I Hope It Gives You Hell ~ Rodrick Heffley x reader

Well shit

"I wake up every evening, with a big smile on my face. And it never feels out of place."

I groan, rolling over to silence my alarm. Jesus, who decided school should start this early? Honestly, it's inhumane. As I start to brush my teeth, I remember what's happening later today. Loded Diper tryouts. Anxiety immediately takes hold of my stomach, imagining all the stupid shit that could go down later and spit out my toothpaste.

To try and make myself feel better, I shuffle through a random playlist and get ready. Since I went to school with the members of my possible new band, I tried to kiss ass a little and wear the t-shirt I bought from the back of some guy's van at one of their first gigs. That was before the guitar moved away. Or got sent to jail. Or had to go to a military school instead of juvi. I'm not so sure which is true seeing as my school views Loded Diper as a shitshow. Pun intended.

I finish get ready by smudging my eyeliner a bit and heading to the kitchen. I make coffee and plug in my head phones, reviewing the guitar riff I'll be playing later. The lead singer's voice fills my ears as cymbals crash in the background, providing a slightly off beat for the guitar (which they totally found on youtube judging by the fact they had to skip a Grammarly ad in the middle of the second chorus) to flow to, which I practice in mid-air, imagining the TAB in my head.

This imaginary concert plays in my head all day. I play the tab on the desk in homeroom, on my pencil in history, on the most-definitely-not-safe-for- human-consumption "pizza" at lunch, and even on my thigh while I presented in history. The only way I'm ruining this audition is if one of the members decides that they hate me. Which wouldn't happen because they just met me. Right?

The school day passed on in a dread filled blur, but the time had finally come. I walked up the steps to a house, checking the numbers by the door, making sure I didn't have the wrong address. I tentatively knocked on the door, expecting to be greeted by a half-drunk teen, but I was instead met with a boy that had short dark brown hair and couldn't have been older than a Freshman in high school.

"You here for the band auditions?" He asked in a bored voice.

"Yup!" I answered a bit too loud due to the nerves. He seemed unbothered by the small outburst seeing as he only pointed to the garage and closed the door in my face. I took a deep breath and walked towards the door that I had been pointed towards.

I could already hear someone auditioning through the walls. Nothing to worry about yet. The guitarist was making the drummer sound like a human metronome with how off they were. I silently slipped in, not wanting to disturb the band's decision, but anyone with ears would've preferred I brought a herd of elephants with me to drown out the sound.

I plop myself on the couch next to my competitor. He looked about 16 with short liberty spikes with red tips, a lip piercing, guy liner (that he pulled off might 1 add), a stick-and-poke tattoo and a spiked cuff on the other, and to top it all off, the same fucking Loded Diper shirt I was wearing. I'm gonna look like a little fan girl and he's going to look like a punk who knows his shit. I'm screwed.

To ease my despair, I shift my focus to the lead singer. It's a shame he's stuck in a small band like this he's not half-bad. My eyes wander to the mediocre bassist and lose interest quickly when I see him pick his nose in a not-so-discreet fashion. My gaze finally shifts to the drummer. His eyes are rimmed in coal and his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth in focus I study him the longest and my heart rate begins to speed up as my audition drew closer and the drummer grew sweatier under the leather vest and the nothing else he was wearing on his torso. I peered down at my hands, not wanting to stare. Even though I was.

They started the song and my stomach felt like it was going to fall out of my ass. My competition played effortlessly and even added stage presence to the tall order. Oh my fuck. Not only am I the insane fan girl, I'm the girl who thought she could play better than someone actually on the scene. Panic washed over me as I watched the band collectively dig my grave. The was until the punk tripped on one of the bassists' cords in an attempt at an Eddie Van Halen style jump and totally ate shit.

It took everything in me not to cheer when he got up and all his spikes on the back of his head had been smashed,

"What the hell, man?" The bassist asked, clearly unhappy.

"What do you mean? I was livening up this shitty band that can't play if getting out of their mom's basement depended on it!" He remarked.

Suddenly, the funeral home realized they had the wrong guy and started the real ceremony.

"Fuck off!" The singer practically yelled as the punk packed up his guitar and left with a one finger wave.

My relief was short lived when the band's eyes all landed on me. I successfully hooked up my guitar to the amp without shitting my pants and prepared to give the audition of my life.

(A.N. : The first chapter was written by samlikesmetal 🗣️‼️ next one will be me and so on )