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𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑓𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙.

starter for @exfilcd​ ( caroline crane ) !

THEY    SAY    ADDICTION    IS    HEREDITARY.    dangerous habits are scattered through his lineage, hard drugs and savings gambled away, yet all he’s inherited is his mother’s craving for nicotine. so alcohol does not faze him as it should. stefan knows HIS LIMIT, and though he doesn’t always stop at that fine line    –    day-drinking has never been on his schedule, and so he deems himself in the clear. a head throbs now, his mouth dry and limbs aching. there’s a WISH to be alone after a night out. a request made impossible to achieve when nights out serve one, SINGULAR purpose. he stirs, and she speaks. great.    ‘    it’s eight thirty, i have a hangover…    ,    he never could leave an evening of tequila unscathed, she ought to know.    ‘    and you’re annoying.    ,    nicer ways to tell somebody to zip it existed, he was sure, only such NICETIES escaped him when temples ached.

she would’ve thought she’d learn the first time, but apparently she hadn’t. she finds herself in stefan’s bed ( again ), and head is buzzing with the aftereffects of wine, jack, more alcohol, and then stefan. it’d been a busy twenty-four hours for her. expression sours at his words, and she sighs, shaking her head. “ this was a mistake. ” she rubs sleep-heavy eyes, then gazes around the room in hopes of finding her dress. if he’s going to be rude immediately, she might as well leave ━ she’s being self-sabotaging enough as it is. she’s already leaning towards fucking things up with jack, just by being here. “ i was just going to offer you coffee. ” words are clipped, and she stands, blankets falling from naked body to the bed. 

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𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫.

          there’s an eager glint twinkling in his gaze, to devour gently, or be devoured, see it’s all one in the same when it comes to touching. he can barely fathom how much he likes her, can’t quite tell if it’s driven by lust or loneliness but it feels innocent. equipped with the very same nervousness he’d approached the high school sweetheart and everyone thereafter, with a gaping openness that undoubtedly makes him prey for anyone looking for someone to sink their teeth into. so it only makes sense that a cliché sprints to the forefront of his mind, that she’s different, that she couldn’t possibly hurt him. ‘    what’s the chance of that ?   ’ he utters, the words muffled against the crook in his smile, before his lips trail down her neck. ‘   the two luckiest people together in one room.    ’he peers up in tandem with the hooked up against the hem of her shirt. the wariness of moving too fast has always eluded him. all-in, all the time, the allure of mystery a foreign concept when his cards have been on the table from the very start. perhaps that’s why they get bored, and perhaps that’s why they leave but he’s a magnet to the lines that compose her, the soft curves and the jut of her collarbone, and he wants it all of it. ‘   can i ?   ’. 

gentle touch makes blonde feel as though she’s melting, putty in his hands. moldable, buildable, and for once ━ she feels loveable. as though whatever the next step for them is, she’s deserving of it. his attention, his feelings ━ him. “ one might say it’s fate, ” she says softly, head tilting back as lips graze down her neck. it sends a thrill down her spine, and absently her fingers run through his hair. smile slides across lips as he raises his head slightly, a question posed on his face before he gets the chance to ask it. his fingers are wrapped around the hem of her shirt, and her own hands reach down, lifting it herself over her head. “ yes, ” she says, voice barely a whisper. hands now free, she strokes his face gently, cupping cheeks between them. there’s a faint anxiety building in her stomach, mixing with the happiness and warmth, and for a moment she wonders if she should stop him ━ if she should shut it all down before she gets hurt. but the blooming excitement tells her it’s okay to take a risk, that jack’s different. that she deserves this happiness, and ought to fight for it. so she lets her hand trail down his chest, fingers tugging lightly at the fabric of his shirt, a silent demand for even ground.

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“Any specific memories or moments that play over and over?” || 15x19 ↬ 16x05

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𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐳.

