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the-house-of-auditore-frye · 6 months

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Mk1 intros with exotic dancer!reader

While reader has no bodily description, the vibe I'm going for is

Please enjoy these self indulgent intros! I have put more details about the reader insert under the intros but see how much you can piece together from the dialogue 😂 Also black text is the reader

Johnny * "How much for a dance, beautiful?" "For you and Kenshi? Always on the house..." * "Think about it, gorgeous! You and I? On the red carpet?! IN THAT RED OUTFIT OF YOURS!!" "I'm not sure I'd enjoy the public scrutiny..." * "You are an entertainer like me in Earthrealm?" "An entertainer of sorts... remind me to show you Ninja Mine when we get back home!" * "Many of your earthrealm friends seemed confused that I am bound to both you and Kenshi?" "Yeah... explaining polyrelationships on earth is a bit harder than Outworld..."

Kenshi * "It pains me terribly to know that you can't see me dance anymore..." "I can still see you in a sense. Besides love, I can feel your dancing much more acutely now." * "How many lucky men have seen the red outfit?" "Just you and Johnny..." * "We have already been threatened by the Empress and Princesses to not hurt you love..." "The bite marks you both left probably didn't help your case!" * "Does everyone in Outworld know about your relationship with me and Johnny?" "Unfortunately, court gossip spreads fast, more so regarding me or Mileena..."

Sindel * "Remember my dear, there will always be a place at court for you, should you want it." "Thank you Aunt Sindel!" * "All those times you took the blame for Mileena, I did know about it - thank you." "It helped Mileena's reputation in court to not always the troublemaker, it was necessary." * "Please do not blame Mileena so much for that one night: Tarkat is very easy to contract." "And yet dear, you lived your entire life on the streets and never contracted it?"

Mileena * "Based on the noises I heard from your bedchamber last night, I assume the earthrealmers are good at pleasuring?" "Mil, pleasure doesn't even BEGIN to describe the feeling..." * "Do you remember that celebration by the sea front when you thr-" "SHUSH - Mother does not know about that night..." * "How can you forgive me for blinding your lover?! I wouldn't blame you for hating me-" "You didn't have control! Kenshi knows that and I do too. Besides, how can you forgive me for letting you contract Tarkat?"

Kitana * "A little birdie told me that Raiden likes you..." "I believe that may have been exaggerated..." * "Do you promise you will come back to visit?" "Of course Kit, I'll be back before you know it!" * "Li Mei still does not approve of your choices-" "Believe me, that will not change any time soon."

Li Mei * "I am only looking out for the Princesses' well-being!" "By isolating them from their only friend outside the palace?" * "With your talent, you could have been a better umgadi than Tanya and yet you choose to be an entertainer?!" "I choose to live and enjoy life: not just survive it!" * "Despite what you believe, I am proud of your skill-" "Then maybe show it once in a while!"

Tanya * "Does anyone know about our training?" "No, and I'd prefer it to stay that way." * "Look after Mileena AND Kitana while I am gone - they are like sisters to me." "Of course - it is my honour and duty" * "Thank you for supporting me and Mileena." "I was allowed to be with who I love; Mileena deserves the same."

Raiden * "Do I make you uncomfortable Raiden?" "Uh... uncomfortable is not the word I would use..." * "I can put in a good word to Kitana for you~" "Thank you - that is very kind!" * "Did Johnny explain the relationship to you?" "I... understand the basic principle..."

Kung Lao * "What does Johnny have that I don't?!" "Better table manners for one." * "How much for a dance?" "I doubt you could afford it!" * "Is it true you were engaged to Reiko?!" "He and I grew up together, nothing more."

Bihan * "I will not associate with an outworld whore!" "You do understand that I am a dancer and not a prostitute? Right?" * "I will not be bewitched Sorceress!" "So you DO find me attractive!" * "I heard about the offer you made to Kuai Liang..." "Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"

Kuai Liang * "I am here to offer you my services... in ANY capacity... or position... you wish..." "Are you still speaking of kombat?" * "I hear you have a red outfit-" "Unfortunately handsome, that is just for Johnny and Kenshi." * "Kombatant or dancer, if I wanted your services, how much-" "For you? On the house..."

Tomas * "Did you ever feel that you did not belong when you lived with the princesses?" "I was fortunate enough to have been friends with both Mileena and Kitana before Aunt Sindel took me in." * "If it puts you at ease, Madam Bo told me of Raiden's how-you-say 'crush' as well, not just yours..." "I can't believe she told you!" * "Kenshi? I am confused, Johnny said-" "This really is a bizarre concept to earthrealmers, isn't it?"

Ashrah * "I heard what your Kriss said about Mileena and Kitana - what does it say about me?" "It says that you are a better person than you let on and that you keep your kindness guarded?" * "You know, I could show you a few moves to impress Syzoth?..." "Oh... thank you?" * "Perhaps you could do me a favour and not tell anyone about the having-a-good-heart revelation from your sword - I have a reputation to keep up." "If that is what you wish."

Syzoth * "Ashrah is a lucky girl... that being said, my offer for a dance is still on the table..." "Oh... umm I appreciate the offer?" * "Ashrah says you are a better person than most people think." "I TOLD HER TO KEEP THAT A SECRET!" * "If it is any consolation, the people of Outworld considered me a freak as well." "It is comforting to know that someone so beautiful has shared my struggles."

General Shao * "I heard about your relationship with the earthrealmers!" "UGH who told you?!" * "You only survived through Royal nepotism!" "Are you still upset about me defeating you at the banquet?! * "Your attractiveness is ruined by your demeanour and personality." "Is this the great general finally admitting his attraction towards me?"

Reiko * "I heard the rumours, your relationship with the earthrealmers-" "Is none of your concern!" * "Had you not left the palace, we would have been engaged!" "There are plenty of reasons we would NOT have been engaged, Reiko." * "You were practically handed a position at court?!" "I chose my freedom Reiko - I did not want to spend the rest of my life as Li Mei's shadow the way you are with the general!"

Shang Tsung * "I want a dance - name your price..." "Easy - YOUR HEAD!" * "I hear you do more than dance for the earthrealmers..." "DOES EVERYONE KNOW ABOUT MY RELATIONSHIP?" * "Not so innocent, are you?" "Like you have any right to judge me!"

For this backstory description to make sense age wise, I'm going to use human years on the scale that Mileena and Kitana are in their 20s with the reader being the same age as Mileena. Backstory: reader is an orphan who grew up with Reiko - the two were just your average street urchins. At around age 7 when they were stealing from the market, reader saw two girls who were very lost and distraught. They asked her if she could show them the way back to the palace. Assuming they were joking, she ignored the request but asked them to hang out with her until their parents arrived. So the three girls and Reiko spent the rest of the day having fun. The next day, Li Mei found the four children and brought them back to the palace saying to Sindel that the reader and Reiko should receive punishment. However, Mileena and Kitana both vouched for them and their abilities in kombat. Shao, upon hearing this, decided to take Reiko under his wing. Meanwhile, Sindel was overjoyed to see that Mileena and Kitana made their first and only friend outside of the palace and decided to take reader in to be trained as an umgadi. So for the next few years, Li Mei trained reader in kombat and the ways of palace life but this did not stop reader and Mileena to sneak out of the palace at any given chance. By the time reader was 16, it was time for her to take the umgadi vows but reader shocked everyone by saying she wants to be a street performer instead of an umgadi. Sindel agreed with the condition that whenever reader is in Sun Do, she will stay at the palace with them. So the reader split her time between staying in Sun Do and travelling.

In terms of trying to match this up with MK1, following Reiko's defeat, Sindel is ready to yell at Li Mei for failing to secure the entertainment when Reader walks through the door offering to do so. The royal family immediately go to hug her leaving the earthrealmer gang confused. Liu Kang then explains the story to Raiden, Kung Lao and a smitten Johnny and Kenshi. The banquet takes place with the reader as the entertainer. When Raiden's toast is interrupted by Shao, reader tells him to back down with a fight ensuing with reader as the victor. She ends up becoming very fond of the earthrealmers and decides to spend time with them. The game then unfolds as usual and after the festival when the earthrealm players return, reader goes with them alongside Ashrah and Syzoth. By the end of the game, reader returns to earth with Johnny and Kenshi with the promise to return Outworld soon. (Also let's say everyone survives in this scenario because I love writing intros for Sindel).

@redlotus98 maybe it's time to make an MK branch of the red house universe...👀

Let me know if you want to see intros for characters talking about the reader

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moxfirefly · 1 year

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Please please please with a cherry on top! I am in NEED of a thigh fuck with Raph xFemReader. I’ve had this scene stuck in my head of Raph and his girl making out and she’s finally had enough of him pushing her away when she’s about to bust so she straddles him on the lair couch. They’ve only made out with some semi-heavy petting before he pulls away and gets all “tough” and tries to change the subject. She’s a needy woman and she needs some attention and validation or at least an explanation as to why he’s so hesitant. She doesn’t get it because she’s been after him forever & now that she has him she’s not about to let him go. This could be completely filthy ❤️‍🔥 I just need my big boy to come undone (pun intended) No pressure but I just love your writing & have been going through and rereading all of your amazing stories! — Much love, Phera

Ngl this has been festering my noggin for a while because I’ve been in a big Raph mood lately. I hope you don’t mind but this is a combination of something I’ve been working on with like a portion of your request into it but I think you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Raphael always found the word “obsessed” to be a tad too exaggerated.

Whenever Donnie said he was obsessed with some new tech thing, or Mikey was obsessed with a new song, or even Leo was obsessed with some new form of meditation.

Obsessed sounded too big of an adjective to explain it.

Raph didn’t consider himself obsessed with his workouts or even knitting. He liked them sure, maybe even loved them because they brought some semblance of balance to an already complicated brain. But obsessed felt too outrageous of a word.

That all went to hell the second his eyes had landed on yours. Because suddenly the word began to ring out loudly in his brain in blood red caution style letters. Something chemically switched in his brain the very moment you had spoken. He felt sweaty, clammy and downright sick to his stomach.

How many hours in the day could somebody think about another person?

He felt like his ass was going numb from sitting on the bench thing long contemplating this situation. He’d only done one rep of his bench presses when he had to sit up and breathe and quiet his mind.

You were April’s friend, her latest and most stable roommate and somehow the idea of mutants in the sewers had been easier to swallow than he could ever hope for in human reactions.

He felt pathetic, a little dirty but overall weightless whenever you were near by. You’d stepped in several times to help whenever April simply couldn’t. You’d come down with groceries, hand me downs and all sorts of necessities simply because you wanted to help. Raph wasn’t some inconsiderate chump though, he was thankful, he’d (somehow) engaged in his fair share of small talk with you.

And sure your eyes had lit up with him.

Sure there were moments he wanted to do a double take because he swore your eyes had lingered on him.

Pesky pesky pesky ‘ifs’.

Quite often the sensation of your eyes lingering on him had taken him to places he hardly entertained. He didn’t want to place you in that box, that ‘potential’ box where he wondered what a normal life could feel like. He much less wanted to stuff you in the other box.

The one where when he slept and saw nothing but your eyes and mouth and hands all over him. The one where when he woke up and felt like a fever was burning him in the very pits of hell, all because he swore he heard you moan out for him. How many ruined sheets carried your name. How many showers he’s tried to burn you off of him only to simply get off to the idea of your skin against his own.

God he was obsessed wasn’t he?

The hypocrisy alone wouldn’t mortify him.

What would kill him is if you suddenly developed mind reading powers and saw one third of his thoughts on you.

From the fruity gushy romantic ones.

To the filthy debauched images he painted daily ones.

He felt sick again.

Sicker the second you walked in the shorts you wore when summer was approaching.

You had a scar on your knee cap he wanted to taste. He saw how skin spread when you sat down, the plushness, the softest of chubbiness that had him thinking how divine it would be to wake up to those thighs crushing his face. A tremble in his hand urged him to lay a palm on your thigh, just to touch, just to get a taste of human flesh against his calloused scales. Raph wanted nothing more than to feel you sit on his lap and ask him if he could be a good boy for you and-

“Yo bro if you ain’t taking a plate I’m eating it” When had Mikey gotten in front him and why was food being shoved into his face?

Oh, right, you brought dinner tonight.

He had mumbled a grunt of an apology and had poured the rest of his energy into eating.

Unbeknownst to him, you had felt that shift that could only be described as the earth shaking. Raphael wasn’t necessarily subtle, sure he’s gotten away with it a few times but there’s no way he expected you to not notice his eyes burning a hole through your thigh as you sat next to him.

And who said you couldn’t be a little cruel in your endeavors of letting him get the fucking hint that you wanted him too?

So when you had finished eating and Casey and Donnie had started up one of their heated debates, you had placed a hand on his knee to push yourself up from the couch.

You had dug just a little bit of nail.

You had let your palm slide on your way up.

If Raph could implode he would’ve.

If he could set himself on fire he would’ve lit a match by now.

That had messed him up for days. He had rutted against his pillow three nights in a row and none of it had been enough to silence the voice, the itch of his skin.

All it had done was open his eyes a little wider, to watch you like a damn hawk.

And he began to notice things. Notice the little games you played with him.

From the way you crossed your legs when his green eyes landed on you. To the way your smile felt just mischievous enough to let him know he had been had.

You knew.

God, could you read his thoughts?

He had been tasked one evening to walk you to the exit of the Lair. It wasn’t too late, but work and deadlines were impeding you from torturing him longer this evening. He had quietly gotten you to the latter that led closest to your place.

“Ya let us know when ya make it home safe” Came that gruff voice of his, that almost constipated pit nesting in his stomach. Just before your hands could grip the ladder, you had gripped the length of the white cloth that adorned his shorts. You twirled the fabric, gentle twists and a knowing smile that made him hold his breath.

“And you let me know the next time you’re thinking of me at night. I think we’re past this little game.” You didn’t give him a second to recover let alone form a coherent sentence before you were up the ladder and gone.

Raphael looked up, the beam of light as the cover was opened to allow you out into the buzzing city. It felt too much of a spotlight highlighting his desires. You watched him down below, the shadows hiding just enough but not the stunned hungry look. If he were a religious man, he could say that you looked like a god, above him all knowing and with the power to turn him into ash.

And how he wanted to fall to his knees and pray in between your legs.

He hadn’t slept that night.

He had watched the ceiling of his and Mikey’s shared room and contemplated your words. He turned them over and over, examined every vowel and consonant. He tasted the sounds in his mouth. Your haughty smile as the wind blew a few strands of hair.

He lasted a week.

Seven days of self loathing.

A hundred and sixty eight hours of working up the courage.

Ten thousand and eighty minutes of wanting to even the playing field.

So on that last day, last hour, last minute, he had snuck out after patrol and a shower and headed to your apartment. He had climbed up the fire escape with every intention of telling you how evil you were for making him so obsessed.

His simply texted,

‘Window.’

His tried to mask a neutral face as you pulled back the curtains and found him crouched there.

The second you smiled though…

He had lost.

You lifted the window open and rested your hands on the windowsill.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of me?” Your words stabbed him, and he loved it.

He wanted to snarl, wanted to show you that this was stupid of you to even consider. So when he moved forward, brought his face close to yours, you didn’t flinch.

“Don’t be such a coward and show me what kept you up this late?” Your warm breath caressed his scarred lips.

Raph blinked, taken aback on how easily you had taken hold of him. When your hand reached up, knuckles caressing his jaw before they rested on the lip of his plastron, he closed the distance with an innocent kiss. A pressing of lips that froze him against your mouth. He felt that hand run up his neck, a scratch of your nails bringing some life back to him as your lips moved against his own.

Just as his mouth began to catch up, to lose itself against the wetness of your tongue you had backed up into the room and beckoned him inside the living room.

And like a trained pet he slid inside and felt smaller than he had ever imagined he could.

And god, he loved it.

He let you lead him to the couch, watched obsessively as you straddled his lap and kissed him with every intention of devouring all the secrets he possessed inside of him. He can’t and won’t be able to forget the sensation of your hands grabbing his own and letting them hover over your chest.

