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shimmernspice · 3 days ago

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Heartbeats and Hockey Pucks

Pairing: Hockey!Vi x reader

Request: anything with loser!vi like idk maybe college au and like reader is popular rich kid and shes something with sports honestly idc i j need loser vi.

Warnings: 18+, clumsy Vi, major pining

You're not sure when Vi started hovering around you like an eager, oversized puppy, but you've learned to expect it. At parties, in the dining hall, hell even between classes - you catch glimpses of her, always too aware of your presence. Always looking like she's debating whether to say something. It would be creepy if she wasn't so utterly terrible at hiding it.

She's on the hockey team, one of the best players, from what Caitlyn says. But she carries herself with the kind of awkwardness that you wouldn't expect for someone so athletically gifted. She could bodycheck someone into the boards without hesitation, but holding a conversation with you? That's where she stumbles.

It's almost endearing.

Almost.

You're halfway through your iced coffee, scrolling mindlessly through your phone when a shadow falls over your table. Looking up, you find Vi standing there, shifting her weight like she's preparing for impact.

"Hey," she says, gripping the strap of her hockey bag like it's the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. "Uh. You busy Friday night?"

You blink. "Depends. Why?"

She glances away, then back to you, then away again, like she's running through a dozen different exit strategies but forcing herself to stay put. You caught a glimpse of her reddening ears every time she turned.

"We've got a game. It's uh, a pretty big one if you wanna come. Or like, Y'know. If you don't have anything better to do. Which you probably do. Obviously."

It's kind of impressive how she manages to make an invitation sound like an emergency.

You tilt your head, considering her. "You want me to come?"

She makes an aggressively strangled noise and clears her throat. "I mean yeah but like- not in a weird way! Just support. For the team..."

You sip your coffee, watching her squirm. "Right. The team."

She nods too fast. "Yeah exactly, the team."

Her ears are bright red now, fingers flex nervously around the strap. She looks like she's about five seconds away from melting into a puddle on the floor. You should let her off the hook, you really should.

But where's the fun in that?

"Yeah for sure," you say, standing as your next class approaches. You let your hand brush her arms as you pass. 'See you later, Vi."

She doesn't respond immediately, and when you glance back over she's standing still, staring at the spot where your skin touched hers.

Absolutely doomed.

────────────────────────────────────────────

The locker room smells like sweat and cheap deodorant. The kind that only barely masks the stench of hockey gear that's been through too many games and not enough washes. Vi sits on the bench, hunched over as she laces up her skates, hyperfocused like it's the only thing keeping her from spiraling.

"You good, champ?" Sevika drawls from the other side of the room.

Vi grunts.

"Sure about that?" Sevika's smile is razor-sharp. "You've been tying that same lace for the past three minutes."

Vi yanks it tighter than necessary, nearly cutting off the circulation to her foot. "I'm all good."

Sevika raises her right brow. "Right. Nothing to do with a certain rich kid sitting up in the stands right now, watching your every move?"

"Not judging," Sevika continues. "I mean, if I had someone that pretty coming to my game I'd wanna impress them too. Shame if, I dunno, you made an ass of yourself out there."

"Sevika," Vi warns.

"Don't worry," Sevika slaps Vi's back hard enough to jostle her forward. "Just play the game. And if you embarass yourself then at least she'll remember you for something."

Vi mutters a string of curses to herself as she stands, shaking her nerves out. It's fine. It's just a game, just like any other one.

Except it isn't because you're there. And Vi is completely, irreversibly skewed.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You settle into your seat trying to ignore the knot of tension in your stomach. You're not nervous for the game, you're just...feeling something. It's probably nothing.

Caitlyn nudges you with her elbow, leaning in with a teasing smile. "You know, it's kind of cute how you keep staring at her," she says, nodding to the rink.

You roll your eyes, but she's not wrong. After months of Vi's very obvious pinning you were completely surprised that she even invited you to the game.

Vi's team takes the ice, and the sight of her in her full gear, skating with purpose and precision, makes your heart skip a beat. You can't deny it- there's something magnetic about her. Her awkwardness was part of the charm, but on ice it's like she's in her element.

At least, that's what you think until she spots you.

From across the rink Vi's eyes catch yours. There's a brief moment in Vi's mind where she's trying to convince herself that you being here changes nothing. The game, focus on the game, she reminds herself. This is totally a normal game and I'm not trying to impress her.

You arch your brow, raising a hand to wave. Caitlyn watches you with a grin tugging on her lips. "Ooh she noticed," she whispered, leaning closer to you. "Bet you she gets nervous and messes up."

You throw her a glance, half-exasperated, but deep down you're hoping she's wrong.

But of course, Caitlyn's right.

And just as you thought it - Vi tries something dumb.

During a break in the action, Vi glides to the center of the rink, glancing at the crowd with a hopeful look in her eyes. You can practically hear her mentally chanting, "This is it, this is the moment."

She goes for a trick.

A simple one. She's going to spin, toss the puck in the air, and catch it on her stick with a flourish. It's a move she's pulled off in practice a dozen times.

Except the universe has other plans today.

Vi spins, but the puck slips from her stick, sailing through the air and landing smack in the ice in front of her. She slips and lands flat on her back. The crowd erupts into a mix of groans and chuckles, but all you can focus on it the sound of her muffled cursing.

Caitlyn bursts out laughing, leaning to whisper, "You were saying?"

You throw her a glare but your heart squeezes in sympathy for Vi. You wonder if she'll get up. She does, and then - Vi does the most Vi thing ever.

She shoots up with the speed of someone trying to outrun a mistake, face flushed but stubborn. She gives the crowd a sheepish grin, raising her hand like she planned the entire disaster. "Totally meant to do that," she says, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Her words came out like a half-joke half-apology.

You feel a wave of affection for her awkwardness. It's like she's been shot out of a cannon and is trying to recover mid-air. You can't help it, you laugh too even though you're trying to keep it down.

"She's something," you say, watching Caitlyn from the corner of your eye. She nudges you, "I swear if you don't ask her out after this she's going to go crazy."

You roll your eyes but your chest tightens. You don't need Caitlyn to point it out - you know your heart racing in your chest isn't for nothing. You don't know how you never realized, but after months of her awkwardness and stumbling you grew curious.

But watching Vi stand there, owning her mistake like it's part of the plan, made you realize something else.

As if she senses it, Vi looks up to meet your gaze. Vi's breath catches, her lips curling into the brightest smile you've ever seen. And there's something in the way she holds your gaze that makes your heart skip.

She knows.

You don't have to say anything; she already recognizes the shift in your eyes - the way you're looking at her, something more than the fleeting gazes you've passed her way.

And maybe, just maybe, this is the moment she's been waiting for.

#vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi x you #vi x fem reader #vi arcane #arcane #sevika #caitlyn #hockey!Vi #i'm feral for hockey Vi I need to write more

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sunrisecaminus · 1 day ago

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Hi I hope you having a wonderful day

May I request some sfw optimus x reader?

Message - I am having a great day actually! Also of course! Got to love the Prime once in a great while! I didn't know what to put as a story so I just made the human have a job.

Optimus x Mechanic Reader SFW

Summary - Optimus having a cute hang out at the human's store!

Warning - Very adorable!

Type of fic - Fluff

You have never had to fix so many vehicles before, until you met the Autobots. You never wanted to tell them, but Cybertronian anatomy was actually easy to learn to help Ratchet with the minor injuries these idiots get from missions. You own your very own Mechanic shop and the bots just make it less boring when they come to visit. Optimus was very respectful to you and rarely visits, but after some deep discussions you both have with each other, he will come by to see you a lot more now a days.

Right now you are giving an oil change for someone when you see from the corner of your eye the red, white and blue truck pulling up. The smile that grew on your face said it all and you finished the guys truck, got paid, and let him leave your garage. Walking outside with your o/c overalls (overall color), you pat the front of the hood and greet your big truck friend. "Hi big guy! What you in for?" You wait patiently as he transforms and looks around. "Hello y/n. I came to drop off some parts for your work. Agent Fowler said it's for Bumblebee when he comes in."

You have lifted so much weight off Ratchet's back by giving the mechs their own check ups and basic plating care routines. You have noticed that you haven't given Optimus a full check yet, but you figured it was because the man was very private about his body. You heard from a lot of his friends that he rarely likes to be touched and they blame it on him being a Prime. It didn't matter to you though, you just wanted him to feel comfortable around his new environments and relax. "Well why don't you come in? I closed for the night so no one is coming around anytime soon." Your shop close really late and it's in the middle of no where. Just outside of Jasper was just your mechanic shop, a mini gas station, and the desert. You liked how peaceful it was here, and the autobot base is actually close by, so anytime the kids need a place to stay they could always come to you for a sleep over. You lived in the back of your shop, but you didn't mind. It was like a cozy apartment inside your home with a tv, kitchen, bedroom, and your own bathroom so you didn't need to use the shops public restroom. It wasn't much, but the quiet nature of it made it feel like a luxury to you. Anyway Optimus walks over and sits just outside of the garage as you pull up a chair and grab your microwaved dinner. "So, any new stories you need to tell me? How are the kids?"

You both talk for what seemed like hours. It was so nice to get to be with him again, but what you didn't know is he felt the same way about you. You listened to everything he said and gave such good advice. What he loved most about humans was their empathy, and you had a lot of it. You played a lot of music with your vintage record player and he loved to just close his eyes and listen to the sweet music…made him forget about the war for a few hours. You NEVER talked about the war with him, unless he talked about it first. Being the person you were, you never wanted to talk to someone about deep things unless they initiated it first, a lot of people find dark topics to be uncomfortable to talk about and you knew Optimus was an awkward person. "Hey, thanks for the shipment. Speaking of, I have some new tires for you if you ever wanted to get some new ones yourself. Treat yourself and get something good once in a while to make you feel better." You eat your food, waiting for an answer as he got quiet to think about it. "I don't want to bother you about it y/n. It's very late." He spoke to you like he was such a nuisance. You wanted to change that ever since this man met you. Standing up, you grab your tool box and throw your empty container into the trash. "Transform and come on in, I can hook you up with some good classic black tires! Nothing flashy I promise."

He obeyed and did just that, transforming, and driving inside your garage. He has never done this before, so he may be a little nervous doing this with a human mechanic. It's not that he didn't trust you personally, he was just worried a human wouldn't know how to change Cybertronian tires. What Optimus didn't know, was that you have been taking classes from Ratchet and reading books in translation to help yourself understand how to do everything. You already practice changing tired on Bumblebee and Arcee, so this was going to be a piece of cake for you. Opening the tool box you walk over and hook him onto the big machine. He didn't know what it was for at first until his entire body gets lifted a few feet off the ground. "Are you sure this will hold?" You chuckle from how anxious he was and pat his bumper. "You'll be fine I promise, Fowler hooked me up with some expensive tech so this baby can hold a plane." You put on gloves and start to get to work.

