shan

she/her

[latenitetea]

yeah

[latenitetea]

mando fights the droids but it’s rasputin by boney m

[latenitetea]

it’s 9:45 pm on a monday why am i crying about din djarin’s past

[latenitetea]

the semester just started and the only thing keeping me from dropping out already is rough day updates

[latenitetea]

goodnight

[jonathan-byers-remade]

That’s Rock ’n Roll, bro.

[pricelessreviews]

[latenitetea]

what a shame it would be - rodrick heffley

in which rodrick takes a few too many shots...

cw: underage drinking, swearing

word count: 3,228

~~~

Great victories deserve great parties.

That was the way of thinking at Crossland High School when it came to homecoming. After weeks of anticipation from the entire student body, the Crossland football team had defeated their rivals with one touchdown in the last five minutes of the homecoming game. It didn’t matter that half the school didn’t care much about football to begin with - with a victory that big, there were bound to be parties all over town.

As a varsity cheerleader, you weren’t surprised that you were invited to the biggest homecoming party in town. And you weren’t surprised by the atmosphere when you arrived, either.

Music blasted in your ears as you entered through the backdoor of the crowded house. Cheerleaders were laughing so loud you could feel it in your whole body, people were drunkenly dancing and making out with each other on the dance floor, and the football team was taking a celebratory round of shots for their biggest win. Hell, you even saw the student body council and academic decathlon team on the dance floor. Bottles upon bottles of all kinds of alcohol were being pulled out at the bar - kegs of beer, bottles of tequila and vodka, and a giant bowl of punch that was being spiked with a frothing drink. Still, the abundance of alcohol wouldn’t last long at a party this big. But before you could get to the bar to get your pick, you heard your name being called from across the room.

“Y/N!”

There were too many people covering your view to see who called you when you turned around, but you knew exactly who it was coming from. It wasn’t too hard to weave your way through the drunken couples and football players to find him.

Rodrick was leaning against the basement’s doorframe, wearing his favorite Converse, a pair of ripped black skinny jeans, and his Loded Diper t-shirt with a cargo jacket. He ruffled his unkempt, raven hair and took a long swig from his solo cup.

“Give me your keys.”

You raised your eyebrows, stifling a laugh. “Well, hello to you, too.”

After taking another sip of his drink, he held out his hand. Rolling your eyes, you took your lanyard and dropped your keys in his hand, which he put in the pocket of his jacket.

“There we go.” His mouth quirked up into a smirk. “I thought you said you’d never go to another homecoming party again after last year. You still owe me for that, you know.”

Memories of Rodrick holding you steady as you stumbled to his van and slurred your words resurfaced in your mind. You couldn’t hide the tinge of embarrassment that crept up on your cheeks.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Do you or do you not remember me having to brush your teeth because you forgot how to do it yourself?”

Your once pink cheeks now turned scarlet. Still, you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

“Fine. But I definitely don’t owe you anymore after being the only reason you didn’t fail physics last year.”

He paused, taking another drink from his cup. You could tell the alcohol was beginning to slow his thoughts already.

“I guess I stand corrected.”

You cursed yourself for being sober, wishing you had more confidence to flirt with him. You swallowed the forming lump in your throat and attempted a compliment.

“Look at you, making yourself look nice for homecoming. You even got the new converse and eyeliner and everything.”

God, that couldn’t have been worse. You mentally facepalmed yourself as the words left your mouth.

He chuckled. “Well, I’ve gotta make myself look nice if I’m gonna get one of these cheerleaders to go home with me, right?”

Your embarrassment dissipated into a twinge of disappointment. Quick to cover up any sort of reaction, you cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna go get myself something to drink. See you around, Rodrick.”

You heard him call out a warning about “knowing your limits,” but you didn’t turn around or respond. At first, you were only planning to get buzzed tonight. Your disappointment, however, made a change to your plans.

“Hey, Y/N,” your friend, Allison, said from the bar with a wave. “What do you want to drink?”

“Something strong,” you insisted. With a nod, Allison filled a solo cup with vodka and topped it off with the frothing punch.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” She asked as she handed you the cup. You took a swig, ignoring the way the alcohol burned your throat.

“Who knows,” you sighed. “I just got back from talking to Rodrick.”

Allison raised her eyebrows. You paused for a moment, but you gave in to the temptation of getting your feelings out. “Every time I try to flirt with him, I feel like he ignores it. Or worse, he just brings up other girls.”

“Maybe you’re just not flirting hard enough,” Allison suggested. Her comforting smile became smug, pointing to the solo cup in your hand. "Or maybe that liquid courage will finally get you to tell him how you feel.”

The taste in your mouth turned sour at her teasing. Last year’s drunken shenanigans seemed harmless compared to any hypotheticals of you blurting out “Hey Rodrick, I’ve had a crush on you since last homecoming!” and forgetting it by morning. You placed your cup on the bar, deciding that your original plan of a buzz was the safer option. “Actually, I think I’m gonna stick to beer tonight.”

Allison let out a laugh. “Whatever you say. But your feelings are gonna eat you alive at some point. You’re gonna have to tell him how you feel eventually.”

“Emphasis on eventually. See you, Allison.” You gave her a small wave and went out to the dance floor, hoping to find some of your friends and dance your way into forgetting about Rodrick.