fabric pools at the foot of his bed, ridding odette of a single layer––naked both in theory and practice––and she disallows the space between them to prevail. there’s no reason to RUSH, aside from her fear of a mistake being made; it was, wasn’t it. even as kisses ignited already temperate skin, and hands searched with desperation for a chiseled jawline––it was a mistake. a  big  one at that. one that she’d without fail attempt to run from, as she had all the others, but slip-ups weren’t supposed to feel like a long time coming, and more pressing, they weren’t supposed to make you crave more.    A MISTAKE,    yet she slows down: chest against chest, lips all the same. the thumping of her heart, violent and overpowering, making itself known now. because warmth spreads through her frame, from cheeks to the pit of her stomach––collecting beneath olive skin, simmering as a kiss comes to its conclusion. though she isn’t retrieving the distance once had, rather she hovers: eyes shut and breathing steadied, before a touch travels down a body she knows––all too well––even if the context was newfound. she’d regret this. ALL OF IT. not just the first move, or the second, but every single step taken since. from the kiss reciprocated to the clothing removed. EVERYTHING; including the way her finger hooks beneath fabric, all whilst a free hand guides his mouth back to hers. 

hearts, beating at same sped-up pace, are close to one another as chests touch. there’s a certain feeling of home that’s bubbling within him ━ a sense that he’s coming home, or maybe he never left. situation feels uneven, however, as he’s suddenly very aware of her nudity and the fact he’s still in his boxers ━ that is, until he feels hand tug at the fabric at his waist. her other hand guides his lips to hers, and kiss grows aggressive ━ hungry. he knows things are moving fast, too fast for her to probably process, but he’s going to embrace this, relish in it while he still can. before she looks at him with a mixture of regret and something else, the expression he can never quite place. hand caresses her skin, sliding up her skin until it rests against her bare back, chests pressed close. he eases her down onto the bed, until he can feel the fabric of his sheets against his hand. with one hand propping him up, he kisses her deeply, tenderly, and yet hungrily as well. he wasn’t aware he had this much passion built up inside. ( fade to black. )

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𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐳.

while odette’s way of thinking is clinical––clean, concise––her body acts on its own accord. messy, messy, messy. thoughts are rational, and she could vocalize them if necessary (gun aimed at her head), but the way she’s drawn to kai is not. she decides she shouldn’t, she says it too, yet this is where she winds up: in his arms, PINNED DOWN––physically, metaphorically, cares put on the back-burner, and on a blind search for the door left open, fingers grasping at the frame until she manages to push it close. she’d never been one to go the extra mile, still she commits fully––if this was to happen, then she needed it in its completion. HIM. and all that separates them now––aside from feelings not dealt with (though, suppose they were now)––are two layers, thin and insignificant. GO BIG OR GO HOME, RUIZ. her embrace cuts itself short then, only for a touch to wander to a territory more familiar. fingertips brushing her collarbones, fabric felt and fabric moved––and shoulders peek through, again, as black silk slides down. 

he hears the door close, and there a certain hunger that overtakes him. kisses deepen, and hand reaches, fumbling with the silk tie that holds the robe on her. the hand tangled in her hair comes undone, moving instead to cup her cheek with a gentleness he hadn’t expected in this moment. for a brief second he pulls back and looks at her, really looks at her, before lips reunite and he’s lost all over again. though he’d dreamed of this moment, and moments like it, before, kai never expected to follow through ━ knowing full well he’d rather just be a part of her life than anything more than a friend. but the reality of it is crashing in waves over him, and he weighs it in his mind as fingers trail along her skin. he’s all in ━ always has been. always with her, whether it was in the way he wished for or not. mouth trails from hers down her neck, teeth grazing skin before returning to her lips. the room is warm, stifling even, and yet a chill runs over his skin, a combination of thrill and pleasure and anxiety. what if he fucks up? he doesn’t want to think of that. he tries desperately to redirect his attention to her, and it’s easy. his room is small, and so it’s also easy to back up, calves hitting his bed, and pull her into it.

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crash magazine / by torbjørn rødland

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𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐳.

do you want this?     of course i do.     only odette doesn’t need it like he does. him––always, but the circumstances could present as whatever and she’d manage. desire doesn’t exist in this way of thinking, though maybe it should. instead of practicality and ease, odette should dive into emotions buried and follow them down the rabbit hole.    WHAT DOES SHE WANT     –     beyond food and shelter? beyond him there, in whichever way he chooses to be?     a shot of bourbon, another cigarette, an answer to his question.     but all she receives is the silence that follows, a quiet that surrounds them––expectant––spiking her heart rate as a result.    or was that him too?     DO YOU WANT THIS, DO YOU WANT THIS, DO YOU WANT THIS    …    she can’t say it aloud, the conversation snaking around her throat and gripping tight, tight, tight. tension between them suffocates her as well––a thick fog of anticipation and disbelief, paralyzing: keeping her waiting, even when it is her turn to play. the outcome of forever is decided by what she says next, what she chooses to do. walking away presents itself as an option, though it’d act the punctuation to a sentence she wishes to be a run-on. THAT’S WHAT SHE WANTED––a comma, an oxford or otherwise––keeping them in limbo. him there and her too.    ‘    stop talking.    ,    voice hushed, and arms untangle. they wrap themselves around his neck instead, silk and skin meeting. her lips silence him effectively, words acting a simple request in a situation of demands. he feels warm against a torso pricked by goosebumps, but mostly he feels like coming home.