After about two hours, you clean off the last tire and lower him to the ground. He was a big mech so you made sure you lowered him slowly and you see the tires pressing against the shops floors. "Aaaaaand we are done! Now I already sprayed them and put some air in them so you won't have to come back for another check up in-" You interrupt yourself when you heard nothing coming out of him. You could sense that he wasn't listening so you press your hand on his door. "Hey, you ok? Optimus?" That was when you heard a soft noise coming out of his engine…he was asleep. You smiled from the cute moment that is happening right now and you grab a tarp from the back. It was a nice giant blue tarp that is used to protect vehicles from weather conditions as you draped it over his entire body. Going inside the kitchen, you make yourself a cup of hot chocolate as you go back outside into the garage to sit yourself by the desk you have. You take a sip of the mug and place it on the table, grabbing a pen to start drawing for your next blueprint idea. You look back at the sleeping prime that was in your garage. "Sweet dreams Optimus…love you." You go back to work as what you don't see is him flustered on the inside. He woke up when you gave him the blanket…and now he plans to visit you everyday from now on.

#maccadam #tfp #transformers #transformers prime #transformers x reader #transformers x y/n #transformers x human #optimus x reader #optimus x y/n #optimus x human #optimus prime

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sturniqlo · 2 days ago

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「 ✦ BOYFRIEND OF YOURS? ✦ 」

summary: chris keeps his promise to your dad and visits the office, and chris notices the little nerd who is utterly in love with you.

cw: name calling(?), jealousy

word count: 2.7k

masterlist | WFYL masterlist | more WFYL | join my taglist

PART TWO

it was 10:29am and you stood in front of the high ceiling windows of your office and just watched the city and everyone going about their day. you saw a mom and her two kids enter the indoor play place that wasn't too far from the office building, a few random teenagers skipping school, something you wish you would've done, many people walking their dogs. it was funny just how many dogs ran into each other and stared at one another, or just barked.

you were having a bit of trouble trying to understand the plot to the a new movie that was in the talks. you had many jobs here, you went to meetings to discuss new movie and show ideas, you helped with editing, you even went to a few shootings to supervise, and the most important of them all was having the final say in approving a movie or show.

the guy, peter ray, who pitched the idea sure that the movie would be a number one hit in theaters and across the nation, but you just didn't understand it. he wanted the movie to end on a cliffhanger and not have an actual ending. but you didn't like the idea of that.

not at all.

why make a movie and leave it on a cliffhanger with no part two to it? you knew that it would get bad reviews and not do well due to the word that will be surfacing around social media. it's a no. either he comes up with a good ending, or it's a no.

you turned around from the window and made your way to your desk. picking up the phone you rang your assistant. “hello ms. y/n. everything okay?” you hated when people called you ms.celestine, you preferred your name. “hi, franny. everything is fine. is there anyway you can contact mr.ray and have him come down here? a meeting is needed.”

you heard some shuffling in the background and the sound of a printer beeping. “yeah, of course. i'll get to it right away.” she chirped, franny was always in a good mood even if it was a shit day and you had lost your patience and accidentally lashed at her. but you always apologized right away.

“thank you.” you said before cutting the call. you sighed, leaning against the backrest of your office chair. your phone that was set faced down on your desk buzzed

franny

mr.ray has agreed to come to the office. your meeting is at 11:30. anyone else's rather than mr.ray and his team i should contact ghat should attend the meeting?

you

no, no one else. thank you franny!

your father was tucked away in his office on the top floor, the very top floor. the last you heard from him was that he was doing some last minute deals and arrangements to set you up in the near future when you become ceo. even with the many, many times you told him you could handle it when the time came, he wouldn't budge.

deep into thought, there was a soft knock on your door. who could it be? you thought. “come in.” you mumbled, straightening your posture. as the door opened, you were met with oliver, an intern who was only two years younger than you, he had a shy smile on his face and gently closed the door behind him, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“sorry if i interrupted anything.” he blushed, he always did when he talked to you, or even looked at you. there was this one incident where you were trying to pass by and placed your hand on his bicep, the poor boy nearly creamed his pants. “you didn't, glad you took me out of my thoughts, though.” you chuckled, clearing your throat right after.

“what is it that y’need?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before signing a form. “i was wondering if you'd-” a knock interrupted his sentence. “sorry, just a minute.” you told him. “come in!” you said out loud to the person who knocked.

franny walked in. “hey, i just came to drop these off. i-” she put a stack of papers on the corner of your desk, she then saw oliver and cut her sentence short. “oliver, is it okay if you step out for a minute? i have to talk to ms.y/n alone.” she gave him a lip tight smile.

oliver frowned and blushed. “oh- yeah, sure. i'll just talk to you l- later.” he scurried out.

“may i?” franny pointed to the chair in front of your desk. “go ahead.” you nodded. “so, mr.ray just called me back and he was kinda… mad. he really wants you to approve his idea, but i'm with you. a movie ending on a cliffhanger with no second part is kind of pointless—to me, that is.”

you sighed, you knew he'd have a hard time accepting the fact that you were on the verge on rejecting his idea. “i knew he'd be pissed. and yeah, a movie with no ending is fucking pointless. it's either he comes up with an actual ending to the movie or i'm going to have to say no. and he's grateful that i'm still giving him a chance. if it were my father, he'd shut the idea right down the minute he knew the idea for the end.”

franny nodded as you spoke. you and her had a great relationship. on days she wasn't needed in the office or random weekends, you two would go out for brunch or a coffee run and talk like friends. just like you and your dad, you separated your outside friendship and work relationship. in all honesty, she was like the sister you never had.

“i'm ready for this week to be over. want to hang out at my place saturday night? i could really use a gossip night.” you cracked a smile. “im there. i'll bring our favorite.” there was this one pizza place near your condo and if you could, you would eat it everyday for the rest of your life. “deal, i'll get the wine.”

you two chatted for a while more until franny had to go and take care of something. “good luck with peter, y/n.” she said before she left your office.

it had been a few weeks since he had last seen you. him and your father have exchanged a couple of emails here and there and eventually set up a date to where chris would visit the office.

and that was today.

he stood in his bedroom, fixing the collar that stool out from beneath his prada sweater. chris was excited to see you again even if he tried to avoid the thought of you for several reasons.

the night after the party, he thought about you in that dress all night. a little too much. you were definitely something.

he got into his car and began to drive to the office.

when chris arrived at the parking garage entrance, the garage door opened automatically and was met with a parking garage he had never seen before. the wall were a bright white, the floor wasn't the usual concrete floor, it was a sleek black one that the light reflected off of.

there was a booth up the makeshift hill with a man in a black suit. chris stopped the car and rolled his window down, lowing the music. “good morning, sir. you must be—” he took a look at a paper that was stuck to his laptop. “- chris sturniolo.” chris nodded. “that would be me, yes.”

“good, there's been a parking spot reserved for you. number three. it's just straight ahead near the elevators, and two cars that are hard to miss.” his arm directed into the direction of the spot. “thank you.” chris responded, slowly driving away.

it was true, the two cars parked in spots one and two were hard to miss. parked in spot one was an all black rolls royce, and parked next to chris, in spot two, was a white range rover. he turned into spot one, the only spot left. chris’ guess was that spot one and two were reserved specifically for you and your dad, but that was just a guess.

locking his car, he headed to the all glass elevator and pressed the up arrow. waiting a couple of seconds, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. inside, the small space was filled with classical music and shiny numbered buttons.

he pressed one.

as the doors opened back up again, he was met with a beautiful lobby. it was filled with natural light and beautiful structures. “good morning.” the lady at the front desk said. “hello, i'm here to meet with mr.celestine. i'm chris sturniolo.” he rested an elbow on the counter. “ahh, yes. i'll be right with you, mr.sturniolo.” she smiled, picking up the phone near her desk.

as she waited for her call to be answered, chris looked around the lobby and noticed that the tvs were playing their newest movie, violet, a thriller movie. he had watched it and thought it was an incredible movie. the actors, some of which also worked with his company for pr, were incredible.

“hey, it's pam from the front desk. mr.sturniolo has just arrived at the lobby. could you please take him to mr.celestines office?... thank you.” she returned the phone to its original spot. “alright, i have someone coming down to take you up to mr.celestines office. feel free to take a seat or have something from the snack bar.” she pointed over to a small room across the desk.

“thank you.” chris nodded, making a beeline towards the room. the room was quite big, almost like a mini kitchen. there were various vending machines—free vending machines, a see through fridge with various foods and snacks, and a table with even more snacks.

chris grabbed a bottle of water and scoped out the table of snack, he picked up a pack of skittles and put them in his back pocket. walking out of the room, he smiled at the lady sitting at the desk and made his way to one of the couches.

he waited a couple of minutes, finishing his water and candy. someone finally came to get him. “mr.sturniolo?” chris hears someone call out for him and he turns around.

“that's me.” he gets up. “great, i'm oliver. i’ll be taking you to mr.celestines office. follow me.” chris nods and follows behind him. in the elevator, chris speaks up. “so, how long have you been working here?” he looks over at the boy pushing his glasses up his nose.

“oh, i'm an intern. i've been here for almost a month.” the elevator door opens back up. “right this way.” oliver steps out first and points his arm to the right down the hall.

as they walk through the hallway, chris notices the many movie posters along the walls and various news headlines about celestine studios. movie of the year, #1 high grossing movie, celestine studios makes history winning all 6 nominations in one night, highest ranked movie, celestine studios has the most perfect scores on rotten tomatoes, and there were many more.

“impressive.” chris mumbles to himself, continuing to follow oliver. “here we are.” oliver announces as they stop in front of. door at the end of the hall. plastered on the wall is a golden sign that says ‘MR. CELESTINE: CEO’.

oliver picks his fist up and knocks on the door. they wait a few seconds before a voice is heard from behind the door. “come on in.” oliver opens the door and lets chris walk in first. “mr. celestine, mr. sturniolo is here.” your dad looks up from his laptop and claps his hands. “wonderful! thanks you, oliver. you're dismissed. chris- have a seat.”

oliver closes the door behind him and leaves. chris walks up to your dads desk and shakes his hand. “mr.celestine, it's nice to see you again.” he sits. “nice to see you too. so, what do you think of my building so far?”

