Velvetysage - Are You Going To Scarborough Fair?

me

it  wasn’t  the  first  time  mason  had  ended  up  in  her  treatment  room  —  and  knowing  him,  it  wouldn’t  be  the  last.  harper  had  come  to  expect  the  combination  of  ego  and  deflection  that  followed  him  through  the  door,  all  six-foot-something  of  him  acting  like  every  injury  was  just  part  of  the  game.  "oh,  right,"  she  said  flatly,  one  brow  arching  as  she  examined  the  damage.  "so  this  doesn’t  hurt?"  she  said  applying  more  pressure.  the  wince  that  flickered  across  his  features  told  her  everything.  "yeah,  that’s  what  i  thought."  she  stepped  back,  exhaling  through  her  nose  as  she  moved  toward  the  cabinet,  gloves  snapping  off  her  hands  with  a  quiet  finality.  "mason,  this  isn’t  just  a  bruise  you  can  shake  off  on  the  court."  her  tone  wasn’t  cruel,  but  it  was  cutting.  "your  body  is  your  entire  job,  and  if  you  want  to  keep  doing  it  for  more  than  five  years,  maybe  start  listening  to  the  woman  who’s  literally  paid  to  keep  you  standing."  she  paused,  glanced  over  her  shoulder.  “this  might  even  be  out  of  my  hands,  mason.  and  if i’m  saying  that?  it’s  time  to  take  it  seriously.”  her  voice  dropped  slightly,  something  quieter  there.  “i  wish  it  was  just  me  being  dramatic.”

closed starter for @velvetysage ♡ ( loosely ) based on this !

"don't you think you're being a tad dramatic?" for all he knew, he could have a broken nose. instead of owning up to his mistake, he deflected, trying to bring some light to the situation. it was classic mason — never wanting anyone to be mad at him, despite creating a situation where someone should be. "it's not as bad as it looks. it barely even hurts."

♡ HANNAH DODD instyle

. · ✦   ·   ˖ ࣪ .  𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐘𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄.

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for a long moment, penny doesn’t move. she just stares. at the sheer audacity of drew standing there , draped in borrowed clothes that don’t fit , wearing that same infuriating grin — like she hasn’t been missing for two weeks. like she hasn’t left penny to spiral , to wonder, to reach for a silence that never broke. her heart is still hammering against her ribs , the remnants of panic still thick in her bloodstream , fourteen days of unanswered questions pressing down on her like a weight she can’t shake. and then drew starts talking — rambling , deflecting , making jokes about flounder and burner phones , like this is just another one of her reckless disappearances. like penny hasn’t been tearing herself apart over where she was , if she was even alive, and suddenly something inside her snaps. a sharp , humorless laugh punches out of her , brittle at the edges. "are you — are you fucking kidding me ?" her voice is quiet , but there’s something dangerous beneath it , something raw and frayed. two weeks. two weeks of radio silence, of checking her phone every five minutes , of knocking on doors and getting nothing but shrugs , and now she just waltzes in — grinning , joking , like it’s all some game ? penny moves before she even thinks , grabbing the nearest throw pillow and launching it at her. not hard. not enough to hurt. but something — because if she doesn’t , she might actually scream. "you — " she stops , jaw locking , fists curled at her sides. "you absolute fucking — " another sharp inhale , her breath unsteady , her entire body tight with the effort of keeping herself from completely unraveling. "do you have any idea — any fucking idea — what the past two weeks have been like ? you couldn’t have just — texted ? called ? hell , sent a fucking carrier pigeon ?" she’s breathing too fast. she knows it. feels the way her hands are shaking , the way her chest is rising and falling too sharply. she knows she’s letting the panic and frustration bleed through , but she can’t shove it down. not when drew is just sitting there , completely unbothered , sniffing her vanilla candle like she didn’t just disappear without a trace. penny presses the heels of her hands against her eyes , turning on her heel and striding into the kitchen before she does something she won’t recover from. because she knows drew. knows this is her coping mechanism — acting like nothing is wrong , like she hasn’t just put everyone who gives a shit about her through hell. and maybe , once upon a time, penny would’ve let herself be distracted by the theatrics. would’ve let the relief of drew simply being here outweigh the hurt. but she’s seen this routine one too many times to fall for it now. she grips the counter , sucking in slow , steadying breaths. if she says something now , she will regret it. because part of her , beneath all the frustration , wants to burst into tears — because drew is alive , because she’s standing in front of her , because penny doesn’t have to wonder if she’s lost her forever. after a few seconds , she forces herself to move. forces herself to walk back into the room , stopping in the doorway , leaning against the frame like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. her voice is quieter now , but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it. "are you going to tell me what happened," she says , gaze steady , expression unreadable , "or do you just want to pretend everything is fine ? because i may be a good actress, drew, but i don’t think i can do that."

