Both Shane and Ilya have the most severe cases of Resting Bitch Face when they’re on their own. Face cards lethal, both aesthetically and in terms of how fearful for their own safety people are if they don’t understand the context.
Ilya is Slavic. That’s really all there is to it. There is no deeper explanation and he will not provide one. If you keep being weird about it, he’ll start giving you made up reasons just to fuck with you. Why? Because fuck you, that’s why. Who just goes around asking people to explain their faces? Rude.
Shane is Shane. He’s a neurodivergent baddie who’s in his own head a lot. No, he’s not pissed off; that’s just his face. No, I promise you, he’s not plotting a murder. That’s seriously just his face. Yes, he knows, we’ve all mentioned it at least once because we thought we did something wrong. That’s just his default face.
Post-outing, Ilya’s Slavic stoicism and Shane’s…Shane-ness don’t magically go away, but the public notices a shift as they stop hiding their relationship. They show up places together now, holding hands and existing in each other’s personal space without having to excuse it with the Irina Foundation. Their respective reputations for Resting Bitch Face take a major hit when their default faces start popping up less and less in pictures. IG comments document the change.
I thought Hollander was a robot. I ain’t never seen robots smile.
Look at them! They’re so happy 🥹
When will happiness like this find me?
Is this what married sex do? Just rewire your brain?
Bro’s Slavic face? Gone. Perma-smile.
Demons on the ice, gummy bears in real life.
Have Hollander’s teeth always been so white? I don’t think we’ve ever seen them this much.
How much you wanna bet Roz has been a loverboy this entire time? Yes Shane, anything you want Shane, anything for you Shane. 😂
Did we know Roz had a dimple on his left cheek? Holy shit.
Got Shane “RBF” Hollander smiling like it’s candy and rainbows around here…Ugh, I hate them both so bad.
- Actually or…?
- Fuck no, I love smiley Hollanov. I hate that I don’t have someone to be this cute with!
It’s funny until one comment makes Ilya squawk indignantly.
Rozanov - Looks like he’ll murder you, is actually a cinnamon roll. Hollander - Looks like he’ll murder you…probably will, just happily now.
“They know I am soft,” he whines, not doing himself any favors as he throws himself down on the couch and pouts dramatically. “My reputation is ruined! A whole career as the sleep paralysis demon of hockey players worldwide, destroyed by a beautiful man with beautiful freckles. I will never recover, Shane!”
Shane smiles softly at the comments and tangles his fingers in his husband’s wild curls. “How tragic. The world knows you’ve got a soft, gooey center.”
Ilya continues pouting (“That is lie, liar told you that.” “I can see you with my own eyes.” “Your eyes lie. Russians do not pout.” “I mean…you’re Canadian now.” “…Shane. SHANE. How can you say this?!”). He huffs and crosses his arms petulantly.
“Easy for you to say,” he grumbles, eyes drooping in relaxation as Shane massages his scalp. “They still see you as a threat. I am Mister Cinnamon Roll now.”
“Then I’ll threaten them enough for both of us, baby.”
Ilya smiles sleepily and puckers his lips, wordlessly demanding a kiss. Shane obliges without hesitation.
He doesn’t mention that Ilya’s lip balm actually tastes a little like cinnamon rolls.
John Tucker hated confrontation. Whether it be the “southern charm” or just his general dislike for conflict, he always tried to make himself the one to fix it or avoid it.
John Tucker, also was never the kind to go for things that were unobtainable. Sure, there was the impossible dream that fell into his lap from time to time but if he knew the odds weren’t in his favor, he felt inclined to step away from it.
Then there was you: the opposition to all of that.
You with your style that made you stand out at any party. The way you seemed so sure about every little thing you did. The way you dressed, acted, and did whatever you wanted and never let anyone stamp that out.
Tucker admired that.
But it didn’t change one little fact that loomed over Tucker’s ever single thought about you: you were fucking terrifying.
You weren’t afraid to rip into someone who’s pissed you off—especially men. You weren’t afraid to publicly humiliate someone who’s chosen to push your buttons. You took no bullshit.
It scared the hell out of Tucker and part of him secretly loved it. The rest of him however, wasn’t sure how ready he was to be that the receiving end of that.
Especially since he was sure you hated him.
You were Jules’ friend which meant he didn’t see you often, but when he did, usually at parties, you would glare at him with such an intensity that he couldn’t help but shrink back to his corner of the room with the rest of the guys.
The first time you had been dancing with your friends before he attempted to approach with a pleasant smile, yet you looked him up and down and squinted harshly before he even made half the distance.
But surely once is only a mistake.
The second time was at Malone’s as he slid into the bar stool next to yours and cooked up the courage to ask what you liked to drink.
You had turned to him sharply and frowned with a heart-shaking ‘Excuse me?’, which only made Tucker slip out his seat with ushered sorries.