“it's wonderful, really.” chris nods.

the two talk for a while, asking each other questions. “let's go visit my daughter, shall we.” you dad say, starting to get up from his chair. “sure.” chris hides his excitement at the mention of you. the two make their way down to the floor you're on.

“good afternoon, mr.celestine.” franny spots your dad and chris. “good afternoon, franny. this is mr. chris sturniolo.” your dad points to chris standing next to him. the two greet each other with a smile. “where is my daughter, we'd like to talk with her.”

“oh, she's in the fifth conference room. but, she's currently in a meeting with mr.ra-” he cuts her off. “thank you, franny.” they two walk away. as they approached conference room five, mr.celestine doesn't bother to knock and barges right in.

“—i'm sorry peter, i've given you options but you're not cooperating with me.” you look up and spot both your dad and chris. chris had never seen this side of you, obviously, in a business setting. “dad? excuse me for one second.” you excuse yourself, standing up to walk up towards the both of them.

chris looks over at the man sitting at the other end of the table who looks frustrated. “what's up… im kind of in a meeting.” chris could tell that you were frustrated as well. “hon, chris is here. remember at the party the other night? ‘said he was going to stop by.” you didn't remember. “oh- yeah. how could i forget.”

“just finish this up and meet us for lunch.” your dad patted your shoulder before turning around. “c’mon chris, let me show you some set mock ups.”

you went back to your meeting. “so, are you going to consider my options?”

finishing up the meeting that went well for you and not so well for peter ray, you were making your way to your office to wind down for a bit after that meeting. as you stepped out of the conference room, oliver spotted you. making his way over to you, chris got to you first .

“hey, doll.” he smirked. “hi, chris. nice to see you again.” oliver stopped a few feet behind the two of you, and chris spotted him, looking back into your eyes. “meeting went well?” he crossed his arms. “so-so.” you nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“how's lunch sound- just me ‘nd you? your dad had a last minute meeting. told me to hang with you, said you fun to be around.” oliver, just a few feet away from you two, was red in the face with fists by his side and storms off. “boyfriend of yours?” he nods at oliver who stomps to his mini office. “who?”

“glasses over there. looked like he wanted to kill me for talking t’you.” he chuckles. “oliver? no, not my boyfriend. he's a sweet kid though.” you had noticed here and there the lingering looks he gave you as you walked by him, or the fact that he did anything you told him to. you could ask him to step on a million thumbtacks and he'd do it.

“mm.” he nods, rolling his lips inside. “so, lunch?” he asked again. “uh- yeah. sure, let me just put this in my office.” you refer to your laptop and notebook in your arms. “of course. i'll come with.” he followed behind you. as the two of you walked by oliver, he sent him a petty wink.

“so, this is your office?” he says as you two enter the room. “yup, like it?” you ask smiling as you place down the items on your desk. you round the corner to grab your phone from the drawer. “yeah, s’nice.” he nods looking around before putting his eyes back on you and noticing that you're reaching for your wallet. “ah- ah. lunch is on me. leave that here.”

“you sure?” you look at him, opening the drawer to put your wallet in there. “i'm sure.” he confirms. “c’mon, i made reservations ahead of time. you like sushi?” chris asks, his hand hovering over the small of your back as you two walked out of your office. “love it.” you giggle.

chris turned his head and saw oliver glaring at him once more. chris only shrugged at him and waved to him.

he's going to be seeing chris a lot from now on.

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ authors note ࿐ྂ

boring chapter :/ i promise we're getting closer to the juiciness😛

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lilgarbitch · 2 days ago

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lovesick - Noah Sebastian

Beside You Pt. 3

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: groveling, anxiety, angst, the whole shabang

Word Count: 4.5k

Author‘s Note: 🫵🏻 HAHA SUCKERS jk i hope you enjoy

Tags: @theanarchymuse95 @dontwantthemoney @chey-h @badomensgoodomens @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @enemiestolovershoe @blade-dressed-in-red @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thatchickwiththecamera @tosoundlessdarkistare @lacy1986

Y/N

I had to force myself out of bed again today. Some days are better than others, but days like these, ones where I don‘t have work or anything planned, I have to give myself a reason to actually get up. Sometimes just the walk to the living room is all I can do, but today I‘m making myself do some shopping. The cupboards are running dry and I‘ve been surviving on delivery for too long to be healthy. After throwing on presentable but comfortable clothes, I make my way to the grocery store.

My mind has been in a fog for as long as I can remember, so as I shop, I have to repeatedly check my list to make sure I don‘t forget anything, causing me to circle the store a few times. As I make it to the wine aisle, far back into the store, I hear a bit of laughter nearby. Like a bunch of college kids on their first grocery trip together who can‘t help but laugh at everything. It puts a small smile on my face, remembering what it was like to try and do things like this with the boys. Folio always doing whatever he could to make us laugh, Noah tripping over his own feet (Or Nick‘s) and almost crashing the cart, and Nick pretending like he hated us for causing a ruckus, even if he was constantly adding to it.

I let the small sweet memory play in my mind as I scan the aisle, debating on what I wanted. I‘ve been good with drinking away my sorrows in the last few years, calming down after the first one, but I never know when those days will creep back in, so I decide on two bottles of a sweet, low ABV wine, and place them in my cart. I pause to take one last glance at my list, making sure I got everything, before looking back up to start heading to the check-out.

And that‘s when my eyes land on someone. Someone in a cap, sunglasses, too familiar long hair, and an identical sleeve as Nick‘s. Every cell in my body froze as I watched him walk towards the aisle near mine, eyeing up the rows of beer. I watch as he decides on a case, grabbing it and finally lifting his head. His eyes barely grazed mine, before he did a double take. And then we just stand there, staring at each other. After a few moments, he blinks, glances behind him for a second, and then turns back towards me. I can practically hear the gears spinning in his head, debating how he wants this interaction to go. Or maybe they‘re the gears in my mind, thinking the same thing. Finally, he starts walking towards me, an awkward yet warming smile on his face.

‘‘Y/N…Hi,“ He practically whispers, knocking me back into reality as I finally hear his voice again after almost 4 years.

‘‘Uh..Hi. How are you?“ I almost grimace at how awkward this is, when, for years, we used to be able to talk about anything.

‘‘I‘m good. The boys and I are actually playing a show at the Canal Club tonight,“ He rushes out, like he needed to explain why he was finally here after so long. I nod, trying to show how proud I was, and not the pain and fear I was feeling, knowing that they were all back in Richmond tonight, ‘‘How have you been?“

I take the most subtle deep breath I could, needing to put all my energy into putting on a front. It would be embarrassing for him to find out that I‘m still hurting all these years later. That to this day, I‘ve yet to move on and I still miss them all more than anything.

‘‘I‘m good!,“ I reply, maybe a little too enthusiastically. I try to keep a smile on my face, trying my best not to make it seem too forced, “Still at the same house. Still waitressing at the same place. Not much has changed.”

I almost see a small hint of shock on his face, but he just nods. He’s probably thinking about how I’ve gone nowhere with my life since they left, which was true. Them leaving destroyed me. I haven’t been able to do much other than the bare minimum. But I don’t want him or anyone else to know that, so I just let him know that life is the same old shit as before.

“Well, you look great. I like what you’ve done with your hair,” He says with a small smile. I mirror his smile, ignoring the fact that he’s talking about the grown out, faded hair that I was currently covering with a beanie. I give him a small thanks, before I see a face pop up out of the corner of my eye.

My stomach drops, I knew he wasn’t here alone, but I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could handle at the moment without fully preparing myself. All I saw was a tall, tattooed man with long hair walking our way in my peripheral, and I was silently begging to any higher being watching over it wasn’t who I thought it was. And thankfully, they answered. In comes their new member I haven't met yet. Nick glances to the side and gives him a small nod.

“Jolly, this is Y/N. Y/N, Jolly,” Nick introduces us. I reach my hand out with a small smile, truly happy it was him and not any of the other guys. I pretend I don’t see the small look Nick gives Jolly before we shake hands.

“Nice to meet you,” I say with the best sweet voice I could muster at the moment.

“You, too. I’ve always wanted to meet some of the boy’s home friends they talk about,” he replies, with one of the thickest accents I’ve probably ever heard around here. I ignore the way he called me their friend, not knowing if he knows the full story or not.

“Yeah, we were just uh..catching up. I mentioned that we were playing here tonight,” Nick throws in, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Oh? They didn’t tell you already?” And there was my answer to if he knew our history or not. “Well why don’t you come down to see us perform? I bet we can hook you up with a ticket.”

I glance at Nick as I debate my answer, and surprisingly, he has an almost hopeful look in his eyes, making me rethink everything.

“I..Uh..I’ll see if I can free up some time,” I lie.

”Well, we’ll tell them that there’s a free ticket waiting for you with your name on it. Why don’t you text one of the guys when you figure it out so we know. Maybe we can hang out after the show? I bet it’s been a while since you’ve all seen each other,” Jolly says, to which I nod.

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. I’m still at the old house, like I said, so we can hang there if the others are up for it,” I awkwardly ramble, already feeling a pit forming in my stomach at the invitation I almost wish I didn’t give, both desperately wanting to have them in my home again, but also knowing I won’t be able to handle it.

Nick nods with an even more hopeful look on his face, and Jolly has a pleased, relaxed look, completely oblivious to what he’s about to witness if we all come together again. They talk a bit about the show, still sounding hopeful I’ll come, before we say our goodbyes, Jolly’s being a “See you later,” as if he already knows I want to see the other boys more than anything.

My mind was racing even more than before as I pay for my groceries and make my way home. As I look through my closet, trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. As I stare at my appearance, knowing I’ll see Noah again tonight.

Do I wear something from the time we spent together? It’s not like I’ve gotten that much clothes since then, other than outfits that aren’t really ‘going out’ wear. My hair’s a mess. I have a few hours until the show. Do I redye it? Do I present myself as someone who hasn’t been slowly dying on the inside since the day they left?

They’ve all changed so much in the last few years, so do I want to show that I have as well? Even though my version of change wasn’t for the better? Or do I show up looking like a day hasn’t passed, wearing what I always used to and bring back old memories like they will for me?

I already know I’m going to spend the next few hours freaking out over everything, knowing it’s going to be an emotional night as well.

Noah

Folio swats at my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts and causing me to pull my fingers from my mouth as I was chewing my nails with anxiety. I go to glare at him before Nick catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I asked him to run to the store for snacks and drinks, specifically requesting some type of alcohol in hopes it would ease my nerves just a little bit, so I was thankful he was finally back. But as our eyes met, I see that he has this sheepish look on his face. Then Jolly bounds through the door, as excited as ever.

“We ran into your friend at the store! She’s really pretty,” he exclaims, causing me to completely stop breathing. I look back over at Nick, probably looking absolutely terrified, and he just nods.

