool in his eyes. He shook his head and got in the front seat of his van. You swung open the car door and flopped yourself down into the seat, wishing you could’ve said something to Rodrick.

Later that night, your brother was passed out asleep on the couch, some television show blasting on the tv. You swiftly snuck your way into his room, searching around for the piece of paper where your brother kept phone numbers. Your brother was terrible when it came to remembering numbers, which became an advantage for you.

You found the slip of paper in his desk drawer and you quickly scanned the list until you found Rodrick’s number. You pulled out your phone and hurriedly dialed it before scurrying out the room in case your brother had woken up.

The phone rung for a while as you paced your room until a tired voice on the other end of the line picked up.

“Hello?” the voice asked, raspy and ridden with sleep. You let out a light sigh of relief, glad he had picked up.

“Hey, Rodrick, can we talk?” you asked, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth.

“Who is this?” he groaned, followed by the rustle of what sounded like bedsheets.

“I’m afraid if I told you, you’d hang up,” you mumbled. Finally waking up, your words seem to catch his attention and he managed to put 2 and 2 together.

“Y/n?” he guessed, knowing the sound of your voice all too well now. Your eyes shifted down and you hesitated before answering with a quiet “yes”.

“Look, Rod, I’m sorry about Saturday. I was a total ass and I was just confused and tired, and I know those are just a bunch of excuses but-” He interrupted.

“It’s fine. You were right.” He sounded run down and miserable.

Silence filled the room and you only felt more guilty as the seconds passed. You racked your brain for something to say, feeling the tears start to pool in your eyes.

“Are you still going to that dance?” you asked, your voice breaking from the tears coming on. Rodrick was quiet for a moment and you thought maybe he hung up or fell asleep again.

“Yeah, why?” he questioned, sitting up in his bed curiously. You shut your eyes in embarrassment before you spoke again.

“If you don’t already have another date, I wanna go. With you.” His end of the line went dead silent. You pulled the phone away from your ear and checked to make sure he hadn’t hung up this time. You shut your eyes tightly, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all. You should’ve never called him, you should’ve never gone over to his house, you shouldn’t have talked to him at the rehearsal-

The line clicked and he was gone, leaving without a response. Your heart sank and a hot tear rolled down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away and threw your phone across the room, not caring if it broke. You could feel more tears coming on and you buried your face in your hands.

You were left sobbing for a while before you heard the doorbell ring, followed by a long string of impatient knocks. You quickly wiped your tears away and checked your reflection on your way out of your room to make sure you didn’t look like a shit-show.

The loud rapping on the door didn’t stop until you reached the door. You swung the door open, prepared to shout at whoever had been knocking at the door annoyingly for so long. You froze when you saw the figure outside the door, your mouth going slightly agape. Before you could even fully process it, lips were pressed against yours and you felt your heart skip a beat. Your head went fuzzy, unable to think straight. You could only feel his lips and the rush of blood going to your face and how you could feel every goosebump rising on your skin. It felt nearly euphoric, making every bad thought slip away as if they’d never happened.

His lips separated from yours and your eyes fluttered open. Your eyes were met with glassy brown doe eyes with a few strands of shaggy deep brown hair falling in front of them. His tall figure stood over you, leaning down close to you. His eyes flicked down to your lips then back to your eyes. He started to move in for another kiss but you pulled back, putting a hand on his chest to push him away. You shook your head.

“Not here. My brother could see,” you whispered. Thankfully your brother hadn’t woken up from his deep sleep on the couch even after the persistent knocking and the doorbell. But you weren’t gonna risk it.

“I don’t care,” Rodrick mumbled and he brought his lips to yours again. You kept him close to you but pushed him away from the door and closed it behind you. Your back pressed against the door and you pulled him closer to you by his collar.

When your lips broke apart again, a smile spread across your face as you pressed your forehead to his. “So, about the dance,” you began slowly. His lips brushed against yours again and his hand cupped your face.

“That later,” he mumbled. “How about you come over tonight?”

———

a/n: okay so i may have gotten a bit carried away with this one, but i hope this matched your request!