~~~

As the wild night began to die down, waves of stumbling high schoolers started leaving the party. Watching the clock hit 3 AM, you decided that it was time for you to head home. Waving goodbye to your friends, you made your way out of the house and to your car, more than ready to open the door and practically fall asleep at the wheel and-

Damnit.

That asshole still had your keys, didn’t he?

Pulling out your phone, you called Rodrick, nearly praying that he didn’t already leave. As you put your phone to your ear, you heard another phone’s ringtone go off. Muttering a “what the hell?” under your breath, you looked up from your car.

Rodrick was standing on the sidewalk across the street, holding onto a streetlight pole as though it was taking everything in his power not to fall.

A noise of both amusement and concern left your lips, and you hung up the call and made your way over to him.

“Hi,” was all he said. His eyes were glazed over and a sheepish smile was spread across his face.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh, how the tables turn, huh?”

“I don’t,” he paused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You let out a laugh. “You’re drunk off your ass.”

“No, I’m not!” He blurted out defensively. You cocked your head, giving him a do-you-really-think-you’re-gonna-convince-me look. After a moment, he sighed. “Maybe I’m a little drunk.” He let out another sigh, but it quickly turned into a fit of giggles.

Suppressing the thought that his drunken giggles were extremely cute, you draped his arm over your shoulders. “Come on, drummer boy, let’s get you home.” Rodrick leaned his bodyweight into your side, trying not to fall in the middle of the street.

“I like that nickname.”

“Where’d you put my keys?” You asked him. Instead of answering, he broke into another fit of giggles. With a sigh, you pushed down your embarrassment and started rummaging through the pockets of his jacket. He leaned his head into the crook of your neck, making butterflies swarm in your gut. You tried your best to ignore them and finally pulled out your keys from his pocket, helping him into the passenger seat of your car.

“Wanna hear something funny? I wanted to take home the cheerleader with me. But now the cheerleader is taking me home.” His smile turned into a smirk as he buckled his seatbelt, and you reminded yourself that he was only joking.

“You’re a pervert.”

“You’re pretty.”

Your eyes widened at what Rodrick had just said. The next second, you couldn’t be more thankful that it was too dark to see the blush on your cheeks. You believed that he meant what he said for a second, but the smell of alcohol on his breath brought you back to reality.

“You’re really drunk.”

“You’re really pretty.”

Instead of responding, you started the car and turned on the radio, hoping that it would act as a distraction.

Pulling out of the driveway, you started the drive home. You heard Rodrick laugh again from the passenger’s seat. And then he placed his hand on your thigh.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you tried to stop your breathing from turning shallow. “What are you doing?”

“Flirting with you.”

Your cheeks burned at his direct manner, but you reluctantly took his hand off your thigh. “You can’t flirt with me when you’re drunk.” Pulling into his driveway, you helped him out of your car and to his front door. You grabbed the spare key from under the doormat and opened the door.