“You ran into Y/N?” I ask, trying not to sound too excited or worried.

”Yeah! I told her she should come to the show tonight. She even invited us back to her place after, if you guys are up for it,” Jolly answers.

“She…She’s coming to the show tonight?” I ask slowly, and he nods, completely oblivious to how freaked out I was right now.

“She didn’t confirm, but I assume she will. I mean, why wouldn’t she want to see you guys after so long? Especially now that we’re touring. I told her to text one of you if she can or not.”

I stare at Jolly for a few moments before turning to Nick, then Folio, all of them staring back at me. Jolly, confused with my reaction, and the other two with a pitying, yet hopeful look on their faces.

“What am I missing?” Jolly asks. Thankfully, Nick responds.

”Y/N used to be…family. Even more to Noah than the rest of us.” He looked at him even more confused, not catching on yet.

”Well? What happened?”

”I left.” I answer bluntly, making him turn back to me.

“What do you mean?”

”I up and left. We were friends since childhood, dating for almost three years…and I left her to move to L.A.” He stares at me, waiting for me to continue, but I don’t.

”And I’m guessing she didn’t take it well?” I shook my head.

“I purposely didn’t want her to take it well…I completely dropped her. The second I made the decision to leave, I decided it was best to get her to hate me so it wouldn’t hurt more in the long run. But it did. At least for me. It’s been almost four years since I pushed her away and it’s my biggest regret…And now, tonight, I might see her again.”

”Dude, what the fuck? Why the hell wouldn’t you at least try? I understand long distance sucks, but we’re getting big. We could’ve easily covered flights. You could’ve talked on the phone. She could’ve fucking moved out here with you.” Jolly practically berates me.

“I couldn’t do that to her. I didn’t want to drag her along into my dream when she could’ve chased her own. I couldn’t have her constantly waiting for me while I lived this life, bringing her out here, knowing no one, and never being there for her as we all worked on our band. She’s probably so much better off with this freedom.”

“Noah…When I talked to her earlier, she didn’t look great. She told me she was still living in that house, and hasn’t even changed jobs. She looked like life has been dragging her down ever since. She needed you. Needs you.” Nick cut in, completely catching me off guard. I stare at him as I let his words sink in, not knowing if I hated the regret I felt knowing I absolutely destroyed her by making this decision, or if I was grateful to know that she still needed me as much as I needed her after all these years.

I let out a sigh and fall back onto the couch, draping my arm over my face as the pain resurfaced once again, this time more confusing. I knew I fucked up, but I kept her waiting all these years. I destroyed a once amazing, happy girl, who was always there for me and my brothers. I made them cut her off too, assuming it would ease the trouble of leaving. This whole time, I was killing us both. As terrified I was, I needed to see her. I needed to make this right. Because I missed her more than anything.

Y/N

I step into the crowd, hiding myself in the mix of people. I knew from the countless shows that the boys and I went to that I needed to stay off to the side so I didn’t deal with too many pushing people and crowd surfers, definitely not in the mood for that tonight, but I wanted to be close enough to the stage that I could see them well. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. I watched my boys perform together countless times, just always in someone’s garage or dingy little stages in random tiny venues around town. This would be the first time I was actually seeing them perform their dream.

Apparently, Cane Hill was playing first, then them, so I had a little more time to prepare to see them all for the first time in so long. I was still freaking out over seeing Nick after all these years that I didn’t know how I was going to handle seeing Folio and Noah. Especially Noah.

I was terrified that they’d be looking for me in the crowd, so I was making sure I was blending in as much as possible, and then I could either sneak back home after if this was too much, or try and find them once they got off stage.

As the lights finally turned off and the first band took stage, I couldn’t focus. Their music was good, but I couldn’t stop checking my phone, counting down the minutes of their set. I kept fixing my clothes, hoping my skirt wasn’t riding up too much and that I wasn’t over or under dressed. My mind was a mess. I didn’t know how tonight would play out and I was terrified. I kept running possible scenarios in my head of how everything could go wrong or if anything would go right. How do we fix any of this? Was it even worth fixing?

As Cane Hill walked off stage, I had to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. My stomach was hurting with anxiety and I could hear my heart racing out of my chest. I didn’t open my eyes until I heard cheering around me once more.

Folio walked on stage, his large smile the same as it’s always been. He walked up to the drum set as Nick and Jolly stepped out, guitar and bass already slung across their fronts as they sauntered into their spots, looking confident as ever. I couldn’t help but smile. Some of my anxiety started to ease. They looked like they were meant to be here. To have a large crowd cheering for them, excited to hear them perform. They deserved this. And that proud feeling was just enough to distract me for the main attraction to sneak onto stage.

There he was…

The love of my life. The one who kept me sane for as long as I can remember. The one who brought me comfort in the darkest times. The one who created even darker times. The man I’ll never forget for as long as I live. Noah was once again standing in front of me.

I watched as his eyes scanned the crowd, probably looking for me, but thankfully it was dark enough that he wouldn’t be able to see. As they started their first song, I couldn’t help but get emotional. To hear his voice in person again, even if it was through speakers like it has been since they released their album, brought me both pain and comfort. He was here. We were once again in the same room.

As the show went on, I found myself singing along. The music allowed my nerves to calm a little, and being hidden from his sight and just being able to admire him from afar allowed me to feel a sense of peace for the first time in a long time. He sounded amazing. He was meant for the stage. As I let myself join in with everyone else cheering and singing along, I took the chance to really appreciate how much he’s grown. How confident he’s gotten being in the spotlight. How perfect he looks standing in front of hundreds of people, getting admired for his talent.

And I get so caught up in finally enjoying my time that their set eventually comes to an end. And he speaks into the mic, letting me hear his voice one more time as he introduces the band and thanks everyone for being there. And I listen to his velvety voice being blared through the speakers one last time before they all step off stage.

And now I wasn’t sure what to do. Do I watch the rest of the show, staying hidden from them? Do I leave? Or do I search for them? The room was practically pitch black as everyone waited for New Year’s Day to come out, so I didn’t think there was much I could do anyway.

But then I feel my phone buzz in my hand. I look at it and see a text, surprised to see that he hasn’t changed his number and his nickname was still unchanged in my phone.

Nicky- Come to the left side of the stage

I glace up and see his face illuminated by his phone, and without thinking, my legs take me towards him. It was a bit of a struggle to get through the crowd, but finally, I was facing him for the second time today. Once he sees my legs in front of him, he looks up and gives me a small smile.

”So…how was it?” He awkwardly asks. I give him a smile back.

”You guys are unbelievable. I’m so proud of you, I can’t even put it into words,” I say, the comfort of being near him already back like nothing changed. He visibly relaxes at the sound of my tone and his smile grows bigger at my words.

”That means a lot, especially coming from you. I’m really glad you showed tonight, by the way.”

”I’m glad, too. But to be honest, I’m freaking the fuck out right now.” He changes to a warm smile and turns to sling an arm over my shoulder like he always used to when he wanted to comfort me.

“Trust me. So is everyone else. And I truly mean it when I say I’m glad you showed. I know we fucked up real bad and made a really bad decision, and I couldn’t be more thankful that you don’t hate us for it.” He said with a soft voice as we finally started walking away from the crowd and towards back stage.

“I could never hate you guys. I definitely felt something close to it when you all left, but I quickly understood why you all did what you did. But I can’t say I’m not still upset with you three, one more than the others.” He nods like he understands what I mean.

”Well that one may be the most regretful of all of us,” He says as he pauses outside their green room, “Folio hasn’t shut up since we told him we ran into you earlier, so you’re going to need to spend some time with him first, but just give me the word, and we’ll give you and Noah some space to talk.”

I give him a soft smile and nod, and he finally opens the door. Within a second of stepping through, I’m being tackled into a hug by Folio, instantly recognizing his scent as my face gets shoved into his chest.

”I missed you so fucking much, Y/N. Holy shit, I’m so happy to see you.” I hug him back for a few moments before patting his back, needing air to respond.

I let out a soft laugh as he finally pulls away and looks down at me with an apologetic smile. I watch as his eyes take in my appearance and I catch my breath after he practically squeezed it out of me.

”I missed you, too. So much. And you fucking rocked out there,” I said as I grabbed his shoulder and brough him back into another hug, truly missing them.

“I really hope you aren’t mad at me. I wanted to keep in contact but I didn’t want to hurt you more. Please don’t hate me,” he whispers in my ear as he holds me tight.

”Like I told Nicky, I could never hate you. I love you guys more than anything and am just happy to finally see you again,” I whisper into his.

We pull away after a minute of our much needed embrace and I greet Jolly before I’m immediately pulled into Nick’s arms.

”It wasn’t fair I haven’t gotten a real one since I’ve seen you,” he mumbles as he squeezes me tight. I laugh softly but just let myself take in the feeling of peace and comfort I’ve been missing all these years.

These boys were my family and even after not seeing them for so long, the love has yet to die. And to know that they’ve missed me just as much as I’ve missed them is making me emotional again. I really hope I don’t cry just yet. I still had one more boy to get to. I can feel his eyes on me. His presence filling the room and running my nerves rampant. Nick finally pulls away, laughing at something Folio said as my eyes instantly drift to where he sat.

In that moment, I think we both stopped breathing as we just stared at each other for a few seconds. Seeing him so close again brought back so many feelings. Feelings from our time spent together. Feelings of our time apart. The love and the anger. The longing and the resentment. The grief.

“Y/N…” he practically whispers out as he slowly stands up from his seat and makes his way towards me.

“Noah..” I croak out, my emotions already collecting in my throat.

As we finally stand in front of each other, I hear the other boys step out of the room, giving us our space without me even asking for it. I almost want to be mad they left me alone with the man that has haunted my every living moment, but I’m also thankful, not knowing how this is going to go and not wanting to cry in front of anyone but him.

“I-…How are you?” he softly asks. I just stare at him, letting his voice play in my head after not hearing it for so long.

“I’m…good,” I finally answer, lying. His eyes trail over my face, already knowing my expressions better than me, and definitely catching my lie.

“I’m not. I-…Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice cracks towards the end, and I can feel my eyes starting to well up with tears.

“Noah. I just…Why?”

”I love you so much, Y/N. I love you so fucking much and I regret everything I’ve done. I thought I was making a good decision at the time, but I’ve regretted it ever since,” he gushes.

“So you never reach out? You just leave me in the dark for four years? You drop me out of the blue one day, get your life together, and leave me in the dust? All alone? I couldn’t even talk to Nick or Folio!” I can see him grimace as I raise my voice.