[dark-vader28]

PLEASE WRITE MORE RODRICK FAN FICS (FEM ONES OR WHATEVER IS EASIEST IDRC TBH). I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH BTW!! MWAH

TYSMM!!! i’m working on another requested rodrick fic right now! i’ll probably post it soon!

[dark-vader28]

A Certain Romance

wpsiatwin!alex turner x fem!reader

warnings: none? nothing but fluff. y/n is used

Your pen anxiously tapped the desk at an unsteady rhythm as you stared blankly at the questions on the paper. You tilted your head slightly, squinting to see if you were reading the problem right. When it seemed to make even less sense as the minutes passed, you tossed the pen aside and leaned back in your chair, letting out an exasperated sigh. You pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut in frustration. Your head was pounding and the bright illumination of the lamp only added to your migraine.

You heard movement, the rustle of clothes, and you took your hand away from your face. Alex was walking towards you and your demeanor changed. You turned to face him, sitting up straighter. He pulled up another chair and sat directly across from you, his hands in his lap. His eyes were searching yours and he nudged your leg with his.

“You alright, love?” he asked gently. You looked down, posturing slouching as you let out another sigh. You rubbed your eye and started to shake your head but you stopped yourself.

“It’s just,” you paused and glanced at the unanswered paper sitting on the desk. You chuckled a little at the foolishness of how easily you had let yourself get worked up over an assignment. Your eyes found Alex again who was waiting patiently for an answer, sitting on the edge of his chair, slipping closer to you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and rolled your tongue inside your mouth. “I don’t know…” you mumbled, looking down at the floor.

“Y/n?” he asked quietly. You glanced up, eyes glassy. You wished you could stop the tears from coming on. They were nothing but frustration tears but it was beyond you how they had even managed to make their appearance.

Alex grabbed your hand and rose out of his seat. You followed suit and he smiled softly. “Come on,” he spoke, hardly above a whisper. “I think you should take a break,” he suggested, his hand slowly slipping away from yours. You nodded, glancing down.

“And what do you suppose we do?” you asked curiously. You saw a smile stretch across his face but it faded soon after, morphing into a more nervous look.

“There’s, uh,” he paused, his tongue flicking over his lips. “I,” he stopped again, looking away. “Can I show you something?” You hesitated, brow furrowed, before you nodded. He briefly smiled before cautiously moving you to the side, away from his desk. Your eyes followed him as he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out an old notebook. His eyes met yours, causing your heart to flutter for a moment, a feeling you often got around him but you never thought anything of it. He flipped through the pages filled with scribbles from top to bottom. He stopped and waited a moment before he handed the notebook to you. Your eyes flicked between him and the notebook, slowly taking it from his hands.

“What’s this?” you asked, running through thumb over the page. He cleared his throat, shifting weight from foot to foot.

“Song lyrics,” he mumbled. You looked up, a glint in your eyes from the illumination of the desk lamp. You had watched him write for years. Those pages had been all too familiar to you but the words on there had always been foreign. He would occasionally ask you for help when he couldn’t think of a word but he’d never tell you what it was he was writing. You’d seen him play guitar but that was all he ever showed you. You’d asked about the notebook and its contents on multiple occasions but he always seemed to become flustered and blabber about it but he never told you.

You took one last look at him before setting for eyes on the page. You sat back down, your eyes scanning over the scribbles. He watched your reactions carefully, taking his seat in front of you. Nearly half the page was covered with crossed out words and sometimes full lines were scribbled out, new words written on top of the line. You could see Alex’s leg bouncing out of the corner of your eye but you were too attentive to the book. Considering this could be your only chance to read his lyrics before they were released into a real song, you (selfishly) weren’t going to miss your chance, and paid no attention to anything else but his lyrics.

When you reached the bottom of the page, you were nearly frozen, so enveloped by his lyrics. Even with the absence of a melody or instruments or even the sound of his voice, it was incredible.

His eyes were still following you closely, nervous and eager for your response. You shut the notebook, the lyrics running through your head. It was strange finally reading them. You’d known him for so long. You met him back when you were nearly 14 in one of your classes. Normally you hadn’t talked much with anyone your teacher paired you up with in class but you had been humming some tune while working and Alex was quick to recognize it. You weren’t sure really what happened after that but a few years later, he was playing the song for you on guitar, the two of you singing along. Surely you knew Matt was Alex’s best friend but you were convinced Alex was yours. Or at least you thought, never really able to sort out your feelings towards him. You couldn’t like him that way… right?