After helping him to his room, you filled up an empty glass with water and grabbed a bottle of pain medicine from his kitchen, bringing it upstairs and placing it on his nightstand.

“Here’s for tomorrow when you have a hang-“

“I don’t remember how to take off my shoes.” Rodrick looked up at you from where he was sitting on his bed, his blank stare turning into another eruption of laughter. “I sound like you right now.”

You sighed, letting out a chuckle. You took off his Converse and his jacket, placing them in his closet.

“Well, as long as you don’t need anything else I better get going-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Rodrick grabbed you and pulled you onto his bed. “Can you stay a little while?” Your cheeks burned even brighter, and you knew he knew it too. His flirting was overwhelming; you thought you were going to explode from the butterflies. Still, you managed to stay somewhat composed.

“You need to sleep.”

“I don't want to sleep.”

You shook your head, but the look on Rodrick’s pleading face was enough to convince you. “Fine.”

“Why don’t you let me flirt with you?”

“What?”

Rodrick was looking directly at you. “I always try to flirt with you. And then you act like I’m just joking.”

You wanted to tell him that he didn’t know what he was talking about, that he was just drunk and the alcohol was talking. But Allison’s words of advice were echoing in the back of your head.

You’re going to have to tell him how you feel eventually.

“Because I didn’t think you could ever be serious about actually liking me.”

His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “Of course I’m serious. You’re the prettiest girl in school, you like good music, and you’re just so nice. And pretty.”

You let out a chuckle. “I bet you weren’t thinking those things when you were brushing my teeth for me last year.”

"Yes, I was," He moved a piece of hair from your face. “That’s when I realized I had feelings for you, Y/N.”

The smell of alcohol on his breath was enough to make you want to burst into tears. Here you were, laying on Rodrick Heffley’s bed, close enough to make out the dark outline of his pupils, and you were confessing how you felt for him. And he wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning.

“Can I kiss you?”

His abrupt question silenced your thoughts. “What?”

He closed his eyes and started leaning in for the kiss, but once you processed what he had just asked, you pulled away. “Not right now.”

“Why not?”

You took a deep breath, trying to slow your racing heartbeat. “Tell you what. If you wake up tomorrow and you decide that you still want to kiss me, you can kiss me.”

He thought about your offer for a moment. “Okay. But tomorrow feels so far away.”

“Tomorrow won’t feel far if you go to sleep.”

He smiled and buried his head into your side. “You’ll stay until I fall asleep, right?”

“Right.”

“Promise?”

You felt the urge to cry again. You knew that every promise made tonight would be broken by tomorrow.

“Promise.”

You laid in his bed as his breathing slowed into soft snores. Taking one last look at him, you gently climbed out of his arms. As much as you wanted to stay, wanted to wake him up and confess every feeling you had for him, wanted to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, you knew that would be wrong. You had to ease the inevitable future pain as much as you could.

So you grabbed your keys and left, not finding it in you to look back.

~~~

When Rodrick woke up, he could barely find the energy to open his eyes. The ache he felt across his entire body was throbbing, but he fought the urge to give in and go back to sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw a glass of water and pain medicine sitting on his nightstand.

Considering how awful he felt, there was no way he put that there. Taking two of the pills and downing the glass of water, he tried to connect some of his memories of the night before. As the medicine started to set in, some of his fuzzy memories began to clear. Taking a shot of tequila with his bandmate, taking another shot of tequila with his bandmate, your face turning bright red when he reminded you of when he took care of you last homecoming.

Even though he’d never find the courage to admit it, you looked cute when you blushed. And he always seemed to have butterflies in his stomach around you after last year's homecoming party. But there would be absolutely no way he would ever admit that.

You probably were the one that got him home last night. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed that you saw him that drunk, even if he’s seen you even drunker before. He hoped he hadn’t said anything too humiliating to you last night.

His stomach twisted with another wave of embarrassment. What had he said last night?

He stood up, noticing your jacket laying on the other side of his bed. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and unknown embarrassment. He picked up your jacket and grabbed his keys to his van, ready to give it back and thank you for getting him home last night.

But when he picked up the jacket, more memories flooded his mind. You laying in his bed, him pulling the hair out of your face, you being close enough to him that he could have kissed you.

Oh, shit.

He ran to his closet and threw on his converse, too frantic to even tie them. Running out the door, he practically jumped into his van and started the drive to your house.

