#is still good <3 thank you for your support

[no-144444]

different- o.piastri

summary: the differences are starting to show ow that oscar is going to be present in mia's life, and in turn, yours.

pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

part one | part two

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You were terrified. The past few weeks had been… strange, to say the least. You’d seen Oscar every single day of the last month. He moved his entire life to London in the span of a week for Mia. It reminded you of the teenage Oscar who would move mountains for you, and you were glad Mia got that side of him too.

It had been a whirlwind of emotions since Australia, and you’d watched every Grand Prix since then from your London house. Mia adored it. You told your family and friends about Oscar coming into Mia’s life, and there were varying degrees of support, but Teresa, your closest friend, hated Oscar. Every time she saw him it was either a roll of the eyes or a passive aggressive comment, but he took it all in good faith and just smiled and continued talking. It was a lot though, you’d been Oscar-less for 4 years, just seeing him through a screen, and now he was coming to your apartment everyday with a coffee for you, and something for Mia. Now, you two texted daily. Now, he was there again, and it freaked you out. 

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Oscar sat outside in his car, psyching himself up for the conversation that was about to happen. How the fuck dop you tell a 4 year old that you’re her dad and you didn’t know about her for 4 years, and now you want to be in her life every single day? How do you apologise for the missed time? How would he apologise to you if she got mad at you? What if she hated him forever and he lost her and you? How could he prove to both of you that he was serious about you two?

Beth: You’ve been MIA since last week, what’s up Osc? Call me please xxx

He cursed himself and the universe's impeccable timing. Beth was the girl he’d been seeing for a few months, and like all the girls he’d dated since you, bore a striking resemblance. He didn’t know what to tell her, how to explain it, or if he even should. His first thought was to ask you what he should do, what you’d be comfortable with him telling, and then he realised he would then be admitting to ‘moving on’, when he really only wanted you. He was at a stand-still in his brain, and muted her messages before going up to your front door. 

“Hey,” you smiled, opening the door to him, Mia on your hip. The picture in front of him made his heart ache a little bit. He could imagine himself coming home to it every night, after every race, for the past few years. “Come in.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, walking inside and taking Mia out of your arms as she reached for him. She softened the ache a bit. “Hey Mia.”

“Hey Osc!” she bundled into his arms, squirming around. She directed him to her playroom where they spent about 3 hours together, before you came in to set her down for her nap. 

“Do you want to…?” you offered, gesturing to her bedroom. “I can show you, just in case you need to know one day.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and followed behind you. “Yeah, after you.” 

He watched as you gently tucked her in, a soft smile on your face as she looked at you with all the love in the world. He could’ve sworn his heart was trying to claw itself out of his chest to get to you two, but he swallowed back the tears, and left the room behind you, after kissing Mia on the forehead. 

“She really likes you,” you pointed out as you made him a coffee. 

“Thank you for letting me be part of this,” he nodded. “It means… everything to me. She does.”

You nodded. “You’re a natural.” 

He took the cup you handed him with a grateful nod, and you sat across from him. “How are you doing?” 

You stared at him like a deer in headlights for a moment then looked back down at your own mug. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course,” he assured you. “I want you to be.”

“I’m a bit… overwhelmed? If that’s the right word. This is all just… a lot,” you explained. “It’s just… I was a single mom for like 4 years, and now I have you and I guess I’m just still getting used to it. Not that it’s bad or anything, it’s just… different. But Mia and you get on so well, and you’ve been so kind throughout this whole process, so, thank you for that. It’s just-”

“Weird?” he offered, and you chuckled. 

“Weird,” you confirmed. “What about you?” 

“It’s been weird, obviously. But, I adore her. I knew I had cared about people before, but this is just… different. I didn’t think I could care about someone so much after you-” He cut himself off with a sigh. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright,” you shook your head. “I get what you mean.” 

He nodded. “She’s wonderful. She’s so smart. She’s so funny. She’s so… you, honestly,” he chuckled.

“She’s a mini me that looks like a mini you,” you laughed. He’d missed that laugh. He’d missed you. 

He nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“How does it feel to be leading the championship?” you asked, sipping your tea. 

He didn’t even think about F1 unless he was in the car. He just raced, and then rushed home to see you and Mia. He shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it,” he breathed out a long sigh. “I guess it feels good?”

“You haven’t thought about it?” you gawked. 

“I usually rush home after races,” he admitted. “I like to talk to Mia about it.” 

“Oh,” you looked at him, then back down at your mug. “Well, y’know, we could come to the next one, if you want her there.”

“I’d want you there too,” he took your hand. “Both of you.” 

You nodded. “We could be there.”

“I’d like that,” he smiled, his thumb running over your knuckles. “I’d like that a lot.” 

“Alright,” you smiled flatly, but he could see something in your eye, something that made him think he was doing something right. “We’ll make it happen.” 

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“Oscar… is my dad?” Mia questioned. “How?” 

“Well, Oscar and I used to be in a relationship, and we loved each other very much. And we broke up before I knew I was pregnant with you, and I didn’t have a way to tell him you were on the way, but we saw each other in Australia and I told him then, and that’s why he’s been coming over so much,” you explained calmly and gently. 

She nodded for a moment. “That makes sense. Why did you two break up?” 

Both of you cringed and he turned to look at you. 

“Sometimes people may be the right fit, but it might just not be the right time in their lives for them to be together. That’s what happened with me and Oscar,” you spoke slowly, basically grasping at straws to think of something to explain your very complicated break up. 

Oscar tried not to let himself get excited at the fact that you still thought he was right right person for you, but it did make him fell quite good about himself. Right person, wrong time? He could work with that.

“So do I call Oscar; dad, or Oscar?” she asked, glazing over your explanation. 

“You can call me whatever you want,” he smiled. “Oscar, Osc, dad, anything.”

She nodded, studying him again. “I think I’ll call you dad,” he decided. “I like you a lot dad. Are you going to stick around now?” 

He chuckled. “I’m going to stick around until the end of time Mia,” he promised. “Swear.”

“And you and mom are going to get back together?” she asked sceptically.

“Umm,” he thought about it for a moment. “We don’t know.”

“Well you should. Mommy has been single since I was born, and she needs someone who’ll love her,” she blurted out as you covered your face with your hands. 

“Mia,” you groaned. 

“What?! It’s the truth!” Mia shrieked. 

“Anyway,” you changed the topic. “Do you have any other questions?” 

“Not really,” she admitted. “Am I going to have to go between dad and moms house?”

You looked at each other. “We haven’t really talked about that yet,” Oscar admitted. “Is that something you don’t want?” 

“No. It seems like a lot. I want both of you in the same house with me,” she shook her head. 

You turned to each other again. “Well, we’ll talk about it,” you smiled back at Mia. 

“Can dad stay over tonight?” She asked. “I want to watch a movie with him.”

“Of course he can sweetheart,” you smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get dinner started.”

“I’ll clean up the playroom!” She called out as she ran in the direction of her room. 

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“That wasn’t bad,” he announced as he chopped up carrots. 

“Not at all,” you nodded, your mind a million miles away. 

“I thought she’d take it worse,” he sighed. “Oh, and I really don’t have to stay over tonight-“

“Nonsense,” you brushed him off. “We have a spare bedroom. It’s all yours.” 

“Thank you, for all of this,” he smiled. “She genuinely means everything to me.” 

“That makes two of us,” you smiled, a genuinely, real smile. The ones he was so used to back in the day.

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mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

taglist:

@htpssgavi @widow-cevans @anayaverse @1800-love-me

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part five)

genre: slow burn fic, fluff with hints of angst, light drama, no explicit smut

kms masterlist | <- part four | part six (soon) ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, suggestive language, overthinking, light tension, kelce being kelce

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron's intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and y/n's mind? that shit was even more tangled. but she hadn't spent seven years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through her fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: starting the day with the struggle to focus after texting rafe the night before, he unexpectedly asks you to sit with him in the back row of economics class. having forgotten his pizza date with his friends, he invites you to join them to work on your project at kelce’s instead of staying in school. despite your hesitation, you agree. feeling out of place as you sit in his car on the way to kelce’s, rafe makes a seemingly casual attempt to ease your nerves along the way.

word count: 4.5k+

a/n: thank you guys sm for the kind words and support on the last one, this always means sm to me <3 i also had sm fun with this one and felt like it’s time for the first little drama highigi. also next part will include a little rafe pov 😈 anyway, hope you enjoy <3

"Yo, what took you so long? Did you two have a quickie in the car or something?" That was the first thing Kelce Statter said as he opened the front door, glancing between you and Rafe with an amused grin, his pupils just a little too wide.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

And here we go.

Like clockwork, heat shot straight to your cheeks, and as usual, whenever you were overwhelmed and didn’t know how to react, that tense, awkward smile appeared on your face.

Not even a minute here, and one dumb comment had already thrown you off balance. This was off to a fantastic start.

Rafe let out an annoyed snort. "Kelce, shut the fuck up."

"Whoa, dude, no need to get your claws out." Kelce raised his hands in mock innocence, tilting his head with a smug smirk. His gaze landed on you—your awkward smile and deep red face more specifically—before flicking back to Rafe. "Aww, you got her all shy and flustered. You must’ve been good."

Okay, that’s it. THIS was officially the most awkward moment of your life, and the worst part? You were too stunned to speak.

Rafe ran a hand down his face, clearly over Kelce’s shit, before shooting him a sharp glare. "Jesus Christ, dude, do me a favor and, just once in your fucking life, pull your head out of your ugly ass."

Wow. What subtlety. You honestly couldn’t tell if Rafe liked or despised him. Probably something in between both.

Before Kelce—still stupidly grinning—could fire back, Rafe stepped into the doorway and shoved him (softly?) aside. "Now move, before I deck you."

"Love you too, bro," Kelce said, throwing a wink in your direction, before disappearing down the hallway.

Well, what an interesting dynamic.

Rafe turned back to you with an exasperated sigh. "I swear I’m gonna kill that idiot one day."

Now would be a good time to SAY SOMETHING.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you smiled awkwardly, blurting out dryly, "He seems… nice."

NICE? Of all the words you could’ve chosen, 'nice' had to be at the very bottom of the list to describe Kelce Statter.

Rafe let out a short, amused breath. "Sure, he’s a sweetheart." He motioned toward the inside of the house with a nod. "C’mon, or we’ll end up with nothing but crust. His appetite’s as big as his mouth."

So you followed him inside like a stupid little duckling.

In the living room, a massive flat tree-stump-and-glass coffee table was already “set”—if you could even call it that. A big, colorful pizza sat on a wooden board in the center, surrounded by a chaotic mess of four plates, a few glasses, cigarette packs, a lighter, car keys, a can of deodorant, an almost empty roll of paper towels, as well as a bag of weed and a used grinder.

In your mind, you titled this condition Kelce Statter core.

A forest-green semicircle couch wrapped around half the table, facing a gigantic flat-screen TV. Family Guy was playing on the screen, the volume low but audible.

Kelce was perched at one end of the couch, hunched forward as he shoved a slice of pepperoni pizza into his mouth. Topper sat somewhere in the middle, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw the two of you—or more specifically, Rafe.

With a casual “Yo, bro,” Topper got up and dapped Rafe up. He shot you a neutral smile, his voice carrying a friendly vibe. “We’re all apologizing in advance for Kelce’s shitty jokes.”

Now that was what you’d call nice.

From the background came a muffled, “Hey!”

A genuine smile tugged at your lips but before you could respond, Rafe made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Okay, okay, let’s just eat. The idiot’s already inhaled half the pizza.”