“I thought it was for the better. I thought it was selfish to ask you to join us. I thought that if I…if we left you behind, you wouldn’t feel overshadowed. I knew our focus was going to be put into the music and I couldn’t drag you along just to make you feel unappreciated.” His eyes were now turning red and he was waving his hands, reaching out for me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was about to drop to his knees and beg me for forgiveness.

“Noah. I’d do anything for you. I still love you. Despite the fact you did me so wrong. But you told me that you loved me and then you went and left me. I just..” I sigh and turn around, moving to sit on the couch, burying my face into my hands as my voice turns into more of a whisper, “Why’d you do this to me? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I can’t do much of anything at all… I’ve been so sick since you left.”

He moved to crouch in front of me, trying to look into my eyes. I sniffle and look up at him, desperately needing to see more of his face after so long, even if it’s covered in pain. His hand slowly reaches out, debating on touching me before finally placing it on my knee.

“I’ve been dying on the inside since we left. I need you, Y/N. I can’t keep doing this without you…I now know how wrong I was.”

”Noah…”

TO BE CONTINUED

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian reader insert #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #Spotify

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blauerhund · 3 days ago

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Pauls contribution to the Spy Museum Berlin

See: https://rammwiki.net/wiki/Spy_Museum_Berlin_(soundtrack)

I recently visited Berlin and wanted to check out the spy museum Paul did the music for, ze Deutsches Spionagemuseum, which is located at Potsdamer Platz. It's probably the last Rammstein related spot left that I've been wanting to check out in the city and I finally came about doing so in the one day I was there. The last time they unfortunately had a fire alarm going on, so I couldn't go in, but this time I succeeded!

I really ... I can't get myself to be interested in History Museums and the like, I don't know why. Maybe it's because my dad dragged us kids through every single castle, open air farm museum and medieval market South Germany had to offer at the time, resulting in the adverse effect of me, as an adult, feeling like I need to go sit down after having taken five steps into a Natural History Museum. I guess that means I'm satiated. Sometimes I visit art exhibitions though, but even those drain me so much, I just about run through them and am in a bad mood afterward. Have you heard of Museum Fatigue, because that's a real thing! Anyhow, that's why I made it my mission to walk through the spy museum looking only for the music bits playing. I spent about 10€ at the entrance and then walked in through something resembling a personnel sluice.

At first, I thought they had removed the music as I didn't hear any sounds at all for quite some time after going in, apart from some shooting noise coming from the one corner. However, on the second floor I made out a brawarahh and pushed past info screens, a real-life Trabi and spy standees trying to find out where the sound was coming from. I wanted to try recording some of it as well.

The speakers were put up high above, and I stood there looking like a complete nut holding one arm outstretched above my head pointing my phone at the ceiling. Luckily there weren't too many people there, but what does it matter to me, I was on my mission.

Ever since I had first heard about it, I've been wondering how Paul came about doing this. I guess the most likely explanation is him having a friend involved with the spy museum, asking him if he wanted to put a small part in or something similar. I think Paul is someone who would be happy contributing to a culturally significant occasion or institution, if he sees fit. As can be seen on his Instagram, he does like to look at attractions and things alike, and I imagine him being quite enthusiastic about doing so:

https://www.instagram.com/paullanders_official/p/B1gYv3hoByc/?hl=de&img_index=1

Look at the last picture – he has a good time. I think it's often the bunch consisting of him, Olli and Schneider out and about looking at local attractions and exploring the cities they play in. Jens tagging along from time to time :^)

The Spionagemuseum has quite a few things you can get hands on with, like solving small riddles or trying out a lie detector test. Or even making your way through a laser field! I, well, I just looked at it, but I can see Paul getting in there, rolling around on the floor. It's definitely a well produced exhibition!

They also showed footage of spy movies like Jason Bourne, Mission Impossible, James Bond and so on, with music playing next to it and, you know, I'm quite confident that one wasn't done by Herr Paul Landers, but just the original score. Although there is a song in the laser room where I was sure it was a movies soundtrack as well, but on the RammWiki page there is a song called "Laser Room" so it must be from Paul! Only goes to show his versatility :) Correct me in case I'm wrong and it's a film score after all.

At first, I wanted to include my recordings in this post, then I got a bit scared of violating copyright law, so I'm not gonna share them here (unless we have a German law expert on here telling me it would be fine?), but feel free to DM me. It's mostly eerie sounds, plus that one film score-like bit.

I think I feel rebellious enough for a little snippet though, so if you want to have a taste of Pauls soundtrack composer career, have a listen:

#rammstein

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geoledgy · 8 hours ago

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your oc website is SO SO SO SO INCREDIBLY COOL how the hell do you even start learning how to do this ?? if you learned how to do this by yourself online, are there any tutorials or resources you can share with us? was making this website free??

omg THANK YOU SO SOOOOOO MUCH!!! It makes me so happy to hear that folks like my little site. I code my site with Phoenix Code (for the live viewer and number dials) and I host my site on Neocities - it is all free. Phoenix can be used in browser or on desktop, but I like having it on desktop more for big projects in case my files get deleted. I use the browser version when I just want to test something quickly.

The 2 videos I use and can not recommend enough to anyone who asks me are this HTML tutorial and this CSS tutorial. They are simple and easy to understand, but I recommend watching it the first go, and then following along the next few watches until you get the flow of basic parts to a website, how they're organized, and what order they go in. At this point, I've memorized exactly where everything goes, and it is all thanks to these 2 videos.

If I am being honest, I learned how to code by myself, not quite even with online tutorials but just from being stupid and messing around myself (1, because I was a kid, and 2, because I didn't understand English very well to know what tutorials are saying.) I used to do html coding for Neopet pages when I was a kid with too much online time, first by just editing the default petpages and adding info and images, and then just doing trial and error with the html. I'll just try something and then if it doesn't turn out the way I want it, I try to find out why it didn't work and also get inspiration from other similar sites to figure out where things go or how they coded (with this nifty thing called right click > inspect page or right click > view page source). And BOOM, working webpage.

It was rudimentary, white blank background without any boxes or anything, you just scrolled down the page and sections were separated by a horizontal bar. OH and every text was centered! I had no idea how to make scrolling boxes or fancy assets, but damn I still had so much fun working on it every weekend. When you find authentic selfmade sites from the 90s and 2000s, most of them aren't super fancy either unlike what modern nostalgia makes you think. So I hope you don't feel discouraged if you begin making a website and feel it isn't "fancy", you're already doing a first big step which is making a webpage and learned your first set of html code!

It was over a decade later before I coded webpages with html again. I've gotten lazy and started relying on site builders, but nothing was quite as versatile as html. I wanted to try coding my own OC site again, so that was when I started working on OutKrop (the site I posted). Until I started coding again, I had literally no idea what CSS even is (and let me tell you, it's a game changer!)

Personally, I work best when I can do things hands on. I don't read through tutorials, I code first then go back and read through coding help sites like w3schools when I find myself stuck and unable to figure something out. Sometimes I grab existing codes and play around with them to see what changes and what I can do with it, cuz having visual context is what helps me a lot.

I can also share my process:

Once I gather up some ideas, I make a sketch, including what boxes (divs in css) should approximately go. It is very rough, but shows me exactly what I need to know.

Next I load up my coding app (Phoenix Code in my case) and "sketch" the layout. Nothing fancy going on here, just putting things where they need to be, and fixing size of boxes and margins if needed. I give my boxes all a background color so I can easily see how big they are and where they are located.

After some adjustments like moving stuff around and adding assets like backgrounds and images, and changing colors of the boxes, rounding off corners, etc., we get this!

so recap + additional useful sites I use:

Coding app: Phoenix Code

Site hosted on: Neocities

Video tutorials: HTML and CSS

Sites for learning code: w3schools, also lissa explains is a great site that is written for kids to learn html so it's easy to understand. Finally, sadgrl has a lot of great resources for coding as well!

I recommend looking through these sites AFTER you tried taking a spin at coding - it doesn't have to be anything fancy just follow the HTML video tutorial I linked!

Thanks for the ask, and I hope this helps you and many others out there who are interested in building a site with html/css! Don't be afraid to get things "wrong" or have an "un-fancy" site. This is how you learn to code, and it'll become so easy once you get the hang of it.

Anyone is always more than welcome to reach out for coding help and advice :-]

#asks

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captain-bubble-wrap · 18 hours ago

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Previous episode: here.

Thanksgiving had come early in the Tocchet household. Your father had extended an open invitation to the whole team. Who would take him up on the offer?

CW: alcohol use.

12 October 2024 | Thanksgiving

Last night had been your second Canucks broadcast, and apparently you had yet to wear your lucky charm that would allow the boys in blue to get a win in regulation. Vancouver had fallen to the visiting Flyers 3-2 in a shoot out, leaving them with a 0-0-2 start to the season. It definitely wasn't the outcome anyone had hoped for, but it was better than having numbers in the loss column. In a couple of days, the team -as well as yourself- would travel to Tampa, to take on the Lightning and hopefully finally net a two-point win.

Today, however, your family was celebrating Thanksgiving ahead of the calendar holiday. Your dad had extended an open invitation to the boys on the team to come over to the house for lunch. Some players had wives and girlfriends to spend the day with while others didn't, and he didn't want anyone to spend the day alone if they had the choice. You, of course, were headed over to your parents regardless, and you were running late.

Traffic had been a mess in the city, plus you had lost track of time putting together your dessert. Today felt like you were stuck chasing your own tail. Between your apartment and their house, your mother had texted you three times, but you opted not to respond to any of them. You'd get there when you got there.

Eventually, you rounded the last turn and there was nothing before you but their driveway. Their cars were parked in the garage -you assumed- but there was a silver Porsche SUV sitting where you were accustomed to parking. Assuming it was one of the boys', you'd pull up alongside it and put yours into park. From the back seat you'd grab the bakery box, and check your outfit in the reflection of your black-tinted windows. It wasn't a formal affair; just a simple lunch around the table with family and the team you reported for. Your over-sized hoodie -stolen from your older brother Trevor no less-, black leggings, slouchy socks, and high-top Vans would be sufficiently acceptable. Well, you hoped anyway.

Since it had decided not to rain today, you took your time getting to the front door, making sure you had a firm grip on the unreplaceable cheesecake that had made you late. You wouldn't bother ringing the doorbell as you knew the knob would be unlocked anyway.

Like a hawk on prey, your mother would be the first to comment on your arrival as she passed by the living room on her way back to the kitchen.

"Well, we wondered if you were going to show up! You know, I texted you like three times! Didn't you get them?"

You weren't even across the threshold of the door when she started her barrage of questioning. Standing there, box in hand, you waited for her to finish before you'd take another step.