“Do you want me? Do you want to keep doing this?” You had asked cautiously, adamant in letting him know this could stop the second he felt it needed to. It took every power in him to not yell out a resounding and firm ‘yes’.

“Good, that’s a good boy” And fuck his dick twitched and almost came undone right then and there. He felt his hands cup your breast, the soft tender flesh from above your sleep shirt, just as you rolled your hips against his painfully hard erection.

Between the kisses he groaned out a desire.

“Wanna feel more of ya, can I?” He whispered it against the corner of your mouth as desperate as he ever could.

Your reply came in the simple gesture of lifting your shirt and your reward came in the form of hungry eyes and lips finding your breasts.

He was gutted, how could something this beautiful also be perfect and soft and right now against his lips?

Raph felt your hand on the back of his head and the quiet little yelp as he bit down gently on your nipple almost be his second undoing of the night. He kissed the perked bud, wrapped his tongue around it and savored the texture, the taste, the way that with each suction you grew needier and wetter.

He could feel you so perfectly through the fabric of your underwear just gush against his clothed crotch. His hands held your waist as he devoured your other breast and delighted ‘ha!’ escaped your lips when he his bit down just a little harder than before. Raph’s eyes looked up, the flush pink of your neck, the sweat starting to form.

The two of you still needed to be quiet, you weren’t alone after all.

And this was simply still a taste of things to come.

“I want you, so fucking bad, but not here, not like this” You kissed it up his neck, felt those big hands grip your rear. His eyes held confusion and a stupor that could only mean he was drunk off of this.

“We’re gonna be a little creative and very very quiet” Your hands rested on his shoulders, to which allowed yourself the luxury of a good firm squeeze to the muscle. God he was a fucking sight to behold.

With a remorseful push you got up on wobbly legs and slid your underwear down and off. He had followed the path, mesmerized and hungry. Just to tease, just to be the cruel god you could be, you rubbed along your folds, gathered slick and offered up to his willing and devout lips. He sucked greedily, loved the way you slowly pulled out the digits from his mouth.

Next to his spot you climbed on the couch and rested against the backrest and urged him closer. “Y/n I um, I’m too big-“ And he wanted to cringe at the admission that there was no way this could happen like this without some lube and patience.

“Thighs, use my thighs Raphie” That stupid name sounded like salvation when spoken in your voice. Nervously but ever so in need he settled behind you, pushed his shorts past his hips and saw the mess he had become due to you, much like he did on nights.

His hands ran up the globes of your cheeks and found your waist. He slid himself between the thighs he had dreamt off for far too long and just as he hoped, they felt better than he could ever imagine. “Oh-fuck…” Was his breathless response to the first slide, your thighs locked up as tight as they could be. The move allowed his cock to perfectly slide along your core, rub against your clit and you tighten your lips in a muffled moan.

The next thrust wasn’t as gentle, as slow. But enough to have his navel slap against your rear in that all to familiar lewd slap he often heard in ‘videos.’

He fell slightly forward, massive arms wrapped around your stomach and lips at the top of your head. “God, Y/n, fucking wanted this” He grunted against the crown of your head. “Me too baby, me too” You braced yourself better, if he was like this…

The thought alone made your toes curl as he began to thrust, building a rhythm that had the two of you on the brink of screwing up and moaning louder than allowed. A hand clasped down on your breast as the couch began to protest with the force of his movements.

“Come on Raphie, just like you dreamt of, do just like you’ve always wanted to” You turned your head, did your best to catch a glimpse of his debauched features as he thrusted faster, that squelching sound combined with your moans making him lose control.

“Shit-I’m gonna…” He buried his face against the back of your neck.

“Do it, do it for me, make a mess” Your own undoing so close you could taste it.

It’s a gut punch, it’s like a bomb going off in his chest and stomach all at once. It’s the hardest he has ever cum, and he’s clutching you and not a pillow for once. He can feel it mix in with your own release, feel it drip down against your thighs and shot against the couch. He feels you slap against him as you ride your own wave whilst biting down on your forearm.

He feels dizzy, tired and drained.

He feels you against him. Sticky and sweaty and panting.

He feels so fucking obsessed.

#ask #pheradream15 #requested oneshot #tmnt bayverse #tmnt raphael #raphael x reader #raph #raph x reader #raphael #ns*w

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 16 days

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IT'S NEVER OVER - PROLOGUE (sept. 2005)

summary: if anyone asked sid, he wouldn't say that he liked pittsburgh more after meeting nat. no, that would be absurd.

warnings: short and sweet! (none)

a/n: hi, hello! am i posting this without having finished it? yes. i don't know how long it's going to be but i'm slowly chipping away at it and i'm pretty excited about it. it might even be my favourite series thing i've done so far, and weirdly my first one? i've had the entire thing outlined for months but i've been too busy to even think about posting it, so...here you go! i can't promise posts for this will be regular because the chapters are so long, but i'll try my best to keep you posted! hope you enjoy (a series mastrlist will be out soon too so you can get the gist of where i'm at in the entire process) xo

sneak peak | pinterest board

(It started with music, but Nat didn’t know that.)

It was a total accident, a random encounter that Sidney couldn’t possibly have predicted – one that, without exaggerating, changed his life to an extent. On a whim, he’d decided to go into that coffee shop he’d walked past everyday for the past three weeks, and it was also on a whim he actually made it to the counter to order an uncharacteristic coffee – he was newly eighteen, being pulled in all sorts of sports-diet directions, the confinement of which kind of irked him, so to him, buying that coffee was a subtle rebellion.

It was also a complete accident that he’d wandered off to the right after taking his coffee from the counter, instead of left, or forwards, or even backwards.

Sidney wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny: he believed those terms were too magical – they alluded to some other worldly forces coming into play, and he liked to stick to facts. Coincidences. Accidents. Nevertheless, he did find it almost inexplicable, the way that his life hurtled into a completely different route after a mere forty minutes inside a coffee shop that he’d just spontaneously decided to make a trip of. He couldn’t quite get his head around it all.

To him, it was a coincidence that he’d walked past her table. A coincidence that she happened to be blaring the only song he’d been able to listen to for the last four days. He’d barely made it three steps past her before he froze.

She was wearing those over-the-ear headphones, the ones with orange sponges from the 80s, plugged into the iPod that had come out a few years back. He recognised it because everyone that had one in his high school before he left never shut up about it. Sidney admittedly did own one at the time, but he never really felt the need to show it off – it was much easier than lugging around a cassette or CD player with songs burnt in.

The song still had him halting in his tracks and turning around, his body much further ahead than his brain because he had to steady his mug of coffee; his sharp actions had the liquid almost sloshing over the edge, but he managed to catch it just in time.

He wouldn’t have done either of those things: stop and turn, if it had been any other song he’d heard. He was just so taken aback by it – the exact, precise song.

The girl at the table didn’t pay him a single dime of attention when he froze, despite the fact that his hip was practically nudging her table. She wasn’t even looking in his direction, her eyes gazing out of the window on her right, skipping over empty faces as people walked past. It was clear she was supposed to be doing work of some sorts: there were textbooks, novels, and flashcards scattered across the entire table, a pencil case half emptied with pens strewn all over. She had a pen clutched in the fist she was resting her chin on, not caring for the study cards at all – entirely enamoured by the view.

Sidney followed her eyes. There wasn’t much to look at, just a street, and her chair was directly facing the side of a retail store, clothes and mannequins displayed in the window.

In hindsight, Sidney didn’t really know what compelled him to do what he did next.

He couldn’t tell if she was bored and just looking out, not paying attention to the music flowing into her ears, or if she was just so absorbed in what she was hearing that she couldn’t physically bring herself to think about her work – that she’d tuned out the outside world entirely.

What caught his attention the most was the crease between her brows. It drew him to look straight at her; an alluring combination of chestnut hair and pale eyes – though not too pale that they made him uneasy. She was also probably the only person in the establishment that was around his age.

She had impeccable music taste, if he did say so himself.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the inkling that this girl was wholly feeling the brilliance and soul-crushing heartache of Jeff Buckley’s genius – and he found himself hoping she was.

That was why he cleared his throat and took a small step to the other side of the table. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, noting that the cafe was pretty busy, so he knew he could at least try to get away with what he was about to do.

He made sure to tilt his head up, because the hat covering his face would be nothing short of slightly suspicious in a public setting, and it wasn’t until he purposefully knocked into the chair that she flicked her eyes to look at him.

He held his breath, a moment when all they did was look at each other, until the crease in her brows disappeared and she reached to pause her music on her iPod, slowly sliding her earphones off so they rested around her neck.

“Hi.”

His assumptions had been correct. She was around his age – her voice was deeper than he’d originally anticipated – and when he found himself slightly closer than before, he was able to make out that she was studying for her SATs.

It was September.

“Hi.” He replied, forcing a smile that he hoped would convey the apology he felt for intruding on her personal time and in her personal space. Her clutter was all over the table, and he knew that if she was hopefully as kind to strangers as he hoped she’d to be, that it would be somewhat of a hassle to shove some of it away, “I’m really sorry, but there aren’t any other tables free. Would I be able to–”

“Oh, sure.” She interrupted, immediately going to reach to sweep a space clear for him over the other side of the table. Sidney watched with a mildly amused gaze; she didn’t seem to care for the way her flashcards seemed to mix themselves up, or the way her textbooks snapped shut and she lost her page.

She flashed him a welcoming, slightly embarrassed smile as she piled the books on top of each other, and before Sidney knew it, he was sitting in the chair opposite, accidentally knocking their knees together in the process, and sipping from his coffee mug. He fought to maintain the thankful smile on his face, despite the utterly bitter taste of the coffee that seemed to fester on his tongue.

No wonder he’d never tried coffee before, it tasted like dirt.

The girl broke a small chunk of a muffin off, a smile breaking out on her face as she fought a small laugh.

Sidney blushed, “I’m not a big coffee-fan.” He reasoned, shrugging.

“I can tell.” She pressed her lips together momentarily, looking down at the plate before turning her attention back to him. Sidney felt stunned at the colour of her eyes. He’d never seen grey eyes before, but hers seemed to balance more on the green side – only when the sun struck the side of her face, they turned a watery, clear blue. There was also a tinge of brown thrown in there.

What was that called? Heterochromia?

He felt his mouth dry, and before he could stop himself, he was taking another sip of his coffee, this time managing to control the urge to wince, “Thanks for letting me sit here.”

She shrugged, gathering the flashcards and lining them up, “It’s no problem. Sorry for the mess.”

He let his eyes wander over the books once more, the green ‘SATs’ letters jumping out at him, “You got an important date?”

The girl swallowed, not entirely understanding what he meant. That crease formed between her brows again, and she opened her mouth to question him, but Sidney beat her to it, a finger pointing at her stack of books.

She sighed, “Not entirely, they’re at the end of the school year, but one of my teachers gave us an assignment to get some study material done early.”

Sidney couldn’t say he understood her stress – it was something displayed across the planes of her face; evident when she looked rather tiredly at the stack of books, and hesitated at the flashcards, before throwing them to the side. She folded her arms across the table, then switched so that her hands were interlocked in front of her.

She looked as though she didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and Sidney couldn’t tell if it was because of the presence of a stranger, or if she was already feeling some sort of academic guilt for throwing her attention away from her studies for a couple of minutes.

He saw her jaw clench, and at that observation, the thought that maybe he was paying a little bit too much attention to her crossed his mind, so he turned his focus to the cup of coffee. He was beginning to feel its effects; his knee was shaking softly under the table and he could feel an influx of energy spark at his fingertips. Or maybe it wasn’t the coffee at all.

He hadn’t thought about hockey for five minutes.

He saw her turn her face towards him out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up, “What about you? Are you in school, or…?” She trailed off, her eyes skimming over the logo that had flashed itself from the safe and unzipped confines of his hoodie.

He felt his heart quicken at having been caught, worried that perhaps she’d shout out who he was – if she knew – across the entire cafe. He remained optimistic; she didn’t seem the type.

He cleared his throat, “Not anymore.” For some reason he hesitated. He could play off the logo as merchandise – he could be someone other than Sidney Crosby, the New Rookie of the Pens – or he could be honest. When he looked back at her, there was a challenge in her eyes, and Sidney knew then that she already knew who he was. “I just got drafted to the Pens for my first NHL season.”

She sighed, “Can I tell you something?”

Sidney furrowed his brows, his mouth tilting down in a smile. He was new to the whole ‘local celebrity’ deal, but this by far, is probably one of the least impressed reactions he’d ever had. She clearly knew he wasn’t in school, but had still taken the kind courtesy to ask him the question, despite the futility of it.

He nodded.

“I only know one Pens player.” Then she pointed to something out of the window, “That banner has been staring at me every week for the past three months.”

Sidney huffed a laugh, thinking she was joking, but followed her finger anyway. He was immediately faced with a street corner, tens of people walking past each other – he could even make out their voices if he concentrated hard enough, and it took a while to figure out what exactly she was pointing at, until his eyes settled on a billboard at least a block down.

He’d been told that for press reasons, the Pens had come up with the idea of a way of promoting him as a player, and a ‘person of Pittsburgh’, by plastering some action shots of him – still staged – around the city. He’d neglected to look up lately, fearing that if he did, he’d be faced with some images of himself, but he hadn’t escaped that entirely.

The billboard was small, and he wasn’t the only player on there, either, but he saw it nonetheless.

When he spun back around to look at her once more, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “There’s two other players, not just me.”

She shrugged, “I was talking about Sergei Gonchar.”

Sidney felt the blush colour from his chest to his cheeks as he slowly put his hands over his face, consumed by humiliation. He felt himself smile into his hands when he heard the girl huff a snicker. He’d had quite a few people as of late kissing up to his ego, and apart from his teammates, she was the first one to really deliver a considerable blow – and he was thankful for that; that at least someone still had the ability to look past who he was and tease him like he was a normal person. He was aware of the irony that lay there.

He gathered himself, unabashedly removing his hands and displaying the creeping blush for her to see, and sticking his hand between them, “Sidney Crosby, rookie center for the Pittsburgh Penguins.”

She rolled her eyes, not commenting on the state of his cheeks, her smile fading slightly but still remaining, “I was joking, I know who you are.” She took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly, “Nat Brooks. Student.”

Sidney swallowed, his blush remaining for other reasons, and pulled his hand away, flexing it under the table, “Is Nat short for anything?”

“Natalia.”

“‘S very pretty.” He mumbled, and she smiled sweetly.

“Sidney’s very pretty, too. It suits you.”

Something clenched in his chest.

#sidney crosby x oc #sidney crosby fic #it's never over prologue #nhl fic #nhl series #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby oneshot #sidney crosby x reader

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zialltops · 5 months

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: this chapter gets me right in the feels every time. I love watching the way Joels character changes and his train of thought shifts. I hope you guys like this chapter because it was so fun for me to write 🥹❄️

Masterlink

Chapter 3: Blue

As it turns out, extreme levels of dopamine in his brain after a bone chilling orgasm is exactly what Joel needs to level himself out while you’re sitting beside him in the passenger seat. It doesn’t make him stop thinking about it, but it does keep the tiny little gremlin in his head that tells him to pop a stiffy at bay. The only thing he has to worry about is his eyes, keeping them off of you and on the icy driveway as he pulls away from the house. The snow has started to melt, leaving behind a sloppy mud that makes the truck slip and slide. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get your car out, even if I can I don’t think you’ll be able to drive it in this.”

You make an exaggerated groan and he doesn’t even need to look to know you’re rolling your eyes at him from your spot beside him on the bench seat. “You just love deciding what I can and can’t do, don’t you? You know I lived here my whole life right?” He dares a glance over and you’re staring at him with your eyebrows knitted together and your arms crossed. His eyes tick down and he wants to kick himself in the head for even looking because your shirt is leaving nothing to his imagination and little to wonder about how good they would look bare with his dick between—jesus christ, Joel, get yourself together Man. “I wasn’t doubting your ability, I’m suggesting that it would be dangerous for you to even try.”