Topper sat back down next to Kelce while you settled on Rafe’s right—at a comfortably safe distance—at the opposite end of the couch. Still, your heart and mind refused to slow down.

But as your stomach filled, a bit of the tension in your body started to ease. Surprisingly, the pizza tasted amazing—like, really really good.

Was Kelce secretly some kind of passionate hobby chef? Probably. Would make sense, considering he was on his healthy gym grind like Rafe had told you.

As the minutes passed, the guys were deep in their own conversation—which you were thankful for because eating, talking, and not embarrassing yourself was an art you had yet to master.

Kelce was raving about some new protein/creatine/whatever powder he swore by, Topper was hyping up an upcoming surf competition he was planning to enter, and Rafe had some big news about a deal his dad had recently landed.

The only thing remotely interesting to you as a surfer was the tournament Topper had mentioned. The rest you tuned out, peacefully eating your pizza, taking an occasional sip of your Coke, and half-watching some weird Brian-and-Stewie subplot on TV.

This actually almost felt like hanging out with friends.

At some point, Topper mentioned your name, and you snapped out of your little bubble, turning away from the screen in surprise.

Shit, what did he say?

You swallowed the bite of pizza in your mouth and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, what?”

Kelce jumped in before Topper could repeat himself, seemingly taking your disinterest in the conversation as a win. “Oh shit, you’re into Family Guy?”

Your thumb nervously traced a spot on the edge of your plate. “Yeah, I mean, it's a good show to watch on the side.”

“And South Park, Rick and Morty?”

You felt all three of them staring at you. “They’re good, I guess. I mean, South Park isn’t really my thing but—”

Kelce gasped like you’d just insulted his entire family. “Not your thing?! That’s—”

“Jesus, bro, let her at least finish,” Topper interrupted with a roll of his eyes because well Kelce had just interrupted him.

Rafe nodded in agreement, waving his hand toward the kitchen. “Seriously, go grab more paper towels or some shit.”

Kelce shook his head, clearly unimpressed, but stood up anyway, plate in hand. “Wow, you guys are actual mean girls.”

You smiled because the other two did, but somehow, you still felt a little bad for Kelce. Sure, he was annoying, loud, and way too blunt, but getting shut down by your friends every two minutes had to sting, right?

Wow. Am I seriously feeling sorry for Kelce Statter?

Topper shook his head as Kelce disappeared into the kitchen. “Sometimes I wonder how he manages to pull any girl at all.”

Rafe shrugged, wiping his hands on the last paper towel. “Maybe they’re just hoping his dick’s as big as his mouth.”

That got a laugh out of Topper—one that, in your opinion, was a little too enthusiastic. “Yeah, probably.”

Okayyy. If you were Rafe Cameron Stan No. 1, then Topper was definitely No. 2.

Rafe seemed to notice your lack of reaction, turning to you with a crooked smile, like he couldn’t quite comprehend why you didn’t find this hilarious. “What? Would you go for a guy like that?”

WHAT KIND OF QUESTION WAS THAT? Better yet, how were you supposed to answer?!

On one hand, you’d never in a million years go for Kelce Statter. On the other, it felt wrong to sit in his house and join in on roasting him.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you gave an awkward smile. “No, I mean… I barely know him.”

God, what a stupid answer.

“That wasn’t a real no,” Topper remarked with a smirk, and you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.

Rafe’s brows twitched just slightly but before he could throw another dumb question your way, you tried to salvage it. “I mean, I just… I wouldn’t want to judge someone based on their looks or, uh, any shallow first impressions.”

Great. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

Rafe and Topper stared at you like you’d just announced that you believed in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

OH GOD, they probably thought you liked Kelce now. Worse, RAFE probably did.

AHHH, HELP.

“Okay, you better not tell him that,” Topper said, amused. “His giant ego will rub it in your face forever. Or worse, he’ll actually think he has a shot with you.”

...

You weren’t sure what was worse—how aware you were of your burning cheeks, Rafe’s unreadable look that could mean anything from irritation to amusement to indifference, or the fact that Topper had basically just said you were too good for Kelce. Which was probably supposed to be a compliment, but the way he’d said it with that weird teasing undertone … yeah, no thanks.

Rafe leaned forward with a defiant-yet-amused snort, cutting off your view of Topper, and gathered the last three plates. “Shit, that’s enough talk about Kelce,” he said, shoving the stack of plates into Topper’s hands.

For a moment, Topper just stared at him, then he stood up, casting a brief glance at you before looking back at Rafe. “Sure, yeah, guess we’ll head out to the porch then. Have fun with your… art project work session or whatever.”

And with that, he disappeared in the same direction as Kelce.

Now it was just you and Rafe again. But for some reason, alongside your nervousness, there was this inexplicable tension lingering in the air from the conversation earlier.

This whole thing was SO FUCKING WEIRD anyway.

Yesterday morning, Kelce, Topper, and Rafe had been… well, strangers to you. And now? Now you were sitting in Kelce Statter’s living room, having had lunch with the three of them, and now you were spending your FREE TIME—like, not during class, not during lunch, but your actual free time—working on a school project with Rafe.

This whole cozy setup, this couch, the TV running in the background, the whole environment—it all felt so… intimate. Even though it absolutely wasn’t.

And then all those comments, those questions… This was so far out of your comfort zone, and you had no idea how to deal with such a sudden shift.

And, honestly? You were still stuck on why Rafe had even invited you here in the first place. Yeah, sure, to work on a school project. But at his friend’s house? When you could’ve just done it during lunch. It didn’t make any sense.

And the dangerous part? Somewhere deep down, there was this tiny part of you that thought maybe, just maybe, Rafe wasn’t just after a good grade.

The fact that Rafe didn’t shift over, even though the couch was now completely clear (sure, there was still a decent gap between you two, but still...), didn’t go unnoticed. Quite the opposite, he spread out his legs slightly more, adjusting his position.

You had to seriously focus to avoid accidentally looking at... certain areas.

GIRL PLS.

“Don't tell me you're still nervous after having experienced these idiots firsthand” he said, his tone playful but noticeably more detached than usual.

Could I get one moment—just ONE—in which my face isn’t on fire? PLEASE.

You forced a clumsy smile. “I wasn’t nervous... just curious.”

Oh, yeah. He’s totally going to believe that.

Rafe raised an unimpressed brow, his smirk making it clear he didn’t buy it. “Yeah, anxious curious.” He sank deeper into the couch, putting one leg on the edge of the table, and looked up at you with his pretty blue eyes. “So, you have a thing for Kelce, huh? Is that why you acted so weird when I asked you to come along?” His voice was teasing, almost challenging, but there was something distant in it too, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?? Like, LITERALLY WHAT?? What kind of question was that?

You honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking or being serious. His expression gave absolutely nothing away. Also didn’t he just say to Topper to put the Kelce topic aside?

You shook your head, brows furrowing in irritation (and let’s be real, you probably looked like a sulky tomato while doing so). “What? No! I mean… what? Where is that even coming from?”

Rafe shrugged, his tone maddeningly casual. “He wouldn’t say no, just saying. Kelce would take any gi—”

“But I would!” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “Saying ‘no’, I mean.” You froze for a second, your brows furrowing further as if you’d just misheard yourself. “Wait, what were you gonna say?”

There it was again. That shift in his mood. Barely noticeable but it was there—the way his brows raised just slightly, his eyes focusing on you like he was daring you in some strange way.

“What?” he asked, clearly testing to see if you’d let it slide or push further.

And, of fucking course, you’d push further. Crush or not, no way would you let that audacity slide.

You tilted your head, and honestly, maybe it was the stress of the day catching up to you, but the way he looked so smug, so goddamn full of himself, pissed you off. "You were trying to say that Kelce would go for any girl anyway." You furrowed your brows. "What… how am I supposed to interpret that?"

You couldn’t help but remember the comment he’d made earlier at school—Kelce always brings some random chick to our hangouts.

So, was that how he saw you? Some random, disposable girl for his friend? Was that the point of this? To hook you up with Kelce?

You had no idea why but before this, thinking of hookups in general had been mildly amusing to you. But now that it was somehow in the air, it just pissed you off.

Something flickered in Rafe’s eyes, but he shook his head, his mouth tugging down in mock innocence. “Don’t know.” And then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added, “You didn’t say ‘no’ earlier. You know, all that talk about 'not judging people by surface-level impressions' or whatever.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “What the fuck, I never—... I'm not interested in--” You stopped yourself mid-sentence when you noticed how observant he was eyeing you.

Either he was messing with you—trying to get a reaction out of you by asking these upfront questions—or he was actually being serious.

“This feels like gaslighting", you said dryly, though you couldn’t stop the somehow amused smile from creeping onto your face.

A crooked grin spread across Rafe’s features and the crease between his brows disappeared. “I'm just repeating what you’ve said.”

Seriously, what did he want you to say? “Yes, I like Kelce”??? Did he actually believe your words earlier had hinted at some interest in Kelce? Just the thought of it made your skin crawl.

Your expression shifted back to a frown. Hesitantly you asked, “Is this like... a bro-playing-matchmaker-for-bro thing?”

Did he want you to start something with Kelce? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions—this whole thing with Topper earlier, too. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Kelce secretly had a thing for you and they were both playing his wingmen in a very strange way.

OH. MY. GOD.

That would explain why Rafe had invited you here in the first place. But then again, why were you—just the two of you—about to work on the project?

Even your confusion was confused at this point.

“Shit, no,” Rafe shot back with an amused smirk, crossing his arms. “Like I’d play wingman for Kelce.” He shrugged, his grin lingering. “But you do seem like someone who needs help in this area.”

…

WHAT.

Did he think you were some kind of helpless maiden who needed assistance at courting the other sex? Well, it wasn’t that far from the truth, be for real, but that wasn’t the point. Why would he even say something like this? Was he suggesting to be your wingman or some shit?

God, this was such a painfully awkward situation and he seemed to have fun cornering you like this.

Screw it. You were done with whatever this was.

You nodded slowly, your cheeks still flushed deep pink. “I don’t, thanks. And I feel like we shouldn’t waste any more time and get back to the project.”

Something strange flashed across his face—a mix of disappointment and irritation as if he had enjoyed this back and forth—but he just shrugged. “Back at being a nerd.”

Wow. Okay. Seriously, what the actual fuck was going on inside Rafe Cameron’s head?

Trying to suppress a frown, you leaned toward the side of the couch and pulled your iPad from your bag, tucking your legs up into a comfortable position as you opened yesterday’s notes.

The air felt heavy with a strange tension. Not like yesterday, when you’d had your first real conversation with him. Not like earlier either, when he was pissed off at you mentioning his dad in a conversation. No, this was something else entirely—some kind of irritated restlessness on both sides.

Your heart pounded uneasily in your chest, and you hated that you couldn’t just address whatever this was. If it even was anything.

So, you did what you always did when things started feeling like too much—you disconnected from the situation entirely and focused on the task at hand. Skimming over your notes, you cleared your throat and read out your last update. “Okay, so…” -----------------------------------------------

You washed your hands, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

What am I even doing here?

This was so stupid. You should’ve insisted on rescheduling this whole thing—it would’ve been so much easier.

Grabbing the towel from the rack, you dried your hands and took a deep breath. Screw whatever all of this was—why he’d invited you here, why he’d asked all those weird-ass questions. You just needed to focus on the project.

Art was the only subject you were actually kind of good at and there was no way you were going to mess it up just because your brain was spiraling over this surreal, out-of-nowhere situation.

But as you walked back down the hallway toward the living room, you were hit with another curveball.

Is this guy SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!

There he was, sitting on the couch, your iPad resting on his lap, your Apple Pencil in his hand as his eyes stared at the screen.