"You had me worried, Y|N! It would have been nice if you would have responded!"

On your left, in the living room, your dad sat with his eyebrows raised in comedic surprise. The two of you would make eye contact as your mother rambled on in inaudible sentences from the kitchen.

"Well, she's on one, isn't she?" You said, eyes wide and shocked at what had happened. "A hello would have been nice."

"Hi, honey," he teased, cashing in on the opportune open door you had left for him. "Glad you made it."

In the unexpected barrage of motherly interrogation, you hadn't noticed Quinn sitting opposite your father until you fully entered the house.

"Oh! Hi, Quinn! I wondered who that was parked in my spot," you laughed before heading to the kitchen to take your chances with you mom. Your dad would give him a look to reassure him that you were just kidding with your comment.

Back in the kitchen, your mother was softly singing along to Whitney Houston when you opened the fridge, hoping for a cool place to store the cheesecake. She always had music playing while she cooked, and a lot of fond childhood memories always came flooding back when certain songs triggered them.

She turned around from where she stood in front of the stove, pointing at you with a wooden spoon, "Care to tell me why you ignored my messages?"

"Mom! Christ! I was driving. I was already on my way and I didn't want to fuss with the voice-to-text thing in my car! I'm only twenty minutes late and you're still cooking! It's fine!"

She scowled, "I don't like when you don't respond. It worries me."

"Everything worries you!"

"I'm your mom! Of course!" With a roll of her eyes, she'd get back to her pan while you made room amongst the shelves for the cake box. "What did you bring?"

"I baked a cheesecake. It's the biggest reason why I'm late. It wouldn't set then I needed it chilled enough to get it here."

She poked at you with the faintest hint of humour on her tone, "Maybe you should have gotten up earlier."

"Maybe I should have!" You mocked. "Do you need help with anything?"

Your mother shook her head, her back still to you from across the large room, "No, I've got it under control, but thanks."

You'd quickly exit her workspace and go see what your father and Quinn were discussing. Likely, it was hockey related, and you were intrigued to see if it was something you could jump into as well. Hockey had been your life since you could form a memory. For people who didn't know who you were, it was comical to see their reactions when you'd rattle off some sort of seasonal stat, milestone or player accomplishment that they weren't aware of. The best part was schooling over-confident men who felt women had no place in sports. Your father had raised you to take no shit, despite having a more soft-looking appearance.

"Did she run you out?" Your dad asked, seeing you emerge from the warzone he assumed was the kitchen. Quinn's back was facing you, but he'd turn his head to look at you, as you moved to take a seat next to your dad.

"Not exactly, no, but I didn't want to over stay my welcome."

He chuckled, giving your leg a quick tap, "Wise decision."

"I hope I'm not interrupting the boys club!"

Shaking his head, your dad reassured you everything was fine. "Not at all, just addressing some PK concerns, that have been--"

Abruptly, the sound of your mother's voice interrupted him, "Rick! Come here, would you, please?"

His sigh could be felt by everyone in the room.

"At least she said 'please'," you joked, pulling your legs up under you on the sofa, after removing your shoes. He didn't find it as amusing as you did, but dragged his feet to see what it was that your mother needed his help with. With your dad gone, that now left you alone with Quinn.

He was quiet, but when was he not, aside from on the ice, maybe? The awkwardness was getting heavy, "Thanks again, for that puck, Quinn. I have it in my office now."

It didn't seem like he was expecting to be spoken to until your dad returned. His eyes flicked up to meet yours so it didn't come off like he was ignoring you, "Oh, yeah-- no problem. It was a big day so it just felt like the right thing to do."

His smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth slightly and his eyes didn't linger long -- almost like the other night when the two of you had had your first in-game interview. It surprised you to find a hockey player so quiet and almost bashful. Honestly, you found it refreshing compared to many of the others you had been in contact with in the past. It was still hard to decide if Quinn really cared for conversation of any kind -- aside from hockey strategy, of course.

"How'd you get suckered into Tocchet Family dinner?"

"I, uh--." Quinn looked back at you, then back to his knees. "Coach just said if anyone wanted to come over we were welcome to. I think some of the guys were getting together also, but I had some stuff I wanted to talk to him about."

"Always business, huh?" You replied smiling, hoping he didn't take that the wrong way.

Quinn just shrugged, eyes still unable to remain on your face for long.

Before he could reply -if he was even planning on it- your dad returned from your mother's beckoning. He looked stressed, or at least the same expression he always wore standing behind the bench, which you assumed was stress or frustration. He wasn't a man of many expressions.

"Oh, that didn't take long," you replied, shifting your gaze from Quinn back to him. "Looks like you made it out in one piece."

He laughed softly, "Barely. Did I miss anything?"

- - -

Your mother had called upon you one more time, pulling you away from the mini Canucks team meeting going on in the living room. While you helped her transfer things to more manageable bowls, she decided to break the silence that had fallen over the kitchen, "You know, Quinn's pretty cute, Y|N. Your father really seems to like him. You know, maybe you should get to know him a little more?"

"Good lord, mom!"

She stopped what she was doing to look at you, "Good lord, what? Don't you think he is? I think you two would look pretty cute together."

"You think I'd look cute with anyone!" You replied, rolling your eyes. You couldn't believe you were having this conversation - especially not with said person being just beyond the next wall! "And I don't want to talk about him when he's in the damn house!" You hissed the last part of your sentence, knowing you'd be mortified if Quinn happened to walk in the kitchen for whatever reason during the topic being on him and how attractive you found him.

"Well, I like to think I have good taste, and I think he's cute."

"Who's cute?" Asked your dad as he stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. You nearly jumped hearing him interject without warning! Looking over your shoulder at him, you noticed Quinn lingering just behind your dad's six-foot-tall frame. Had he heard what your mother was talking about? For the sake of your nerves, you sincerely hoped not!

"No one's cute!" You blurted out abruptly, your cheeks flushing with hot heat.

"Someone she met at work," you mother interjected as your dad raised his eyebrows in confusion at the back and forth.

His tone was inquisitive, like he wanted to know more but wasn't sure if he wanted to ask, "Really?"

"You know what?" You said as an interruption, "I just remembered I have a bottle of wine in the car! You guys are driving to drink! Excuse me!"

You'd squeeze past your dad and Quinn, and hurry through the house until you were on the other side of the front door. What had just happened? One second you were trying to help your mom, and the next she had set in motion a series of events that had you sweating and your heart racing. Sure, Quinn was cute, but that didn't mean she had to announce it like she was reading from your childhood diary who you had some sort of crush on!

Knowing you couldn't just hide out in the driveway forever, you'd retrieve the bottle and return to the house. You were feeling like an idiot, for the scene you felt you had caused in your dramatic stage-left exit, but she had put the spotlight on you for no reason! Once you got back in the house, you saw Quinn on his phone, sitting in your childhood seat at the dining table, and it made you smile. You'd have to internally yell at yourself to stop it, since he was the reason you had run away in the first place! However, there was some suspicion that he had been told to sit there. Quinn would watch you walk by, his ears eavesdropping the conversation that followed.

"Your face is still red, pumpkin," announced your dad, when you slipped back into the kitchen. His low chuckle netted him quite the side-eye from you in return.

"Ha. Ha."

"So, who's this mystery guy you met," he pushed, as you struggled to remove the cork while being hounded. "I might have to have a talk with him."

"Dad!" You barked, about to completely lose your shit. A nervous laugh would follow your inability to form structured sentences, as you took the bottle, corkscrew, and glass with you to the dining room. You had somehow half-forgotten Quinn was sitting in there and he seemed fully aware of the topic of conversation.

The two of you had a brief second of eye-contact, before he shied away from getting involved.

"They didn't tell you to tease me, too, did they?" You asked him, following the throaty pop from the cork leaving the bottle. The way he looked up at you, made you blush a second time and you couldn't help it. Naturally, this would be the time he'd stay looking at you for more than a second -- and you knew your cheeks were crimson.

"Kinda, yeah," he smiled, looking back at the phone in his lap.

You'd fill the glass up beyond the recommended level; this wine didn't need to "breathe". If sticking a straw down in the bottle was acceptable, you would have done so! From the kitchen, your parents were looking at you, having another moment at your expense. You knew your mother had told your dad it was Quinn they were talking about -if he hadn't figured it out on his own- and you just prayed she hadn't let slip to him what was going on.

"Everyone is this family is a comedian, I swear," you remarked, sitting opposite Quinn. At this point, you didn't care that he was just a couple feet away; all that mattered was getting a buzz as soon as possible.

"Just imagine if Trevor was here," added your dad, hearing your comment.

Sighing, you'd get lost in your glass, "I'd probably be halfway home -or drunk- at this point!"

- - -

The conversations during lunch had gotten completely out of control, and all of them at your expense -- again! Your parents had taken to telling old stories about you, of lining up all of your stuffed animals and interviewing them with a hairbrush as a microphone, plus the one time you had confessed that you were determined to marry Henrik Lunqvist at the age of ten. All of them had made Quinn grin and laugh more than once. As he sat across from you, you couldn't help but notice each time it happened, and each time it did, you'd take another sip of wine. You'd be halfway through the bottle before dessert.

Things were slowing down around you, the room felt fuzzy, and the pain of being teased stopped stinging so much. Not to mention, you'd stare longer at Quinn than sober you would have been caught doing. The way his hair caught the light, the way it moved, was unreal. His sage-green eyes, and thick lashes were so unfair, and the slight scruff and the way he smiled had your heart beating in your ears. He'd catch you looking, as he laughed at your father remarking about something silly you had done at a game, yet you just smiled at him, later snorting out of delayed embarrassment.

"She's always had a thing for hockey players, namely goalies" your mom said, the one bit of conversation you'd clue into through your tipsy state of being.

"Pffft--," you chirped, knowing she had a point. "I know how to pick 'em, let me tell you!"

Your mom said something in reference to you struggling to find someone to put up with you, but you didn't hear that. What you did hear had you wanting to hide beneath the table afterwards.

"You two should go to dinner sometime, Quinn! You check all of her boxes, you know, aside from the goalie thing~"

"Oh, my god-- mom!"

Your dad would chime in, nearly choking on his drink as well, "No, no, absolutely not! There will be no dating any of my players!"

"Dad!" Your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose in disbelief.

Quinn, stuck in the middle along with you, found himself beat red and on the spot. He was struggling to find anything to say. The afternoon was spiraling -- fast!

"Conversation change, now, please!" You begged, desperate to melt through the floor. "Quinn, I'm so-- so sorry."

He looked down as he giggled, his shoulders rising and falling with each rapid laugh.