The truck hits the pavement and most of the snow has melted, but the freezing temperatures leave a icy film across the top. He had to go easy on the breaks and hope to god the truck makes it up the inclines he has to take to get to your car. The last thing he needs is to be stuck out here in the cold with just your bodies to keep each other warm. He absolutely one hundred and ten percent wont survive that, not without absolutely humiliating himself. God, he fucking hates how much you affect him against his will.

“Since when do you care about what’s too dangerous for me, huh?” Why in the hell is he arguing with you like you’ve been married for twenty years? “You left me in the snow to freeze to death in my car four days ago, why am I going to listen to you about whats too dangerous for me?” You have a point, but so does he so he just shuts his fucking mouth and keeps on driving.

It takes twice as much time to get down the pass than it usually does, but the lower Joel gets, the more the ice melts into cold water and mud. By the time he gets to your car, the road is clear but the car is still sunk down to the rims in the embankment. Theres a uneasy sort of silence in the truck, something lingering around the cab of the old blue pickup that feels like shame and embarrassment.

“Texting, huh?” He breaks the silence with a crude joke that earns him a deep glare. “Fuck you, asshole. You know, I really don’t know what it is that my parents see in you. My mom always said how polite you were but I don’t believe that for a second after knowing you for a few days.” You prop open the door and climb out into the snow with your car keys in one hand and the other holding your unzipped jacket closed. Your stupid fucking shoes and that tight ass—fuck.

How is he supposed to be okay with the way you make his body react when you literally curse the ground he walks on, thinking he’s the worst thing that ever happened to this damn town? He gets out after you and slips on his gloves to keep the cold off his hands. The winter always leaves him cracked and brittle from cold work, sometimes his knuckles bleed and his bones ache for gentle hands instead of hard callouses and a cowboys scars. “You don’t know anything about me.” He reaches into the back for a chain while you open the door to your car. “I know enough. I know you’re bullheaded and selfish. I know you’re rude and you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

Fucking bitch, like he’s not allowed to have some self preservation after the life he’s lived, always cleaning up Tommy's mess and abandoning his own life in the process. “Don’t act like you’re any better.” You lean out of your car and make a face at him while he hooks the chain to the front of the truck. “Me? You don’t know a damn thing about me.” Like you didn’t just spout off about all the things you think is wrong with him—he can do that too. He has a fucking list of reasons you piss him off. “I know that you’re entitled and expect people to be at your beck and call. I know you’re privileged with no regard for anyone around you.”

He follows the chain to your car and hooks it to the chassis underneath. “Well were just a match made in fucking heaven then, aren’t we?” Its dripping with distain and bitterness, so Joel ignores the comment no matter how much his brain runs and runs about all the way he could be made for you, the way’s he’d fuck that attitude right out of you until you’re quiet. But he can’t and he won’t, he’ll probably spend the rest of his life wondering what you’d feel like, the way you’d shake and scream and beg for more—but wondering is far as that fantasy will ever go.

Because at the end of the day, you’re still Hank's daughter and you’re still half his age and—you hate his guts, which is definitely a deal breaker when it comes to getting someone in your bed. So he keeps his mouth shut and heads back to his truck to tug your car out. “When you’re out, hit your brakes so you don't slam into me.” You sink down into your seat and glare at him. “I’m not stupid!” He never said you were, but he doesn’t expect you to know everything, so he does his best to be the helpful asshole he usually is.

He pulls the little car out, manages to keep the chain tight until it's back on the road and the brake lights come on in front of him. He puts the truck in park and hops out to unhook the chain, but you don’t open the door. When the car is unhooked, you’re already pulling away without a word of thanks. Joel knows he’s well past earning the way you treat him, but that doesn’t make him stop wishing he could just get you out of his head already, wish he could hate you with that same mind altering disgust that you have for him, maybe watching you drive away would be easier.

Two months pass much like the first week. Joel keeps to himself, you frown at him and avoid him where you can. When you do see one another, Joel feels like you’re always at each other's throats. Everyone in the house has started to notice the distaste in your strained relationship, if Joel is willing to let himself call it that. It’s more like a forced acquaintance. Either way, your parents even see the way the two of you bicker and fight, but rarely does anyone but Tommy make comments about it. Tommy likes to bring it up any chance he gets, usually when Joel is alone just to rile him up further. He says stupid shit, like “I bet the sex you guys would have would be crazy good” when it’s just him and his brother at the dinner table and it makes Joel stiffen and run off to the cabin without his plate or a goodbye.

He sneaks in later for his plate and catches you in the kitchen with red eyes and tear stained cheeks, but you cross your arms over your chest and try not to meet his eyes. You’re dressed in just a big tee shirt and he can see from your bare feet to the tops of your thighs. He’s the luckiest son of s bitch in the world that he just worked himself over twice because he would be tenting his sweatpants right there in the kitchen.

That was three days ago and he still can’t get the sight of tears in your eyes out of his mind. He wonders if he did that, if he’d said something that struck a nerve and there you sat at the kitchen table after everyone was tucked in bed, crying your pretty eyes out. He feels like the worst fucking person in the world because of it, so he stays away even more, makes himself sad little ramen noodle dinners in his sad little hunting cabin he shares with his brother and he stares at his ceiling wishing it was you he was looking up at—smiling instead of frowning for once—all he wants is to see you smile. Really smile, for him, at him. He wonders what your eyes look up when they light up, wonders what your skin feels like when its not shaking in rage.

But between all the avoiding and hiding, Joel didn’t even realize how quickly Christmas had snuck up on him. He checks his phone sometime after lunch, his day spent getting the herd ready for another brutal snow storm. He’d been to town that morning for hot feed to keep them warm and any supplies they might run out of while snowed in, while deep, dark clouds hung in the distance. He was leaving the feed store when the clerk waved at him with a polite “Merry Christmas!” When he made it into the truck, he pulled out his phone and realized the date, December 24th. It was Christmas eve and it was an absolute miracle that stores were open right now. It was only eleven thirty and the sign posted on the door says it closes at two.

He starts to put the truck in reverse, turning around to look behind him while he pulls out. When he does, something inside of him doesn’t let his foot off the brakes. He thinks about you—in Christmas pajamas on the floor opening dumb little gifts from your parents because it's the first Christmas they’ve had with you for years. He imagines what they’d get you, probably things a grown adult needs—products, socks, underwear, (don’t even go there Joel) and he thinks about how disheartening that must be to a woman like you, used to proper city living now, expensive gifts and pretty things. You deserve pretty things, Joel wants to give them to you.

He turns around, throws the truck in park and jumps out, heading back into the feed store. He makes a bee-line for the glass jewelry case sitting in the corner, partially scavenged through since it is the day before christmas and all—he should have thought about this weeks ago. He scans through everything, shiny horse shoe earrings, matching pendants, jeweled cowgirl boots on a chain and turquoise ring sets. None of them look good enough, none of them scream you, sweet you—fuck, he’s seen it, when you’re so damn sweet, when you think no one is looking—Joel is, always looking.

He kneels down, scanning the bottom shelf of the case when he spots a simple golden chain and a bumble bee dangling delicately from its tiny hoops. It doesn’t have any stones on it and Joel thinks he likes that more, that it’s simple and graceful, not too flashy or obviously shoutings “look at what you do to me, look at how much I wish I could have you.”

In the end, he has just enough bills in his wallet for the necklace, tells the clerk he doesn’t need a bag as he stuffs the box in his pocket and heads back to the truck.

He has a busy day when he gets back to ranch, Tommy is checking on the pregnant heifers while Joel fill’s multiple feeders with hot grains that will keep them warm through the impending storm. He has just enough time before it starts to snow to get the horse fed and the equipment properly covered in tarps. This storm is set to drop more snow than they have seen all winter and Joel doesn’t look forward to the animosity that comes with never being able to get out of each other's hair. “How’s the heifers?” He asks Tommy when he brushes grain off his hands. “They all seem pretty far out besides one, she was really soft, sort of worried me.” Heifers get soft around the tail when they are close to caving, but Joel doesn’t think she’ll be willing to have her calf in this storm, so he lets it go. Instead, he takes a spot beside Tommy at the stable door.

“Snow’s comin’ down thick now,” Tommy says from the protective covering of the stable, staring out across the yard at the powder covered ground. Snow blows through the big sliding door, filling the building with cold gusts. “We should get inside before it gets worse.”

Joel wants to—when he looks off at the two story house, the christmas tree shining through the window, he spots you on the other side of it, fixing and ornament hanging from the nettles. The stable is a stone's throw from the house, Joel can see every feature, the color of your eyes, your sweet, sweet smile—because he’s nowhere to be seen.

He’s so busy staring, he doesn’t catch it in time when your eyes meet his across the yard. That sweet smile falls, those soft eyes harden and he feels his gut lurch. “You go ahead, Tommy. Think I’m going to hit the hay.” Tommy knows this bit just about as well as Joel does, knows he’s been avoiding the house, your parents, you because nine times out of ten, it’s just Tommy at dinner these days. Joel spends his night with microwaved meals and old episodes of The Rifleman to keep him busy until he finally gives in and slips his hands in his pants.

Tommy doesn’t put up a fuss, instead, he claps Joel on the shoulder and gives him this sad sort of smile before heading off towards the house. Joel turns in the other direction, follows the fence line for a half mile until he reaches the cabin. His feet are cold, his lips feel cracked after a long day outside in the harsh weather. He microwaves a sad little dinner, pretends the mac and cheese on the side is half as good as warm food at the table when the people he looks at like family. He’s simply not welcome there anymore.

He gets through two episodes before he promptly passes out, his pants left intact tonight because it’s not his dick leading the way tonight, its that look in your eyes when you saw him across the driveway. The pang he felt in his chest when you frowned and turned away like it hurt you to look at him.

He sleeps through the night, propped up like that on the couch and when he wakes on Christmas morning, his neck has a crick in it and his back is killing him. He barely drags himself off the couch and into the shower before his day has to start. The hot water eases out some of his muscles, but it still hurts like a bitch to stand up straight or turn his head.

But the cattle aren’t going to let him take a day off, the horses won't care for themselves, so he gets to it only a few minutes late. When he heads out the door, the ground is covered in two feet of pure white snow and dark clouds still hang overhead.

His Christmas is spent in the field’s and the stables and the box in his pocket burns a hole through his thigh the entire morning, until he’s shoveling off the driveway and the front door comes open. Louise makes her way onto the porch with a plate in her hands, shuffling down the slippery steps when she gets Joel’s attention. He tosses down the shovel and hurries over when she starts to wobble on the second step and nearly slips. He catches her arm and helps her steady before letting out a cold gust of air that fogs through the chill around him. “Miss Lou, what are you doin’ out here? It’s freezing.” She has a light coat on and her cheeks are red from the cold.

“You’re the one out here in the cold, Joel. It’s Christmas and you’re the only one working. Have you had a decent meal this week? I haven’t seen you at dinner in…well, I don’t know how long.” She’s the one reason Joel feels guilty for avoiding the house, in the years he’s lived here, she's always enjoyed cooking for them, she’d always tell him he couldn’t keep her dream alive if he was malnourished. He feels like that now, running on half the calories a man his size should be taking in and his mind is in a constant state of despair these days.

“Just needed some space is all, Ma’am, nothin’ you did.” He assures her, taking the plate carefully and helping her back up the steps. “I know it's not just that. My daughter can be really difficult sometimes…I know you two bicker. It’s a shame, really—I thought the two of you would hit it off.” That's the whole problem and what a shame it is that Joel can’t look at this woman’s daughter without thinking about all the ways he could have her, make her his. “Would you come inside? Hank and I got you something, he thought you would be in this morning but you never came. I'm sorry if your food is cold.”

He didn’t care if it was cold, his stomach hurt because he was so hungry, he'd eat it if it was frozen. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her no, so he heads inside the house with snow covered boots and a nervousness he hasn’t felt here since the first day he stood in this living room. For so long it's felt like his home too—but now he can't help but feel like an intruder.

When he closes the door behind him, Hank and Tommy are watching the game, but you’re nowhere in sight. He tries to shake off his nerves, moves to the couch beside Tommy and sits down. At his brother's feet is a brand new pair of deer skin gloves, Tommy’s favorite—but hard to come by. He knows they weren’t cheap and his heart aches a little, knowing they’d worked hard to pull together the money.

“Glad to see you can pull yourself away for a few minutes. You know it ain’t goin’ anywhere, stay for a little while.” He knows that—the storm will be with them for four days and he knows there will be more snow to shovel tomorrow, but he can’t stay for long, not when your prying eyes finally detect him in your safe haven. “I’ll stay for a little while, still a lot to do out there.” He knows Hank is too old for that kind of work, Tommy’s too lazy and Joel wants nothing more than to escape. “Got you somethin’, been saving up for it for a while now.” He leans down towards the tree and picks up a rather large box—it’s not gloves thats for damn sure. “Sir, I…I didn’t get you nothin’.” He didn’t have the money, he spent every dollar he had to his name on a stupid necklace for his daughter that would rather see him outside in the freezing weather shoveling snow than on her couch in front of the fireplace.

Hank throws a hand, playing off Joel's concern with an amused huff. “You do so much for us around here without asking for anything in return. You had one when you got here but i know it got tore up taking the cattle to pasture.”

Joel rips the wrapping paper, revealing a simple white box with the word Stetson on the top. Joel doesn’t even want to open the damn thing, he knows what's inside and how much it cost, an arm and a leg, probably a month's saving in the off season. “Hank…”

The olde man shakes his head firmly. “You deserve to have the sun off your neck, son. Just say thank you, make sure it fits.”

He pulls open the box and inside lays a black felt hat with a matching band, beautiful leather work that loops into an ornate metal buckle to hold it in place. He pulls the cowboy hat from its box, puts it on his head and—it’s a perfect fit.

It's been a long time since he had a hat, a lot longer since he had a nice one and a lifetime ago since he had the money for a new one, especially one this nice. “I don’t know what to say—thank you, Hank…this really…means more than you know.” More than he knows how to convey with words. It’s been a long time since Joel had a hat that fit, one that wasn’t second hand or made for someone else’s head. But this—this was made for his head, the measurement must be damn near perfect. “How’d you know my size?” He wobbles his head around and the hat doesn’t budge, hangs on snuggly. He’ll even be able to ride with this on. “I measured your head while you were sleepin’.” Tommy tells him with a smug grin. “That's weird, Tommy. I would have kept that to myself.”

It draws a laugh out of Hank who has abandoned the game in favor of watching Joel's excitement. “Well, what are you waiting for—go check yourself out in the mirror, make sure you like it,” he stands and walks over to the mirror hanging on the wall above a decorative entryway shelf. When he spots himself in the reflection, he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s seen the man looking back at him. He’s graying in his beard a little, the age lines on his face have gotten deeper and more pronounced, but the black hat on his head makes that same man grin from ear to ear.

The stairs creek behind him and he turns half of his body to look up them. Stopped halfway down the stairs, you’re staring at him with a slightly slacked jaw. Joel knew it, Christmas jammies that leave your legs exposed to his greedy eyes. This time, he tries to keep them to himself. “Oh, uh…” he swallows down the lump in his throat and his pocket burns all over again. Should he give it to you now? Will everyone question him if he does? If he waits to get you alone, does that suggest that the necklace means everything he wants it to? A peace offering, an ice breaker, a “I’m sorry about the way I’ve treated you, but I want to try again.”

Instead, he leaves it in his pocket and tries to tamper down the way his cheeks heat. “Merry Christmas, Honey.” He tilts his hat up a tad so he can look up at you, but your slightly dumbfounded look morphs into irritation and discontent.

“What are you doing here?” You cross your arms and Joel’s good mood disappears. “Your mom asked me to come in and eat. Your dad wanted to give me this.” He points to the hat and your eyes roll as you make the descent down the rest of the stairs. “So if you’re in here, who’s taking care of the ranch?”

It isn’t often that someone sticks up for one of them in an argument, they tend to not get between the two of you, but to Joel’s surprise, Hank interrupts his daughter. “He’s allowed to come in the house, Honey—he works hard around here, he’s not a yard dog.” But that doesn’t stop you from sneering at him when you pass him on your way to the kitchen where your mother is. “Sure looks like one to me.” It’s under your breath so Hank doesn’t hear, but Joel does.