Never mind that he looked CUTE AS HELL doing it—he couldn’t just scroll through your sketches like that. THAT WAS AN UNSPOKEN RULE. What if he found your studies of—NOPE.

“What are you doing?”

Rafe looked up, completely unbothered. Before he could even answer, you were already sitting down next to him, hand reaching for your iPad.

And then you saw it.

He wasn’t flipping through your gallery—he was just writing something in the Notes app.

Your face instantly flushed hot. “Oh,” you mumbled, pulling your hand back quickly—only to accidentally brush against the fabric of his jeans.

AKA HIS THIGH.

It was over. Your life was over. Done. Finished. The end. You were officially dead in every language known to man.

The heat in your face burned hotter as your pulse skyrocketed, embarrassment filling every cell in your body.

And his face? Big blue eyes staring at you half-surprised while his lips slowly turned into a crooked smile.

UGHHHH, OH MY GOD.

A sheepish-awkward smile crept across your lips. “Oh, I—oh my God, I’m so sorry, I… I thought you were scrolling through my gallery.”

Brilliant. Truly a top-tier diversion. AS ALWAYS.

Please, please, please, for the love of everything holy, don’t mention the fact that I just touched your leg. PLEASE.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, more amused than irritated. “Why, what would I find? Nudes?”

I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.

“What? No! I don’t—gallery, I meant my art gallery!” you shot back quickly, your voice a pitch higher than usual as the heat rushed back into your face.

And then, as your gaze flicked to the striking details of his annoyingly pretty eyes, it hit you just how close you were to him.

Too fucking close.

Your overly dramatic attempt to snatch the iPad from him had somehow left your whole body turned toward his, with barely four inches separating you.

Every instinct screamed at you to throw yourself onto the other end of the couch, grab your bag, and leave this house as fast as humanly possible. Move forward another state and start a new life.

But you couldn’t move. It was like you were frozen, completely anchored in place. Because choosing to put space between you now? That would just highlight how ridiculously awkward this whole situation had become.

You felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, unable to move.

And Rafe’s eyes? They were the headlights. He stared at you, his expression teetering somewhere between playful curiosity and deliberation, like he was trying to decide whether to swerve or just run you over.

“Jesus Christ, calm down,” he finally said, a cocky laugh slipping past his lips as he clicked the Apple Pencil back into the iPad case. “I didn’t look at your top-secret drawing gallery. Happy?”

And even if he had looked, would he even admit it? Probably not.

Still, a tiny part of you relaxed. Perfect—now only 99% of you were stuck in full fight-or-flight mode.

“Thanks,” you managed to mumble, taking the iPad from him with painstaking care to avoid even accidentally brushing against him again. That would definitely be the end of you.

Finally seizing the opportunity, you scooted a little further away—not as far as before but just enough to calm your heart rate without making it seem like you were actively trying to escape.

The last thing you wanted was to look like a total creep.

Even though the situation had been painfully awkward, somehow, it had managed to break that weird, unspoken tension that had been hanging between you two entirely.

You had just looked up, ready to comment on the one (1) completely useless bullet point he’d added when he beat you to it. "We should go to my place tomorrow evening. Maybe you’ll relax a little for once”, he said with a teasing yet somehow serious undertone.

...

...

WAIT. WHAT? THIS WAS COMING OUT OF NOWHERE LIKE WHAT?!

You must’ve misheard him. No way. This was too crazy, too fucking surreal to be real. Surely he was messing with you. Yeah, that had to be it.

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Your place?" Good. That was good. This way, you could at least make sure he wasn’t being serious.

Rafe scoffed, amused. "Yeah, unless you’d rather go back to working at school like a real nerd."

HE WAS SERIOUS.

Okay, hold on. But WHY AT EVENING? Evenings were basically the second most intimate time of day, right after actual nighttime. And his whole family would be home—no, absolutely not. That was insane. Way too much, too soon.

There was no way you’d 'relax' there.

You let out a nervous laugh, avoiding his gaze. "I don’t know… your parents—" You hesitated, remembering Rose wasn’t actually his mom. "I mean, your family probably wants their space."

Oh god. You could already feel the shift in his mood—subtle, but definitely there.

But Rafe just shook his head, completely unfazed. "My dad and Rose are at some charity event. Wheezie’s on a school trip this week, and Sarah can do whatever she wants, I don't care."

OH.

That—that changed everything. Shit, no, that changed THE ENTIRE FUCKING SITUATION YOU WERE IN.

An empty house, almost nighttime, and he wanted you to come over just after two days of getting to know each other? Holy shit, every alarm bell in your head was ringing.

Sure, you were inexperienced when it came to dating (NOT that this situation was anything close to being labeled as dating). And yes, you had no clue how to flirt. Plus, the entire concept of the male species lowkey terrified you and you were terrible at picking up hints.

But even you knew what this meant.

You’d heard enough of Cara’s stories, read enough shitty fanfiction, watched enough trashy movies and TV shows, and—unintentionally—overheard enough (deeply uncomfortable) conversations between drunk, horny teenagers at parties to recognize exactly what was happening here:

Rafe Cameron was setting the ground for a hookup.

-----------------------------------------------

kms masterlist | <- part four | part six (soon) ->

-----------------------------------------------

Taglist (open):

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @vvmaybank @ltristessedureratoujours @mia-iltc

[gublernatural]

for pop star!reader, bringing him to the grammys perchance? i think it would be silly <3

i love this so im skipping ahead to post-situationship into full blown relationship stage with them <3 my fave duo (also reader is def inspired by my girl t swizzle at award shows and im not sorry about it.)

"you're sure?" you asked one more time, just before the car doors were to open. spencer, whose face was almost as red as the dress you were wearing, sent you an eager nod.

he was torn; stuck between being excited to be by your side, but terrified to be in such a public space. there were days where he was still in awe that he has been able to meet, fall in love with, and now date such a strong, hard-working lady, but days like today he is reminded how much the whole world has come to love his lover.

"then, let's go," you smiled at him, ushering him to step out of the car. he obliged, then reached his hand towards you, helping you out. "thank you," you smiled at him, quickly, and then guided him to the building’s entrance. you waved at your supporters as you walked, still marveling at the impact you’ve been able to make.

you two ended up being split, spencer dragged away to your designated table and you to the red carpet. you took photos and completed interviews as quickly as you could without being impolite. you couldn’t help but feel like you were longing to be back with spencer. despite all of the fun you were able to have, everything just felt better when he was around.

“there you are,” you smiled as you finally made your way to your seat. “how was the carpet?” he asked, sliding your chair out for you. you shrugged in response, turning your attention to the first performer to take the stage.

spencer spent most of the show watching you with starstruck eyes. it was evident, even to those watching from home, how deeply in love spencer truly was with you. there was a literal sparkle in eye as you danced along to each performer, completely and totally enjoying yourself. this was the happiest you'd been in a while. you felt pretty, were at a celebration, and had your favorite person in the world by your side. spencer being in a fancy suit that matched your dress and having his hair professionally done had nothing to do with it, of course.

"this was is yours, right?" spencer whispered into your ear as his arm slipped around your waist. he held you close in anticipation as they introduced your category: best new artist.

this was the biggest moment of your career thus far. sure, awards weren't everything to you, but being recognized for the work you'd put out in somewhere as important as the grammy's would feel so good. you nodded, anxiously, trying to use spencer's proximity to ground you. you hoped the camera that cut to you while you were being named amongst your competitors could see the nerves that were coursing through your veins.

"and the winner is," victoria monet, last year's winner, announced. the world around you turn to static as your name was called into the mic. spencer was up before you were, cheering. tears welled in your eyes, overcome with pride and gratefulness. you hugged spencer and your producer, before heading up to the stage.

"um," you hesitated into the mic after hugging victoria, "i did not think i was going to win this," you laughed. the crowd laughed as well. beyonce was laughing at you. taylor swift was laughing at you. spencer reid was laughing at you. this was the best moment of your life.

"everyone in this category is so amazing and i wish we could split this award eight different ways. thank you to anyone and everyone who has listened to my music and supported me so far. i would not be here if it weren't for you." the first tear slipped from your face and you quickly brought your empty tear up to wipe it.

"thank you to everyone who inspired me and my music, and anyone who laid a hand in creating it with me. my mind is so blank and i can't remember all of your names," everyone laughed again. "and thank you to those i love," your eyes slipped to your table in the crowd. the camera cut to spencer, who had the biggest smile on his face anyone had ever seen. "i wouldn't be here without you guys. thank you and i cannot wait to make more music for you." you ended with a gracious wave to the crowd and cameras, before dashing back to your table.

you threw yourself in spencer's arms again. his cheek smushed against your shoulder as he mumbled, "i'm so proud of you!" you didn't answer, but he felt your smile get impossibly wider against him. after your brief moment of affection, you settled back into his side, excited to see sabrina carpenter's performance.

[itadooori]

I desire to see more of Hyun-ju in your style, please (and tell me more about your oc's as well, I like people's oc's)

hyun-ju the most beautiful girl ever (⸝⸝⸝• ω •⸝⸝⸝) ♡ i love her sm!!! thank u for giving me an excuse to draw her haha

as for my squid game ocs, i'll put my ramble under the cut as i have quite a bit to say lol

so! my ocs :3 as i previously mentioned before, they are a father and daughter pair! (i also finally came up with names for them, adhika is the daughter and dakila is the father)

much like geum-ja and yong-sik, i think that they both joined the games separately and only knew abt each other when they arrived. their family is def struggling, with adhika's father in debt and having a hard time finding work while her mother takes care of her younger siblings. adhika just turned 18 a few months ago, and has been working odd jobs here and there in attempts to support her family and pay off their debt, but the money is just a drop in the bucket.

adhika feels a very strong sense of responsibility towards her family, and wants to help out. she even refused to leave to go to university, despite being very smart and having a bright future in academics, to help out her family. but also sometimes, she also feels...burdened? it's a very conflicting feeling. she loves her family, but she'd be lying if she said didn't feel a twinge of resentment at this situation. i hope that makes sense lol

i haven't yet decided if my ocs are gonna just be fun little canon inserts or if im giving them their own story. both options seem rlly fun to me so kjssdkfjh im having a tough time deciding

some fun little tidbits about dakila and adhika's way of going about the games:

adhika is locked the fuck in. she's already at a disadvantage being a young, 5 foot tall, non-korean girl, so she's working twice or thrice as hard to get thru this shit

as i said before, adhika is very smart. she has good people-reading skills, and the ability to kinda morph into whatever people need her to be, or fit into whatever dynamic she believes people want her to fit (a skill that she picked up from just. life experience as the oldest sibling in a struggling family LMAO)

dakila is trying to look out for his daughter, but the games put a strain on their relationship

adhika has lowkey manipulative tendencies. they come out and worsen during the games. honestly, just think of her as a nasty mix of sang-woo and mi-nyeo. absolutely FOUL things coming from this girl i love her

this isnt really important at all nor does it really come up within her story but i still want to mention adhika is a lesbian. she joins the doomed squid game lesbian roster with sae-byeok ji-yeong and young-mi LMAO

akjfhdskjhf sorry this is so jumbled i just have a lot of thoughts. i'm still ironing out dakila and his personality so unfortunately i dont have as much on him as i do with adhika. but i hope that this information is interesting enough for now!! thank you SO much for giving me the chance to ramble abt my silly guys

[stonedficz]

hi this is it. title is a pun. ENJOYYYYY‼️‼️‼️‼️

Most of my publishes will include music. Music is a HUGE part of writing for me, as it helps me set the tone for my work. If able, please listen as you read!

schlatt x streamer!reader

✰ star shaped ✰

ch. 1 ❛ talk about being roux ❜

you were a whore for him. parasocially, of course.