"You both...are horrible," you said to both of your parents, sitting on opposite sides of you. Your mom was smiling from ear-to-ear, but you weren't finding anything funny about the current situation.

Not only had you been thrown under the bus by your mom, having tried to set you up with Quinn, but had she forgotten you had to work around him? Every time he saw you, he was going to remember you, toasted at half past one on a Saturday, blushing at the mention of his name. Maybe you could drink enough you'd forget he knew anything about it...

- - -

It would be after two when your parents began clearing the table. Quinn and yourself remained where you had been, and you were still feeling the effects of the wine. You were beyond the point of really caring about anything, namely how you were coming off to him, as likely enough had been said about you to humiliate you for a lifetime. His cheeks were still tinged pink the last time you both had caught each other's gaze. Even drunk you couldn't ignore how cute he was.

"Don't you dare...hold...any of this against me, Quinn Hughes! Don't...you dare!" You snorted as you laughed, playfully threatening him knowing he had heaps of ammunition against you to share with anyone within the organization.

"I won't," he softly promised, giving you a smirk from across the table, like he had numerous times in the last hour. His eyes dashed from your face to the table and back; his smile conveying he was thinking more but not saying just what it was. What a great first impression you were making for yourself, outside the workplace... You'd have three days before having to see Quinn again, but even you knew everything was going to still be fresh in his mind. Any chance you may have thought you had with the captain were gone, along with the wine in the bottle in front of you. The one thing you were thankful for most was the fact that your brother wasn't there.

"Are you okay?" He'd ask you, as you covered your face with your hands, elbows on the table to hold yourself up. He couldn't discern if you were crying or laughing, which had prompted his question in the first place.

Shaking your head before you answered, you swallowed hard trying to find your words, "Oh...I'm just...wonderful! I can't wait for this to be brought up for years to come."

Eventually, he'd realize you were indeed laughing which gave him some relief, hoping he hadn't done anything to make you feel worse than you already were. If only he knew that him just being there was the problem.

"I'm sorry," you said, looking at him through your parted fingers. The high of being intoxicated was crashing like waves around you. The self-realization of how much of a fool you were was becoming painfully evident. Quinn, however, just continued to smile at you. It wasn't in a devious way; like he was filing away useful blackmail information, but more like he was genuinely enjoying himself and the fact that he had decided to come over.

"Oh, you're fine," he chuckled. "I'm kind of jealous that you're having all the fun."

"There's a guestroom upstairs you can share with me..."

No sooner had the words left your mouth did your whole body feel like it was consumed with fever. Obviously you weren't sobering up quite enough to keep your mouth shut when it came to your thoughts about Quinn. His reaction to your statement had him looking down again. It almost seemed like he was more embarrassed than you were!

"Oh wow...I just...I just said that -- out loud! I'm sorry!"

Still, he laughed, shaking off your unnecessary apology. "You're okay."

"She in here bothering you?" Your father asked, returning to gather up more plates. You had your forehead on the table by now, your arms covering your head like it was going to shield you from any further conversational blunders. "Try not to think about this the next time she has to interview you before another game."

"Dad! Please don't say that!" Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the table. You couldn't see the smirk nor the wink he had given Quinn, which was probably for the best given how much you were struggling already. If only you could easily get under the table...

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Quinn asked, as your father continued to take things back to the kitchen. He felt guilty -guest or not- just sitting there while everyone worked around him.

Your father would pause in the doorway, his eyes falling on your slumped frame, and he'd laugh looking back at Quinn, like he had picked the perfect time to ask that question. "Just babysit that princess across from you. Make sure she doesn't fall out of her chair to hide under the table."

A dampened huff could slightly be heard from you at his comment. You felt alright; felt in control enough to get up and go hide in your room but for some reason you remained planted in the chair.

"You guys suck," you forced a laugh, making yourself to sit back up after the room spinning began to affect you. "Why is everyone picking on me?"

Looking at Quinn first he seemed like a deer in the headlights. He just blinked at you, mouth slightly open like he wanted to speak but nothing came out. You'd watch him get up from the table and say something quietly to your father while you pouted. You were really regretting bringing that wine.

When Quinn returned to you, he sat down a tall glass of water in front of you and whisked away the near-empty bottle and drained wine glass. You didn't even care that he took it, if only someone had done that after your first glass you likely wouldn't be feeling like such an idiot.

"I'm sorry," you apologized again, catching sight of his face when he came back to the dining room.

Quinn didn't say anything at first, just did his sheepish half-smile, "Do you need anything?"

"A nap."

"Do you want to lay down?"

You nodded, bringing the glass Quinn had brought you to your lips. It was cold from the amount of ice, but it was a lovely pallet cleanser from the bitterness of the wine still lingering on your tongue. Your parents were still busy in the kitchen, clearing off plates and loading the dishwasher. They wouldn't notice Quinn moving back around the table to see if you needed any help getting to your feet. He thought you seemed okay, but he stayed close to you all the same.

The trip up the stairs was more of a challenge. You had a hold of the handrail while Quinn kept a hand gently against the middle of your back, prepared to catch you should you stumble. Though everything was still fuzzy, you zeroed in that he was touching you, and that he was so delicate in doing so. Even as he pulled back the blankets for you, he never rushed you or made you feel shameful for anything. It was like he had all of the time in the world for you.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" He'd ask, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders as you laid on your side, facing him and the door. His voice was low, like you were already asleep.

"Forget this...ever happened?"

Quinn grinned, "You've not done anything wrong. It's okay to have a little fun."

Pulling the blanket up past your nose, your exposed eyes would remain on him as he looked over you. How could he be standing there like this wasn't the funniest thing he had ever seen? That's when it hit you, that everything he had said had been his truth. He didn't care that you were a little past tipsy; he had been in your position a time or two in his life, surely. You had to realize that he was sincere in what he said, and that it wasn't veiling a hidden agenda. You were so coded to assume all men were the same, given how those in your past had all used the same playbook. Quinn, simply, was different.

"I promise you, I won't say anything to anyone," he added.

You mumbled beneath the blanket, "Promise?"

He nod with one last soft smile. The day was turning into a fever dream. You were drunk by early afternoon, shared a family meal with Quinn like you had brought him over to meet your parents, he had tucked you into bed after helping you upstairs so you didn't fall, now he was making promises to you in the privacy of an upstairs bedroom. None of these things had even crossed your mind in the deepest of daydreams, yet here you were.

"Would you like me to bring you that water?"

"I'm full of enough liquid...thank you."

He chuckled, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants. The way he was standing there, you thought he felt awkward about still being there.

"Be careful going home, Quinn."

"I will. Are you staying here?"

"Mhm," you replied, eyes falling closed against the warmth of the blankets over your body. "I'll see you...Tuesday."

"See you, Tuesday."

You didn't hear him leave. It was possible that you were already asleep before he even left the room.

#💌maven's love notes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic

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cassiopeiaiaia · 12 hours ago

Text

I kinda did something

It’s only like the first chapter but I may be brewing smth up here.

This is hopefully gonna simmer into a full 10 Things I Hate About You AU.

Idk tho.

“Soda!” Ponyboy’s shrill voice rings out from across the house. “Where did you put my Harry Potter books?”

Soda barely looks up from his duffel bag, shoving another pair of jeans in. He loves his kid-brother, he really does, but Pony’s always finding something to be yellin’ his head off about.

“Hell if I know. I don’t read, Pony-buddy.”

He hasn’t touched a single one of those godforsaken novels since they read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone in third grade and he mistook the word fortune for foreskin. Got himself some real funny looks for that one. Earned himself a detention, too.

“They were on my shelf this morning,” Pony whines, stomping into the room looking entirely too distraught for someone who just lost a couple of books about some British kid with glasses. “And now they’re gone!”

“Maybe they ran off,” Soda mutters, rolling up a t-shirt and cramming it in the bag. “Maybe they couldn’t take any more of your nerd-ass re-reads.”

Pony scowls, arms crossed. “Darry took them, didn’t he.”

Ever since Mom and Dad died, it seemed as if Darry and Ponyboy were always at each other’s throats. Every conversation turned into a fight, and every fight ended with Soda playing middleman.

Still, if Darry did take those books, there was a high chance Pony would never see them again. These past few days, Darry had been donating, selling, and throwing stuff out like a madman, ruthless in his decisions.

Mom’s cookbooks she got as a birthday present from Aunt Carol? Gone.

Dad’s old leather watches? Sold to the highest bidder.

Soda’s Schleich collection? He came home one day to find them stacked in a box on Darry’s backseat, on its way to Goodwill.

He didn’t really need those horses, but still, it hurt. They were from Mom and Dad. And they were his.

But Darry was being practical. The house was almost empty now, their lives reduced to boxes and garbage bags, packed tight and ready for a one-way trip to Washington. A new start. A place with Aunt Maggie, Keith, and Brenda, who offered to take them in after the accident.

It wasn’t like they had a choice. They couldn’t afford the house, and Darry couldn’t work himself into the grave trying to keep them all afloat. So they were leaving. Leaving Tulsa, leaving their home, leaving everything that still felt like their parents.

Pony didn’t want to go. Neither did Soda, if he was being honest. But Darry had made up his mind. And once Darry made up his mind, that was it.

Soda exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Pony. But if Darry took them, you better say your goodbyes.”

Pony groans, dragging his hands down his face. “I knew it. I knew it. He’s been on some kind of warpath lately—first my rock collection, now Harry Potter?”

Soda zips up his duffel bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Pony, you had a rock that looked like a kidney stone. You needed that gone.”

Pony glares at him, scowling. “That was an agate, you uncultured swine.”

Soda snorts, stepping past him. “You’re startin’ to sound like Dad.”

Pony follows on his heels, still fuming. They find Darry in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as he wipes down the counters with all the enthusiasm of a man scrubbing crime scene evidence. A half-filled box labeled DONATE sits on the table, and sitting right on top—like some kind of sick trophy—is Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Pony gasps so dramatically he might as well have been stabbed. “I knew it!”

Darry barely looks up. “If you knew it, why are you acting so surprised?”

Pony marches over, snatching the book from the pile. “You can’t just throw out my stuff, Darry!”

“I can if it’s been gathering dust for two years.” Darry grabs a dish towel and flicks it at him, missing by inches. “You read these so much I could recite half the spells, and I don’t even like ‘em.”

Soda leans against the fridge, watching like it’s a Saturday morning cartoon. He hates it when his brothers fight, but it sure is entertaining.

“That’s not the point,” Pony huffs, clutching the beat-up book to his chest like Darry might wrestle it away. “You didn’t even ask me!”