Dean tried to reassure him that twice was surely a coincidence.
However, three times was indefinitely a pattern that aimed to tell Tucker ‘back the fuck off’ and he was sure that tonight would prove the simple fact that you couldn’t stand him.
It was an intimate gathering, something fun for friends of the hockey house before finals seasons kicked in and you were Jules’ plus one.
He noted it the second he stepped into the door from his grocery run, your big chunky black boots left next to everyone else’s.
He could feel his heart drop in his chest as he zeroed in on the sight, then looking up to see you leaned against the counter top as you laughed with Jules’ and Logan.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, man,” Dean exclaimed, suddenly appearing at the man’s side with a hand on his shoulder.
“What,” he blurted out, a heat spreading up his cheeks as he tore his eyes away from you. “No, no I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
A look crossed Dean’s face, first an unsure smile as he looked at Tucker oddly before he whipped his head around to spot you and finally a sly grin spread slowly across his lips.
“No,” Tucker protested before any words were spoken, already anticipating Dean’s motivational speech. “I’m not doing it.”
“C’mon man. You miss every chance you don’t take.”
Tucker shook his head, pushing past Dean. “Not if I know exactly what will happen if I even entertain whatever you think will happen.”
“Have you even properly asked them out,” Dean questioned, putting himself in front of the boy.
“Ooo ask out who?”
Tucker’s eyes went wide as he realized not only Jules but also you were sucked into their conversation, both of their attentions centered on him.
You seemed to watch him knowingly, observing him with a scrutinizing glare that made him squirm under your gaze.
“No one,” Tuck eventually spoke, drawing out his words a bit as he dipped his head down at Jules then turning to Dean. “Both of you. Mind your business.”
You tsked into your cup, hiding a tantalizing grin behind it. “Touchy subject, Tuck?”
If his heart dropped before, then it must have stopped as you looked at him with that glare. He felt as if he was at the end of a trick question, unsure of what to say to avoid your anticipated berate-ment.
“Don’t say anything around Jules you don’t want all of Briar to know, right?”
And maybe he was just dreaming, but he swore he saw a smile cross your lips, not the teasing grin or snarl, but a smile. Or maybe he was just dreaming.
Whichever way your lips turned, Tucker didn’t get much time before you turned away with what sounded like an unamused hum.
He watched quietly as you a Jules made your way out of the room, settling on the couch without giving Tucker so much of a second glance.
“That’s your sign.”
Dean moved in next to Tucker, hand returning back to his shoulder. Tucker could practically hear the smile that slid onto Dean’s face as he looked eagerly between you and him.
With a simple swipe of his hand, Tucker swatted Dean’s hand from his shoulder. “That was not a sign, dude.”
“Then what do you call it?”
Hesitation lingered with the boy for a moment before rolling his eyes and moving further into the kitchen. “Happenstance,” he called from over his shoulder.
The night lingered with uncertainty for Tuck as he remained to be the quiet observer of your presence. He didn’t try to approach you, nor did he try to grab your attention—as Dean and anyone else would’ve pressed him to do.
For a guy so enamored by you, he was too scared to even entertain the thought of approaching you.
“You good, man?”
Tucker blinked, almost startled by Logan’s sudden appearance.
“Yeah,” he pushed out. “Why do you ask?”
Logan shrugged in that way that seemed to imply he knew exactly why he was asking, but he just did what he did best: play coy and stupid. “You’ve been spaced out for the past…I dunno 5 minutes?”
Tucker shook his head, brushing off Logan’s words with a laugh. “No yeah I’m fine, just tired man.”
Logan hummed and nodded, taking a sip from his drink as if he was tossing around something he was contemplating in his head. “If you’re not too tired can you do me a solid?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“The fire pit. I think Dean was supposed to put it out a while ago but Jules said it was getting pretty smoky outside. You think you can set it out before the neighbors get on our ass again.”
Tucker’s brows flinched down in a beat of confusion, almost expecting something else. “Yeah man sure.
Tucker carried himself outside of the house expecting some sort of raging fire or at least smoke, but surely not the sight of you curled up in the patio couch watching the fire in all of your silence.
Hesitation lingered over him as he questioned his next move. His first instinct seemed to carry him back into the house and leave you be.
Unfortunately for him, hockey players weren’t exactly light on their feet. Almost like a deer, your head snapped and swiveled towards the boy at the simple sound of a leaf crunching under Tucker’s foot.
Tucker was the first one to say anything.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to uhm intrude—I’ll just,” he jabbed his thumb behind him at the door. “—yeah.”
He managed to carry himself all the way back to the door when the sound of your voice halted him in his movements.
“You wanna sit down with me, Tuck?”
At first he was sure he was imagining it, the same way he was imagining that ghost of a smile you gave him, but when he turned back around to you, you were moving so there was space on that couch for you.