Spending the past 4 years of your life obsessing over someone online was the most entertainment you could find besides trying to pass your college classes.

You had been a fan for years - literally, since 2020. You weren't there for the start of Schlatt's career, but by God, you wish you could've been. He gave you some inspiration to livestream/vlog stream just for fun. You had seen almost every video as soon as it released, every live, everything. Now, you just wanted to be like the big angry guy you watched videos of on your laptop, but better.

Maybe it was your college aspirations, the lack of support from your family, or something else - no matter what it was, you were here. 5 followers on twitch in.

Despite the lack of viewers, you continued streaming happily. You were meal prepping for the next week of work and school to try and save money. It just so happened to be a good content idea as well.

"So, if you look here," you patiently looked and pointed down at your frying pan, showing the camera and 3 viewers your pov. "- the roux is starting to burn. I'm gonna have to take it off the heat and try to add some more milk to fix the flavor. I don't have any more garlic powder so I can't remake it unfortunately." you frowned as you set the pan on a different eye, gently adding more milk. Your eyes flickered down to the chat on your phone.

"whats a roux"

A heavy sigh left your mouth, you had been at this for 2 hours. Streaming, that is. Now you didn't have the patience to answer questions. Then you saw a notification.

BigGuy is live now! Streaming: fixing my minecraft house

"Alright my friends, I think it's time for me to go." you smiled at the camera and waved. "The roux needs my whole attention, so I'll see you 3 later!" God, you were a terrible liar. You hit end stream pretty abruptly, immediately clicking on the notification.

"Hey guys, thanks for joining in," Schlatt breathed as he sat in his chair, turning side to side. He just looked at his screen blankly for a few minutes, occasionally making comments. TTS hadn't started yet but you were anxious to get your message in first. Anything to get his attention.

"Remember, TTS starts at 25 you broke bitches. I don't wanna hear about it being too expensive. Postcards are 50! Let's see what's in the mailbo-" He was cut off by the normal loud TTS voice.

"hi handsome! good to see you on again! I finished up my stream right when you started. have a good time <3 - cookkizkill" you typed in at light speed. Somehow, someway, the past 5 streams you had made it in as the first TTS donation. Pure luck.

"Oh God, not you again you little fuck. How do you manage to get the FIRST TTS in every damn time??? Competitive ass bitch. But thank you anyways.” he yelled and laughed, opening up his mailbox in the game. It didn't matter that he made fun of you - that was his persona, it didn't mean much. All you cared about was being seen. God, you were obsessed.

It went further than this. You GENUINELY were interested in Schlatt - you didn't even know his name. You were the obsessive, love-at-first-sight type. You still thought about a sweet boy from a coffee shop when you were in your junior year. Once you liked something, you had to have it. Unfortunately, millions of other people felt the same. Yuck. So.. now it was this. You sent donos, dm’ed him, everything you could to kindly, gently, and hopefully get him to put you on his channel. That was the boost you needed. Socially, and egotistically.

The dream: meet schlatt. Didn’t matter if it was in New York, at a meet n greet he would never do, or for media.

You knew you wouldn’t make it big enough to quit your job - you didn’t want to, you just wanted to be able to show the internet your life. You wanted others to find community.

—

You continued to watch the stream, he was playing Minecraft, drinking, the usual. Messages were flooding in. Soon enough though, it was 10 pm, and he was about done.

POV: Schlatt. 7:03 pm

“Ahh fuck,” he sighed, sipping on a glass of whiskey. “What’s up fuckers? Welcome to the stream, welcome,” he nodded and chuckled as he watched the people and chats flood in. “Remember, TTS starts at 25 you broke bitches. I don't wanna hear about it being too expensive. Postcards are 50! Let's see what's in the mailbo-“ he was cut off by the first TTS donation. It was the same person from the past few streams. Somehow, they managed ro get first dono more than twice in a row. “Lucky fuck.” He muttered under his breath.

“hi handsome! good to see you on again! I finished up my stream right when you started. have a good time <3 - cookkizkill"

"Oh God, not you again you little fuck. How do you manage to get the FIRST TTS in every damn time??? Competitive ass bitch. But thank you anyways.” He yelled and chuckled - rubbing the thin beard on his chin and his mutton chops for comedic effect. He knew a lot of people wanted him, lusted over him, loved him - but he couldn’t help but smile when people gave him a normal compliment. It felt good to be talked to like normal. Normal normal normal. He knew he wasn’t that, but it didn’t matter, being a star always had it’s perks.

“Alright, guys, lets get in. Fuck all of you shaming my house. FUCK YOU.” He yelled, furrowing his brows in faux anger.

—

3 hours had passed. Schlatt ended up building a new house, opening letters, and getting spammed with donations. God, that felt good. ‘Money, money, money, bitch.’ He thought to himself.

“Alright guys,” he let his tongue swirl in his jaw. “I’m fucking plastered. I’m done for tonight. Hope you enjoyed!” His cheeky smile flooded thousands of screens as he ended the live.

“Motherfucker.. jambo, i’m so fucking tired.” He complained, letting Jambo jump into his lap. His hands grazed over his fur as he headbutted schlatt. He yawned, sipping the last of his glass of whiskey. Jambo jumped down, awaiting their bedtime routine. “Moowwww!” Schlatt looked down at him.

“Alright, alright. I’m not feeding you again though.” Schlatt shut out all the lights in his office, slowly making his way into his bedroom, then his bathroom. He got onto insta when he was done getting ready for bed.

“Shiit, that’s a nice ass car.” He muttered to himself, scrolling. His thumbs grazed the screen hesitantly.

“I wonder..”

Every now and then, he would look at his message requests to see the ridiculous things people sent him. Family photos, death threats, achievements, etc. Every week though, there was the same username. “cookkizkill” managed to catch his eye. She never harassed him. Belittled him. Judged. Spammed. Begged. Nothing. She was overly normal in how she messaged him - and by God, she did it everywhere. Though, no matter what she sent, she said thank you, and wished him the best. Odd. Peculiar. Weird.

“Hmph.” His brows furrowed. He was intrigued. He looked at her messages frequently, never replying. If he replied to one, everyone would expect him to.

He opened the chat request.

cookkizkill

“hi handsome! i finally hit 5 twitch followers. yesterday i hit 200 subs on yt. thank you for being a great influence!! i know i wont be huge, but I’m thankful i get a chance to share my life with people. thank you for your stream today! i hope to be on one with you sometime <3”

5 minutes ago

accept request?

Click.

[twopoppies]

hello Gina, hope you’re having a good day or night right now, whenever you’re reading this:) i believe Harry and Louis are still together and i’m not a new larrie, but i’m pretty new to tumblr and even tho i checked most of your Denials tag, i still wanted to ask about your overall stance on the denials; i know we are talking about things happening over the course of 15 years so it’s not easy to answer simply; but do you think the denials in the past were because of Syco, of the whole management, like you know - they (mostly Louis) were forced to do it? and how about now, the last 2-3 years, do you think there is still a posibility of them being forced or is it more about PR, marketing, as from i managed to notice, the biggest websites post about Louis only when he talks about Larry. for me it’s all a little bit confusing and i noticed that the denials are usually so incredibly weird. like the iphone conspiracies, phone calls, chicken parmesan - so messy. my question is more about what do you think was & still is the reason for constant denials, the root of it happening? my faith is pretty strong and solid, i think we got enough proof from them to be sure of it all; but i can’t lie, sometimes i feel lost thinking about the denials, wondering if it’s PR, if it’s any contract, whatever they signed. if you wanna link any other posts, yours or from other larries unpacking it all - i would be very thankful, but i also wanted to know your opinion on this. also, i know you’re not Louis and you’re not Harry, we can’t be 100% sure what’s exactly going on so i’m just asking about your personal thoughts on this topic. thank you so much in advance and sorry for making it long x

Hi love. I don’t think I have any other links besides the larry denials tag, but other than Daisie, I think @skepticalarrie has some good stuff on her blog.

As for my opinion, yeah, I think the earlier denials were pushed by Simon/Sony and Louis really had no choice. The more recent ones confuse me, mostly because they’ve been so random and out of nowhere and just dumb. Every time he does it, he loses fans. On top of it, it not only doesn’t get rid of larries, it actually cultivates a new breed of larrie who think everything he says is a lie and everything he does is a clue.

My only real guess for why he does it is that it would be easier for them if larries would be a bit more laid back these days. I think they know they have support if they were to come out (although I don’t think that’s happening soon), but they don’t need us screaming about it at the top of our lungs.

I do think they’ve had some rough patches over the years since hiatus. But I tend to think things are in a better place now and that they’re together. But very truly, I have no interest in proving it and I really think at this stage in the game, the obsessive “bluegreening” of some larries does HL more harm than good.

[hellvst]

OFFSEASON – quinn hughes

featuring ; quinn hughes x fmc (sydney gray)

✮⋆˙ warning & content ; swearing

✮⋆˙ word count ; 3.5k

✮⋆˙ previous chapter – series masterlist – next chapter

a/n ; woohoo chapter three is here! also what's up with the hughes brothers getting hurt within the last 48 hours...hope they're ok :c also thank you all for the recent support, means a lot! uh this isn't proof read, but happy reading <3

CHAPTER THREE

QUINN

The bell above the café door chimed as I stepped inside, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries hitting me almost instantly. I wasn’t much of a coffee guy, but I definitely needed it today.

The place was an average size for a café, cozy, slightly packed with students hunched over laptops and the occasional older couples chatting over mugs of tea.

Conor, who trailed behind me with Brock next to him, actually suggested this spot, claiming it to be one of the best coffee in this side of Vancouver. It wasn’t my go-to energizer. Still, after the morning skate we had, I could use something to wake me up.

After coming off a big-time loss, post-practice was always tougher.

If people thought we’d been left off the hook to start the off-season early the following day. They have never been more wrong. So fucking wrong. Just because we were out of the game, did not mean that it was over.

Everyone on the team had been anticipating that text from our coach and told us to “Get your asses in the rink. Now.” Knowing Tocchet, he was ready to give us hell–more specifically Simon and I. And we got it.

The skating and puck handling drills were relentless. I don’t think we’d ever been pushed like that before. They were much more intensive, fast-paced, more difficult targets to hit in the goal post. I tried my best to keep up, which I did, but I would be lying if I had said it didn’t wear me down to the max. My body absolutely felt like I was checked over and over again.

Not the best feeling in the world. Trust me, I would know.

Conor and Brock stood behind me, still joking about the brutal morning skate we had to endure. “Man–I need something strong.” Brock said while his eyes wandered the menu. “I swear, if we have another skate like that, I’m gonna need a new set of legs.”

Conor huffed a laugh. “Better legs wouldn’t make a difference for you, buddy.” 

I smiled while Brock gave him a look, “Whatever–” he waved his hand before looking at the menu again. “So, what do you usually get here Gar?”

“Yeah, Garland. You’re the one who said this place was good.” I muttered.

“Because it is. And you need some caffeine in you, Huggy.” Conor shot back, nudging towards the counter. “Maybe then you’ll stop looking like you wanna skate into oncoming traffic.” 

I ignored him since it was probably true, and not a terrible idea considering what I had to deal with in a week or so.

My mind was stuck on last night’s game and the conversation with Tocchet. I couldn’t get it out of my head. The rest of the team didn’t hound me after figuring out what transpired in the coach’s office between me and Simon. They knew not to press me on it–I was glad that they did as I was already in a bad mood. I doubt that Simon kept his mouth shut about it to some of the guys, ranting to them per usual. 