hushed command is uttered, and so he shuts up. arms tangle around his neck, a snake drawing him close to inevitability. an arm wraps around her waist, pulling her in to him, and he feels her settle against his chest. they fit together with ease, her head falling just below his chin. fingers tangle in her hair, and he’s forgotten the exhaustion that had settled in his bones. all he can think about is her, and the fact that this is happening. he backs into the room and shifts, pushing her back against the wall for easier access. silk brushes against bare chest and he feels the faintest shiver travel down his spine. there’s something so natural about kissing her, as if he’d been kissing her all his life ━ as if it were meant to be, as if they were meant to be ( corny, he knows. )  there’s so much he wants and needs and he knows she doesn’t want words so he moves to ACTION, pulling her closer to him and falling deeper, deeper into this moment and the uncertainty that’s hung between them. desire for shower has long passed from his mind, distracted oh so easily by the woman he’s entangled with.

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“See ya, Raisin. If he asks, I left for school. You are my witness.”

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I hope he gets to be a dad someday. Or: That time my ovaries went ‘splodey.

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𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫.

       he doesn’t know what heavens like, but this might be pretty close. the constant, unremitting feeling that somewhere in the clouds, there’s a clock counting down his euphoria, and it’s terrifying - the thought that this could be fleeting, the thought that he’s dipped his toes into something holy, but it’s all on borrowed time. nothing he does is divine, human to his very core, the goriness, the messiness in the way he chases pleasure, the way his hands roam callously so no part of her is left untouched. by touch alone, so that if something goes horribly wrong, his hands will keep the memory of her. it’s just that he’s very scared, and a bit of a coward really, thinks that if he takes his time to savour he’ll fall too deep, and he makes a silent plea to god or whatever higher being out there that he’s not already in love. because he opens his eyes, pupils blown under the soft tinge of yellow light that filters through the shade, and sees a future in montages of sunsets and fucking picnics and sex and never feeling lonely. it had been lost on him how not to feel lonely, and now he’ll fiercely cling. perhaps that’s why his fingertips press down against pale flesh, hesitation thrown to the wind. why his teeth graze against rose-flushed lips, and his head cants to the side when the pad of her thumb swipes across the curve of his cheekbone. susceptive as though he’d never been touched, and it’s been a while, more than a while. joshua is a fucking idiot, but ‘   i’m the luckiest guy on the earth.’ is what he utters instead.

she’s lost, drowning in him and his touch. hands roam freely, a gentle caress against her skin. she doesn’t want to move, wants to stay here permanently ━ wants to never leave. she wouldn’t say she’s one to jump into things ━ instead she’s careful, planning things ahead of time. but with jack, she wants to just jump ━ fall head over heels into him and whatever would come next. caroline looks at him, and she feels a sense of longing building in her bones. and when his cheek nuzzles her hand, she feels the warmth bloom, and a smile breaks out on pink lips. “ i’d argue i’m the luckiest girl, then. ” words are soft, and she rubs his cheek again, almost as an after thought. she leans forward, lips meeting his for another quick kiss before she pulls back, gazing at him. looking at jack, and being around him, makes caroline forget that she hasn’t known him all her life, and that he hasn’t been a solid constant. because honestly, being near him now, it seems like that’s the only logical answer to all her questions. “ the luckiest person, even. ”

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Mayans MC + Gato/Mis (1.06)

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𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐳.