Like on autopilot, his feet moved before his brain. “Uh, yeah. Yeah sure.”
While Tucker was more reserved in comparison to the other boys, he wouldn’t consider himself to be socially awkward. He knew how told hold himself, when to talk, and knew how to charm himself in and out of situations, yet somehow around you he felt completely stiff.
Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with his arms, his hands, or even how to sit as he settled in next to you.
You made him nervous and he couldn’t help but wonder if you knew.
“I’m not gonna bite,” you laughed, taking in his stiffness.
You looked at him with that unreadable look in your eyes—what he thought was some scrutinizing glare, yet with a newfound softness behind it.
“Are you?”
He might as well blurted it out with the way he didn’t intend on letting those words come out, with the level on sass that he delivered it with.
He was like a man possessed and you could see it with the way his eyes widened barely even a beat after it slipped past his lips.
Releasing his poor heart from the torture, however, was your laughter—a giggle even. You bowed your head down as you let your hand lay on his bicep through your laughter. “I’m not that scary, am I?”
“I mean,” Tucker trailed off, a smile slowly easing onto his lips as well. “You have your moments.”
“God,” you laughed, sitting back in the couch. “Jules was right.”
The boy’s brows dipped down for a moment, looking at you with intrigue before following your lead and leaning back against the couch with you. “Right about what?”
“That uhm…” you hesitated for a moment, possibly even the first time Tucker had seen it in your face. You looked to him, almost as if you were daring yourself to spit out the words. With a sigh, you jutted your chin up and looked him in the eye. “That I’ll scare away the guy I like if I keep being so scary.”
It was like it all screeched to a stop or as if someone pulled a record scratch in Tucker’s head as your words caught up to him. He didn’t even have a chance to come up with anything to say before you continued on.
“Apparently, I have really bad rbf, especially when I like someone and instead of just talking to them like a normal person, I clam up and I end up looking like a major bitch and scare them away before they’ve even talked to me.”
Tucker could feel his throat bob as he swallowed back half of his words and let out whatever was left. “When you say them you mean—,”
“You,” you confirmed, voice firm with no room for confusion. “I like you, John Tucker. As juvenile as it sounds, I hope I didn’t scare you off like Jules said I would.”
“Scare me off? I don’t think you could.”
Another laugh escaped you. “You literally ran away when you last saw me in Malone’s!”
“Because you looked at me like I asked you to kill someone’s dog!”
“Oh my god,” you groaned, still laughing as you buried your face in your hands. “It’s worse than I thought. It might be chronic.”
Your laugh was contagious the way it spread to Tucker so easily. Without thinking, he reached for your wrists, lowering them so that you looked him in the eye. “If it makes it any better…I like you too.”
It was like a sigh of relief, your smile. Tucker could feel as your muscles eased up under his touch. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And if you don’t suddenly decide that you really hated me this whole time—,”
“—I didn’t,” you interrupted.
“—then I’d love to take you out. On a date.”
You smiled before leaning forward, pressing the gentlest of kisses on his cheek. “I’d love that.”
@whothehellismack @sleepiscrazy
we love rbf representation, this was so fun to write!!
this was vaguely based on these interviews i keep seeing between mika and stephen where he says that he was totally scared of her at first, also lightly inspired by jade west and andre harris for my victorious fans!!
in my english class the other day, we were having an open discussion about why women smile by amy cunningham (i recommend this text btw, good read) and the first person to volunteer to talk was a guy. he said that he thought the essay was very outdated and that women don’t really face social pressure to be “smiley”, and thus “approachable”, anymore. this idea was very quickly shut down by a trans man, me, and two other women who all shared our own personal experiences with this issue. male entitlement is crazy, they will literally speak on anything regardless of their level of knowledge on it
Cleaning up sketches of stuff I don’t have time to render ‘cuz i gotta move all my shit to a new place or smthng?? Some unimportant nonsense like that.
[mermaid mask spoiler cut <3]
^ The charm of a man at work.
^ Swapping matching scars for a different set of matching scars. (Wife request, ehehehe!!)
^ Pick me up literally and emotionally.
^ Drawing the thought ‘if he wears suspenders would he also wear shirt stays?’
Hiyaaa, is a little that I have adult Megatronia concept sitting in my folds, so heeeeere! (she looks angry, she just have the resting glitch face. Feel her TvY). The tail is both a laser shooter and both a connection device (thanks uncles WaveWave).
Adult Megatronia alt form is a Polaris Slingshot, a very cool three wheeled vehicle, quite heavy but fast and with a good grip to the road. Stylish but sturdy (first pic also with correct frame paint, while below to show you how much is cool *v*). Usually it doesn't have a roof, but there's an optional thing called "Slingshade" (as you can see below) that fuction as sort of roof.