Conor and Brock continued on with their banter. I was only half-listening as I stared at the menu, pretending I knew what any of the drinks meant or how–

I blinked and before I could react, as soon as I took a step forward, the person in front of me turned around–colliding straight into me. I watched as the girl’s cup tipped forward, brown coffee spilling all over her grey hoodie.

“Fuck!” She let out a sharp and frustrated voice under her breath.

My stomach dropped. This wasn’t good.

I staggered back, looking at her. The girl in front of me–who I had just completely steamrolled–stood frozen and appalled, coffee staining the front of her hoodie. The brown liquid spreads rapidly across the cotton like wildfire. 

Her jaw clenched, a mix of annoyance and disbelief flashing across her face.

“Shit, I–” I started, but the words barely left my mouth before she snapped her gaze at me, clearly about to let me have it–then she froze.

I watched her expression shift, something unreadable flickering her chestnut-colored eyes. Her pupils softened, but still held that glare. Her gaze swept over me in a quick assessment. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

Oh, she was pissed.

Looking at her, she was strikingly beautiful. Dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, long eyelashes, very light freckles dotting her nose across her tan skin, the kind of natural beauty that didn’t need any effort. But it was the look in her eyes that got me–like she had already sized me up and made her judgement. 

And from the way her mouth pressed into a tight line, it wasn’t in my favour at all.

“I, uh–” I looked at the sight in front of me, wincing at the view. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Shit. Not the best first impression.

I grabbed napkins from the counter and held them out to her. She took them but didn’t seem all that convinced they would be much help. I watched as she tried to dab at the stain, her expression growing more annoyed by the second. Yeah, the napkins weren’t much help.

It was only right that I offered to buy her another coffee–although, I figured it would make matters worse–so I opted to at least buy her a new hoodie. 

She shook her head to refuse, still working with the napkins. What she said next had caught me completely off guard. “I don’t need anything from an NHL player, alright–”

Then she stopped, her own words registering, her eyes widened slightly.

My brows furrowed. “So, you know who I am?”

Maybe she was a Canucks fan.

She met my gaze again, unimpressed. “Yes, I do.” The tone in her voice made it clear that wasn’t exactly a compliment. 

Alright, maybe she wasn’t a fan.

That surprised me. Most of the time, when someone recognized me, there was some level of excitement. But her? She didn’t seem impressed in the slightest. If anything, she looked more annoyed and pissed than before.

A strange mix of amusement and curiosity flickered in my chest. What the hell, that was new.

“Can I at least get your name or number?” I asked, then immediately realized how that sounded. “To replace your hoodie or pay for dry cleaning, anything to fix what I caused.” 

I had no other intentions behind that statement. For all I cared, I just wanted to make a things right. Not just because there were now a couple of eyes watching us, but it wouldn’t be fair for her to leave this place without anything in return to help her. Then I’d feel like a complete asshole. 

Sure. She was pretty. Beyond her looks–and her built up frustration–she carried herself with grace and poise. Even in a stained-hoodie, black leggings, and white sneakers, there was still that elegance to her like no one else had–you just had to be born with it.

Wait. I couldn’t be like this.

“I’m not making you buy me a hoodie. I can take care of this–” she gestured down. “–myself. So, I think I’ll respectfully pass up on that offer of yours, but thank you though.”

Before I could say anything else, she turned away.

Don’t look like an asshole. Don’t look like an asshole.

On instinct, I reached out, lightly catching the material of her sleeve. “Hey look, I’d feel really bad if I left here without making it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” She paused, raising a brow at me.

Of course I’d feel terrible. She could have gone off on me in front of the entire shop, but she hadn’t. And now I was weirdly determined to fix it.

But she smirked slightly. “I think I’ll survive without your help, but thanks.”

I stared, absolutely stunned, but a tinge in my lips dared to curve. And just like that, she walked off, returning to her table with another woman–most likely her friend–before I could even respond.

Well that caught me off guard. I don’t think I’ve ever been let down like that. Strangely enough, I was not bothered by it, but just fascinated. It’s not everyday I get these kinds of interactions.

The sound of laughter brought me back, and I turned to see Brock and Conor watching the whole thing unfold with shit-eating grins plastered on their faces. I forgot they were here for a moment.

“Dude,” Brock said, he shook his head in disbelief. “Did we just witness the Quinn Hughes talk to a girl?”

Conor was quick to add, whistled lowly. “Not just talk. Get rejected.”

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t a complete rejection, noting she ‘respectfully’ declined.

“She didn’t reject me.”

“She literally just rejected you,” Brock deadpanned.

“She didn’t even let you buy her a new hoodie,” Conor mentioned the obvious, also shaking his head in mock sympathy. “That’s tough, Huggy.”

“Maybe she saw last night’s game and watched us play like shit and–”

“Shut up.” I said under my breath. 

Given she knew I was an NHL player, there was no doubt that she knew about last night’s game. I wondered if she had even watched it at all. Better if she hadn’t, the sight of us losing on our home turf was not only embarrassing but rather disappointing.

If I were a fan, I would be feeling anything but happy. That realization crashed down on me a lot more than I thought it would.

Brock’s laugh brought me out of my short trance. “No, no, this is big,” he said, grinning like an idiot. “Quinn, do we need to have the talk? You know, the one where we tell you how to approach women like a normal person?”

“You two are the worst.” I wasn’t completely paying attention to them. 

My gaze drifted towards the exit, just in time to watch the same coffee-stained hoodie girl leave the cafe alongside her friend. 

I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t even get her name. But, there was that feeling down my gut that told me this wouldn’t be the last time I was going to see her. 

And usually, my gut-feeling has always been right.

I had two weeks of freedom. A glorious, responsibility-free stretch of time before I had to start this personal hell.

And I spent it the only way I knew how: watching hockey, reading new books that I got a few weeks ago, hanging out with some of the guys, and watching more hockey. 

It was the perfect balance of nothing and everything. Until now. Until this.

I pulled into the Lumé Wellness parking lot, stared at the building through my windshield like it was about to swallow me whole. The building itself was tucked in the center of downtown Vancouver, which was near the Rogers Arena. The area around the studio wasn’t too busy or lively, I didn’t have to worry about the media at this time.

If I could put this mandatory cross-training off another week, I would have in a heartbeat just to prepare myself for this moment. Hell, I would have put it off forever if it meant I wouldn’t have to do this with Simon.

But no, that wasn’t an option, not if I wanted to come back at my best instead of my ass being glued to the bench next season.

My fingers drummed against the steering wheel. I was about to hop out when I glanced around the lot and realized that Simon’s car wasn’t here yet. I took the liberty of keeping track of his cars whenever I could, just to avoid bumping into that prick at random places. 

I was expecting him to be here, especially considering his whole ‘I’m better than you, I know everything, and I make the shots you would have   missed’ complex. But, who was I kidding? Simon didn’t want to be here, and so had I. If he didn’t show, then I wouldn’t blame him. Since he wasn’t here yet, that either meant he was running late on purpose or–worse–he was about to show up here with his sister.

The hoodie girl at the café popped into my head before I could dread what was about to come. 

The thoughts of our interaction weeks ago lingered in my head, which was strange, because usually I didn’t dwell on these things. But the reminiscence of spilling coffee all over her and interacting with her, it had been itching at my brain ever since.

She looked so annoyed, so unimpressed. 

It also didn’t help the fact she knew exactly who I was. I had no idea if she hated me or not, but she probably did now. Not that I cared what people thought of me on or off the ice–except, for some reason, with her, I kind of did.

I shook the thoughts out of my head, got out of my car and walked towards the entrance of the studio, pushing open the glass door. 

The foyer was empty, which was unexpected. I came prepared to see a lot of people here, but it was quiet–too quiet. The scent of essential oils idled in the air, a mix of eucalyptus and lavender, almost enough to make me forget how much I didn’t want to be here. 

I made my way past the front desk, my gaze roaming over the sleek, modern with contemporary wooden interior. Soft lighting, smooth hardwood floor, and floor-to-ceiling arched mirrors in every studio room.

Great. That meant I’d have to watch myself struggle through whatever the hell was about to happen here.

As I wandered further into the hallway, I passed more studio rooms, each one either empty or locked. Then, as I turned the corner, I caught the faint sound of music–Michael Jackson.

I slowed my steps, glancing toward the slightly opened door at the end of the hall. Inside, a single figure was stretching in front of the mirrors.

My feet stopped moving. It took me half a second to realize why.

No. There’s no way.

The café girl. 

She looked the same as the last I saw her. Brown chestnut eyes, her hair in a braid instead of a loose ponytail. Rather than a stained grey hoodie, she wore black yoga pants and a matching fitted jacket. 

I traced her face through the reflection of the mirrors, watched as she moved fluidly, adjusting her position with practiced ease. She was focused, lost in whatever she was doing–until she wasn’t. 

I hadn’t realized how long I was like this for. She must have sensed me, because she suddenly straightened up, her eyes snapping to mine through the mirror. 

“What are you doing here?” She turned to face me, looking just as surprised.

I blinked, clearing my throat. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Her lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “I asked first.”

Okay. Fair enough.

“I, uh–” I scratched the back of my nape. “I have a session today.”

She tilted her head in amusement, probably found it hard to believe that me, Quinn Hughes, would be at a Pilates studio. I also found that reality hard to grasp around my head. “I’m sure you don’t see a lot of guys here, right?” 

“Well, believe it or not Hughes, I see a few male athletes here and there for Pilates. So, don't go around thinking you’re all that special now.”

Great, it looks like she hadn’t forgotten me after all. I couldn’t tell if I should be happy or worried about that. “So, you remembered me.”

She only nodded, but not in a way that meant it was a good thing. “Well, duh. You’re the reason I had to throw my favourite hoodie in the bin.”

I saw that coming, there was no way she would look at me any other way than this. I wasn’t just an ‘NHL hockey player’ in her eyes, instead I was now dubbed ‘the guy who ruined her clothes’.

“I offered to buy you another one or pay to get it cleaned–”

“I’m just kidding,” she chuckled, ever so lightly, waving her hand. “It’s a good thing washing machines and laundry detergent exist. It took a few cycles and extra scrubbing to get it out, but it’s all gone–good as new.”

That weight I have been carrying on my shoulders for the past two weeks, instantly lifted after hearing that. So, she didn’t hate me in the end. I dodged a bullet there.

“Oh, good–” I huffed out in relief. “I am sorry about that, again.”

All she did was smile. Who knew that a single smile would ignite something beneath my chest. There was that feeling from the cafe again. And I wasn’t sure why it only kept happening around her.

Taking that she hasn’t kicked me out yet, I took a few strides into the room, inviting myself in. I have never been to any Pilates studios, so I have never seen what was inside one–although, I had a good idea of it. 

One side of the walls were large arched floor to ceiling mirrors, the opposite side were windows that overlooked outside, multiple pilates reformers in one neat row, and the other end were laid out yoga mats and more equipment.

“Do you come here often?” I asked.

I figured she was in her twenties, but I could be wrong. I guessed since most Pilates’ clients were either young adults or middle-aged. I did some research prior to coming, and I would know a bit about it since my mom picked it up a couple years ago.

She gave me a vague shrug, “Something like that.”

I exhaled, shifting my weight as I walked around the reformers, taking in my surroundings, still keeping my distance from her. “I should’ve known you did Pilates.”

I recalled from the café; she stood so close that I noticed the small flecks of sweat glisten against her skin. She most likely earned them after being here.

Her brows lifted, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, you seem like you’d be good at it.”