Darry exhales sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We don’t have room for junk, Ponyboy. We’re barely gonna have room for us.”

That one lands hard, and for a second, Pony doesn’t have a comeback. Soda watches his little brother’s shoulders tense. Darry, always practical, always making the tough calls. He doesn’t mean to be heartless—he just doesn’t have time to think about things like memories and sentiment when there are bills to pay and mouths to feed.

When their parents died, Darry took charge, like he always did. Like he had no choice but to. Which, he kinda didn’t. But sometimes Soda wonders if Darry thinks moving will make it hurt less. If getting rid of everything their parents touched would get rid of the pain too. If leaving will mean they don’t have to walk past their parents’ bedroom every day and remember that nobody sleeps there anymore.

But the thing is, Soda thinks, leaving won’t change any of that. Their parents are still gone. Their home is still empty. And the world is still going to exist without them in it.

Soda sighs, stepping in before this turns into another screaming match. “Alright, look. Pony keeps his nerd books. You keep being a tight-ass about space. We all win.”

Darry mutters something under his breath but doesn’t argue. Pony shoves the book under his arm and stalks off, muttering something about fascism.

Soda watches him go before turning back to Darry. “You did get rid of my Schleich horses, didn’t you?”

Darry doesn’t answer.

Soda groans. “Goddammit, Darry.”

The night air is sticky with summer heat, even though Pony’s inside. Tulsa always holds onto heat longer than it should, like the pavement and air itself don’t know how to let go.

Ponyboy is feeling a lot like Tulsa right now.

He should be inside packing, packing up Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets into that ugly red suitcase Dad bought for him four years ago, for summer camp. It was the same camp Dad went to, Camp Loughridge, and he was so excited for Pony to go.

Was.

Pony’s dad is now a was.

It’s a word Pony tries not to think about, but he sees it everywhere–when he looks over at the empty chairs at the ends of the dining table, when he hears a deep, hearty laugh in the crowd and turns a little too quick, when he opens a drawer and finds something of Dad’s shoved away in a corner and forgets, just for one second, that he’s not coming back to claim it.

Now, he’s finding it in the ugly red color of his suitcase.

It’s too small. It always was, even four years ago, packing for a fortnight away at a campsite. His books don’t fit right, the zipper keeps catching, and it’s ugly, a too-bright red that stands out against everything else he owns. He’s thought about leaving it behind. But it was Dad’s pick—Dad’s idea—so Pony keeps shoving things inside, even though it’ll never close right.

It’s like trying to pack up himself.

Trying to make grief fit into neat little spaces, to fold it away in boxes and suitcases and goodbyes that don’t feel real.

And Pony doesn’t work that way. Not like Darry.

Perfect Darry, who can’t seem to wait to get rid of every single piece of jewelry Mom owned.

Who can’t wait to get out of Tulsa, where he can scholarship his way into college.

Who can’t wait to get rid of Pony and Soda.

Well, not Soda. Nobody ever wants to get rid of Soda. He’s the golden boy, the one who can make anyone smile, the one everyone gravitates toward.

If Darry is cold as night, then Soda’s the Sun, pulling everyone into his orbit.

And Pony? Pony’s always been the extra piece. The one Darry didn’t ask for, the one that made things harder.

And now, Darry finally has an excuse to be rid of him.

Ponyboy’s throat feels tight, like there’s something lodged in it that he can’t swallow down. He kicks the suitcase aside like it’s done him wrong. Maybe it has. Maybe it’s proof that this is real, that tomorrow morning, they’ll pile into a car and leave Tulsa behind forever.

He can’t fucking stand it.

Without thinking, he grabs his jacket and slips out the door. He doesn’t know where he’s going until he’s already halfway there.

The park.

It’s quieter at night, just the sound of cicadas buzzing in the trees, and the occasional hum of a car passing in the distance. The swings creak in the wind, empty.

****

Ponyboy’s feet are dragging through the dirt, just barely keeping up with his dad as they head for the swings. It's a rare moment, just the two of them, after a long day of yard work, the sun starting to dip low, turning the sky a soft golden orange.

Darry was at the movies with his school friends, and Mom was inside helping Soda with his English homework, so Dad offered to take Pony to the park.

“You ever get tired of it, Pone?” His dad’s voice is unexpectedly soft as he stops by the swing, hands on his hips, looking at the horizon.

“Tired of what?” Pony asks, confused.

“Of this.” His dad gestures to everything—the neighborhood, the park, the world. “Of Tulsa, I guess. Y’know, it’s a small town, ya’ ever get tired of not being able to do everything you want.”

“I don’t think so. Not yet. I got time.” Pony stops, not really thinking about it. Sue him, he was eight and bored and he wanted to flip off the swings like Curly Shepard did. He got on, and swung his feet back and forth.

His dad chuckles, but it sounds like a sigh. He grabs the swing and gives it a push. “Time’s a funny thing, Pone. Feels like you’ve got all of it, and then one day, you turn around, and it’s gone.”

Pony’s brow furrows, confused. “But you said—”

“Just listen, buddy. Don’t take it all for granted, okay? Because one day, you’ll be sitting here, looking at all this, and realize you didn’t even appreciate what you had.”

Pony looks at the swing, and he feels like he’s supposed to get it. His dad is looking at him with that serious, almost worried expression he gets when he thinks he’s not being clear enough.

“I don’t get it,” Pony admits, and his dad ruffles his hair.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. You’ll figure it out.” Then, more lightly: “How ‘bout a race to the slides? Bet I can beat you.”

Pony smiles, feeling lighter. “You’re on.”

He was eight, too young to brood.

They run, side by side, but by the time they reach the slide, Pony’s dad is already laughing and pretending to be out of breath.

Pony grins and shakes his head, but in that moment, there’s no one else in the world but them.

****

When you’re eight, you don’t know the score.

But at fourteen, Pony thinks he knows better.

Well, at least, he knows what Dad meant now. When Pony was little, he always assumed his parents would be around forever. Well, he knew on a basis that they’d die, but that was supposed to be later, when Pony was an old man. And that seemed like forever.

But now? It’s like the universe is giving a giant fuck you with the way everything’s turning out.

He can’t stop thinking about it—how fast everything shifted, how quickly his parents were gone. One day, they were alive, and the next, they were gone. Dead. And they can never go back, never go back to when Pony was eight and his parents weren’t a was. The world seemed so big back then, with so much time ahead of him, but now it’s closing in.

Every time he looks around, it’s like he sees the remnants of what used to be. The neighborhood they’ve lived in his whole life, the park where his dad once raced him to the slides—it’s all the same, but it feels different. Smaller, somehow. More permanent in its stillness, like it’s frozen in time while he keeps moving forward, leaving everything behind.

It’s not that he didn’t hear what his dad was trying to say that day. He heard the words. He just didn’t understand them. Time always felt like something you had too much of, something that would stretch out forever if you didn’t pay attention. But now? Now, it’s like he’s running out of it. Running out of time to get things right, running out of time to figure out what he’s supposed to do with the pieces of himself that feel like they died with Mom and Dad.

He wishes he could go back to being eight, when he thought there was always tomorrow. When the world was just a place for games and who tattled on who during recess, and the biggest problem was whether or not he could flip off the swings like Curly Shepard.

But that's gone, and now the swings sit empty, swaying in the wind.

Pony’s fucking gone.

Pony’s fucking gone because Darry yelled at him and–God, does he ever do anything but that? Yelling?

Darry never used to yell, at least he doesn’t think he did. But now it’s like the words just come out before he can stop them, spilling out sharp and mean and cutting through the air. Like every single thing his little brother does is the last straw, like he’s the one that’s gotta hold everything together now.

Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s just easier to snap at the kid who’s still there than it is to deal with the parents who aren’t.

But Darry can’t stop it. He doesn’t know how to.

Pony’s the same level of insufferable he was before Mom and Dad died, which means annoying—but not God-help-me-or-else-I’m-gonna-strangle-this-kid-annoying like Kid Shepard is. No, Pony’s just… Pony. So why the hell does Darry always feel like his throat is closing up every time he opens his mouth? Every time he yells, every time he says something too sharp? Like he can’t stop himself from tearing this family apart with words.

Darry grabs another box from the countertop, the flaps already taped shut but not quite sticking as they should. If Darry never smells the God-awful smell of Sellotape again in his life he still win’t be content. His hands shake as he fumbles with it, trying to push everything down further, just like he’s been doing for the past few days—shoving all the pieces of their old life into boxes, all the memories, all the things that used to matter. But it doesn’t matter how hard he tries, there’s always one piece left behind. One thing that refuses to squeeze into the corners of his perfect, neat world.

It’s the guilt.

The guilt he can’t shake, even when the world keeps moving forward like nothing’s wrong.

Darry exhales, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He’s exhausted. He’s been exhausted for months, ever since that goddamn phone call in the middle of the night—the one that fucked up his whole entire life.

It’s maybe his fault they’re dead.

He doesn’t let himself think about it often, but some nights it just creeps in. Like now.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t have been out that late if it wasn’t for him. Wouldn’t have been on that road, in that storm, driving back from picking up a stupid birthday cake he never even got to eat.

They’d still be here. Still be breathing. Still be telling him to get off Soda’s ass for being a man-whore and laughing at Pony’s stupid little quirks instead of snapping at them.

He’d still have football, and his friends, and Randy.

Soda wouldn’t have to worry about getting a job just so they wouldn’t starve, about dropping out to make more time for that job, about smiling like everything’s perfect when Darry knows damn well it’s not even close.

Pony wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him, wouldn’t have to flinch when Darry raises his voice, wouldn’t have to come home to a brother who’s too exhausted to be the kind of guardian he deserves. Wouldn’t have to grow up without a Mom and Dad.

Because Mom and Dad would still be here.

And Darry?

He could still be himself.

Darry squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. No. He can’t do this right now.

What he can do is find Pony. Because even if Darry’s pissed off, even if he’s sick of the fighting, even if his head is so full of responsibilities and grief and guilt he feels like he might explode—Pony is still his brother. And Darry might not know how to be soft with him, but he does know how to keep him safe.

And right now? That means making sure he’s not alone in the middle of the night, wandering off to God-knows-where, in a city that doesn’t give two shits about three orphaned boys trying to hold their lives together.

Packing can wait. He has to go find his baby brother.

What if there was a 10 things I Hate About You Outsiders AU, with either Dylvia (Sallas? Dylvia? bro idk) as Patrick/Kat, or Stevepop or Purly.

Am I on to smth?

#ten things i hate about you #Dallas x Sylvia #dally winston #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #sylvia the outsiders #johnny cade #two bit mathews #steve randle #angst #the outsiders au

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