~~~

You sat on your porch, drinking a cup of coffee and enjoying that crisp October air on your cheeks. Thankful that you didn’t have even the remnants of a hangover, you were certain that every upperclassman at Crossland was sporting a massive one.

You opened your phone and anxiously twiddled your thumbs at the keyboard. You wanted to text Rodrick and ask him how he was feeling, but you were too nervous to contact him after last night. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you would ever be able to look him in the eyes again.

Your concern for him overshadowed your embarrassment. No matter where your relationship with him stood after last night, you still cared about him. Pulling his contact up on your phone, you typed a short message.

Morning, sleepyhead. You feeling ok after last night?

But just as you were about to hit send, you saw a van barreling down your street from your peripheral vision. You didn’t need to see the messy writing on its side to know who’s van it was, either.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Did Rodrick remember what happened last night? Was he here to reject you, to tell you that he couldn’t even be friends with you anymore? You wanted to run inside your house and pretend you weren’t home, but you felt frozen in place.

The van pulled into your driveway, and Rodrick stepped out from the driver’s seat. He was still wearing the same outfit from the night before, but he had his drumsticks in one hand and your jacket in the other. He ran up to your porch, almost frantically.

“Y/N?” He said.

You took a shaky breath, trying to act as casual as possible. “Hey, Rodrick, you feel okay after last night?”

“I’ve had worse hangovers. Er, you left my jacket at my house.” He handed you your jacket.

“Thanks.” You shifted on your feet nervously, looking for the right thing to say. See you Monday? Sorry I confessed my feelings to you last night?

Rodrick looked down at his feet. “Can we talk?” He blurted out.

A plethora of curses went through your head, and you felt the urge to run into your house and curl up in a fetal position until you disappeared. Still, you stayed standing where you were.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Last night, did we,” he anxiously twirled his drumsticks in his hands, “did we kiss?”

Your eyes widened. He did remember last night.

“Well, you wanted to kiss me.” Your stomach churned, and your head was swirling with so many thoughts that you couldn’t stop talking. “But we didn’t kiss because it was just the alcohol talking and I know you didn’t actually want to kiss me and that last night was just the alcohol and I get that you wouldn’t want to kiss me which is totally fine and really it’s no big deal-“

“It wasn’t the alcohol talking.”

Rodrick looked up from the ground and stepped closer to you. You had never seen him look more serious in your life.

“Y/N, everything I said last night. I meant it.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve... I’ve felt this way about you for a while. And I know I’m not a serious person, but I am really serious about this. And I really, really like you.” He took another step closer, and once again, he was close enough that you could see the outline of his pupils.

“So about that promise we made last night,” your breath hitched in your throat, “I think it would be a shame if we broke it.”

“You’re right,” Rodrick’s shy smile spread into a smug grin. He lifted your chin so your faces were barely inches apart.

“It'd really be a shame, wouldn't it?.” He said, closing the gap between your lips.

[latenitetea]

adam driver and devon bostick are on opposite ends of the same spectrum

[rodrickheffeley]

[latenitetea]

she was listening to nirvana - rodrick heffley

She was listening to Nirvana. 

That was the first thing Rodrick noticed when he opened his garage door. It was the quintessential evening for late August - the sky was clear and turning into swirls of lavender and magenta, a cool breeze acting as a reminder that September was near. It was the perfect night to practice drumming and annoy the neighbors just a little more than usual. Rodrick typed in the 4 digit code on his garage door, eager to let the cool breeze circulate through the cramped and dusty garage. Rather than the peace and quiet that usually consumed the small neighborhood, the faint sound of rock music seemed to be ringing across his street. He frowned at his unlikely surprise yet his eyebrows arched up with intrigue. Nobody in the  neighborhood ever played music - nonetheless, tasteful music. What caused this sudden change?

