𝒄𝒄𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒏.

        (      for brooke   /   @graveyardisms​   )          Spring cleaning was not exclusive to the season  –  Eve ,  for the past eight months now ,  had been organizing the StPaul house with all the diligence due a demon who’s one and only point of sentimentality lay here ,  stacked and stored under roof where she’d grown. Where she’d shed her childhood the way a snake shuks its skin. Where mother’s memory still lingered in clothes to be donated and books to be sorted and mementos to be preserved. She’d worked her way to the attic that afternoon and in the process come across a cardboard box whose lid was scrawled with what had recently become a very familiar name.  She carried it down to the kitchen where her brother was hunched over the breakfast bar with his Nintendo Switch. A heft to display Brooke’s name written in their mother’s calligraphic hand.          ❝  What is this?  ❞

Recognition lit him up, made him sit a little straighter with attention paid out.     " Mom put that together. She was gonna give it to Brooke. “

    ❝ Oh … Great ! … I know just where to move it. ❞         And it’s light her tone, but Grayson had learned to guess at the meaning behind that saccharine lilt well enough that he’s snatching the bin from her hands almost before she’s tilted it towards the trash. Knows her well enough, too, to pin point the impetus as he sets it down safely on the kitchen counter.

    ” What is your deal with her? She’s great. “

Eve wrinkled her nose petulantly, met baby brother’s expectant stare for a long moment before sighing.            ❝ I didn’t want to have to tell you this… ❞             Gone the bonhomie and in it’s place is a grim sobriety that sends her leaning across the counter tops with knit brow and deep frown lilting around the corners of her mouth. Grayson reflected her expression back ,  tinged it with an anticipatory tension all his own ,  caught up in her gravitas despite himself.             ❝ She’s a furry. ❞

    “ I’m gonna text her about picking the box up. "           He’s already digging phone from pocket as he strides out of the kitchen ,  not dignify her accusation with a response.

     ❝ You’d better tell her it’s full of glittery dragon dildos or she’s not gonna come.  ❞       Eve shouted as his retreating back. If he hears her he doesn’t answer and Eve is left to lean against the breakfast bar ,  nails drumming a short irritated staccato against the formica.        ❝  Now I’m also annoyed no ones around to appreciate that accidental entendre. ❞

THE DAY IS IN ITS DREGS by the time she hears the sound of a car pulling into the drive. The sun has shimmered down to nothing, is the liquid remnants of itself spread out across the houses and glinting off screen door as Eve stepped out onto the porch to watch Brooke climb out of her car.

    ❝ Hi. Welcome to the StPaul Storage Unit.  ❞

                 it’s  a  strange  relationship  had  between  the  two  women   ━   one  who  holds  an  odd  distaste  for  the  other,  and  one  who  harbors  no  ill  feelings.  weirder  still,  how  brooke  receives  a  text  about  belongings  left  behind  for  her  from  grayson  and  not  eve.  she  takes  her  time  in  going  to  the  stpaul  residence,  a  mild  hope  that  maybe  eve  won’t  be  there  when  she  arrives.  but  alas,  car  pull  up  outside  the  residence,  and redhead  sees  the  blonde  step  out  onto  the  porch.  inhale,  exhale.

                “  hi,  eve.  ”  she  says,  approaching  the  steps  cautiously.  “  grayson  said  your  mom  left  a  box  for  me  ?  ”  she  gets  right  to  the  point,  as  always   ━   she  knows  eve  isn’t  her  biggest  fan,  and  thus  she  tries  to  avoid  stepping  on  the  blonde’s  toes  as  much  as  possible.  she  wonders  if  the  other  thinks  her  mother  took  her  as  a  replacement  daughter   ━   a  fact  that  is  entirely  untrue.  sure,  brooke  had  come  to  view  the  recently  deceased  as  family,  but  never  did  she  act  as  a  fill-in  for daughter  long-lost. “  i’ll  ...  just  take  it  and  get  out  of  your  hair.  ”  no  comment  is  made  to  tell  the  younger  brother  that  she  says  hi   ━   that  would  surely  lead  to  more  issues.

𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒏.

his venture across flushed skin is a welcomed one, and all thoughts of vulnerability are placed on hold, pushed into the farthest corner of her mind. because what odette OWES him is her surrender — to this and them as a whole — and so that’s what she practices: with eyes fluttering shut as fingers run through sandy hair. UNDIVIDED ATTENTION … all gifted to the way he feels, and the way he’s making her. wrong fails as an adjective, mistake following behind. right flows easier, tasting better at the tip of her tongue as malachai returns. it’s a self - made position, one that was insisted upon, and though after-thought is exactly that, it doesn’t work to bring forth regret. because a closeness often suffocating presents itself differently in the context of them. weight placed onto her chest acts not as a reminder of bad times but instead the opposite. safety. and as she recaptures space, she finds the same in his eyes. moonlight cascades through open blinds, making shadows deeper and illuminating the rest. it’s painted as hesitation : profiles hovering, eye contact sought. IT’S NOT. stubble pricks a feathery touch, his jawline traced and features studied. familiarity ensnares her now — through blues usually bright ( now gloom ) and his scent ( reminding her of home ) — and she understands then … why he said what he said. how he could say it. it tickles at the back of her throat, lining her chest with warmth, and it would be so easy to just —  “  … i —  „  breath drawn, brows knit together. her heart beats with a ferocity unknown, all whilst feeling laced with lethargy, and fear outweighs. as it always would.  “  — i want you.  „  she breathes, lips grazing kai’s before committing.

              words  are  whispered  against  his  lips,  and  there’s  a  shiver  that  sends  itself  down  his  spine.  a  thought  that  he’s  always  known,  but  never  heard  her  verbalize before.  he  relishes  in  it,  in  being  needed,  wanted.  a  foreign  feeling  for  the older.  she’s  always  been  so  independent,  never  telling  him  what  she  desires.  but  now  it’s  HIM.  being  near  her  has  always  been  easy  for  him,  and  hard  for  her,  but  he  thinks  she  know  understands  him.  he  wants  to  stay  here  forever,  never  parting  from  her  side.  naked  skin  brushes  against  hers,  lighting  a  fire  under  his  skin,  warmth  blooming  in  his  heart.  hand  trails  from  breast  lower,  fingertips  brushing  softly  against  skin,  stopping  at  the  top  of  her  underwear.  always  waiting  for  her  permission,  afraid  of  making  on  wrong  move.  kiss  deepens,  and  he  continues  to  think  of  how  she  feels  like  home  to  him. hand  slides  underwear  down  her  legs,  slowly,  gently,  while  he  kisses  her  intensely.  he  draws  his  hand  back,  reaching  to  remove  his  boxers,  placing  them  on  an  even  field.  hands  move  gently,  deftly,  and  he  enters  her  slowly, gradually  increasing  speed.  this  isn’t  their  first  time  together,  and  yet  he  feels  more  anxious  than  he  did  before.  her  words  of  desire  should’ve  been  enough  to  quell  anxieties,  and  yet  he’s  still  afraid  she’ll  run.

send me a ❖ + a question and my muse will be forced to tell the truth.

 Nice going, bud.

Nights at the bar always prove to be long, leaving the redhead exhausted. Surprising, that she tires out, but then again one can only deal with so much mundane conversation from the locals. And enduring the advances made by the male regulars is an added burden. She can feel the night wrapping up ━ nearing three a.m., so really it should be no surprise. She’s beginning to wash down glasses and her bar, listening to the lull begin in conversations ━ her favorite part of the night. Patrons beginning to tire, to slow conversation ━ it’s the time when she gets the most info out of people. When everyone decides to spill their secrets to the pretty bartender, always willing to lend an ear to their troubles. Eyes catch movement down at the end of the bar, a blonde she’s spoken with a few times. Pretty, but seems like she has a hard exterior. Brooke glides towards the end of the bar, wiping it with her towel as she does. “ Hey there, stranger. Anything I can get you ? We’re closing up soon, so I’d say this is last call. ”

                                                                                @diabhales​

I’ve got my coffee, my magazines, figured I’d read, maybe run the stairs over there a little bit. I’m good.

𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔.

   teddy shakes his head, glancing around the room in lieu of actually responding to steven. it was exactly as he remembered the halls of eden high, from the several years ago that he had attended. singular friend, relentlessly teased … practically nightmare material. he’d only hoped the students had changed attitude … even though nothing else had changed about the school. teddy was pretty sure that there was frozen food in the back of the cafeteria from when he was a student being served still, and that one of the posters he’d seen on the way in was advertising homecoming circa 2016.   “   uh — one, a-actually.   ”   a pause, and he turns his attention back to steven.   “   i … c-can still call you steven, right ?   ”    and then, because he feels like he sounds ridiculous.   “   i don’t, uh, i don’t know the hier-hierarchy of, um, working with you p-professionally.   ”

“ Of course. ” He smiles, gently. “ In front of the kids it’s Mr. Kinney, but if you slip up don’t worry about it. ” Pause, and he sets the coffee aside. “ I want you to be comfortable, Teddy. It’s not a good student-teaching experience if you’re not. If you’ve got any issues or problems, just let me know. You’ve got this. ” He says encouragingly, standing up. “ Alright, lemme show you the break room. You can put food in the fridge if you brought anything. ” He starts towards the door, grabbing his keys off the desk. “ Bring anything important with you, though. I have kids that show up early, and even though I wouldn’t expect them to take stuff, it’s better to be safe than sorry. ” Steven grabs the handle, pulling the door open and propping it with a doorstopper. “ Time for the grand tour of a school that’s not much different from when I went here, ” he says dramatically, punctuating it with a laugh. 

Breakfast is definitely not happening. THE FOLLOWING, 3.04

𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒏.

UNPREDICTABLE — if only because he lacked the composure and introspection needed to present himself as a fixed individual. mood changes like the weather, circumstances acting the cherry on top of instability. stefan likes to think of himself as one thing: sturdy, set in stone — except he’s not. FOR THE MOST PART … he is who he thinks he is. sporting superficial charm and good looks, concealing the darkness beneath with success. other times, emotions—anger, jealousy, desperation—bring forth what he deems well hidden. hangover conjures frustration, and it isn’t until he’s had his morning coffee that the mask reattaches.  “  let me guess …  „  stefan begins, pan dropping onto the counter with half a dozen eggs placed at its side.  “  scrambled.  „

“ Over-easy. But good try. ” She takes a sip of coffee, warm liquid burning her throat, a good association for what she gets when she’s here. A reminder, even. She always looks for the good in a situation, a person. But was there any good here ? She finds herself asking that question every time she leaves his apartment. They aren’t a good fit, after all ━ she doesn’t know him, not really. She constantly feels like the person she falls asleep and wakes up next to are two different people. And today it feels like she actually sees that change. The difference, between the man offering her eggs and the one who just made backhanded, snide comments about her hitting a low point. Fingers run through messy red locks, and she contains a sigh. “ I bet you’re an omelette person. ” She leans against the counter, watching him.

 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔.

   she takes the box gratefully, scooping in the appropriate amount of baking soda out — leveled perfectly in measuring spoons, naturally — and dumping it in the bowl.   “   those are parent teacher meetings, and we have plenty of those. scheduled ones, not including when they drop in after to make … very specific complaints or requests.   ”   wet ingredients now, and she finds the carton of eggs, carefully cracking them into the bowl, shells discarded off to the side on her kitchen table.   “   this is like, solely for fundraising, organizing events, class parties and stuff. all of them show up, and they always end up … commandeering the whole thing. i might as well let them do it during their weekly book club.   ”   frustration is evident, as emma is an expert of commandeering things herself.   “   and i have to nod and be like, sure, i can chip in a hundred dollars i don’t have to get new whatever artist approved supplies for finger painting. whatever happened to crayola   ?   ”   or philanthropy, for that matter, considering the amount of designer purses she saw at these meetings.   “   i mean, you’re right about that. they’re also like, all super old money, big house, been in town for generations type. they own jewelry that could pay off my loans.   ”   vanilla extract, softened butter.   “   the kids have like, no idea either. they’re the sweetest ever. and i love my job, it’s just …   ”   a sigh, and she quickly shifts conversation.   “   i mean, hello, hospital. i know you have work stress i couldn’t even imagine.   ”