And he feels like a fool. A fool for spending the last of his money on this stupid fucking necklace, like a fool for being so plagued by thoughts of you in a different world, one where you don’t innately hate him, one where he doesn’t fuck up every chance he has to change the narrative.

“I should get back to it, I’ll see you guys…later.” He starts to head for the door when Louise pokes her head around the corner. “Please come in for Dinner!” Joel tells her that he will, he hates lying to miss Lou, but he does it because it’s Christmas and the last thing he wants to do is worry her today.

He wastes the day shoveling off the driveway, tries his best to rub out the crick in his neck and finally calls it a day when the sun is nearly set and the animals are bunkered down for the night. It’s started to snow again, so Joel makes his way back to the cabin with tired limbs and a new dusting of snow hanging onto the brim of his hat.

Dinner is just as lonely as the night before but this time he doesn’t pretend it's Lou’s cooking, he lets it be exactly what it is—a tasteless mush and his misery to sip on.

The Rifleman is just as predictable as it was the night before, as is Joel—who falls asleep before he has the heart to get his hands on his dick. But unlike last night, he doesn’t make it long propped up on the couch before a knock startles him awake. He drags himself to the door with sleep in his eyes and a chill in his bones. When he pulls it open, his pocket ignites again. On the other side of the door, you’re standing in front of him with a plate in your hands and a vicious storm letting down behind you. Did you walk here in that? “My mom said I chased you off, that’s why you didn’t come to dinner.” Well, you aren’t wrong. If you were still away at college, Joel would have no problem spending Christmas with Hank and Louise and Tommy who is apparently too good to walk you down here.

“You didn’t have to bring me anything.” He says. He glances to the side where his hat hangs on the rack. “Actually, my mom made me so no, I didn’t have a choice.” Ahh, of course—of course you wouldn’t do something that nice for him. “Well, thank her for me, then…” he reaches out for the plate and his fingers brush yours—bolts of electricity shooting up his arm and igniting his starved skin. It’s been so damn long since someone has touched him with kind hands and all he wants is yours—your soft, gentle hands he’s seen folding laundry and soothing horses. You don’t release the plate, but your eyes track up to his, meeting them across the threshold.

He could hold that gaze for the rest of his life if you’d let him—he’s always wanted a chance to get lost in your eyes and he’s getting it right now, his home pouring with cold in exchange for the heat in your cheeks and the sparkle in your irises. “Joel—“

There's a loud sound somewhere over the fence beside the cabin. It draws both of your attention to the blinding darkness. Joel knows that sound, a distressed heifer, probably the one who was too damn close to calving in a storm like this. There’s no way Joel can save that calf if it doesn’t make it and even if he wanted to, the snow is too thick to help.

“What is that?” You ask, finally dropping your hand away from his when you glance back up at him. “Heifer, think she’s calving—Tommy said she was really soft and her milk came in. Afraid that calf might not make it tonight.”

There's a look of disbelief in your eyes, shooting from Joel to the fence line and back. “You can’t help her?” Joel shakes his head and listens to the cow cry out again. “Nothin’ I can do for her. They aren’t supposed to be calving yet, we still have a few more weeks and it’s too cold out there. We might lose the heifer too.”

Joel observes the way sadness takes over your face, then determination. “I’m going out there to help her.” You tell him, already heading off the porch before Joel can even interject. “Don’t you hear me? She’s not going to make it, honey, just let it go.” But you don’t, you start to jog towards the fence line, so Joel huffs in annoyance and slips into his boots and jacket, finally pulling his hat on on his way out the door. He grabs a spotlight off the shelf by the door and follows your tracks through the snow to the fence line. It doesn’t take him long until he finds you, knelt behind a laboring cow, who’s already pushing in the freezing cold. “I can’t get this calf to safety and this storm is getting worse—it’s not safe to be out here.”

There's blood marring the white snow and your delicate hands. “I’m not letting her die in the snow on christmas because we made her have a baby, Joel—she didn’t ask for this.” Joel sets the light in the snow beside him and rolls his sleeves up, kneeling down beside you in the soaked snow. “She’s not going to make it.”

You make a face at him, one Joel is more than accustomed to. “I’m not letting her die alone, then.” And Joel isn’t going to leave you alone in the snow for a second time, so he stays there beside you, helping deliver the little black calf, who shivers wetly in the cold. It’s a little boy, floppy ears and a wobble to him when he tries to hold his head up. Joel can't help but smile, because this is always beautiful, even if he can't save this little calf. He looks up and you’re grinning right back at him, your cheeks bitten red by the cold and your hands shaking, but you look so fucking proud right now. Joel is too, after watching you pull that calf out of his momma like you were made for that.

“What if we get them inside, would they make it then?” Joel doesn’t see how, the snow is too thick and someone would have to carry him. “They wont fit in my cabin and the stable is a half a mile away. We’d have to drag momma through this snow.” He has a lead in the cabin, he could get her out of this snow, he thinks. Would she even want to go, after having a calf in the ridged cold. “We should try—we should at least try.”

Joel leans back and brushes the blood off on his pants. “Yeah—fine, we can try. Stay right here, keep rubbing him to keep him warm.” He stands and jogs back to the cabin, racing inside for the lead that he runs back to you with. You have the calf laid out along your legs while you rub his wet skin. “He’s slowing down. I can feel his heart slowing down.” He’s getting too cold out here—if Joel doesn’t act now, he won't make it, so he wraps the halter around the heifers head and hands you the lead. “Think you can pull her? She’s going to put up a fight.” You take the lead from him and nod, grabbing the light out of the snow while he picks the calf up under his belly. He makes a little sound at Joel while he starts to make his way through the deep snow.

It’s a long walk back to the stables, but you tug on that heifer and Joel carries the calf the entire way there, until he reaches the gate and manages to push it open just enough to get them through. He makes it to the stable doors in just enough time, throws it open and helps you inside. It’s not much warmer in here, but theres no snow and theres straw in the empty stable towards the back, so Joel makes his way over and lays the little calf down in the bedding. You’re right behind him with the heifer who takes straight to her baby once she has him in her sight again.

Joel plops down in the straw in the corner of the room once they are both situated, trying to catch his breath and warm himself up at the same time. He’s covered in blood, so are you, but you saved both of their lives and Joel has more respect for that than he knows what to do with. You risked your life out there for a baby cow and his momma.

“You did a good thing, out there. I’m sorry I didn’t want to listen to you.” You find a spot beside him in the hay and sink down, leaned against the wood wall with your shoulder pressed against his with how closely you sit. “You have every right to question me…you’re right, you know…I have no clue what I’m doing around here. Four years of school and the only thing I know how to do around here is the books, which is easy because were so broke.” Joel's heart aches for you, the sadness in your tone and the defeated look in your eyes. “I almost got us killed out there.”

Joel shakes his head and leans himself back against the wall too. “But you didn’t. You saved us a lot of money and saved his little life. I’d say that's a win.” He knows it doesn’t feel like one when everything else is coming down on your shoulders, but he can pretend it is for your sake. “Thanks, Joel.” You lean a little more, bumping his shoulder with a quiet yawn.

His pocket begins to burn again, but this time, it isn’t followed by the shame he’s felt all day. “I uhm…I hope it’s not weird, but I got you something…” he reaches into his pocket and starts to fish it out. “You didn’t have to do that,” you interject but he shakes his head. “I just saw it while I was at the feed store, thought of you.” He pulls out the blue box and holds it out to you. He tries not to read too much into the look on your face when you open the box, but he has to know. It looks like confusion, then shock and finally, sadness. “I was really rude to you this mornin’…and you had this in your pocket to give it to me?” You look over at him with big eyes, full of something Joel has never seen in them. “It’s alright—I deserved that.”

You shake your head and start to pull the necklace out of the box. “I called you a dog, Joel—you didn’t deserve that.”

He shrugs his shoulders, trying to rid both of you of the shame of that conversation. You hold the necklace up and admire it for a while, the little gold bee that’s going to lay against your chest, against your heart. You hold it out to him with a little quick of your lips. “Would you?” He takes it from you and you turn your back to him, using one hand to hold up your hair while he undoes the clasp and brings his hands around your neck, laying it around your delicate throat. It feels so intimate, sitting here in the hay beside a newborn baby calf in the middle of a snowstorm on christmas.

His knuckles brush against your neck gently when he does the clasp together, letting is hang from your neck, feels like a fucking brand on his skin. You turn back around, meet his eyes and smile carefully. There's a comfortable silence filling up the space between you, so Joel leans back against the wood and sighs to himself. “Let me walk you back to the house…it’s getting late.” His words are low and slow.

You nod at him and he stands, holding out a hand to pull you to your feet. He walks you out of the stables, through the blizzard and up to the porch of the big white house. “Where are you going?” You ask him when you get to the door. “Don’t know if I can make it back to the cabin in this. Might sleep out in the stable so I can keep an eye on the little guy.”

You don’t say anything, just stare at him for a long moment, then glance behind you at the warm house. “Come inside…Tommy took the guest bedroom but you can have the couch. It’s better than being out here in the cold.”

He wants to decline, but when will he get this opportunity again? To mend what's been broken between you? “Yeah—sure, that sounds better than straw poking me in the ass all night long.”

It makes you giggle and that makes Joel's stomach churn, his cheeks heat and his hands flex as he follows you inside. You get him a blanket, help him get situated in the low glow of the christmas tree in the corner.

When he kicks his boots off and settles down on the couch, you start to head for the stairs. He thinks you’re going to head up, but you pause at the bottom of the stairs before turning to look at him. “Thank you for helping me today.”

He hums, smiles and shakes his head. “It was my pleasure.”

There's another long silence, then you take the first step up the stairs. “Goodnight, Joel…Merry Christmas.”

He smiles back at you with tired eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Honey.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #cowboy joel #pedro pascal fanfic

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s0kkix · 2 months

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Would it be too much to ask, how do you draw your faces? / avoid same face syndrome ?

etc etc

not too much at all, thanks for the ask !

the way i think about faces is like a puzzle - the eyes, nose, lips, ears, chin, etc. being the puzzle pieces. it's a sort of "mix and match" game.

for example, these three characters all have a similar, strong nose and droopy eyes with puffed eyebags (except for azariel in the last pic), but thanks to different face shapes, body builds (how a character is built also reflects in their face) ears, hair and other details the characters can be told apart.

incorporating your character's personality into the face design is a great idea. perhaps the way they express a certain emotion is different to the way other characters do. maybe their resting face is happier-looking than another character's. the face is a big element of character design, because it's a tool of storytelling on its own.

take a look at my lucifer, for example. woah ! what the hell happened to them ? (he's still pretty though)

the face should entice, force the beholder to ask questions about the character and be curious about their story. i'm not saying every face you draw should suggest the oddest of backstories and personalities, but give each of your characters something unique to their face that would spark someone's interest.

now, i haven't exactly checked how well they stand out amongst eachother by removing the hair and the rest of the body, but i did draw a bunch of my characters together without colour on one paper.

my biggest tip is - exaggerate ! find a feature you want to stick out in your character's face and construct the rest of the face to compliment it. matching a face with the character's personality is also something you should know how to do, so i suggest doing research on shape and colour language.

it's important to take note of how faces look as people (or humanoid characters) age and grow older. wrinkles are one of the main ways i add character to ... well, my characters.

as much as i enjoy drawing wrinkles, i usually save them for "wise old" or nurturing characters. but of course, wrinkles appear on all sorts of people, especially if they have a fuller face.

(i am speaking specifically for my stylization which often strives to be somewhat anatomically realistic)

another tip is to reference life when you study ! human people have such a wide array of features you can utilize, it's amazing and beautiful ! just make sure you do research on ethnic features and when they appear on which face (unless you're going for something supernatural/humanoid, then the nose gallery is all yours /j).

also, don't drastically diversify faces all the time. siblings and family members often have similar features and it's okay to repeat them in these cases.

(this artwork is pretty old)

if your character and costume design is good, "same face syndrome" shouldn't worry you at all. avoiding this art community boogeyman is just one way of diversifying your art and adding spice to it. lacking this diversity really is no sin.

at worst, it's just going to look odd. for example, if you're so used to drawing young, wrinkle-less characters and attempt to draw an older character without any exercise prior to that, chances are this character is going to look oddly youthful, resulting in a sort of silly outcome.

but just like with everything, take your time ! changes and improvements don't happen overnight, and it takes time for you to get used to new things. with all that said, i'm wishing you the best of luck and happy drawing !

#answered #ask blog #art tips #character design #same face syndrome #angel character #demon character

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cogneato-inc · 8 months

Text

Arthur Morgan x TransMasc!Reader Headcanons

Recently made some Discoveries about myself and in entirely unrelated news found that there is a Severe Lack of Boy Kisser Arthur Morgan

I am now dedicating my life to fixing this issue-

NSFT near the end !

The way he finds out is probably some kind of life or death situation (because of course it is)-

You two are away from camp, on what was supposed to be an easy job - some stagecoach with lackluster security, and apparently quite a bit of cash on board

But of course you weren’t the only ones with your eye on it; a gunfight ensues and long story short you’re injured- bad enough that Arthur notices almost immediately

It’s just your luck that you were hit in the side, you’ll have to take your shirt off to treat it- and as much as you try to protest, begging Arthur to let you handle it alone, he’s insistent that No, you Cannot take a bullet out of your own side, you Goddamn Fool (he’s exaggerating a little, it just grazed you - but he’s so so scared of losing you, why are you being so stubborn ???)

And of course you’re absolutely terrified of how he’s going to react, what’s going to happen to you, will you have to run away ?

But y’all he barely pauses-

You’re a good man, one of his best friends and a hell of a shot - he’s not letting you bleed out just because he’s a little surprised

(+ he’s been all over the place and met all sorts of folks, it’s probably not even his first time knowing someone who’s trans-)

He doesn’t mention it in the moment - doesn’t want to put any more stress on you, or say the wrong thing

But he’s sure not to treat you any different while he’s patching you up, and doesn’t hesitate about your pronouns or name when he talks to you about the injury

Helps you hide anything you need to while you’re healing - if you don’t have a tent he’s offering his own, and snapping at anyone who questions it

When he does eventually approach you to talk about it, he makes sure you know that he doesn’t see you any differently, and that nothing’s changed now that he knows

(Okay he says nothing’s changed but he Absolutely starts calling you ‘boy’ a lot more often-)

‘Atta boy-‘ ‘Good eye, boy.’ ‘Nice shootin’ boy!’

He‘ll stop if you ask, he just wants to make it clear that he doesn’t see you as any less of a man-

If he notices you haven’t had a chance to take off your bindings in a while he’ll tell everyone you’re going hunting together and take you into town to get a bath and hotel room for the night so you can take a break. (He’s a total mother hen when it comes to making sure you’re taking care of yourself)

Arthur didn’t have the best childhood but he’s got a lot of good memories of going fishing with Dutch and Hosea, and he definitely got into all sorts of mischief when he was younger. Roughhousing with John, learning how to shoot, swimming in the creek, etc, etc- as soon as he realizes you probably didn’t get a chance to make memories like that he is On It

He’s always telling you stories about his childhood, and he definitely encourages you to try out whatever you may have missed

If you don’t know how to fish he’s teaching you, End Of

(He pushes you into the water and you end up wrestling him in with you- you both go back to camp soaked to the bone and grinning. Definitely got scolded about all of the mud on your clothes)

Him teaching you how to shave ??? The Proximity,, o ugh

Once you’re together he takes every opportunity to call you His Man <3 <3 <3

On the nsfw side of things,,,

This man has been thinking of you every night for Months and this changes Absolutely None Of That

Of course before he knew you were trans his fantasies were a little different,, anatomy wise-

But he’s still Fucking his Fist thinking of you every night (when he has the energy </3), For Sure

Draws you Naked (whether you’ve been together or not - he has a Great Imagination) and Prays to God you never go through his journal-

Definitely Ogles you while you do chores around camp - Cannot keep his eyes off you

He pretends to be busy with something else so he can watch you chop wood, his eyes drift to your ass every time you bend over to grab anything

He has to physically Look Away anytime you hook your thumbs into your pockets, or stretch, or rest your hands on your belt, or aim a rifle, or haul bales of hay around- it’s torture, replaying in his head on nights when he doesn’t pass out as soon as he lays down.

