bad choices: rodrick x reader (read desc)

the part without smut and its only half edited sorry

    

     You should know better by now. You haven't been going to therapy for a year now and distancing yourself from your old crowd just to fall right back into your old habits. And yet here you are, at a seedy bar that didn't card you because you felt that you needed to let loose again. It's almost as if you were waiting for something to set you off so you had a reason to act out. Despite being self aware, you still caught a ride with some perv you met online after a fight with your mom. And that's how you ended up in this fine establishment.

     You've been here for an hour now and your creepy escort only buys you two drinks before he reveals he's broke. You tell him it's fine, but really you're annoyed because you're not even tipsy and now you don't have money to keep drinking. He seems embarrassed at first, but the way he leans in moments later saying he can still make your night worthwhile, you know this was probably a setup for him to get some ass. You roll your eyes and tell him that's not what you signed up for and you can tell he's about to flip shit on you before he realizes the bar is full and the patrons probably won't appreciate some loser getting violent over being denied pussy. He huffs and mumbles something about finding your own way home before marching over to the exit. Thank god he didn't pick you up at your house.

     Now that he's finally gone, you consider flirting with the older men at the bar for more drinks, but decide not to risk someone drugging you and possibly ending up in a ditch later. Instead you pull out your phone to check your messages and sigh when you see the flood of angry texts from your mom. Even a few concerned ones from people you know that your mom reached out to because she wants to know where you are. A small part of you feels a little guilty scaring your mom like this. The rest of you couldn't care less because she's been testing you lately. You've been trying so hard to work on yourself and your behavior and if she's not going to acknowledge it, then what's the point?

     You turn your phone back off without responding to anyone and shove it back in your purse. You were depending on your ride to buy your booze but now that you had no money, no source of money, and no one to talk to (even if the guy was creepy, he was still there to keep you company), you shrug and scan the room for anyone close-- closer--  to your age. You notice a platform near the back where a band is setting up. Curious, you hop off the barstool and approach them. They don't look anywhere near ready to play, so you're not worried about interrupting. As you walk up to ask the least occupied member about the band, you notice two things. One, these boys are probably not old enough be in here (neither are you, but you recognize the lead singer from your old school and know for sure the others can't be much older), and two, painted on the bass drum is what you assume is the band's name, and before you can even greet the drummer you bust out laughing.

    "What's so funny?" The drummer notices you laughing maniacally at the ridiculous name and he seems almost offended. You try to regain composure and and look him in the eyes. They're dark, and the smudged eyeliner makes him look like an edgy raccoon, but your gaze begins to drift away his eyes, and you're suddenly not laughing at the childish band name. His jaw is sharp and his tee is visibly old and worn, and the neck hole is so stretched it sits lopsided on his shoulders. It's too loose to see his figure, so you glance down his ripped jeans, and then back at his face.

     He's clearly not worried about you laughing at him anymore after noticing your blatant ogling. His defensive expression has changed to a smug grin. You take a step toward him and while he's no giant, you find yourself having to tilt your head up to keep eye contact. "You like what you see?" His voice is enticing and you have to admit, you do like what you see. You bite your lip and look away for a moment before your eyes land on the drums and you're snickering at the painted name again.

     "Is that the name of your group?" You ask, trying to control yourself. His grin fell but another mischievous smile took over, only he flashes his teeth. You catch a glimpse of his canines and notice they're sharper than average, and you feel a little tingle when you see them.

     He chuckles and pushes back his disastrous mop of hair. "Yeah, it is. Started it myself, no big deal. Chicks dig guys in bands." You can't tell if he's joking or not, but then he rolls his sleeve up to reveal a tattoo on this shoulder with the same name on the drums; Löded Diper. You can't handle it. You snort and have to cover your mouth as you double over laughing, turning away from him as if he can't hear you cackling a foot away.

     "You've got to be shitting me," Then you start wheezing and turn back to him, but you keep your head down so he doesn't see your beet red face from laughing at your own joke. "SHITTING ME! Wow, I'm a fucking genius." You finally take a deep breath and look up at him, and you almost feel bad when you see his face. He must have been serious, because his grin is gone again but he doesn't say anything. Guess you aren't as funny as you think you are. He stares at you for a moment with his lips parted before his eyes dip down and scan your body. You suddenly feel exposed in your skirt and camisole. You opted for a revealing outfit to squeeze more money out of your original "date," but that didn't turn out the way you wanted. Now it feels like this silly drummer boy is undressing you with his eyes and just thinking about it makes you want to have him undress you with his hands.

     "I'll pretend you didn't say that," He pauses and his eyes drop to your cleavage, "just because you're hot." Your body instantly responds to that. You tense as you feel the heat rushing downward and now you can't deny it; you want him. You weren't sure how your night would turn out after your ride ditched you, but you're definitely not upset about your current situation. You peak past him to see that the other band members have stopped setting up for now, chatting up a storm with someone in the bar they must know.

     "It looks like you've got some extra time before you play," you say in a sultry tone and step toward him again, only now you're close enough to smell his shirt. Cigarette smoke masked by cheap cologne; he has to be around your age, people only try to cover the odor when they're hiding it from authority. It gives you a confidence boost knowing he can't be much more experienced than you are. "And it seems like you know your way around here..." you place your hands on his shoulders to bring his ear closer to your mouth, "so why don't you take me somewhere else while you have the chance?"