Now that I realized it, I sounded awkward just then. I mentally face-palmed myself for my ‘game’–more like lack thereof. Maybe that talk Brock and Garly were referring to on that day might have come in handy for times like these. I sound like a fucking idiot in front of her.

But, I wasn’t trying to flirt with her. This was simply to make conversation. That’s all.

She stared at me for a moment before she shook her head with a laugh–like she wasn’t sure if I was complimenting her or just making shit up.

I was about to say something else, anything to save me from my impending doom, when Michael Jackson’s voice blasted through the speakers again. I recognized the song immediately.

“Beat It?” I said, more to myself than anything. “Solid choice.”

She turned her back to her bag on the floor, kneeling to grab her water bottle. She glanced at me, amused. “Yeah, you a fan?”

“I know good music when I hear it.”

That earned me a small smirk on her pink tinted lips. 

I didn’t know why, but I felt the need to keep talking to her. I wasn’t usually like this–I didn’t go out of my way to make conversation, unless I had to–but, especially not with strangers. But, my mouth was already moving before I could think about stopping.

“What's your name? You know, since it's only fair because you know mine.” I asked, looking at all the equipment surrounding us.

She exhaled a short scoff, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“You’re not answering them.” 

She twisted the cap off her bottle and took a sip, like she was debating on whether or not she wanted to humor me. Before she said anything, though, another voice cut through the air.

“Let’s not waste time and get on with it.”

I knew that voice all too well. Fuck.

I turned my head just as Simon strolled into the room like he owned the place, then tossed his bag to the side by the wall.

The café girl–her entire posture shifted. She walked over to the speaker where the music came from and turned down the volume. Her head snapped toward him, her expression tight. “Took you long enough. Didn’t I tell you to get here earlier because of traffic in the area?”

Simon barely looked fazed. “Turns out you were right after all. There was traffic. Duly noted for next time.”

My stomach twisted, and I wasn’t sure why. Simon has a wife, I knew that, but it did put me on edge to see her and Simon talk to one another. They spoke casually, so effortlessly, like they had known each other forever. Not that I was jealous or anything.

It seemed like I was invisible and there was a wall between myself and the two of them. 

I cleared my throat and interrupted their conversation. “Do you guys know each other?”

Simon shot me a look, one of those ‘are you the dumbest person on earth?’ expressions he was always good at–towards me specifically.

“No shit, Hughes,” he deadpanned. Then he jerked his chin toward her. “She’s my sister.”

all rights reserved © 2025 hellvst. please do not copy, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[nevertrump]

Trump-Zelenskyy Meeting (Condensed and paraphrased)

Trump: "We've been great friends with Zelenskyy. We’ve got a minerals deal. A great deal. And I talked to Putin a lot—good guy, we can make a deal. Biden? Terrible deals."

Zelenskyy: "Thank you, Mr. President. But security is most important. Putin is an aggressor, breaking international laws, killing innocents, kidnapping children. We need support to stop him. Europe is helping too."

Reporter: "How much is the U.S. sending, and how does this ensure Ukraine’s long-term security?"

Trump: "I don’t know. We’ll use Ukraine’s minerals. And make computers with the minerals, I don’t know. Security? Putin and I will make a deal first. Security comes after."

Zelenskyy: "Europe has helped a lot too."

Trump: "They gave less."

Zelenskyy: "Not really."

Reporter: "Zelenskyy, is Trump on your side?"

Trump: "Stupid question."

Zelenskyy: "America is supporting us, but Putin must be stopped."

Reporter: "So, no compromises?"

Trump: "You need compromise. I’m a mediator. Very good at deals. Best deals."

Bootlicking reporter: “What historical figures do you compare yourself to, Master trump?”

Trump: “I’m just doing my job. And I’m doing a great job”

Bootlicking Reporter: "Mr. Trump, what will your legacy be?"

Trump: "Peacemaker. Biden would’ve started World War 3. We won big, by a lot."

Bootlicking Reporter: "President Zelenskyy, why don’t you wear a suit?"

Zelenskyy: "I’ll wear one after the war."

Reporter: "Are you still sending weapons to Ukraine?"

Trump: "Yeah, but not too much. We want the war to end."

Reporter: "What about security guarantees for Ukraine?"

Trump: "We do the deal first. Security is easy. France is handling that."

Bootlicking Reporter: "What gave you the courage to engage with Putin?"

Trump: "I like you. Who do you work for?"

Bootlicking Reporter: "OAN."

Trump: "Great people. And I’m better than Biden. October 7 never would’ve happened under me."

Zelenskyy: "Ceasefires don’t work. Putin has broken every agreement since 2014. We need security before we even consider one."

Trump: "I stopped wars. Many wars. People don’t even know how many wars. Poor Putin, everyone is so mean to him. But also, Ukraine’s cities are destroyed."

Zelenskyy: "We’re still here. We’re still fighting."

Reporter: "How are you even going to access minerals in a war zone?"

Trump: “Idk we’ll see."

Reporter: "Why does it seem like you’re aligning with Putin?"

Trump: "I’m not. I’m a mediator. But people are being very mean to Putin, and that makes deals hard."

Vance: "Biden was all talk, no action. Trump will fix this with diplomacy."

Zelenskyy: "Diplomacy doesn’t work when there are no security guarantees. What diplomacy are you talking about?"

Vance: "The kind that ends wars. Maybe say thank you."

Zelenskyy: "I’ve thanked you many times. Including today."

Trump: "Your country is in big trouble without us. We gave you so much, and you’re not grateful."

Vance: "You should be more thankful."

Trump: "Just take the ceasefire."

Zelenskyy: "Only with security guarantees."

Reporter: "But what if Russia breaks it again?"

Trump: "They respect me. They didn’t respect Obama or Biden, but they respect me. Also, Democrats suck."

[morbethgames]

Love In Stasis - Chapter 4

Hey everyone, the story wasn't getting quite the amount of feedback or traction just on my Patreon, so I'm gonna be releasing at least a few more free chapters here. The Patreon version is currently up to Chapter 16, which is the chapter that really puts the sapphic into this sapphic romance mystery. So, if you're enjoying this story, please consider supporting over there, and I'd love to hear your thoughts and what you think about this story!

Patreon : Love in Stasis Chapter 1 :

Love in Stasis Chapter 2 :

Love in Stasis Chapter 3 : The Bureau Current Demo

4:23am - Police Station

Luz could be seen through the one way glass window from the other side of the interrogation room. Two men were standing there, arms crossed. One of them was a taller, dark-skinned, muscular man with a goatee and connected mustache. The other was an older white man, a little shorter than his six-foot-two counterpart, with a graying beard. The taller man had a perturbed look, while the other was more stern. 

“It doesn’t look good, Andre,” the man with the gray beard said.

“Yeah, I know,” Andre sighed heavily through his nose, then turned his head towards his captain. “But she didn’t do this, Crane.”

Captain Crane looked back at him sympathetically, but still not losing that sternness he was known for. “It’s not about whether I believe that. It’s about whether you can prove that.” He looked back into the room where Luz was sitting. She brought a hand up to her face and rubbed her eyes, wiping a stray tear away from one of them. The image of her ex-girlfriend’s lifeless body on the ground was no doubt continuously flashing through her mind.

The detective furrowed his brow, “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

“That’s still applicable. Always will be.” Crane nudged his head towards Luz, “But if you can prove she’s innocent now, then we won’t have to keep her in our pool of suspects.”

Andre ran a hand down his goatee, then pointed towards Luz, obviously frustrated. His voice was calm in spite of that, “I’ve known Luz since she was a little girl. I’m tellin’ you, there’s no way she did this. It’s her job to search out crime that’s happening on that campus.”

“And it’s our job to consider all the possibilities, Andre. C’mon, you know that.” Captain Crane shook his head and sighed, “Look, I gave this one to you as a courtesy. Because I know you care about her. Just tell me right now if that was a mistake, because I’ll call someone else in here.”

There’s a pause as Andre turns to look into the interrogation room. He thinks about it, albeit briefly, then says, “No, I’ll handle it.”

“Good,” Crane said, opening the observation room door. “Then do your job, Detective Johnson. Keep me updated.” The police captain reluctantly looked towards the front of the station where the news reporters and cameras had gathered, before looking back. “I have a media frenzy to cull.”

A few more minutes go by, and at this point Luz is just sitting there, stuck in her own head. The cool metallic surface of the table is chilling against her skin as she leans her arms on it. At the very least, they gave her a clean set of clothes and let her wash her hands and face. Thanks to that, most of Mel’s blood was cleaned from her body, but she could still feel the weight of it. That viscous feeling on her palms still hadn’t gone away.

Her hands clenched as her face contorted into anguish and anger. What if she hadn’t spaced out? What if she hadn’t looked down at her phone? What if she had been just a minute sooner to the scene? She could’ve saved her. She could’ve been there, like she promised she always would be. Even after they broke up, she told Mel she’d always have her back. Well where the fuck was she this time? 

Why couldn’t she just be thirty seconds faster?!

The door opened, making her look up, momentarily freeing her from the guilt-ridden thoughts. She wiped an arm across her face to wipe away the tears that began to fall. “Andre…” 

The detective didn’t speak. At least not until the door behind him shut all the way. Then he let out a sigh and walked towards the table, staring down at her sympathetically. “Hey, kid.” He sat down on the edge of the table with a file in his hand, “How’re you holding up?”

Luz bit her lip, looked away and shook her head. The movement obviously meant to indicate ‘not well’. 

Andre nodded, taking another deep breath and placing the folder down onto the table. “You okay enough to answer a couple of questions?”

Luz sniffed, giving a half-shrug, half-nod in return. 

“Good, because Luz,” he paused, purposefully waiting for her to look at him. Which she did, slowly. “They have you as their lead suspect for this.”

Her eyes widened, and a look of rage came across her face. “What?!” 

“Luz-”

“I’m the one that fucking called it in!” She slammed a fist down onto the table, “She used to be my fucking girlfriend!” 

“And that, and your home life, is why they’re looking at you for this,” he replies calmly. 

Luz scoffed in disbelief, “My home life?! No, you mean my dad!” She stood up and leaned forward, putting her hands flat on the table. “Y’know, when you guys would answer those calls of drunken disorderlies down at the bar, and you’d let him off with a warning or have him spend a couple nights in jail, who the fuck do you think was getting the worse end of it when he was allowed to go home, huh?” Her voice raised to a shout, “And then you wanna use that to pin this shit on me?! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Hey hey, kid-” Andre put up a hand, keeping an even tone and trying to de-escalate the tension. “-I’m not tryin’ to pin anything on you. Remember who the cop was that put your old man away in the first place.” He pointed to his chest, then let his hands rest in his lap. “The higher ups just care about making this all go away, but I’ll be damned if I let them-” he pointed to the door, “-pin anything on you, alright?” 

She stared him down and tears began to well up in her eyes again. So many emotions could’ve been contributing to them. Anger, frustration, sadness; it was too difficult to pinpoint the exact cause. Detective Johnson continued, “So you can stand, or you can sit, but do us both a favor and simmer down a couple notches. Because you’re angry; I get it. I would be too. Only a handful of people in the entire world know what you’re going through right now, but I really need you to keep a calm head and help me get you through this, okay?”

A tense silence settled in the room. There was nothing more infuriating than knowing that the people out there wanted to use their failures to pin her for a crime she didn’t commit. The murder of her friend. But ultimately, that wasn’t on Andre. If there was one person in this building she did trust, it was him. He was like the father figure she never had growing up, and probably the main reason she’s practicing criminal justice in the first place. 

So she let her legs give out and sat back in the chair, “Alright.”

“Good,” Andre leaned back to a more neutral position and continued, “So, tell me what happened. Where were you from two-thirty to three-fifteen this morning?”