“Al,” you began softly. “Your lyrics are incredible.” You met his gaze and you felt your heart melt a bit. God, you hated him and those stupid brown doe eyes and the way he looked at you with hearts in his eyes, and the way he could make you smile in a heartbeat, or the way he sent chills down your spine and made you nervous with a single glance, and the way he cared about you more than anyone had, and…

His hand was placed on your leg, his face closer to you. His brows were knitted into a look of concern and your eyes accidentally flicked down to his lips for a moment but you redirected your gaze back to his eyes.

“Y/n, are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, his thumb gently tracing small circles over your leg. You swallowed nervously, nodding. You couldn’t take looking into his eyes a moment longer. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth and you shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.

His hand pressed against your cheek, cupping your face tenderly as he tilted your face up to look at him. You could’ve sworn your heart missed a beat. He stole a glance at your lips before meeting your eyes again. You were leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut briefly. The aching feeling in your heart mixed with the slow painful realization that Alex wasn’t just a friend to you anymore. You were drawing closer to him like a magnet. You regained your awareness and you panicked, clearing your throat and moving away. You hurriedly stood up, your heart racing desperately.

“Um,” you stuttered, nervously running a hand through your hand. This couldn’t be real. Alex would never think of you in that way. Friends, you were friends. “Those lyrics were really-”

“Y/n,” Alex interrupted. You turned to face him as he stood up. His eyes looked glassy and tired, like he had lost all hope and any trace of spark in his eyes had vanished. You frowned slightly, hoping you hadn’t been the cause. “I’m sor-” he started but the rest of his words were muffled and drowned out as your lips were slammed against his. You weren’t sure you had ended up there and it seemed every coherent thought had long since disappeared. One of your hands was clutched onto the collar of his shirt, pulling his lips closer to yours frantically. You pulled away when there wasn’t much of a reaction from Alex, falling away from his lips with the sinking feeling you had just ruined your friendship. His face was redder than normal, eyes wider, and his jaw hanging slightly slack. He looked down at your lips before he pulled you in by the waist and placed his lips against yours. The thought of you being friends already felt foreign as your lips collided over and over again.

———————

a/n: sorry this is so short, i kind of just daydream about his lyrics so much that this came to be and this isn’t proofread so sorry for any spelling mistakes

[dark-vader28]

New Girl

pairing: rodrick heffley x fem!reader

summary: Reader and her family are new in town, the heffleys invite them over for dinner as a welcome, blah blah blah, rodrick offers to give reader a drum lesson and makes a fool of himself doing everything in his power to impress you

warnings: swearing? tooth-rotting fluff. pls this is my first fic so im sorry if this is terrible, not rlly proofread

Your family had just moved in to Plainview, settled in a cozy home on the corner of the street. Once summer ended, you’d attend Crossland High School as a senior while your younger brother, Jake, would be starting 7th grade at Westmore Middle School. You dreaded school, even in the years you lived in your hometown, surrounded by your friends. Now that you were the new girl, you were sure it’d be all the more worse.

Your younger brother, Jake, on the other hand, made company so easy and made it seem like starting a conversation was as easy as knowing your own name. Sure, he wasn’t very popular, but he never went a year without a new friend or even a whole new group. You were sure he’d already be making friends on the walk to school.

While you were staring at your packed bag that you refused to unpack, in denial that your family had really moved, when the doorbell rang, echoing through the still house. Your attention was diverted and you snuck out your room, quietly walking to the railing by the stairs where you could have a clear view of the front door. You crouched down, hoping you wouldn’t be seen as you watched your mother strut to the door. The door swung open and there was a friendly smile waiting behind, holding some tupperware in her arms.

You were watching and listening, hardly moving or even breathing as they talked. The woman at the door, whose name you heard was Susan Heffley, was welcoming your family to Plainview. You heard them suggest a dinner this weekend so they could meet each other’s families; your mother had mentioned yours and your brother’s age which coincidentally were the same as the Heffleys. You let out a groan as your mom agreed to the dinner.