Rodrick peeked his head out of the garage and let the cool breeze blow his raven hair out of his face. He followed the sounds of soft music until his eyes landed on a house diagonally across from his. It was perfectly cookie cutter, just as every house on the street was, but it stood out from the others. The “For Sale” sign that hung by the mailbox for months was finally taken down and replaced with a lit up house. Fairy lights and small lanterns lined the wrap around porch and a small radio was laying in the uncut grass. 

And then he saw her.

She was listening to Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit, to be exact - and she laid in the grass, her nose stuck in a book. Even though it was just beginning to get dark, her red hair created a soothing contrast next to the sunflowers that seemed to be freshly planted in front of her porch. 

Rodrick couldn’t believe his luck. A new girl. A new girl that lived a house down and just across the street. A new girl that didn’t listen to bad music. A new girl that was pretty. Really, really pretty. Before he could even process any of the information he just received, he started walking towards her house. His thoughts couldn’t help but race around his mind - what the hell was he getting himself into?

“Hey. You must be-you’re new here, aren’t you?” 

You looked up from your book to see a tall and skinny boy staring down at you. You jumped back in surprise, but you quickly composed yourself in an attempt to avoid any unnecessary embarrassment. 

“As of yesterday morning, yes.” You looked at him eagerly, expecting a response. He was the first person to invite you into the neighborhood, anyways. Instead of an answer, a slight smirk was planted on his face. Still, you could see him shift his weight nervously, as if he had no idea what to say.

You cleared your throat. “So, what brings you to 136 Fairview Lane?”

He twirled the pair of drumsticks in his hand and pointed to one of the houses that sat diagonally from yours. “I’m 139.” 

“Do you play the drums?” You inquired. 

“Yeah,” he responded. “I’m in a band, actually.” You smiled at him, not fully sure of what to say. Another slight pause.

You scooted over so that there was room for one other person on your pleated picnic blanket. “Do you want to sit?” He smiled, accepting your offer. 

“I’m Rodrick, by the way. Rodrick Heffley.” A lopsided grin appeared on his face, and he held out his hand to shake. You took it.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

Before you could get a good look at your new neighbor’s face, he peered over to look at the book that lay closed on your lap. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, it’s a biography on Monet,” you picked up the book to show it to him, “I have to read it for my art history class.”

Rodrick snorted. “You’re actually doing the summer reading? Seems lame.”

You could feel your lips quirk into a mischievous grin. “Well well well, aren't you Mr. Too-Good-for-Books-Bad-Boy.”

He leaned in closer and shrugged. “Chicks dig bad boys.”

You let out a laugh at his flirtatious teasing, slightly throwing your head back in surprise. He was glad you did, as you couldn’t see the tinge of pink burning his cheeks. 

“Hey,” you jokingly warned, “for your information, I actually like learning about art history and going to museums.” 

“We don’t really have museums out here - speaking of which, I don’t think I asked you where you moved from?”

You placed your book in the grass next to you and shrugged. “The city,” you responded nonchalantly.

Rodrick’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “The city?”

It took a moment for you to remember that you weren’t on the east coast anymore. “I meant New York City. I forgot that people don’t call it ‘the city’ here.”

Rodrick smirked at your answer. “Well then, Miss New York City. What’s a city girl like you doing out here in midwestern suburbia?”

You shrugged. “There’s not really anything special about it. My mom got a new job and here I am.” You lay down in the grass, enjoying the cool drops of dew brush your cheeks. “I’ve never seen so much green in my entire life.” 

 “I’ve never seen someone be this excited about Ohio in my life.” 

A laugh bubbled up to your lips and you lightly punched Rodrick on the arm. “Quit it, Mr. Bad Boy,” you warned.

The corners of your mouth crept up into a soft smile, and a comfortable silence fell over the both of you. You finally got the chance to study his face - his messy dark hair and soft brown eyes balanced out his defined jawline, his lips quirked into a soft smirk. The more you gazed, the redder his cheeks became. 