Luz’s voice lost all defiance. All fight. Mostly because she felt secure enough with Andre to actually drop it. “I’ve been working all night. Patrolling around campus. At two-forty-five I stopped by Ellie’s Diner to grab a coffee. Then I took the car and went to sit in the Grayson Library parking lot until my break was over. I noticed someone on the green, but they took off as soon as I shut the car door.” She balled her hands into fists, “I should’ve gone after them.”

“You couldn’t have known, Luz.” Another pause enveloped the interrogation room before Andre continued. “Did you get a look at them?”

Luz shook her head, “No. Anywhere from five-foot-six to five-foot-ten. Wearing a baseball cap or something. I couldn’t see’em. It was too dark.” She started to bounce her leg, trying to hold it together. “After that I went to investigate where they’d been. And that’s when I found-” she stopped herself and grit her teeth. If she didn’t, she’d have broken down yet again. “I, uh… c-called it in after that. After I…” Her bottom lip quivered, “After I found her…” 

“Okay, hey-” Andre reached out his hand and leaned forward, putting it on her shoulder. “This is good, kid. You did good.”

She looked up at him, a single tear running down one of her cheeks, and waited for him to continue. 

“The fact that you were in your patrol car means they’ll be able to track the GPS back to everywhere you went tonight and know how long you were there for. They scoured the scene of the crime, searched your clothes, and searched your car. They didn’t find a murder weapon. Since you didn’t have it on you, and you didn’t have time to dispose of it in an area away from the immediate crime scene, there’s no way you could’ve done this.” He looked her in the eyes to make sure she understood what he’s saying, “You hear me? You’ll be outta here in a couple hours.”

Luz nodded, then looked down at the table.

“That bein’ said,” Detective Johnson said, “I do need you to sit tight for a couple of hours while we get the data from your work, okay? I’ll drive you back to your dorm room after we sort it all out.” He pats her shoulder a couple of times. “Hang in there kid.” Then, he stands up and begins walking to the door. 

“Hey, um, A-Andre…” Luz’s voice nearly gets caught in her throat, but it’s enough to make Andre turn around as he’s grabbing the handle to leave. “I, um,” she taps her fingers on the table. The words are difficult to push through due to the enormous amounts of bottled up emotions. But the grief is just too much. She was in front of someone she trusted and respected, and she just couldn’t keep holding it in any longer. “I don’t- I don’t know… what to do…” 

Andre’s shoulders visibly sulk as he sees the girl he’s tried so hard to protect lose all sense of innocence she had left. It wasn’t enough being knocked around at home, the world had to go and put this on her too. Not just the weight of a loss, but the guilt that came with it, too. It’s something he’d asked himself a number of times on the job.

What if I was just a little faster?

Luz closed her eyes and tears began spilling out in full force. She kept looking down and shook her head, her hair swaying from side to side as she spoke through strained cries. “I don’t know what to do…” 

It was almost enough to bring Andre to tears too. “Kid…” His voice was gentle and cautionary. He walked over towards her, and she immediately got up and turned to hug him. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him when she did, though. She felt weak, and for some reason ashamed. 

He hugged her back, putting a hand behind her head and letting her cry on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault.” He rubbed her back comfortingly, “It’s not your fault, Luz.”

11:25am - Madeline’s Dorm Room

As Madeline opened her eyes, she saw the familiar, yet blurry, walls and furniture of her dorm room. As her sight started to return to normal, she groaned and began sitting up.

“Hey, she’s awake.” The deeper voice said. 

“Oh, thank god.” A higher pitched voice said. 

“Where-?” Madeline began to speak, but her mouth felt extremely dry. She coughed and saw a figure come into view. 

“Easy there, Mads. Take it easy. Here,” Darrel handed her a cup of water he had kept on the desk at the foot of the bed. He tilted it up to her lips, letting her take a couple of sips before pulling it away. 

“Maddie?” Angie, one of the R.A.'s, was standing behind him, “How are you feeling?” 

“My head hurts.” The exhausted woman managed to prop herself up against the headboard, groaning as she answered the question, slowly reaching up to place the palm of her hand on her temple. She looked at both of them, who each had extremely concerned expressions on their faces. “What happened?”

Darrel looked away for a second and then stepped back, allowing Angie to come forward and take her hand. “Maddie, sweetie,” she gave it a gentle squeeze, “you were drugged at the bar last night.”

Her eyes went wide, and she put a hand over her mouth. Fear immediately came over her and she had assumed the absolute worst. Before that fear had time to fully set in, however, Angie leaned forward and continued. “Hey, that’s all that happened, okay? Darrel came along and caught you before it could fully take effect.”

She looked over at the physical trainer, still frightened, but less so now. She seemed more horrified that a guy was in the room while this conversation was happening. It was humiliating, especially in front of a man. She couldn’t even put into words why. It just made her feel a little more uncomfortable. That, in turn, made her feel guilty, because from what she was just told, he’s the one that got her to safety in the first place. 

Thing is, Darrel also seemed uncomfortable in the situation. He was looking away, and pretending as if he wasn’t hearing any of their conversation. Mainly to try and help Maddie feel more comfortable. “After the paramedics left, we both stayed here for the night to keep an eye on you.” 

Madeline held up a hand, looking confused. “Woah woah, wait- paramedics?” 

“Um, yeah,” Angie looked back at Darrel, who shared her look of concern, then turned back. “The paramedics got here shortly after you guys got back to the dorm. They woke you up as much as they could and had you take a couple tests.”

Maddie shook her head and her breathing started to speed up, “I don’t- I don’t remember. Last thing I remember was being at the bar.” She looked under the sheets, in a paranoia that everything wouldn’t be alright, then swiveled her head from left to right to look around the room. “W-what did they do? I- I don’t-”

Darrel came over and placed a hand on her shoulder, speaking softly. “Maddie. Maddie, it's okay. I promise, nothing happened. You weren’t assaulted or anything; I wasn’t ‘bout to let you stay at that place and risk letting that happen. When the EMT’s came in, I left the room for a bit-” he made sure to specify that part, “-then they took a urine sample, and a blood sample. They checked your eyes and, well, did other shit to make sure you were safe to stay here and sleep it off. We should get notified about what was used in a couple of weeks or so, they said.”

Madeline stared at him, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “I just wanted to have a good time.” Her bottom lip quivered and she crossed her arms over her chest, gripping near her shoulders.

Darrel wasn’t sure what to do at this point. He looked over to Angie, who was equally as concerned. “Do you,” he paused, drawing out the end of the last word a little, “want me to call Mel?”

All Madeline did was nod her head yes while she quietly cried to herself for a bit. 

He got up and reached over to her phone, but just as he opened the contacts and started typing in Melody’s name, there were a few hard knocks on the door. He turned his head to look at Maddie, seeing Angie sitting with her now and making sure she was being taken care of. So, he figured it was alright to answer the door first. 

He put the phone down on the desk and went to answer it. When he peered into the hallway and saw who it was, there was an immediate sense of dread. Not because of the aforementioned who, but because of how rough she looked, “Luz?” 

She looked awful. She hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. She’d barely had anything to eat since dinner time the previous night. Not to mention her eyes were extremely bloodshot from all of the crying she’d been doing the past eight or so hours. 

Luz looked just as surprised to see Darrel opening the door as he was to see her on the other side of it. A bubbling sense of jealousy built inside her, but was luckily numbed by the news she came here to give Madeline. Still, the confusion was prominent in her tone, “Darrel? The hell are you doing here?”

He looked back into the room and took a deep breath, before looking back at Luz. “Better question is, what happened to you?” He stepped out into the hall, letting the door close most of the way behind him. “You didn’t sleep last night or somethin’?”

She looked off to the side and cleared her throat, “No.” Luz paused, controlling the urge to just push her way into the dorm room. “You mind giving us some time alone? I have something I need to talk to Maddie about.” She was dreading it, but it still had to be done.

Darrel shook his head, “Look, Luz, I don’t know what you got goin’ on, but it’s not really a good time right now.” He side-eyed the door before returning his gaze. 

Luz furrowed her brow in frustration, “Look, I don’t fuckin’ care what you two had goin’ on last night, you can give it a rest long enough for me to talk with her, alright?”

Darrel glared down at her, “You best tone down the venom, homegirl. I don’t appreciate the third degree-”

The woman attempted to just push her way past him, “I don’t have time for this shit. Just-” 

“Luz-” Darrel put a hand on her shoulder and pushed against her, which she shrugged off angrily and prepared to push back in retaliation.

“Hey- don’t fuckin’ touch me man!” 

“Maddie was drugged last night.” The words left his mouth sternly, but still in almost a whisper. 

She stopped in her tracks and her eyes went wide, “What did you just say?”

Darrel let out a heavy breath, “Maddie was at a bar last night and I saw her start to, y’know-” he held his hand flat, tilting it back and forth. “So I walked over to see if she was alright.” His eyes drifted down, “She wasn’t.”

Luz’s head was spinning with a million different thoughts. A thousand different emotions. Did someone take advantage of her? Was she awake now? Did she get help? Who slipped her that drink? Who was she going to go beat the shit out of and probably get expelled over? Did Maddie know? Should she even tell her right now if she doesn’t?

She was flexing her arm and clenching her fist so hard out of anger that her hands were shaking. Her throat was strained and she was actively holding back the need to throw a fist at the wall as hard as she could. Depending on the answer she got to this next question would be the answer to whether or not she followed through with that impulse. 

“Did they-” she grit her teeth, “Y’know-”

Darrel held out his hands and quickly answered, seeing where her head was at, “No- fuck no. I got there before anyone could lay a fuckin’ hand on her.” 

Both of them released a sigh as a vast majority of the tension simmered down to a palatable amount. “Trust me, I was askin’ myself the same question when I first saw her. I was ready to knock someone on their ass, too. But no, I took her here as soon as I knew what happened, and Angie and I have been with her all night since then.”

Luz nearly started crying again right then and there, only out of relief this time. “God-” she put a hand up to her forehead and took a deep breath. Then she took a step forward and pulled Darrel into a tight hug. “Thank you, man. I mean it. Thank you so much.”

From this point, Darrel is taken completely off guard. He’s never seen Luz like this in his two years of knowing her and hanging out with her. She’s always either acting tough, or joking around, or brooding. But he’s never seen her emotional like this. He cautiously wrapped an arm behind her in response. 

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” There was a pause between the two where they just held the hug for a bit before Luz pulled away and took a step back. “Luz, are-” he lowered his voice a little more, “are you alright?”

She shook her head, having to take a deep breath before responding in order to hold it together. “No. I know it’s not a good time, but I still need to talk to her.” She looked him in the eyes, her gaze pressing and her tone was desperate, “Please.”

The door opened behind him and both he and Luz looked to see Angie’s head sticking out. “Darrel, what’s going-” then she saw Luz and nodded as a form of greeting, “Luz, hi. Sorry, Maddie’s not taking any visitors right now. I can give her a message if you-”

“Mel’s dead.” Luz interrupted, quietly. The words left her throat like she had to push them out. 

Both Angie and Darrel’s faces dropped. Their eyes went wide in disbelief, and Darrel was the first one to speak up. “What the fuck do you mean she’s dead?” He looked back to Angie, who had a hand up covering her mouth and the beginnings of tears started to form.

Luz closed her eyes and talked through clenched teeth, trying to get through a quick explanation. “I found her body on patrol last night on the green outside the library.” She looked back up at Darrel with the same pleading expression, “Please, man, I need to be the one to tell her. Alright- look she’s my friend, and she was Mel’s best friend, and Mel was my-” She choked on the words, and wasn’t able to get the rest of them out without breaking, which she couldn’t allow herself to do out here in the hallway.