Mrs. Heffley left a few moments later, wishing your mother another welcome with a gentle smile before walking out the door. Surely she seemed nice but having to attend to dinner with a family you didn’t know was a long dreaded thought of yours.

The rest of the week seemed to go slow as you anticipated the inevitable dinner. You were also attempting to accept the fact that you were truly stuck in Plainview now unless you decided to move out and away when you turned 18, but you knew the thought was pointless considering it meant you’d have to be prepared by then.

When Saturday rolled around, you had finally unpacked your bag, trying to be a little more positive about living here. But that was a lie. Truth was your mom hounded you about living out of a suitcase and told you off for not unpacking. Not wanting to get in any more trouble, you hurriedly unpacked that night, throwing a pair of jeans and some shirt on your bed in the process for you to wear to dinner.

It was 5:50 and you were scrambling to finish up the last of your makeup and hair. If there was one thing your dad hated, it was being late, and you would likely be the cause of it. You had postponed getting ready for so long, procrastinating until there were few minutes to spare. You weren’t sure why you cared so much about your appearance, assuming that you would never talk to that family after tonight.

Jake’s fist pounded on your bathroom door, causing you to jump from the unexpected burst of noise. You nearly burnt yourself with the straightener you were holding. You quickly set it down and swung the door open. You were ready to scold your younger brother but he spoke before you.

“Mom and Dad said we’re leaving now, why aren’t you ready?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and pushed him away from the door, closing it.

“Just one more minute!” you shouted from the other side of the door. He knocked on the door a few more times and when you refused to answer, he gave up, grumbling something under his breath as he ran down the stairs.

A minute turned into two, then three, and then it was 5:59 and your dad was knocking on the door. You turned off the straightener and unplugged it, checking your reflection one last time before hurrying out the bathroom.

Considering how close your houses were, your family walked to the Heffley’s house. Right before the clock turned 6:01, your family was at the door, ringing the bell. You heard a few hushed murmurs from the other side of the door before the same familiar face that had come to your house before swung open the door.

Mrs. Heffley welcomed you in, closing the door behind you. A man, who you could only assume was Mr. Heffley, stood next to Mrs. Heffley, extending out a hand towards your father, then your mother.

“Frank Heffley,” the man introduced, smiling politely. He shook your hand and then Jake’s as Mrs. Heffley introduced herself and the littlest brother, Manny, that she held in her arms.

Then, bounding down the stairs comes a boy, somewhere between 11-13. He comes to a stop next to Mrs. Heffley and wears a nervous smile.

“And his is my second eldest son, Greg,” Mrs. Heffley beams. One after another, you all shake his hand, introducing yourselves. “Greg, you and Jake are both in seventh grade so maybe you’ll make good friends,” Mrs. Heffley comments. Jake smiles a little and Greg is hesitant to return the smile, unsure if he likes your brother.

Mrs. Heffley turns to Greg, whispering something private to him while your father exchanges pleasantries with his father, earning a warm smile from your mother. Greg shrugged at whatever Mrs. Heffley had said to him and she frowned.

It wasn’t long before another set of footsteps came running down the steps, this time a tall boy with dark, messed and fluffed up hair, wearing some graphic tee tucked only in the front behind a pair of dark jeans. He looked your age and from the conversation you had overheard earlier that week, you knew he was your age. But… what did that matter? You had no intent on talking to this family again.

“And this is Rodrick,” Mrs. Heffley introduced, not sounding nearly as enthusiastic as she had been when introducing Greg and Manny. The smile she wore seemed fake as she glared and Rodrick and nudged him. He looked confused, shooting her a look before he noticed my father’s outstretched hand. He shook my parents’ hands as we were all introduced once more, thankfully for the last time. You seemed to catch Rodrick’s eye, and your name was the only one he seemed to remember. He repeated your name in his head, making sure it stuck in his memory. The other names faded from his mind as your families walked to the dining table. A few extra chairs had been added to fit your family, which sat on one side as the Heffley family sat on the other. You faced Rodrick with Jake on your right and your mother on your left. This was already the longest evening of your time in Plainview.