When you finally get together and find the time to get down and dirty, Absolutely expect some ‘Good Boy’s thrown out -

For one this man has a Massive Praise Kink, giving and receiving - we all know this

But he also wants to give some extra reassurance in the moment, that even fully exposed you’re still a man in his eyes

Him eating you out on his knees in an alley ???

Your back against the wall and one hand in his hair while the other covers your mouth because damn he is GOOD at this but you have to keep quiet-

(Your taste gets him so worked up, he’s absolutely touching himself while he does it - spills on the ground when you cum, his other hand gripping your hip to help you stay upright)

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 headcanon #rdr2 #rdr2 headcanon #arthur morgan #arthur morgan headcanon #rdr2 arthur #yay first red dead post !!#also first smvt I’ve ever posted #can NOT stop thinking about this man #I’m open for requests but been in a bit of a Funk so no guarantee I get to them anytime soon-#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x male reader

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thegreenleavesofspring · 17 days

Text

When I say it is more effective to pray for someone than bludgeon them over the head with you are wrong what I mean is this:

Almost my entire life - perhaps not during my very early childhood, I don't remember; there was a catastrophe when I was twelve that changed everything - my mother has been in rebellion against God, if not full-on apostasy.

I grew up listening to her rail and scream at God, accuse Him. Listened to her say that she knew better than He did. Accuse Him of creating evil and being a cruel God. Just - all sorts of things. I remember perhaps twice that she ever apologized for anything when I was growing up, and one of those was with a caveat. She simply did not believe she was wrong about anything, ever.

Both of my sisters have told her to her face "You are not a Christian" and cut her off entirely. When I say that I am the only person left in the world who will speak with my mother outside of a business setting, I am not exaggerating in the slightest. (Save, perhaps, with the exception of my eldest son, who likes her visits quite a bit.)

I did not bite my tongue at all as a teenager. Since I have been an adult, most of my relationship with my mother has been biting my tongue. She is one of those people whom one wrong word will set off a chain reaction that there's no coming back from. So I stayed beside her and I bit my tongue and I prayed.

I prayed. I commended her into God's hands and acknowledged her glaringly obvious faults to Him and I prayed, I prayed for her. I pray for her now. Constantly, unceasingly, every minute I am awake, supplication for her, worded or wordless.

Y'all.

Another catastrophe has arisen. Any day now, she will be homeless, carless, old and feeble and struggling just to survive. And yet.

Of late, I stopped biting my tongue as much. I started urging her to pray. I know you don't feel like you can, I know you feel dirty, I know you're still in rebellion and feel abandoned. You need to pray. You need to pray. Just start. However. Just start praying. You need to pray.

She started praying. She spent days praying. She started reading her Bible and her devotionals. She told me she spent hours on the floor praying and sobbing until she felt empty.

She's begun filling up again. She's begun admitting culpabilities that I never thought to hear from her: culpabilities that I had long recognized and thought and disapproved of, but knew it would be worthless to say so. She admits them freely and openly. She has gone from permanent vituperation to peace. She has given up sins she has held close since before I was born.

She told me, today, about the devotional: the passage on the Good Shepherd leaving the 99 and going after the 1. And how, when He returned, He bid all His friends come and rejoice with Him.

Oh, I have been rejoicing. I have been rejoicing over her for these past couple weeks.

She is still terrified, and depressed. What is looming is terrible indeed. Neither of us is at all certain that she will survive until this time next year, but if she does not, I will have no fear: I will see her again, one day. I am certain of it.

So when I say it is better to pray for those who are astray than to belabor them with accusative "You are not a Christian", I mean it.

(And personally I think that someone with an unclear understanding of Jesus but who still acknowledges Him as the Way the Truth and the Life, is probably 'closer' to being a 'real Christian' than someone in full rebellion. But maybe that's just me.)

#Nattering into the void

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permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 · 5 days

Text

Freefall * Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/OC (part 3)

Summary: Casey had always been a free spirit, living in the moment, never staying still for long. More than once, her loved ones told her she could stand to think more with her head, and less with her heart. But old habits die hard, and the choices Casey makes in the heat of the moment are about to change her life forever, whether she's ready for it or not.

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, allusion to smut, original character, angst, sex outside of wedlock, friends to lovers, did I mention angst?

Taglist: @kmc1989, @phoward89, @bellaireland1981

Part One Part Two

"Saw you catching up with Rooster, earlier," Penny begins, aware of how her daughter's expression seems to falter for a moment, before she settles upon offering a slightly raised brow, "Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Maybe because Hangman was a big part of it for a while?"

"You know him?" Casey questions, taking note of her mother's answering nod, and frowning almost immediately after, "Is he always—"

"Like that? I'd say that's a pretty safe bet."

"And yet it almost sounds like you like him."

"Maybe he reminds me of somebody else I know," Penny shrugs, moving to sit on the opposite end of the sofa, a steaming mug of tea held between both hands. Her gaze remains fixed upon her daughter as Casey manages a sip of her own beverage, and sinks further into the sofa cushions as though seeking refuge.

She'd been unusually quiet ever since their return home after closing up the bar, only answering cursory questions with a few words apiece. And inasmuch as Penny had wanted to press her for details on what, exactly, had caused such an uncharacteristic reticence, she resisted, knowing full well that pressing for answers now will likely only serve to push Casey away.

"I really hope you aren't talking about me—"

"What if I am?"

"I may have to call you out for exaggerating."

"Is it exaggerating if it's true?"

"I really don't see how it can be true," Casey counters, amusement resting behind the words even in spite of the small twist of apprehension that seizes her in response to her mother's claim, "I'm nowhere near as cocky, for one—"

"Maybe I'm not talking exclusively about cockiness."

"Okay—what are you talking about, then?"

"I think I'm talking about what that cockiness might be attempting to cover up."

Unable to entirely mask the flinch that comes in response to her mother's words, Casey tries to ignore the implications. She tries to pretend she is unaware of Penny's intent gaze, practically drilling holes into her skull. In truth, this is exactly the sort of thing she had wished to avoid, especially so soon after she returned home, but then given her mother's uncanny ability to read her moods, she is probably a fool to have expected anything less.

The sensation of her mother's hand moving to rest atop her own very nearly causes her to jump, but somehow, Casey manages to resist. And when she finally persuades herself to meet her mother's gaze head-on, she faces nothing but genuine concern.

The precise opposite of what she had hoped to find.

"Did something happen between you two?" Penny asks, searching Casey's features for any indication of an answer that she clearly is not entirely willing to give. Although busy behind the bar for most of the evening, she hadn't missed the slight hint of awkward tension between her daughter and the man who had always been something more than just a best friend to her since she was born. She had seen how Casey's smile had never quite seemed to reach her eyes.

It was unusual behavior, to say the least, compared to the countless other times she's observed the two of them together. But if Penny knows anything about her daughter, it is that she will not be likely to come clean about anything troubling her until she has absolutely no other choice.

Something that only becomes all too apparent in her ensuing reply.

"No. No, it—we're fine."

"Uh-huh."

"Really, Mom. We're—we're good," Casey insists, removing her hand from her mother's as carefully as she can, so that she can use it to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, instead, "I'd tell you if we weren't."

"Would you?"

"I would."

Casey would be a fool to pretend she cannot sense her mother's doubt. A fool to act as though her attempt at a lie was anywhere even remotely close to convincing, but that is precisely what she does, regardless of the inherent knowledge that she is failing before she ever truly begins.

For a moment, she almost expects her mother to call her on that very fact, but somehow, Penny seems to resist. A knowing look crosses over her features, but nothing else gives her away, and Casey allows herself to relax, albeit tentatively, in response.

With some difficulty, she brushes off the nagging sensation of guilt that threatens to pull her under as a result of her secrecy, and forces a smile to her lips not long after. Something her mother seems to anticipate, if the slightly raised brow is any sort of indication at all.

"You two have any plans to hang out while he's in town?"

"We're—yeah. I mean, nothing specific, until he figures out his own schedule, but—"

"But you're working on it."

"We are," Casey confirms, sinking back against the sofa cushions as soon as she senses her mother's desire to press for more information appears to have abated, even if only for a moment, "Something tells me he'll need to let off some steam."

"Because of your dad?"

"That's one of the reasons—"

"And Hangman is probably the other?"

"Hangman is definitely the other."

"Well, that should be interesting," Penny muses, sparing just long enough to manage a sip of her tea before going on, "Especially since he seemed rather interested in you."

"But I'm not interested in him."

"Does Rooster know that?"

"I don't—I don't really see why it would matter to him, either way," Casey admits, frowning as soon as she realizes her mother's expression indicates all too clearly that she is, once again, reading far too much into her relationship with Bradley, her current secret notwithstanding, "We're friends, Mom. Always have been, always will be."

"Some of the best relationships I know started out that way, you know."

"Not this one. You're doing that whole wishful thinking thing, again."

"Or maybe I'm just calling things as I see them."

Sighing, Casey chooses not to offer her mother a reply, at least not outright, her knowledge of Penny's long-standing desire to see her and Bradley as more than simply childhood friends bringing a flush to her cheeks whether she wants it to be there, or not. But for that particular reminder, she'd almost found herself tempted to blurt out the truth. To tell her mother exactly why she was so off-kilter with Bradley at the bar, and what had brought her back home.

As soon as she becomes aware of it, though, Casey finds herself clamming up once again, her fingers tightening around the mug of tea she holds in her own hands while she replies.

"Like I said. Wishful thinking."

Aware of her mother's clear disappointment, Casey does what she can to ignore it, her focus for the time-being rather fixed on the tea she holds between both hands. It is all that seems to be keeping her together, at the moment, though even that is a tall order as she once again finds herself held captive beneath her mother's attentive gaze.

She spends another moment or two wondering if Penny will continue pressing her presumed advantage. If she will continue to insist there is something more between her daughter, and the son of one of their family's oldest friends, but she does not. At least not for now.

Instead, Penny seems to take stock of her own beverage, another sip passing her lips and allowing her to drop her head back against the sofa with a satisfied sigh, before shifting the nature of their conversation in another direction entirely.

"I take it you and your dad will have something planned, too?"

"Dinner on Friday. He said if you wanted to come, too—"

"I think I'll let the two of you catch up first, before we try for any 'group dates'," Penny cuts in, this time offering her daughter a smile, and finding herself more than a little pleased to notice Casey returns the gesture with little to no hesitation at all, "I know what the two of you are like when you've been away from each other for long."

"You say that almost like it's a bad thing."

"It's a unique thing."

"Oh come on, we're not that bad," Casey protests, laughing a little as soon as she takes note of her mother's incredulous expression, and hurries to go on in defense of both her own, and her father's character as well, "Well, we aren't!"

"Keep telling yourself that, Casey. Maybe one of these days, it'll stick."

"Well, you're the one that puts up with us—"

"And you will leave out what that says about my sanity if you know what's good for you."

Another laugh escapes in response to her mother's quip, and Casey catches herself dodging the retaliatory swipe of Penny's foot at her shin with relative ease not long after, the relief she feels at the familiarity of the banter that rises up between them momentarily overriding any and all apprehension she might feel for what is to come. For a moment, she dares to believe that maybe, she can do this. That she can exist in Miramar with her family—with Bradley—and figure everything out in due time.

However foolish it may be, she clings to that belief as firmly as she can, needing it to be true far more than she honestly cares to admit. And even if her mother still suspects something is amiss, she manages to say absolutely nothing more on the subject at all…

And even if Casey knows she has hardly heard the last of it, she would be a liar to pretend she is not thrilled for the momentary reprieve, whether she truly feels she is deserving of such a thing or not.

…

The following morning, when Casey wakes, she very nearly takes a startled tumble out of her bed, the unexpected presence of another form perched upon its edge wringing a strangled yelp from her throat. Having always had something of a penchant for sleeping like the dead, she hadn't heard the bedroom door open, and hadn't felt the dip in the mattress when her step sister decided to sit down and wait for her to wake.

Amelia, of course, likely anticipated this, given the satisfied grin that pulls at both corners of her mouth. A reality she only proves in spades as soon as she opens her mouth to speak.

"Glad to know some things haven't changed—"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Casey questions, her amusement quickly overriding her shock as she takes in Amelia's eager smile. Instinct propels her forward, and into her sister's waiting embrace, and she takes comfort in the gesture, regardless of how foolish it may make her feel to be the one seeking such a thing, rather than providing it. And even if Amelia wants to question the sudden surge of affection, all that she does is answer her sister's inquiry, instead.

"It just means you're as predictable as you've always been."

"Why do I get the feeling that's something of an insult?"

"Maybe because you're a little bit paranoid?" Amelia suggests, dodging away from Casey's half-heartedly aimed swat at her shoulder, though the escape does not prevent her from responding in kind, "I mean that affectionately—"

"Of course you do."

"I do!"

"Will you still call me paranoid—affectionately—if I ask why the hell you're not at school right now?"

"First period's free. Turns out I already have most of the credits I need to graduate."

"Right. I'd forgotten you're kind of a nerd," Casey teases, Amelia's answering roll of the eyes far more reassuring in its familiarity than she cares to admit, "You ready for that?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Amelia states, her expression turning somewhat introspective while her teeth begin to chew at her lower lip. In seconds, she seems to shrink in on herself, and Casey hates that she almost automatically knows the reason why, a sigh escaping before she scoots forward to sit close enough to her step sister for her arm to brush against her side. Before she asks the one question she really wishes she did not have to ask.

"Have you talked to your dad at all?"

"Do you want the real answer to that, or the lie I tell myself when I need to feel better?"

"Mills—"

"I'm used to it. Really, Case. And besides, I've got—I've got Pete."

"Yeah, you do."

"Mom said he's back?"

"He is," Casey affirms, aware of how Amelia seems to instinctively lean against her side, and shifting so that she can wind her arm around the younger girl's shoulders in response, "They've got him teaching."

"Pete? Teaching?"

"I know. But apparently it was this or being grounded for good, so—"

"So he took it," Amelia surmises, her sister's answering expression far more of a confirmation than any verbal reply would ever be, "That'll be—interesting."

"Tell me about it," Casey agrees, the knowledge of her father's reluctance to go anywhere near a position that will keep boots on the ground provoking a faint grin, "He loves telling the story of the first time he was in a teaching position."

"The one that only lasted a few months?"

"That would be the one."

"Well, hopefully this one lasts a little longer."

Frowning at the thought of exactly what might stand to happen if her father doesn't manage to succeed in this new assignment, Casey spends a moment considering exactly what he would do. What it would mean for a man who'd devoted the majority of his life to a career that apparently had come very close to throwing him out.

She knows better than most that her father had built almost his entire identity around the Navy. That he'd never really considered anything else when it came to a career. It had been the one thing that kept him going through so much, both good and bad. And if he ended up losing it in the end, Casey honestly cannot say what he will do as a result.

"Mom said—she said that Rooster's back, too," Amelia says, then, clearly sensing the direction of Casey's thoughts, and seeking to pull her out of them as best she can, "You two have your big reunion, yet?"

"Um—sort of?"

"Just sort of?"

"I ran into him at the bar last night. Didn't really have time for anything else."

"No time at all?"

"He was a little busy, Mills," Casey informs, hoping that her response will not spark any suspicion on Amelia's part to exactly how odd things had been between her and Bradley the night before, "I'm sure we'll think of something, though."

"Think he's gonna be okay working with your dad?"

"Honestly? I don't—I don't really know."

The answer escapes before Casey can stop it, a wince passing over her features as soon as she recognizes Amelia's answering expression of concern, but there is little she can do to pull it back, now. Not when her sister is eyeing her as though she is starting to pick up on every last thing that she is attempting to keep hidden.