“ I’ll be honest, I really don’t get why y’all have parent-teacher meetings for babies. Or even PTA meetings, which I’m still not clear on. They’re babies. They don’t give a fuck. ” He snorts, taking a sip of the water bottle he brought with him ━ never a fan of feeling like he was intruding in peoples’ homes by asking for a glass, or anything of the like. Eyes watch carefully as she cracks the eggs and places the shells to the side ━ an attempt at learning her methodical approach. He’s noticed she’s a bit of a perfectionist before, but watch Emma bake brings it to a whole new level, he thinks. “ Why not let them, then ? Seems like it’s a bit of an intrusion in your life, and I’m sure they already discuss it at those things anyways. ” He says pointedly. Rich women, particularly trophy wives, are women he tends to avoid ━ they have a tendency to hone in on the fact that’s not like them, and want to save him. Something he’s very much not interested in. “ Wait ━ you have to pay for the supplies ? If this is shit they want, why aren’t they shelling out their own money ? Not like they’re lacking in that department. ” He shakes his head. “ I know that counteracts my point of their selfishness, but c’mon. Not all of us have enough money to shower in it. ” Sarcasm drips from his words like honey, and he scowls. Her shift in conversation causes a scowl to deepen, but he quickly masks it with a laid-back expression. “ Sure, being a nurse is tough, but it doesn’t mean your job isn’t, Emma. Everyone’s got their own struggles at their jobs. ”

{31/∞} leyton scenes

𝒔𝒄𝒈𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔.

“You’ll always be important to her. You’re Sven. Though now she can say Steven. I’ve been working with her on that.” She smiles, shrugging her shoulders. Although he tells her she didn’t fuck up, she can’t help but feel like she had. And there they are. The words she never thought she would hear from him again. His thumb along her lip causes a chill to run up and down her spine. His question catches her off guard but she smiles. “You don’t have to ask,” She says, shrugging her shoulders. “But it’s nice that you did,” She takes a deep breath and a smile graces her features. “You never have to ask.”

“ Man. Can’t believe I missed her being able to say my name. ” It’s a wry smile, and it comes out as a dig but he doesn’t mean it that way. “ I ... don’t mean for that to sound like a dig. I’m sorry. ” He sighs, tempted to drop his hands, but he doesn’t, the warmth of her skin holding him there. A sigh of relief escapes him at her words, and he realizes he’d been holding his breath. Gently he pulls her lips to his, a needy kiss between them. He’s missed her, this, them, and it’s like coming home, to kiss her. A puzzle piece that was missing, and now he’s complete, with her here. He pulls back slowly, lips quirking. “ I wanted your permission. I ... I was kind of scared you’d say no. ” He says softly, before kissing her again, softly but still passionate.

Every charged scene between Phryne Fisher and Jack Robinson

𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒏.

what odette had not planned for was this —— she’d gone away and she’d come back, vowing for last time to be exactly that. really, she should stop fighting it so. everything and everyone beneath the sun — good or bad — receiving nothing but OBSTINANCE and a nature most decisive. self - indulgent until she’s not. relationships given the short end of the stick with decisiveness faltering at the idea of spoken affirmations. it was easy to linger in the unspoken: confirming nothing, getting nowhere. somehow, this was easier. tomorrow would act a STARK CONTRAST to the now. but — as always — odette fails to account for consequences ahead.     the now ——     it was ardent kisses, a smile ghosting as he speaks, and lips reconnecting. between them, there was no room: for doubt, nor for fear. it’s a closeness she relishes in, as whatever hesitance entrapping her minutes ago had come undone, leaving her in a state of unabashed vulnerability. and when he revokes it, she stays right there — dark eyed, flushed lips, and a breath taken. excessive garment given the spotlight; his touch lingering with a gaze watchful, odette’s own hands abandoning the comfort of him. traveling downwards, fingers pull at the fabric — up, up, up …

She’s here, she’s real, and while the lingering fear that she’ll leave him again is there, he reminds himself that she’s choosing to continue this. That it’s a culmination of sixteen years, of dancing around one another and their relationships, coming to fruition. He chooses not to let the worry consume him, instead letting desire and love take the wheel. Her hands leave his body, pulling up on her top, and his lips leave a trail of kisses from her mouth to her ear and downward, reaching collarbone, and he pauses. Tank top slides over her head and he resumes his trail of kisses, hand moving gently over her body. Hand cups her breast carefully, as if he’s afraid that moving quickly will scare her off again ━ worry still commandeering his movements in moments like this. Her skin is soft, and he’d forgotten what it was like to be near her in the past few weeks. It takes only a few seconds before he’s comfortable again, and lips return to hers, exploration continuing as he relishes in this feeling of being with her.