Mrs. Heffley was bringing a plate of food as your fathers chatted away. Rodrick, Greg, and Jake were quick to pile heaping amounts onto their plates. You were the last to go for food, not expecting to eat much since you didn’t have much of an appetite that night.

The parent side of the table was lively, laughter filling the air while it was nothing but the tap or light scrape of the metal forks against the plate on your side of the table. Jake didn’t seem to mind, happily eating away at his food, nearly to the point of asking for seconds. You had picked at the homemade food, taking a few bites ever so often. It smelt amazing, almost giving you your appetite back.

But the worst part of the night wasn’t how they were strangers you were having dinner with, or how empty and silent your half of the table was, but rather how you kept finding Rodrick’s eyes. They were awkward glances where you’d both be caught looking at one another and you’d both avert your gaze as quickly as it had been found. It kickstarted your heart every time, sending a wave of embarrassment flooding through you which was shown through in the heat rising to your face. You were praying someone on your end of the table would feel the silence and ease the tension but with every glance you and Rodrick stole, the atmosphere felt heavier.

The buzz from the other side of the table faded, leaving a few painful moments of entire silence before your dad spoke, speaking to Rodrick this time.

“Was that your van outside?” your dad inquired, hoping to spark up a conversation after noticing the deafening silence.

Rodrick stole another look at you on his way to address your father. He nodded, shifting in his seat a little. The silence was beginning to make its dreaded reappearance and in a desperate attempt to prevent it, you foolishly decided to keep the conversation rolling.

“What’s the name painted on it?” you asked, and Rodrick’s eyes had quickly fallen away from your father to meet you.

“Löded Diper, the name of my band,” Rodrick replied proudly. You attempted to repress a smile. The name was ridiculous and it had you holding back a laugh but something about the confidence and the happiness in his tone made you forget the name and brought a grin to your lips.

“A band, huh? What do you play?” you questioned, shifting in your seat, leaning forward so your attention was nowhere but him. His lips curved up into a smile as his movement mimicked yours, facing you. You could see Susan and your mom smile at each other, gushing at how suddenly you and Rodrick were getting along.

“Drums,” he answered, and the other conversations resumed from the parent side of the table. Greg and Jake were silently watching you and Rodrick talk, both shocked that you had even acknowledged him. Jake knew you weren’t one to engage like this upon first meeting someone, especially not with someone like Rodrick. And Greg was sure you were way out of Rodrick’s league, whether it was from a relationship or even friendship standpoint. Greg and Jake seemed to read each other’s minds and started talking, filling the once silent half of the room with chatter.

“I always wanted to learn drums,” you commented sheepishly, breaking the eye contact you had been holding. He seemed to light up at that, sitting up a little taller.

“I could teach you,” he blurted out, rather loudly. Everyone seemed to glance at him for a moment before ignoring it and resuming their conversations. You found his gaze again and a smile crept on your lips.

“Really?” you asked. He nodded, and your smile curved into a smirk. “Well, of course, you’d have to been good at drums to teach somebody. Prove you’re any good and maybe then you can teach me.” He paused for a moment before he chuckled, leaning back in his chair as his once awkward demeanor became cocky.

“No no no, i’d be doing you a favour. And i don’t need to prove anything. I’m a great drummer. Right, Greg?” Rodrick asked, hitting Greg on the chest. Greg hadn’t been paying attention but held his chest where he had been hit as he nodded, agreeing to whatever Rodrick had asked. “See?” You rolled your eyes, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth to hide your smile.

“The poor kid is terrified of you,” you chuckled. You turned to Greg this time. “Don’t take any of his shit.” Greg smiled brightly and Rodrick seemed flustered that you hadn’t taken his side.

“Oh, come on, I’ve never done anything to him,” Rodrick defended. He wasn’t a great liar. You glanced at Rodrick before looking back at Greg, raising your eyebrows.

“Is he telling the truth?” you asked. Greg shot a look at Rodrick before laughing and shaking his head. You giggled. Rodrick’s face was turning red and he shoved Greg again.

“Dude! Deny, deny, deny!” Rodrick pestered, pushing Greg. Another laughter escaped your lips.

“So you admit you were lying!” Rodrick froze, his face dropping.