What you didn't know was that he was doing exactly the same. Your hair seemed to frame your soft and freckled face. Your bright eyes and smile weren't easy to miss and the sound of your laugh was inrtoxicating. It wasn’t long before you could feel your face flaring up with the same pinkish tone as his.

He cleared his throat. “So, I was thinking - me and my band actually have a gig on Friday night, and I just - I was, I just was wondering if you’d maybe want to come see me play?”

Your eyes lit up at his question and your blush deepened at his nervousness. “I’d really-“

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off by your parents calling you inside. Looking up at the sky, you just realized that the sky had turned into a deep blue, the moon acting only as the source of light. You checked the time on the radio and a sheepish smile spread across your face. The two of you had been talking for almost two hours.

You ripped out the last page from your book and grabbed the pencil sitting behind your ear, scribbling your phone number in between the lines of text. Rodrick stood up and held out his hand for you to grab. He easily pulled you up, and you realized just how much closer you moved to him throughout your conversation. Even in the darkness, you could still make out the lines surrounding his pupils. Thankfully, it was too dark to see the blush on your cheeks. 

“Text me when and where, and I’ll be there.” You smiled. “You know, I don’t know much about this town and I could really use a tour guide. You free tomorrow?”

Rodrick didn’t even hesitate to answer. “I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“Perfect.” You placed the folded up piece of paper in the palm of his hand, letting your hand linger on his for a moment. “I’ll see you then, Rodrick.” You turned on your heels and went inside, quickly turning to wave goodnight before stepping back into your house.

Rodrick’s mouth stood agape as he watched you walk inside. He stuffed the piece of paper into the pocket of his jeans.

“See you then.”

[latenitetea]

not in kansas anymore - rodrick heffley headcanons(ish)

rodrick may or may not have a crush on a theater kid...

you KNOW that rodrick was definitely forced to go see the spring musical at his high school by his parents because they saw it as “family bonding time”

And he complains about it the whole way there

“come on rodrick, I thought you’re supposed to be the one into music” 

Immediate eye rolls

“not this kind, dork.”

He makes it his mission to zone out for the two hours of misery he’s about to endure

he’s not wrong about the musicals being miserable: the theater department at his school is - poorly funded, to say the least

still, there was enough money to at least put on a budget production of the wizard of oz

he’s staring at the auditorium clock, trying to figure out how long until they can leave

But then he hears your voice

he’s fully taken aback and he immediately looks at the stage to figure out who’s singing.  he can’t believe what he sees.

It’s you, under a single spotlight center stage

Suddenly he realizes that he really loves musical theater

And he’s pretty sure you both have chem class together

He’s so in awe at watching you on stage that he gets snapped out of his trance by a smirking greg at the start of intermission

“theater girls, huh? I didn’t realize that was your type.” “shut up.”

He tries to get you out of his head, but then the curtain rises and he hears your voice again. And he knows he’s done for.

Act II is spent with rodrick trying to muster up courage to ask you out 

Greg has to physically stop him from jumping out of his seat when you bow

After the show, he walks up to you and tries to slyly lean on the lockers.

He trips over his own two feet but recovers with a casual grin

You don’t even realize that he tripped -you’re too busy being shocked that he showed up to the school musical

“rodrick heffley. Shouldn’t you be practicing for your band and skipping chem right now?”

He frowns in defeat, thinking it was your cue for him to back off

But then you smile at him

And the boy is about to MELT

“you know, you should use that pretty voice to sing to me, not to make fun of my hatred for the periodic table.”

It’s your turn to blush this time around

he’s smirking on the outside, but on the inside, he thinks he’s going to explode

“but speaking of my band, we actually have a gig next Friday night, so I was - I was just wondering if you’d want to maybe come see me play?”

He can feel his fake cool starting to dissolve and his palms start sweating

You take his playbill and scribble your phone number next to your name on the cast list.

“text me the address, alright? I’ll see you there, and maybe at chem if you decide to show up.”

You hand him back his playbill with a smirk and walk away

He swears that you winked at him to this day

It’s Greg that has to snap him out of the trance he was stuck in

“well rodrick, doesn’t look like you’re in Kansas anymore, huh?”