WISH YOU HADN’T     …     the phrase is a threat at the tip of her tongue––the callous side of odette held back by the scruff its neck––and she looks at him. really looks. gazing is reserved for moments where he can’t take notice: deep in his slumber, or caught up in what’s on television, situations which deprive her of the attention he’s so often giving her. but there’s nothing to distract him now, meaning she’s receiving all of it. his eyes are light, light blue––burrowing into hers, gloom yet intense––and she looks at him. she’d never been blind, and never was she dumb. ODETTE KNEW, as she always had. there’s a severity to the situation, though, that kai fails to take into account. I’VE WANTED TO FOR A WHILE. it’s not just a want. a want is simple––primal, even––easy to explain and justify if necessary. this is an expectation, and there’s a light to him that doesn’t register it. not like she does. because with odette, all there is––is DARK. all consuming, bottomless, pitch-black. for her, what they have is a solitude. for her, what they could have is a consequence. the what now is pressing deep into her chest, like a scalpel grating against bone, pushing further and further until it pops her lung. but as she finds all that by the sight of his face, she also finds COMFORT. the wound in her chest is exposed, as she herself feels standing there, but his presence acts the numbing of morphine––even as he is the cause.    ‘    you shouldn’t have.    ,    but he did. he did and because of that, everything that comes after is a ramification. every moment, every word, it’ll all build up until it accumulates to something, and the ambiguity of that something scared her. odette wished she knew how to express this fear because when words fail, she resorts to actions. CARELESS ACTIONS. weight is put on her toes, lithe––as if a history of ballet hid behind the curtain, the grace uncharacteristic to the brunt force that was odette ruiz, and she kisses him. beyond reason, beyond explanation. arms, still crossed tight, press against his body as she does, and they stay there when she fails to pull away.    bad, bad idea…

you shouldn’t have. he knows that, knows that he’s made a decision that will forever change their dynamic, their relationship. but the words still sting, and he swallows bitter words, knowing she doesn’t deserve them. he’s ready to babble, to give excuses and apologize ( even though he’s not actually sorry ), but she kisses HIM and he’s so stunned by the action that he freezes. he knows her, too well, to assume she really wants to kiss him back ━ knows her well enough to worriedly wonder if she’s just doing this to please him, to give him what he wants. but she doesn’t pull away, and so neither does he, hand instead moving slowly to her face and cupping soft cheek. her arms are pressed against his chest, a solid barrier from them getting any closer to one another. so he relishes in this moment, this brief chance he has to connect with her on a new level. but it goes on for longer than he expects, and longer than he’s sure she wants it to, so he pulls back and gives her a long look. “ do you want this ? ” he asks, softly, though he’s afraid of the answer. knows that she might just hightail it out of the apartment in her robe and come back from emma’s drunk in a few hours. but he asks anyways, more out of a courtesy to her than anything else. eyes hold her, and intense gaze between light blue and dark brown.

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The Politician | 1x01 “Pilot”

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𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫.

         a moment of panic shoots through him like a thunderbolt, however sure he is, when it comes to this and that and people and something like love he can never be sure enough. until she pulls him back in, and he’s whisked away into desire that’s anything but a daydream. it’s real, and present and his weight shifts between her, knees knocked against by roaming hands with the small request to make space, so he can be closer, so he can selfishly feel a little more whole. through kisses that consume him like wildfire, the desperation falls away like burnt remnants, a want left in place that he’s always conscious of quelling. ‘   is this okay ?   ’ he asks through caught breaths, and it’s so very hard to practice restraint when she’s looking at him like that, with the same want. and in a bout of romance-driven, infatuation-bound reverie, he feels like he’s felt like this about her for his entire life. but he stops anyways, tries to find solace in basking in the melodies of uneven breath. 

he’s close, so close, and warm and inviting and for a moment she feels as if they’re the only two people on earth, the only ones who matter. there’s something alluring about the clumsiness, about the way their mouths and limbs bump up against one another, and she finds herself wishing it could always be like this ━ the two of them, on this couch with shy smiles and hungry kisses. and there’s a warmth inside her, one she hasn’t felt since she’d first started dating joshua years ago, that she wants to cling to and never let go of. because she can look at jack and she trusts him, wholeheartedly. he starts to pull away, breathy words catching against her lips, and fingers travel along his jaw, wanting desperately to pull him back in. words are lost on her, and so she nods, a graceful movement. she doesn’t want him to pull away further and yet he does, and so she relinquishes her desires to a dull hum in her heart, listening to the rhythm of uneven breaths and beating chest. her hand still cups his face, and thumb idly rubs cheek as she gazes at him, an ocean of thoughts rolling through her mind. though she stays silent, she knows she’s felt this way about him since they’d met, and silently she finds herself wishing they’d met sooner, that she’d left joshua faster ━ though she can’t help but wonder if the moment would’ve been the same, if she had. so she decides she’s grateful for this moment right now, with the clumsiness and uncertainty and the gentleness of it all.

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