was it odd to say that abandoning her sense of self entirely gave her a new lease on life? plato didn't know shit about throwing his phone into the river. not to mention socrates had never experienced the thrill of pulling off a smooth drug deal on the busy city street. as far as drew was concerned, karl marx could suck the silicone dick that was slickened and stowed in her night stand. everywhere she went, flippant burner phone in hand, the blonde swore she could hear fly like an eagle beating in time with her steps. not a single care in the universe stopping her -- letting her spirit carry her from port to port. was this a mental breakdown of the most epic proportions? perhaps. for now - her metaphorical and quite literal high was impenetrable. and she had the steve miller band and parker to thank for that. when she'd told her roommates she'd abandoned her business with minimal explanation, drew had yet to answer the most critical questions. not even to herself. why? are you doing okay? the queries needed to be avoided. there was no space for concern in her hands-off approach to living. so it was natural to bolt. from her roommates, from penny. the fourth floor apartment hadn't seen her in days. she mostly opted for crashing on parker's couch. it made her hoodlum schedule a continuous affair. it made it easier to abandon any sort of guilt or critical thought about her decisions. but drew had caught wind of penny's concerns since her show stopping disappearance after opening night. the flowers adorned by the blonde at the stage door were the last tulips that drew had touched. and now, as the creative desire bubbled to the surface once more, so did her urge to see penny. she never dropped her key. a silent protest, a grandiose act of love, whatever you wanted to call it -- it was an excuse for drew to silently break in to surprise her. of course. the anxiety riddled star is edging tears, lump in her throat touching drew from where she stands by the front door. and she hears every word. but the eagle doesn't falter. "surprise, shaaaawty." the blonde calls out theatrically as she enters the space. her nomadic wardrobe is likely a testament to her mental state. parker's flannel that wouldn't button over her breasts even with one of those maternal stretch bands, a white bandeau top that has seen better days, a pair of inez's leggings that showcase some tasteful ankle on her too long legs, but still the same electric drew smile. "didn't i tell you? phone in the river? hope you didn't send me a nude because if you did, flounder definitely saw it." she plops down at the counter and sniffs at the lit candle, likely placed there to calm penny's nerves. her nose wrinkles at the soft vanilla scent. "is flounder a girl? like i know sebastian is a jamaican dude. like the cinnamon apple jax guy. but -- flounder? i never really knew. because if he's a bro-fish, he might like totally be into that."

"  don’t  try  to  make  me  feel  old  just  yet.  but  you’re  probably  right,  i myself  might  be  the  only  one  who  can  handle  all  my  charm  and  nonsense. as  for  blowing  you  away  ?  i’ve  got plenty  of  tricks  up  my  sleeve.  maybe  i’ll  get  you  a  house  with  a  secret  room  just  for  me  to  hang  out  in.  no,  wait  —  you  can  have  the  big  house,  i’ll  take  the  part  where  i  build  a  world-class  kitchen.  that  way,  i  can  wow  you  with  my  cooking  ...  and  maybe,  just  maybe,  make  you  think  twice  about  that  whole  separate  wings  thing.  but  hey,  i’ll  keep  working  on  that  proposal  just  in  case  you’re  actually  serious  about  this  pact.  "

"  just  bringing  it  up  to  see  if  you  have  a  memory  of  a  goldfish  or  not  .  .  .  bold  of  you  to  assume  that  i'd  put  up  with  it  if  we  get  married  ,  might  have  to  buy  a  house  big  enough  so  i  could  be  locked  on  the  other  end  of  it  .  oh  ?  i  want  to  be  wowed  ,  think  you  can  blow  me  away  ?  "

MOLLY GORDON via Instagram

GIGI HADID.

VIA HER INSTAGRAM HANDLE. | 26TH APRIL 2024.

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