In next to no time at all, everything she has been trying so diligently to keep together appears to be unraveling, bit by bit. And half in an effort to delay the inevitable, Casey scrambles to find a way of shifting the conversation away from its current course before Amelia can ask anything more of her at all.

"Want me to take you to school?"

For a moment, Amelia almost appears inclined to protest. Casey can see it so very clearly in the determined set of her jaw, and the familiar glint of curiosity in her eyes. But instead of doing that, something seems to settle her resolve to simply letting the matter go, at least for now, and Casey takes some manner of relief from the fact that at least for the moment, she appears to have earned a reprieve.

Whether she deserves such a thing or not, is another matter entirely.

…

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chubbyheadquarters · 2 years

Note

TYSM FOR RESPONDING AJSHUDUD ♡♡♡,, i usually don't interact in tumblr so as you may notice i am very much excited !! <3<3<3

aNYWAYS, may i request headcanons for a mermaid!reader x sun wukong, mk and macaque? (separate!) of course, it's okay if you don't want to !! ♡♡♡, i hope you're having a great day / night 💞

It's all good! I'm always open to talk in asks! I hope you have a great day yourself! 💞💞

Genre: Romantic

Pronouns: Gender-Neutral

TW/CW: None

Characters: Sun Wukong-Monkey King, Macaque-Liu Er Mihou and MK

☀️SUN WUKONG☀️

My boy was starstruck when he first saw you. All the miscellaneous accessories that adorned you and the pieces of cloth that hugged your voluptuous figure. The way your hair framed your round face, those beautiful, curious eyes. Literally has you on his mind everyday/all day.

He definitely tells you about his adventures, always going into detail and will absolutely exaggerate things- But he can't help it! The cute expressions you make when he does makes his heart burst with joy. And in turn, he listens to all the adventures you've had, and is surprised with a lot of them.

If you ever wish to see something from the city, then he'll take you and show you at night when he knows that no one's around. He doesn't want others to see your beauty. It sounds selfish, but he thinks you're too beautiful for the world to see. A simp, if you will.

You definitely teach him how to swim. It's a bit rough at first, but he eventually loosens up. He trusts you not to do anything mean, and though he still doesn't vibe with water, at least he knows how to swim.

His monkey friends absolutely love you. You bring little gifts for them and you're always nice! They always get sad when you have to leave. You're their mermaid mom! They don't mind getting wet if it means getting hugs!

🐵MK🐵

He's so fucking stoked! He's asking all sorts of questions, like if aquamarine came from mermaid tears? Do you live forever? Can a kiss give him gills? Does your tail color change according to your mood? You explain with great detail about what's false and true, and he's jotting it down in his notes.

He always has swimwear with him should he ever feel the need to jump in the water and be next to you. Which is a lot of times. At a certain point, he just started wearing them underneath his clothes. His friends find it a bit funny, but they're just happy that MK has someone like you in his life.

He's thinks you're an absolute goddess. Literally thinks you're the most beautiful being in the world. He's always thinking about you and what you're doing while he's off doing hero stuff or work. But once he's done, he rushes to your side and you both talk for hours. He's thankful that you're in his life.

He's really thankful when you help him get to FFM with safe yet fast tides. Nowadays, he gets a mini boat and talks with you as you get him there. If you want to watch him train, he'll buy one of those small, foldable bathtubs and take you up the mountain with him.

When you wanna hang out with the others or check something out, he gets the foldable bathtub and carries you around. He wants you to be able to see the world he's experienced and do more things with you. Take you on cute little dates and share his culture with you.

🌙MACAQUE🌙

He's cautious when he first meets you. He's heard things about both mermaids and sirens, and he's yet to see either, only hearing stuff from all sorts of people. So he's on guard, trying to act all cool and stuff. But your curious and kind demeanor has him putty in your hands.

You're absolutely gorgeous to him. Even when he's seen you surface from the water over a hundred times, he's still entranced when he sees the moonlight cascade on you, like it's his first time. And seeing you so happy to see him makes his heart skip a beat everytime.

He's always stealing getting you sea themed accessories, like pearl earring, sea shell necklaces, bracelets, even little headbands and tiaras. Sometimes, he'll even make them himself! Those are the ones you cherish the most and constantly wear it.

He's not gonna lie when he says that he thinks that it's hot when you use your powers and don't even have to lift a finger, especially on your enemies. Seeing the quick change from your kind, happy expression to angry, hate filled makes him happy that he's not your enemy.

Should you ever want to go somewhere new, he'll be happy to take you. He doesn't have a foldable tub for you, so he'll hold you in his arms. Doesn't mind it one bit though, since he'll get to touch you and tease you about it. He definitely considers your little outings as dates.

Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors!

#chubby reader #x chubby reader #lmk x chubby reader #lmk x reader #lmk x y/n #lego monkie kid #lmk #wukong x chubby reader #sun wukong x reader #wukong x reader #sun wukong x chubby reader #macaque x chubby reader #macaque x reader #mk x chubby reader #mk x reader

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psychokinetic-ectoplasm · 27 days

Note

If you are taking asks... Is there anyway you can do a reimagining of how things would have gone down if Venkman had turned out to be Oscars father?

🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 thank you 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

I am! Thank you for this!

Timelines are obviously being ignored in this, so just keep that in mind 😅

Available here on Ao3

SFW, under the cut for length

He's Yours

There were several reasons Dana didn't want to see Peter again. She wasn't surprised when he pushed past Egon and Ray and stepped into her apartment. She knew how he would act, what he would say. That was one reason, and she was right. His smugness, his attempted groveling… Damn her for still loving him…

And then the other, more life-changing reason. The secret she’d been keeping for two years now. Part of her worried that he'd know as soon as Peter saw Oscar. That was probably silly, but between what had happened on the street with Oscar in his carriage and the threat of Peter finding out the truth… Dana was filled with trepidation. She thought maybe she could keep the two apart, but that was wishful thinking. The other part of her, the part that wasn’t worrying, wanted Peter to know. She wanted to tell Peter the truth so badly.

While Ray and Egon had been in Oscar’s room, Peter was alone with Oscar… Dana could hear Peter talking to him, but for the moment, she tried to help the others, wanting to give them all the information she could. But when she returned to the dining room, she froze upon seeing Peter holding Oscar. They might have been goofing off, but it made Dana choke up a bit. This is how it should be, father and son… Why didn’t I tell him sooner?

“Peter?” she murmured as she approached.

He glanced over his shoulder at her before turning to face her.

“He had some sort of clear liquid coming out of his mouth,” Peter said as if that explained why he'd been pretending Oscar had been biting his nose.

“Well, that happens,” Dana murmured, lightly rubbing Oscar's back.

Peter then moved to lean against the table, still playing with Oscar. He was a natural. I have to tell him…

“Well…” Dana began, the words fighting to get out. He’s yours, Peter. You’re finally getting to hold your son, and you don’t even know it. “What do you think?” she asked instead, managing to keep the trepidation out of her voice.

“Well, he’s ugly. I mean, he’s not Elephant Man, ugly, he’s not attractive,” Peter joked, a smile in his voice. “Was his father ugly?”

“Don’t listen,” Dana said to Oscar. If only he knew he was talking about himself…

“And he stinks,” Peter went on. “You’re ripe, senior!” Oscar giggled. Peter then glanced briefly at Dana. “Did his father stink? Yeah? Daddy was a smelly, huh? What’s your name?”

“His name is Oscar.”

“Oh, named after a hot dog! You poor man! You poor poor man!” Peter cried in exaggerated lamentation.

“But seriously, there’s nothing… there’s nothing unusual about him, is there?” Dana asked, half hoping he'd pick up on her trepidation and call it out.

Peter looked thoughtful. “Well, I don’t have a lot of experience with babies.” He then smiled at Oscar. “But you’re excited now because Mama’s here to take your stool sample! Right, Mama?” Peter said, handing Oscar off to Dana.

As their hands touched, Dana nearly gave in again. Oh, Peter, I've missed you so much…

With Peter helping Ray and Egon figure out what had happened to Oscar, Dana honestly felt better about all of it. Despite everything, and not just because she still loved him, she trusted Peter implicitly.

She should trust him enough to tell him the truth.

***

Maybe it had been a mistake going directly to Peter after her bathtub attacked her and Oscar, but Dana hadn't even thought. She just moved. And the one place she'd feel absolutely and totally safe was with Peter. That's just all there was to it.

Maybe he was just being his usual self, but she liked to think he was acting goofy as a way to distract her. Dana knew she was visibly shaken, and Peter seemed to be going out of his way to lighten the mood. She appreciated it. It made things feel a little more normal.

What wasn't normal was being back in his apartment. It felt like it had forever and yet no time at all. It was just as she remembered it, though messier. It was odd sitting on his bed again, too… The last night she'd been here was the night Oscar had been conceived…

That thought made her nervous. Dana was half worried Peter might be able to read her thoughts, that maybe his work with ESP finally paid off. But that was silly, she told herself. He'd probably know already.

But even so, she didn't want to share a bed with him. That was asking for trouble, no matter how much Dana missed getting to sleep in his arms.

“How about you on the sofa and me and the baby in the bed?” she said.

“It’s the way to go,” Peter said, scooting up to sit on the edge of the bed.

She hadn’t expected him to relent so easily. She also didn’t expect the smile he gave her. “It’s so late, I really gotta put him down…”

“May I?”

Dana blinked in surprise. “Yeah, if you want to.”

She should have known better, but Peter's actions still put a smile on her face. Peter leaned down closer to Oscar and pointed at him.

“You’re short, your belly button sticks out too far, and you’re a terrible burden on your poor mother.”

In all the time she’d known Peter, she’d never seen this kind of smile on his face when he interacted with Oscar. Even more surprising was when Peter reached up to lightly rub Oscar’s cheek with the side of his finger. It was such an affectionate gesture…

“Peter?” Dana murmured.

“Yeah?”

Peter looked up at her with that soft smile he used to give her back when things had still been good between them, the one that she convinced herself meant he loved her. She'd longed to see it again for so long…

She swallowed hard and looked down. “You're really good with him.”

“Ah, well, we're just a couple of big kids, aren't we, Oscar?”

“I'm serious, Peter. You'd make a great father.”

He looked genuinely shocked, blinking a few times as he processed the words. Dana smirked.

“Is Peter Venkman finally at a loss for words?” she teased.

He opened his mouth to respond, likely with some quip to defuse the seriousness, but then he closed his mouth, looking down at Oscar. Now, Dana was the one genuinely surprised.

“No one's ever said that to me before…” he admitted quietly.

“I have,” she said. “But I don't think you wanted to hear it before.”

It seemed he couldn't look at her, but she was used to that. When something serious needed to be said, Peter never wanted to look anyone in the eye. Gone was any smugness.

“I meant what I said the other day. You'd have been better off marrying me. I wouldn't have left you…”

Tears pricked Dana's eyes. “I know,” she whispered.

He finally managed to look up at her. They simply gazed at each other for a few moments, everything left unsaid weighing heavily between them.

“I guess I should let you get some sleep,” Peter finally said. “You two are probably exhausted after almost being eaten by a bathtub.”

Dana smiled. “Yeah, I'd like to get some rest.”

“Well, you know where I'll be,” he said, climbing off the bed and gathering up what he needed to sleep in. “You know, in case you get lonely.”

She nearly gave in, taking him up on his offer to sleep in the same bed again, but she wasn't ready for that. “Thanks. Goodnight, Peter.”

Peter gave her a genuine smile. “Night, Dana. And goodnight, Oscar!”

Oscar cooed quietly, smiling up at Peter. Dana waited until Peter closed the door before leaning closer to Oscar.

“Someday soon, he'll know who you really are. You deserve to have a father, and your father deserves to know about his son.” She kissed Oscar's forehead. “And your father deserves a second chance from me.”

***

Dana was thrilled that Peter had invited her out to dinner. More so than she thought she would be.

She had missed this, missed him. She couldn't help but kiss him. Peter gave her his signature smirk.

“You really did miss me, didn't you?” he teased.

Dana remained serious, a faint, smitten smile on her face. “Yes. Yes, I really did.”

To her surprise, his expression softened. “Don't tell anyone, but I missed you, too.”

Tell him. Tell him now. Dana took a deep breath. “Peter, there's something I need to—”

She broke off, interrupted by a sudden commotion from the other side of the restaurant. Maybe she shouldn't have been shocked to see Ray, Egon, and Winston show up, but the shock was more so at the state of their undress, coupled with the fact that they were covered in slime.

“Hold that thought,” Peter muttered, obviously annoyed at the interruption.

Dana sat back, half paying attention to what was being said until they mentioned the museum. And then Peter was gone, leaving Dana to go home alone. Home… how quickly his apartment became home.

But then Oscar had been taken, kidnapped. Aside from her frantic desire to get her son back, she desperately wished for Peter.

Peter, our baby needs you!

***

Once the dust had settled from the wildest — and scariest — New Year’s Dana had ever experienced, she stuck close to Peter because of course she did. He never even asked if she wanted to go home to her apartment as if it was some unspoken thing that she would return with him to his. Neither made a comment about it.

When Dana returned to the living room, Peter was holding Oscar, pacing the room and bouncing him a bit, talking quietly to him. Dana watched them for a moment. Now was the time; it had to be. This couldn't wait any longer.

Peter looked at her and smiled as she approached. “See? There's Mama!”

“Peter… I want to— I need to tell you something.”

“Okay, shoot. I'm all ears.”

Dana could only look at Oscar as she spoke and soothed herself by gently rubbing his arm. “He's yours.”

Peter didn't stop lightly bouncing Oscar in his arms. “He's my what?”

“No, Peter, he's yours. He's your son.”

Now, he stilled, and Dana glanced up at him, finding him staring at her. “My— Mine? He's my—” He looked down at Oscar. “Well, maybe you're not so ugly.”

He turned and wandered away, gazing down at Oscar. Dana watched, torn between feeling relieved and anxious. She hesitantly took a step forward.

“Peter?”

“Would you believe part of me hoped that was the case?” He was quiet for another moment before turning to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dana looked away, ashamed. “With how you were acting about marriage… I didn’t think you’d want kids. And besides, we were no longer seeing each other when I found out I was pregnant. Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry… I didn’t want it to be this way, and that’s why I’m telling you now.” She stepped up to him and put a hand on his arm. “If I could take it back, I would. I want you in Oscar’s life, and I want you in mine.”

Peter continued to stare for a moment before looking at Oscar. “You both deserve better than me.”

Dana lifted her hand to his cheek. “I don’t want anyone but you. If I’ve realized anything over these past two years, it’s how much, despite everything, I still love you. I love you so much, Peter.”

Again, there was no smugness on his face. In fact, he seemed to get pretty emotional. Emotional for Peter. “You mean that?”

She nodded, unable to hold back her tears anymore. “Yes, I mean that. If anything, I want you to be Oscar’s father because you are. You deserve to know your son.”

Peter took Oscar’s hand and kissed his cheek. “I’d like that, too…” He then smiled a bit and shook his head, looking at Dana. “Only you could ever make me want kids.”

“Yeah?” she murmured.

“I mean…” Peter wrapped his free arm around Dana’s waist and pulled her close. “I guess that’s what love does to a guy.”

She took a breath. “Love?”

Peter leaned in and softly kissed her lips. “I love you, Dana. And I promise I’ll do better this time. For both of you. I’ll admit, I kinda sucked at it last time, but I missed you too much. I… I want this to work.”

“So you’re not mad at me for keeping this from you.”

He shook his head, making a face. “I probably would have kept it from me, too.” He then smiled at Oscar. “But we’re all here now! And I’ve got a little baby boy!” Peter got a little more serious. “I’ve got a kid… Huh, that’s gonna take some getting used to… Oh, and I take back everything I said about your father. He’s the most handsomest, best-smelling guy around.” He cut his eyes up at Dana. “Most of the time. Okay, so he has his moments.”

“Peter?”

He looked at her.

“You can sleep in the bed tonight.”

Peter grinned and kissed her again. “I promise to behave.”

“And yet, somehow, I don’t believe you.”