A tear rolled down Angie’s cheek and quietly spoke through her hand, “This can’t be happening.”

“Please, Darrel.” Luz’s voice snapped him out of his disbelief, “Maddie can’t learn about this from the news, or some email the school sends out. It’s gotta be from me.” She pauses again, letting the words sink in. Letting the realization of what hearing it by a third party like that might do to her. But Luz was so hellbent on being the one to tell her because, in a way, it was one of the last things that she could do for Melody. To be there for her best friend on probably the worst day of her life. “Please.”

Darrel stares at her for a moment, then subtly nods his head, his gaze much more mournful than it previously was, “Alright. We’ll get outta here. C’mon, Ange.” 

Angie wasted no time fast-walking out the door and down the hall. The tears that had already escaped were only the first of many. One could only imagine that an R.A. felt somewhat responsible for the students in their building. In a way, she might have felt like she failed Melody too. 

Darrel took a couple steps out of the room and held the door for Luz, who put a hand on it to stop it from closing and began walking forward. “And Luz,” Darrel said, causing her to stop where she was and look back at him, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry for your loss. If you need anything,” he paused again, letting his sentence trail off. He and Luz weren’t the touchy feely kind of people. They didn’t show their emotions on their sleeve. So when he simply left it at that, all she had to do was look at his face and she knew what he meant. 

“Thanks. I will.” 

Darrel nodded to her and walked down the hallway to try and catch up with Angie to make sure she was alright. 

Which left Luz standing there, holding the door to the dorm room open. She turned her head to see what little of the inside she could from this angle, trying to gather enough willpower to take those first steps in. With a deep breath, she gathered the strength to move that first foot and steeled herself for one of the toughest conversations of her life.

As she heard the door close, Madeline looked up and saw who it was. Her eyes widened a bit and she instinctively pulled the covers up towards herself a little more, “Luz?” For some reason, she was the last person Maddie wanted to see right now. Because of the shame. The humiliation. Because she felt so unbelievably stupid for letting something like this happen in the first place. None of these thoughts were warranted, and logically, it wasn’t her fault at all. But if logic had a say in trauma responses, no one would need therapists. 

She couldn’t figure out why she felt this way with Luz though. After all, she was-

“Hey, Maddie.” Luz spoke softly, interrupting her train of thought and sitting on the side of the bed, close to her. “Heard you had a rough night.” Madeline’s head sank and her expression fell. “How are you holding up?”

Maddie shrugged, “Dunno. I feel-” she had to stop to think of what to say, “Stupid, I guess.”

Luz immediately scooched a little closer and put a hand on one of her legs that was currently covered by the blanket. “Hey, stop that. It’s not your fault some asshole decided to slip something into your drink.”

“Yeah, but I should’ve been more-”

“Maddie,” Luz rubbed her leg, interrupting her thought process before she could finish, “it’s not your fault. Don’t victim blame yourself, okay? All you did was go out to have a good time. This isn’t on you.”

Madeline looked up at Luz for the first time since she sat on the bed. She didn’t know if forgiveness towards herself would come anytime soon, but having someone here to reassure her and remind her not to blame herself was a step in the right direction. 

When Maddie did look up, though, she saw what kind of state Luz was in. “Luz,” she leaned forward a bit, “you look like hell. What happened?”

Luz looked down and attempted to keep it together. Because Madeline would need her to. She needed to be the strong one out of the two of them, at least for right now. 

“Luz?” Madeline asked softly, moving one of her hands just a little closer to Luz’s, but not so much that they were touching. 

“Mads, I um,” she cleared her throat again and looked Maddie in the eye. The concern was already palpable, “Melody. She’s-” Luz’s eyes became glassy and she found it more difficult to speak. “She’s dead, Mads.”

Madeline just stared for a couple of seconds. 

She blinked, and a small smile came across her lips as she tried to reassure her friend. “Luz, I was just with her last night. Melody’s fine.”

But the longer Luz continued to silently stare at her, the more unsure Madeline got. The silence was all that filled the room. From the look on the taller woman’s face, Madeline knew Luz was sure of what she said. And so her own expression became more irritated, and she retracted her hand. “Luz, you’re wrong.” 

Another couple seconds of silence. 

Luz shook her head. 

“Or you’re lying. You’re wrong or you’re lying, Luz, and I really don’t fucking appreciate it.” Madeline nudged her head towards the desk, “Go grab my phone. I’ll call her right now. Come on, go get it.”

“Mads,” Luz talked softly, and tears were dangerously close to escaping at this point. “I found her body on the green this morning.”

“No-” Maddie held up a pointer finger. Tears began to form in her own eyes now as her breath sped up. “No, Luz-”

“I ran over but I was too late. I couldn’t help her-”

“No! You’re lying!” Madeline pushed forward in an attempt to shove Luz away. To shove the harsh, bitter reality that was being presented to her away. 

Luz’s voice broke a little and a single tear dropped down her cheek. “I didn’t want you to find out through social media or the news-” she shook her head again, almost in a pleading gesture. Pleading for her friend to forgive her for even having to be the one to tell her this in the first place. “Mads I’m so sorry-”

Madeline threw a hand forward as she screamed at the top of her lungs with tears rushing down her face. “NO!” The first one managed to hit Luz in the side of the face, which surprised the woman. But she quickly recovered and was able to restrain Madeline’s wrists by her sides, pulling the distraught woman closer towards herself. 

Maddie began getting dizzy again. The hysteria was in full effect, and the fact that she wasn’t fully rested from just being drugged at the bar last night only made things worse. “You’re lying!” She screamed out again, then collapsed forward into Luz’s shoulder. 

After a couple of seconds, with Maddie uncontrollably crying into her, Luz swiftly released her wrists and wrapped her arms around her, letting tears of her own begin to fall. One of her hands rested on Madeline’s back, and the other on the back of her head. Luz only felt her emotions take an even bigger nose-dive when she could feel Maddie noticeably shaking. The news wasn’t just catastrophic; it had sent her into a form of shock. It was one of the worst pains Madeline had ever felt, and would ever feel, in her lifetime. 

“MEL!” She sobbed, drawing out her best friend’s name as some sort of plea or bargain to try and get her back. “No, Mel!” Maddie continued shouting similar things into Luz’s shoulder in between her heart-wrenching sobs. 

Luz rubbed the back of Maddie’s head, trying to comfort her as much as she could. She swallowed the lump in her throat and sniffed, trying and succeeding to talk clearly past her own tears. “I’m so sorry Mads. I promise you, I’m gonna find out who did this. I’m gonna take care of you.” She began rocking subtly left and right, “I promise.”

At that moment, with both of them so stricken by grief, neither of them really knew exactly what those words meant. They would have time later to reflect on them, but for the time being, they both needed each other to mourn. Nothing would ever be the same again. 

Entire worlds have crumbled beneath the weight of feelings like this. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything that was once right in the world seemed to be a never-ending spiral of horrid, suffocating truths. A downward cascade of events that, when put together, made a reality that no sane person could ever be content with living in. The only way anyone could get through it all… was together.

[qsmp-eggs-daily]

can you make a drawing of lulah with the ghost/dead eggs? :0 (you don't have to)

day 18 :)

[bleue-flora]

Yo! Just noticed it’s the anniversary of when I finished my second fanfic Dreamcatcher, which is the work I actually started to lean into writing fanfiction (since my first work I really just wrote for myself before being encouraged to share it).

So, in honor of that, here is some of the original second nightmare which was actually written from Dream’s pov before I ended up changing it to Punz’s.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Referenced Torture, Blood, Death, Injuries, Profanity.

Dream is wet and panting, in a puddle of watery red flowing into an equally crimson pond to his side, where the non diluted liquid gets thicker.

There’s white fur stuck in it as the body of a dog, slashed to bits lies there next to him. Both sitting in the despairing silence of the box.

Tears form in the corners of his eyes and his vision gets blurry, but he doesn’t let them fall. He just exhales.

Why does everything die around him? Why does everything he dare to care a smidge about get taken from him?

As if to follow his thoughts, the white turns to black. The fluffy bloodied dog shifts into a cat that’s long since stopped breathing. Dream turns his head, and faintly smirks at the sight of the additional body sprawled out on the floor next to him.

He mutters to the corpse under his breath, rolling his eyes, “To be fair, you were being a bitch. Like don’t blame me, you know you d—deserved it… I mean I lasted like—how long before beating your head in? That’s pretty impressive—pretty fucking impressive, you know.”

Tommy’s body doesn’t respond, just stays there, unmoving and uncharacteristically quiet. His face swollen and bruised, not unlike the innocent cat he beat to death.

Then his body evaporates and Dream finds himself in a new room, accented with black walls and bedrock. It’s detail is perfectly ominous like he wanted.

He’s kneeling, unguarded by armor with an audience of people surrounding him. His heart beats rapidly threatening to burst out of his chest at the danger. But he ignores it.

Indignant, Tommy rips off the mask that always covers his face. Exposing his pale skin to the cool air and the venomously judging faces.

Despite the frustration at his denial of privacy, he doesn’t so much as dignify it with a flinch. It was expected. He was ready. He’s not about to show weakness in front of a crowd.

They are silent as the axe lands, and lands again before lady death finally embraces him.

They are silent as the sword finds its place in his chest and he falls to the ground, bleeding out into the cold stone beneath him.

It’s ok. He knew this would happen. It was expected, it was planned. He didn’t know they’d kill him twice, but it’s fine.

On one life, he makes his way back down with sharp pain running through his veins. Somehow it seems duller than the pain in the prison cell, though it can’t have been less excruciating.

Tommy once again stands above him savagely firing arrows away. As they pierce his flesh and bone, he searches the cold faces around him and listens intently, hoping to hear one sound of objection to his approaching final death.

Surely, someone will say something, right? Surely, someone will oppose his final death, right? Surely, they woundn’t let Tommy kill him off in cold blood. Would they?

But there’s nothing from them. Absolutely nothing. Standing there, dripping in blood, he feels his heart entirely disintegrate into nothing. Leaving only a hollow emptiness in its wake.

Then suddenly he’s freezing from more than just death and despondency. He’s surrounded by ice. Their pillars, tall and sharp, casting the land in a pointed terrain. Despite the bone chilling air and his frozen insides, he stands, planted to the ground, looking at a sign pinned to the glacier. The wood marking the death of his parrot that travelled so far only to die there.

A deep sigh is released from his lungs and the scene smears into broad strokes of colors. Until a well known bleak room encases him in lava and obsidian again.

Sitting there with nothing but the annoying sounds of the prison to keep him company, he wonders if he’s always destined to lose everything. Was it always going to end up like this? Was he always going to end up alone?

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

ty to the people who continuously support me and love me I just. I love yall a lot <3

[sunbunnyyy]

i know i just got here, but seeing all of the laughably bad takes from both sides of the spectrum is convincing me that no, i don’t actually need to be on social media again.

[skitskatdacat63]

Speaking of ocs, I have no idea why I deleted this drawing off here. I think I hated it when I finished it, and now I looked back on it and I'm like, this is pretty okay??

[campirebites]

Besties I made my mom take me to Barnes and noble and I got an Enhypen album for my birthday and I pulled my bias! Jay my beloved!! Look how pretty he is😍❤️

[thelassoway]

I'm still so mad that we got all those parallels and callbacks and yet no tedbecca. It was all for nothing. THEY WERE IN LOVE DAMMIT!!!!

Hi!

First, I hope all is well with you.

And this gif sums up my feels on that season of that one show:

🍻