With the exception of Rod, your side of the table was in a fit of laughter. The other side had stilled, admiring how well you seemed to be getting along despite Rodrick being the butt of the joke. He’d felt embarrassed for a moment but hearing your laughter had a bright grin spreading across his face which eventually broke out into laughter. Your stomach and face started to hurt from laughing for too long and you let a few desperate pants as you leaned back in your seat, arms wrapped around your stomach.

Over an hour had passed and your families couldn’t have been getting along better. Greg and Rodrick had told you endless amounts of stories. You learned about The Cheese Touch and the thought of it made you gag, imagining that moldy cheese sitting on the dirty hot blacktop for years.

You asked Rodrick about his band, which he went on and on about until Greg told him to can it. Rodrick might’ve hit him again if Mrs. Heffley hadn’t glanced over at them and scolded Rodrick.

Nearing the end of your time with the Heffleys, you hesitantly asked Rodrick if he was serious about the drum lesson. Sure, your reason was purely because you had always wanted to learn how to play but it seemed as the night went on, your reason was slipping to wanting to see Rodrick again. You didn’t want to have to wait until summer’s end to be with him. He didn’t seem like the greatest influence and you were already sure your parents weren’t too fond of him, but something about him had you drawn towards him like a moth to light.

The Heffleys were escorting your family to the door, chatter still in the air, when you turned to Rodrick. You swallowed the lump in your throat and prayed your voice would come out normal.

“So… about that drum lesson,” you started, not meeting his eyes, but you still saw the smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“Tomorrow?” he suggested quickly, stopping to face you. You looked up, your brow slightly furrowed. “O-or another day. I mean-” He was blabbering, trying not to sound eager or desperate and a grin stretched across your lips.

“Tomorrow sounds great,” you replied. He relaxed, smiling a little.

“Yeah, yeah, cool,” he mumbled, pretending to sound uninterested. You pushed him gently and he couldn’t hide the smile. You rolled your eyes at him, a light laugh falling from your lips. That sound would be stuck in his brain all night as he lied awake, admiring you and feeling like he had dreamed you up cause he wasn’t sure someone like you could be real.

Your family said their goodbyes to the Heffleys as the four of you walked out the door. You headed home, unable to lose the smile of excitement as you thought about your plans for tomorrow. You were so distracted in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed your parents talking to you until your brother nudged you to snap you out of your daze.

“Are you alright?” your mom asked worriedly, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. You flashed her a smile and nodded. “Well, how was your night then? Did you like them?” Then to your father, “I thought they were nice, don’t you think?” Then back to you. “How was Rodrick? I was a little worried he was a bad influence.” If you hadn’t stepped in, your mom might’ve pestered with you questions until the end of the night.

“It was fun. I had a good time,” you reassured. She smiled as you reached your front steps.

When you finally got back to your room, you reveled in the once dreaded house that seemed like a punishment. You were now filled with anticipation, wishing it would be Sunday already so you’d get to see Rodrick again. Your mind hadn’t decided what was so endearing about him. Maybe it was his desperate, miserable attempts to impress you that made you nearly giggle like a school girl or his dark shaggy hair that fell in messy strands. But you didn’t let yourself think about that for too long, saving yourself from falling down that rabbit hole.

As the cool air from your open window filled the room and the pale moonlight danced across your skin, you were coaxed into sleep, smiling as you thought about your night.

Maybe Plainview wasn’t as bad as you had believed it to be.

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a/n: well… first fic ig. i’m sorry if this is complete shit. i just felt like i should post something after having this account for 6 months and posting nothing. there are a few requests in my inbox that i do intend on getting to at some point i promise, im just a little slow with all of this 😭 let me know what you think and if you want more of these!

[dark-vader28]

happy destiel day everybody i wish you all a very Being Normal About This

[dark-vader28]

Who I’ll write for:

Alex Turner

Rodrick Heffley

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Castiel

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader

Luke Skywalker

Obi-Wan

Peter Parker

Marty McFly

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Billy Loomis

Mickey Alteri

Soldier Boy

Stephen Glass

Clay Beresford

Dexter Morgan

Brian Moser

Joe Goldberg

Viktor (Arcane)

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send me requests so i actually get the damn motivation to write :)