They made their way toward the bedroom. “No, I promise! I’ve changed, Dana. I’m a new man! Literally. I’m a father now; I gotta start acting like it.”

“Oh, good! Then you can start changing his diapers.”

“Whoa, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves!”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dana.”

#ask #my writing #peter venkman #dana barrett #peter venkman x dana barrett #ghostbusters #ghostbusters 2

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tossawary · 1 year

Text

I forgot how fucking funny Shen Yuan is. He’s such an unreliable narrator (at least in my interpretation of him) partly because he’s genuinely oblivious to some things and partly because he’s sometimes intentionally ignoring problems like his own trauma, but also because he’s just cracking jokes all the time. It’s hard to know just how seriously he’s taking things sometimes or whether or not the situation is genuinely Like That, because there’s often a chance that Shen Yuan is exaggerating or underplaying the situation in the noble pursuit of 1) The Bit or 2) dunking on Airplane.

Couple of my favorite random, mundane examples of him being hilarious at the beginning of SVSSS:

Shen Qingqiu was an easygoing person.

Since his residential address had already been changed to Proud Immortal Demon Way, and since he’d already kicked the bucket in his original world, he figured he might as well try making it work here.

He’d arrived in a cultivation setting, received a body with decent martial ability and swordsmanship for free, and was also part of a famous righteous sect. If he wanted to stand out, he could stand out, and if he wanted to lie low, he could hole up on Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s Qing Jing Peak and be a recluse. What was there to complain about?

The only slightly difficult thing would be finding a girlfriend. In this sort of male power fantasy stallion novel, any woman inevitably belonged to the male lead, as long as she wasn’t ugly. Everyone knew this.

Still, Shen Qingqiu was a man of few needs; he would have been satisfied just idling away to a ripe old age. In that way, it wouldn’t be that different from how his previous life had been going.

- SVSSS, Vol 1, Ch 1

Shen Yuan cracks jokes rather than deal with any grief over dying (handwaves over the whole thing, we don’t get to see his quiet moments in the beginning), optimistically acknowledges landing in a very sweet situation for his new life even if the character role isn’t good (kind of reads to me like he’s telling himself he doesn’t have a good reason to complain, so he’s telling himself not to be sad), and then cracks a joke about how hard it’ll be to get a girlfriend.

I read the next bit as him dunking on stallion novels slightly, although I do also think Shen Yuan has some unexamined misogyny going on even if he’s a good guy. He reads as a little sexist at the same time that he brings up problematic elements in the writing in Proud Immortal Demon Way. This flaw feels realistic to me for a young man who reads these kinds of stallion novels and I enjoy it.

And then he jokingly dunks on himself for not having a girlfriend in his past life and is up front about the fact that he doesn’t really want one anyway. A lot of the SVSSS characters give off asexual spectrum vibes for me personally, but Shen Yuan really, REALLY gives off asexual spectrum vibes. It kind of reads to me as Shen Yuan making a joke like, “Lol, imagine what I’d be complaining about if I was the type of person to care about getting a girlfriend! ‘Oh, no! I’ve died and landed in the role of a scum villain and there’s a digital tyrant refusing to let me act out of character! How will I get a girlfriend now?!’ Priorities, am I right?”

The second bit is when Shen Yuan is at the Chen Estate in Shuang Hu City, hunting the Skinner Demon. Ning Yingying has just come to his room to ask him to escort her to the market and he has to turn her down.

At the same time, how could he not want to go out and play? Up until now, he’d been hunkered down inside Qing Jing Peak’s Bamboo House, forced to fake being an awesome master of arts and literature, meaning everything he did had to be done “blandly”: blandly speaking, blandly laughing, blandly practicing the sword, blandly being a poser - bland to the point that he often had the urge to scatter a handful of salt over his head! What a damn pain!

And now when he finally got a break to take a trip down the mountain, he was still trapped in his room because of the System’s stance that “the original Shen Qingqiu liked quiet and would be unwilling to mingle.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t even want to pretend to meditate, so he lay on the bed, just pretending to be dead.

- SVSSS, Vol 1, Ch 2

Shen Yuan has been going stir crazy, unable to talk to anyone properly, and he just wants to be loud and undignified and enjoy himself by playing the tourist for an afternoon! He calls himself out for faking everything! He admits that he doesn’t know what he’s doing! He doesn’t like being cold and calm and collected all the time. He sounds like he’s desperate for some friendly company and a distraction from his own thoughts. He wants to be nice to people.

The OOC function won’t even let him chill and chat with people. Which is a little funny because when Luo Binghe was being bullied, Shen Yuan said, “Fuck the System!” and anonymously interfered with flying leaves because he couldn’t bear Luo Binghe’s suffering, even though it lost him a bunch of points. He got the points back, but he didn’t know that when he interfered! For all he knew then, he was bringing himself closer to a risk of death. He also later invited Binghe to ride in the carriage with him after another bullying incident and argued with the System as to why his actions weren’t out of character. If Binghe is involved and suffering, then Shen Yuan can’t help but rail against the OOC function.

Shen Yuan calls himself out for “pretending to meditate” before now (he knows he’s kind of a hack! He so lost and he’s doing his best anyway) and just... lies on the bed “pretending to be dead”??? It’s not stated whether he’s lying facedown or facing the ceiling, but it’s funny either way. Shen Yuan is so fucking done with the System’s micromanagement with the OOC function that he just sprawls on the bed for the day. He sounds so depressed.

#tossawary svsss #tossawary rereads svsss #shen yuan

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heyidkyay · 1 year

Text

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Seventeen

A/n: IT'S BEEN A WHILE! Hi, I'm very sorry for the wait! But even so, I hope this next part will have been worth it, there's a lot going on here and it jumps around a bit but it is longer! Enjoy? x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Lots happening!! Mentions of food, body issues, bouts of sadness and struggles with both physical and mental health (dw, there's still a healthy amount of fluff, im not that evil)

Masterlist

“Excited, darling?”

Matty’s enlivened voice startled me from the messy thoughts which swarmed my mind, I glanced up and out of my daze to find him walking over. I hummed back in soft confusion.

“I mean, you’re finally getting out of this shit-hole and your face only continues to look like that of a slapped arse,” Matty snorted as he dropped down onto the bed beside me, though he did nudge my shoulder to soften the blow.

Still, my eyes narrowed as I wrinkled my nose up at him in retort.

“This do you any better?” I goaded, getting into his space.

I watched his mouth pull up into a lopsided grin, it stayed there even as he rolled his eyes at me and proceeded to shove my face away from his.

“Tons." Matty blew out, "But come on, darling, what’s been going on, eh? Figured you’d be bouncing off the walls by now, been planning an escape ever since you first opened your eyes.”

I quirked a brow at him. “Erm I’d quite like to remind you, Healy, that I am currently incapable of bouncing from foot to foot at this very moment in time, let alone any walls. Also, I’m pretty sure that Dr Mann would rescind my release papers if I even made an attempt.”

With a shrug, I shot him a braggart smile.

“Yeah, alright Einstein.” Matty drawled with another roll of his eyes. “That still doesn’t answer my question though, does it?”

His gaze drifted downwards then to where I held my phone tightly in my good hand. Its shattered screen tended to draw the eye- but I figured I’d get it fixed soon enough, when I had a bit of money to spare instead of taking up the guys’ offer of just getting me a new one altogether. They were utter idiots if they thought for one second that I’d ever agree to an offer like that. Though, it had been rather sweet.

But in truth, I only had my phone on me because I’d been waiting on a text. Or a call. Or any sort of notification that would let me know that George hadn’t just gone and disappeared off of the face of the Earth- again.

Though it seemed to be an ongoing thing with him, something of a hobby now that I’d actually thought about it...

See, after the events that had transpired during his last visit, it was safe to say that I hadn’t heard from him again since he’d left. Which, in itself, had been quite the dramatic exit.

What with Hann having gone off at him whilst the rest of us had been too fucking shell-shocked to try and sort things out between ourselves. George had taken his opportunity and ran with it, darted the second fate had given him the chance. Which had actually been in the arrival of the day-nurse with my breakfast, who’d been awfully surprised by the audience of people, as well as the very tense atmosphere we’d created.

The lads, well mainly just Ross, had reassured me a few times since then that they’d let George know about my discharge from the hospital, but there hadn’t been any sort of response from him. Not anything of worth at least, unless you considered him blocking me on every social media platform.

Yeah, that’d hurt.

“Love.” Matty called out again with a huffed laugh, gently knocking me sideways.

I blinked out of my stupor and over towards him, “Sorry, what?”

With an exaggerated groan, Matty rolled his eyes at me and fell back onto the bed in a strop. “You know… when they listed off what the fuck was wrong with you, I don’t remember them ever bringing up amnesia.”

“Oh, piss off.” I scowled and tried to swat at him, but I couldn’t hide my slight smile, especially when I carefully lowered myself down to join him, the two of us just sprawled there, sidewards on the sheets. I kicked at his ankle childishly and his legs locked around mine in retaliation.

“Almost wish I’d been given amnesia if it meant I’d be free of you.” I mumbled, hoping he’d take the bait.

And he did. Matty gasped brightly and I could only laugh at the indignant expression that overwhelmed his face.

“You prick, take that back!” He practically shouted, slapping the back of his hand against my hip.

“Sorry, no can do, Healy. Lying’s a sin and all that gobshite.”

I received a derisive snort in return but when I glanced over at him, Matty was wearing a fond sort of grin. “Our little atheist, glad to have you back.”

I shook my head in mock exasperation, fighting off a wider smile, and then proceeded to shove at him when he tried to rope me into an awkward sort of hug due to our position. “Oh sod off, would you!”

“Nah, at least not until you say you love me!” He quipped back, burying his chin in my hair.

“Matty!” I groaned, but ultimately resigned myself to the fact we’d probably be stuck here a while. “You’re actually such a stubborn prat.”

My head reeled back as best as it could into the mattress when Matty’s face suddenly popped into view above me. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Helplessly, I groaned again.

“Knob.”

—

Knock. Knock.

I looked up from where I’d lazily been packing at the soft sound and smiled when I saw Lee stood in the doorway waiting for me. “Hey.” I greeted him with a soft grin and he returned the sentiment just as easily.

“You got everything?” Lee asked me whilst he made his way over, eyeing what little items remained on the bed.

“This is the last of it.” I told him, tucking away a folded t-shirt. “Why, you gonna miss me or something?” I questioned with a sly smile, feeling very smug when he laughed and gave me a feeble nod.

“‘Course I will. Besides, you know you’re my favourite patient, what am I going to do without you and all your chaotic fuss?” He quipped and I had to chuckle, feigning a halfhearted glare even as I pointed towards him.

“You say that now, but you’ll be glad for the peace.”

Lee shook his head, wearing a smile that was only ever made for sorrowful goodbyes, and I had to tut at him before I started getting all misty eyed too. I stepped forwards and threw my one good arm round his neck to tug him in.

“‘M gonna miss you.” I mumbled into his shoulder, silently cursing the tears that had started to prickle behind my eyes. He only hugged me tighter at the admission before we finally parted ways, and I watched as he tried to brave a real smile for me.

“I’m gonna miss you, too. Reckon everyone here will,” Lee sniffed, “You and your boys have made this ward into a VIP lounge of sorts.”

We both snorted at that, knowing it to be all too true. Everyone had been aiming to get a bed in our unit, what with the band coming and going, Matty and all his theatrics. Just thinking about it, it was a massive surprise to suddenly realise that there had been a real lack of paps.

Or maybe, I’d just been shielded from it… I made a mental note to ask one of the lads later on.

“I’ll come visit.” I assured Lee before my face fell into an anxious sort of frown, thinking it over. “Wait, that’s alright, ain’t it? Me stopping by?”

With a simple mirth filled laugh, Lee pulled me into another long hug, “I’m counting on it.”

I hid my smile in the collar of his scrubs.

—

“Oi.” Ross said to me, nudging my knee with his free hand from where he sat in the driver’s seat, it broke me from where I’d previously been watching the world outside pass by. “Was talkin’ to you.” He added.

My brows lifted and I blinked as I turned away from the window.

“Sorry, just strange being outside again. Feels weird.” I told him honestly, fingers tapping away on the door handle.

The giant snorted in turn and moved to shift gears. “Like when you get back off holiday weird? Or you’ve been frozen and just woken up, sort of weird?”

“Second. Futurama type shit.” I nodded decisively, eyes skittering over everything we drove by so that I could take it all in. The gossamer sky and its many clouds. The dozens of contradicting faces. Those with their frowns and them with their laughter. Even the postbox got its fair share of gawking. But then I had to shake my head and peer back over at him, “What were you saying anyway? Before.”

Ross blew a soft exhale out of his nose and I watched one side of his mouth quirk upwards slightly. “I asked if you were gonna be alright, camping out at Matty’s place and whatnot. Figured you might’ve finally had enough of the daft idiot.”

I laughed softly and shook my head at him in turn. “Nah, we’ll be alright. Besides, Doctor's said I needed to have someone close by whilst I’m still recovering, didn’t they? And Matty, he offered.” I shrugged, playing with a loose thread on my jeans. “Well, I say offered, he just sort of decided- but I was just grateful for it all the same. I mean, who else would’ve put me up for so long? Not like I could just head on up to my mum’s if I wanted, or have my boyfriend wait on me hand and foot.”

I snorted at the very thought, but it died the second I saw the hardened eyes Ross wore- even with them casted out towards the road. I knuckled his shoulder in hopes to ease his sudden solemn mood.

“Awh, what’s wrong, MacDonald? Sad you didn't get the chance to house me for a couple weeks, ey?”

Ross cracked a smile at that just as the car made a right, he glanced over at me. “Yeah actually. Could’ve had a right laugh me and you together. Plus, nursing you back to health would’ve given me the chance to get out of a couple of these upcoming meetings we’ve got going on.”

My mouth dropped open at the revelation and I flicked his upper arm in retaliation. “Oi, I’m not some helpless pawn you can use!”

With an amused roll of his eyes, Ross flashed me a toothy grin. “I know that- still, would’ve been a win, win though.”

I simply shook my head at his wind up attempt and left the topic to rest.

Trying not to move too much in my seat, despite my discomfort, I let my head loll back against the headrest. “What time did Matty say he’d be back anyway?”

Said prat had gone and dipped out of the ward a little over an hour before I’d been set for release, claiming he had ‘shit to sort out’.

Ross had originally offered to bum us both a lift but in the end Matty had decided on getting himself an Uber after having given the bassist strict instructions on where to collect the rest of my medication and how to get me home. ‘Safe and sound?’ Ross had assumed, but no. Matty had given him quite the detailed description- having already accounted for the journey and its flow of traffic when we'd first received the news- but he’d also had another rant prepared for what would occur if those points were not met.

It’d been a laugh. For me, at least. Ross not so much.

“Uh,” I watched as Ross’s eyes flickered to the dashboard of his swanky motor before he answered me, “Probably be back about the time we are, could already be there.”

His phone dinged then and we both shared a look when a couple more rapidly followed.

“Guess you’re a psychic, MacDonald.” I told him, then chuckled to myself when Ross winced and moved to turn the radio up, mainly in hopes to drown out the many messages from Matty on his pinging phone.

By the time we pulled up to Matty’s, both Ross and I were rather thankful for the fact that the frontman had seemingly made it back before us, seeing as he’d gone and left the front gate wide open so that the car could graze up the driveway.

I peered as best as I could through the windscreen at the house as I unclipped my seatbelt and Ross turned off the engine. It looked far too still, which always through me off whenever I came over, but even more so than usual. The hospital had been severely overcrowded though, and so it was incredibly bizarre to be welcomed by something so polar-opposite.

“You good?”

Absentmindedly, I nodded at Ross's question and the man took it for what it was, hopping out so that he could grab my things for me. The car was eerily quiet for a brief moment before the boot opened and the sound of rustling and the birds that had nested in the nearby oak tree flooded in. I tried not to focus too hard on the faint buzz that’d started up, deafening my left ear, and instead moved to follow.

“He reckons he left the front door unlocked for us, so just head on in, yeah? I’ll grab this lot.” Ross told me, catching my attention once I’d finally managed to slam the car door shut behind me.

“You sure?” I questioned him, eyes squinted as they got used to the full force of the sun. Even with its sly chill this time of year, London always came with a harsh glare.

“‘Course, go on. I’ll just be a sec.”

I nodded to myself and paced the rest of the way up to the stoop. Luckily, Ross’d been right and the handle gave way with just a gentle push, allowing me to step inside.

“Matty?” I called out, peering my head around the hallway’s first corner to see if he was in the living-room or kitchen. “Matt?” I said again, this time a little louder.

“Yeah! 'M up here!” I heard him shout back, voice muffled and a way away. I frowned but found myself already making a beeline for the stairs.

“What the fuck are you even doing up there?” I asked out loud as I slowly edged my way to the top. “You better not be on the shitter, Matthew! I’ve been there, done that, and would very much not like to relive it.”

I grimaced at the vivid reminder my mind then gifted me. It was safe to say that it hadn’t been the most gracious of days for either one of us.

See, the tour bus flu was indeed very much real and also a huge fucking menace. Six hours stuck in a moving metal bin fitted with one singular toilet in a bathroom no bigger than a coffin was actual hell when you were yoshing and another person had the shits.

Matty and I hadn’t been able to look one another in the eye for a good while after that. Only forgetting about it when Hann had gone and gotten himself shitfaced after a show and nearly sliced himself in half climbing up the bus’s steps. It had taken us a bit to finally find the humour in it though, still it was not something I’d like to experience again.

“Oh, shove off, you’re dying to catch another glimpse of this arse!” Matty replied and I had to roll my eyes whilst I took a second to catch my breath on the landing. Though it wasn’t too long before I was wandering down towards where I’d heard him shout.

“If I wanted so see something flat and pasty then I’d-”

The words I’d been about to speak were ripped from my lips the second I bypassed one of the many doors Matty’s house had to offer, completely taken aback.

I could hardly blink, let alone fathom it, as I tried to take the entire room in whilst Matty jumped up from where he’d been putting something together down on the floor so that he could flaunt his way over to me.

“Like it?” He questioned me with a sly grin, but I couldn’t find the right response to give him, especially with my jaw hanging by my feet.

It was an absolute contrast to everything the room usually offered. Gone were the beige covered concrete walls that decorated the rest of the house, replaced by a calming white that had been paired with a beautifully muted sage feature wall. The bedsheets had been revived by a lovely floral pattern but softened by a plethora of blankets and pretty pillows.

The expected wooden dresser and side tables had also disappeared and in their place now stood antiques coloured the same as the green wall, with brass handles and etchings. Then by the window there was a large collage of pictures, practically an album plastered there in a spiral which stretched from the window to the far corner. I couldn’t quite get myself to move towards it because I'd been stunned to actual tears.

When I finally looked back to Matty, he wore an anxious sort of smile, one of which was almost a smirk but tinged with a little insecurity.

“Matty, I-” I blew out a breath and glanced around again. “You did this? All this?”

He scratched the back of his neck, gaze skitting about the room with mine. “Yes, no? Dunno, not sure if those tears are a good sign or not, so if they’re bad, it was all Ross, yeah?”

With a soft snort, I gifted him a far too fond smile. “First of all, I’m not crying. And second, why would any of this upset me?”

“Oh yeah, ‘course, how stupid of me. Too cool to show emotion us, eh?” Matty feigned as he dipped his head a couple times and pursed his lips, playing along. “You actually like it then? ‘Cause I sort of came up with it on the spot the other day- picked it all out myself as well. Had Ross and Hann put the dresser and shit together though, then paid some guy to paint for me, 'cause fuck that.”

He shrugged it all off, acting as though the gesture was nothing. But I could tell he was proud, that of his work or my reaction I didn’t know, but it was probably both though knowing him. I had to grin.

“Thank you.” I whispered with conviction before finally enveloping him in an overdue hug.

“Ah, take it you liked the surprise then?” I heard Ross say as he waltzed in behind us, dropping my stuff just outside the door.

I pulled away from Matty to watch him walk further inside.

“Even set up the steps! Knew you could do it, mate.” He continued, clapping his curly haired mate on the shoulder as he gestured over towards the right side of the bed.

My forehead pinched as I rounded the two to get a better look at what he meant. “What steps?”

Matty was back to looking a little sheepish again and he trailed on over to where a small set of wooden steps resided. He toed at the structure lightly, “Figured you still had a hard time with he hospital beds and this one, well it’s a lot higher. Reckon these will make it a lot easier, innit?”

Wow.

I couldn’t even get past my fish-mouthing before Ross was intervening again. “Go on then, have you tested them out yet?”

Matty’s eyes widened slightly before he laughed and shook his head. “No, man. Finished just up as she walked in.”

So that’s what he’d been doing.

“Well then, best make sure they’re stable enough for her majesty.” Ross cajoled, wearing the slightest hint of a smirk whilst he prodded at Matty’s shoulder. “Can’t be having any more injuries, can we?”

I rolled my eyes, but not even Ross being his usual twattish self could dim my mood.

Matty’s wary gaze darted over to me and I had to hold back a laugh, “Come on, do as the man says.”

I was met with a petulant scowl before Matty finally relented and shimmied his way over towards the steps in a huff. “Why am I always the one getting fucked?” He mumbled under his breath and I had to hide my smile in the cuff of Ross’s shirt when he moved to throw an arm over my shoulders.

“Ah, come on, Healy. Be a good sport, won't you.”

“Yeah, I mean I’d do it but imagine what Dr Mann would say if I’m already in A&E before the days out?”

Matty glared at the pair of us but didn’t comment, instead he put a courageous but cautious foot on the first step. Ross and I stood there with baited breath, waiting in anticipation whilst Matty drew in a shaky lungful of air before finally allowing the step to take the brunt of his weight.

His eyes had been glued shut but when nothing happened he slowly pried one open, the other soon followed when a prideful grin threatened to overwhelm his face. Ross and I cheered loudly in congratulations (and sheer shock), before Matty, in turn, did a silly little bow for us shortly followed by an odd dance.

“Alright, Louie Spence. Calm down before you really do hurt yourself.” I chuckled and took his outstretched hand in mine when he motioned for a bit of help back down.

“And you said I’d fuck it all up.” Matty beamed like the cat who got the cream back at Ross. “Pay up, dickhead.”

I glanced between the pair in rising amusement and observed the way Ross scoffed before he ultimately dug his hand into his back pocket.

“How much did you bet?” I couldn’t help but ask them.

“50 quid said I’d get the ump and give up. 100 if I paid someone else to do it for me. 200 if it broke.” Matty relayed, happily counting the extra notes he’d been handed.

I laughed at Ross’s prominent scowl before the giant tackled his bandmate onto my freshly made bed.

“No, not the clean sheets!" I gasped, shooing the two. "Get your dirty shoes off my pillows, MacDonald! Oh for fucks sake.”

I should’ve known better than to try and stop them, because even with a broken body they still somehow managed to rope me into their antics.

“Guys!!”

—

Recovery felt much different outside of the ward I'd decided.

There was no proper routine here at Matty’s. And although I was forever grateful to him, for everything he’d done in the build up to my release and for letting me shack up with him for a few weeks, it was also very hard.

I was still in pain. More so, sometimes. There was no Lee here to rely on, and I couldn’t find it in me to burden Matty any further than I already had. Everything felt like a task to me. From sitting up to showering. Or even going to the loo and drinking a glass of water.

I mean don’t get me wrong, the first couple days had been heaven sent. The peace and the quiet. But then the peace had quickly grown tense and the quiet too loud. And I was left stuck here in my own head for hours at a time.

Being out of hospital meant life getting back to normal. It meant days passing without much fuss, friends stopping in but never for too long, meetings and calls and messages- all of which only ever concerned Matty, seeing as Delia had threatened to sack me if I even thought about doing any work whilst I was supposed to be resting. Which meant no emails, or designing.

But the band meetings Ross had previously mentioned a couple days prior appeared to drag on for hours, and Matty would be holed up in his office or the studio for most of the day. Not that I had much room to complain, he had a lively hood and actual shit to do. I couldn't keep interfering with that.

It was just hard. Hard being alone. Hard feeling so isolated.

Hann was busy with Carly and work, and when he had the time to spare it was mostly spent with us just talking about the new album or how I’d been getting on. Which was nice enough, but I hated lying to him, to everyone really.

Ross had been back and forth, he’d annoy me for a couple hours whilst Matty was busy and then he’d disappear for a couple days and I’d hear nothing. Maybe a vague text here or a tag on Twitter there, but that was it.

And me, I was slowly abandoning what little sense of reality I still held onto.

Things with George hadn’t gotten any easier.

In fact, I started to ignore everything and anything to do with him.

The guys they never mentioned him, not even in passing. But I knew when he’d been around. I could always tell. Ross wouldn’t look me in the eye. Matty told too many jokes. And Hann would give me this pitying expression that made me want to hit him.

I avoided all mentions of him and the band on social media as best I could and had started listening to podcasts through headphones whenever Matty’s music echoed through the house.

It was difficult. Everything felt difficult at the moment. Life did.

And so, almost subconsciously, I’d taken to hiding myself away for longer periods of time. The room Matty had made for me was a safe haven, it made me feel more at home than I would’ve in my own bed. But it was also isolating, being at Matty’s cut me off from the outside world. He had no real neighbours, no local parks or trails to wander, and the only scheduled visitor he had was the cleaner who came in every Wednesday.

My body and I were also on the outs. A little like George and I, I supposed.

It was an evident struggle having to relearn parts of myself. To acknowledge these new scars I had and the thing that came with them. It was still a shock to me each morning to wake up and be reminded of the damage to my ear. To my head. The throbbing migraines that followed, as well as the ringing and the utter silence too.

Most days, I just wanted to scream. Others I wanted to disappear altogether.

—

“Looks to be healing rather nicely. Though I’d be a bit wary about the wound on the back of your head, it seems to be taking a little longer than the rest.” The doctor told me and I simply nodded in return, wanting this whole charade to be over and actively avoiding the tiny mirror adhered to the wall opposite from where I was sat on the bed.

It was just another checkup, I told myself in hopes to calm the nerves. I’d had two in the time I’d been out, and this was just the third.

“What- it isn’t infected is it?”

That was Matty, he’d joined me as per usual.

In my peripheral, I saw the doctor shake her head in response to his question. “No, but I would suggest keeping an eye out for any abnormalities that might arise. Oozing liquids, light throbbing, heat and what not.”

Matty hummed and then proceeded to ask another rapid fire of questions whilst I just stood up and dipped back behind the curtain to change out of the gown they’d given me.

“How long until the cast can come off?” I overheard him say.

“Three weeks, hopefully. Though we’d probably recommend a splint after that. At least until she’s in physio.”

I kept on breathing. In and out. Out then in. Ignoring the muted whispers that followed.

I tugged on the large hoodie Ross had leant me, one that actually covered my cast, then stepped back out. “Are we all done?” I questioned and the woman turned to me with a polite smile, clipboard in hand.

“All good to go. Your prescription should be ready at the front desk, you only need to head to the pharmacy.”

I nodded and quietly thanked her, slipping out of the office and then the unit altogether as quick as my feet would let me. Unaware of the troubled gaze which followed behind me.

—ROSS’S POV—

With a quiet huff and a flick of his wrist, Ross waved off George’s silent question as he tried to pay attention to what Matty had been saying on the other side of the phone.

The two of them had been holed up in the studio since the early hours of the morning- mostly because he’d been shafted with ‘G Duty’ (a glorified name for babysitting the walking self-destruct button they all called a mate basically)- because the knob hadn’t been sleeping as of late and so he'd decided to come in and work through some things. Not that it’d helped much. They'd gotten fuck all done.

“Say that again, mate. Didn’t quiet catch it.” He murmured into the phone, listening intently even whilst George decided to take a seat near him instead of heading back behind the deck.

“Just- I don’t know what to do, man! She’s been- I don’t know! It’s like she’s turned into a zombie or summat! Lifeless. Dead, almost.” Matty hissed through the speaker, and Ross could practically visualise his turmoil, the way he’d be scrubbing at his face or anxiously tapping his foot.

He sighed heavily to himself. It seemed they’d known one another for far too long.

“She won’t eat, and if she does then it’s only ever in her room. She comes down in the middle of the night and I hear her puttering about down here, she’ll make a tea or something then she’s gone before I can even see her, and I won’t hear a peep til the next evening- that's if I’m lucky.” Matty went on to say, describing to him what the last week or so had been like for the pair of them.

“I’ve tried everything, mate. She doesn’t want to come on a walk, or go to the shops. Even step into the garden, for fucks sake!” He was whispering harshly now and Ross could easily pick up on the stress which lined his tone. “Gimme a sec.” Matty told him after a tense pause had passed and so Ross listened to him faintly pad about his house before a door soon opened.

“You alright?” Ross asked him with a furrowed brow, only glancing up when George shifted slightly beside him. He ignored it for the time being.

“Yeah, yeah.” Matty assured him, albeit a little breathlessly. “Just had to step outside for a fag. Didn’t want her to hear me either.”

“She there?”

Ross could almost hear him shake his head. George shifted again too and so he shot him a dark look in hopes he'd fuck off.

“Nah, in her room." Matty replied, "But I don’t know. Rather not chance it, you know?”

Ross hummed in reply, then inhaled slowly. “How did the check up go yesterday?”

“Fine, I ‘spose. Doctor said her cast could come off soon, so that was a plus. But they're still a little iffy about everything else though, her ear especially…”

“Still can’t hear a thing?” Ross asked, picking at a long thread in the studio’s sofa.

“Nope. Ringing sometimes, she's said. But otherwise nothing. Sometimes I’ll be talking to her about random shit and I’ll see her turn her whole body just so her good ear’s facing me. I dunno if she even notices it.”

“I know, I’ve seen it too.” Ross mentioned gruffly, his chest growing uncomfortable at the thought of it. At the thought of having to see her go through even more heartache. “Did she say anything?”

“Barely spoke a word to me on the way home, mate. Picked up her favourite too.”

“Five Guys.” They both said simultaneously, and Ross’s mouth quirked upwards when he heard Matty’s airy chuckle titter out.

“Yeah, got her usual. But she mentioned having a shower when we first got in and so I left it for her to heat up and went to sort out some crap, but I came down later it was still on the side. And that was hours after we’d got back, man.”

Ross chewed on a loose thumbnail, lost in his own head.

“I just, I don’t know, what if she’s like depressed or something? I mean, I get it. More than fucking most. But her? Seeing her like that... Ross man, it’s killing me.”

“I know, mate. I know. You just gotta hold out, yeah? She’ll bounce back. She always does.” He attempted to reassure, but he was fucking fretting over it all too. How much could a single person suffer through before they just caved in?

“Ross.” Matty paused after he'd said it though and so Ross waited. He listened to his mate work through his tangent of worries, heard his shaky breaths, and just waited.

“What if she doesn’t?” And the tone Matty used was one he’d only ever heard once before, the morning that he’d decided he needed to get clean.

Ross hadn’t even realised that his jaw was wrenched shut by the grit of his teeth before he went to reply. “Then we be there for her. Like she was for us. Like she’s always been.”

“Right.”

Ross didn’t say anything for a long while and it almost sounded as though the line had gone dead before a loud trembling exhale ripped him from the tension.

“Look, mate. I’ll head on over tonight, alright? Surprise her.” He decided, “Bring dinner or dessert. Fucking whatever. You can go out for a bit. Clear your head. I’ll try and see if I can get her to talk.”

Whilst he listened to Matty ramble away in return, asking if it was a good idea, if he was sure, Ross caught George’s eye from across the sofa before the drummer quickly startled away. Ross watched him closely after that, but still found himself mulling things over. Wondering how he could possibly fix this apocalyptic mess that'd been created. If anyone even could.

But then he decided in that next moment, he at least had to try.

If not for his own sanity, then for her's.

Part eighteen>

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