honey, there is no right way

blanche rogers. twenty five.

[blancherogers-blog]

Vera had called him RoboRyder, and that was accurate, to a point. Ryder was pretty unflappable. He only laughed when he wanted to, and this was one of those times. “If it’s Baskin Robbins, you’re doubling the order.” He shook his head with disdain. “Baskin Robbins. Really.” He leaned back a little, stretching . “As the other person who spends the most time sitting on their butt for a job, I worry about this laziness. Is it contagious?”

“You are so picky,” she huffed, attempting to seem like it didn’t bother her, but the corner of her lip kept twitching, giving her away. “Whatever you want,” Blanche finished, “any kind of food you desire. It has to be all at once, though. No cashing in on days after.” She was satisfied she at least had put that much in. Ryder had to eat himself full before he got away with too much, she assumed. “You didn’t get your shot for it? Oh, no. Laziness has already taken over.”

[blancherogers-blog]

“Fast metabolism.” Audrina supplied absentmindedly as she started to make a coffee carefully. “I’m sorry, I have a slight caffeine addiction and I was working so you know. Need to start alert and all that. But if you need it, we do have decaf somewhere, I think. I ordered it with the groceries when we moved in.”

“Maybe,” Blanche replied, distracted, as she searched for her favorite mug. It looked like an owl and she was fond of it, despite Charlie dropping it and breaking the handle. It had been difficult to forgive her, but they had managed through. “Dear god, decaf? You don’t know me well enough yet, Audrina. Rule number one about Blanche: never offer her decaf.”

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“Maybe you should take our advice,” Charlie responded, raising a tentative eyebrow as she stepped out of her jeans and let them drop to the floor. “Against you? Please, you’re the golden girl of the group. I’m pretty sure you could even get Phillip to crack a smile.” It was true; it was extremely difficult to dislike Blanche, or even be unhappy in her presence. “You’re fairly attractive. I’m sure you could get a job working the pole.” She joked, giving Blanche a seductive wink before stepping into the shower.

“A smile and then some,” she muttered, quietly as possible, before chortling as a form of laughter, louder than the shower. If anything needed work, keeping secrets was on top of her list. Particularly her own. With Charlie, that was it, though-- there were no secrets with her. She didn’t need to have that skill. And spilling her words while her best friend was naked and in the shower was her best bet at getting away safely. “Oh, so you take me for a classless stripper. Well. I thought we were aware I would only strip for you. It’s like this friendship means nothing anymore.”

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Phillip couldn’t help but grow tense as her frame was pressed closer. He hadn’t expected her to kiss him back. He moved instinctively at first, willingly taking her warm lips into his. His mind, lost, could not relish the chance to process the occurence. Even when he realized the nature of what they were doing, he didn’t want to bring the kiss to a halt. His mouth did not leave hers for too long; the ex soldier unable to fathom the action. He felt breathless and lifeless, mind void of senseless destruction for the rarest of occasions. His lips had molded against her own in a way that was foreign, as anytime in the past his lips pressed against another’s happened to be in the midst of a drunken fervor. He’d never been able to touch another willingly. Phillip let her touch remain, his own hand still tangled within silky locks. Her entire being was toxic.

His fingers were brushing the beginnings of velvet skin at her waistline before the waiter most conveniently arrived. The appearance was unwelcome, and in response to the presence came a vicious wolf’s gaze. The kiss shattered. Phillip’s grip upon Blanche’s hip became bruising, unbeknownst to him, as he sent his prey scurrying with nothing but a look. “We can’t continue this. Not here.”

She was memorizing. The way his hair felt, dry but smooth at the same time. The way he smelled when she was this close to him, a faint scent of leftover alcohol and pencil shavings, probably from working too much. He barely took anytime to breathe, it was contagious. It was competitive, almost, how nearly frantic is was to not separate. Blanche had only known a few men and none of them had felt like this. This was longing in its rarest form. It wasn’t yearning for her, she knew. It was the craving to feel, or in Phillip’s case, to not feel anything but her, for only a moment. She wish she had a notepad to take notes.

His deep voice nearly shocked her. He usually had such a low, calm unsuspecting tone. This was bone chilling nearly growling from the back of his throat. She didn’t notice the waiter until she started to pull back and spotted a retreating figure. Absentmindedly, she laughed and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. Almost felt safe. “Yes, sir,” she purred, if Blanche could actually pull off a seductive way of purring. She couldn’t and Phillip would pick it out in a second’s notice. Slowly, dragging it out and moving her body when not necessary, she moved off his lap and out of the bench, holding her hand out to him. “We’ll be hungry afterwards, we’ll finish my free dinner then.”

[blancherogers-blog]

Blanche Rogers Aesthetic [1/?]

credit: fallon

[capmxrvel]

[blancherogers-blog]

The Sisters

“Don’t curse at me. Ladies don’t curse at other ladies. You’re still a lady, aren’t you?”

[blancherogers-blog]

“No, it would be out of character if you did.” Phillip replied, silently still arguing his case over the apology. He waited for the next pointless phrase to leave her lips, but all he caught was movement. His brows furrowed as she leaned forward. “Rogers what are you–” doing. He should have been livid. Should have had narrowed eyes and a sharp-tongued remark. He remained stoic. His thumb traced the outline of her chin as he leaned further in.

The kiss obliterated him. As if they’d done this many times before, his lips caressed hers, though there was no serenity within the action. It was rough, maybe even reckless and verging on war before the fallout. He would have tipped the table if it weren’t for the bolted-down booth. Wrapping an arm beneath Blanche’s thighs he gave her a quick pull from where she’d leant forward, only to bring her onto his lap. Phillip knew he was in the wrong; knew that everything he was doing was wrong. Somewhere within the depths of his mind a phantom voice was summoning a banshee, but not loud enough to bring a fatal end. Phillip tried not to focus on the fact that his hands raked through her hair, that this kiss- to him- tasted like a sin worth sinning. Because this person was not him, and this person just wanted to leave the world and its antics behind. He let a hand drop to Blanche’s waist, fingertips grazing the fabric of her shirt. He kissed her as if it would heal him; somehow transform him into the person before the ruin.

An innocent gesture was all she had offered. He had taken it and twisted it beyond what it originated from. Blanche made the tiniest of sounds, a quiet murmur that would easily fade into the background anywhere else. In her ears, it felt louder, a powerful noise. He tasted like anything but pain. His lips were sturdy against hers, an unfailing kiss that touched her to her core. It was the last motion she would’ve expected from him; she should learn eventually.

Instead of questioning like he had done, instead of pondering on the exact event that was happening, Blanche moved into the kiss, moving her hands against him, one caressing his jaw, and the other resting on his shoulder. It was the first time she had been allowed to connect with his body, physically. He was built well and that was all fine, but she reveled in the permission. Whether he was thinking clearly or not, it was him who had pulled her onto his lap and she fitted well, enough to raise goosebumps along her skin. She didn’t break away or try to speak, fearful of breaking the attachment. Instead she pressed her body closer to him, but didn’t dare match his intensity; she kept her kisses soft and sweet, but still permitted him to hold and caress her as roughly as he wanted. It was the type of person he was and Blanche had wanted nothing but to learn how he worked, she didn’t dare want to try and change anything.

[blancherogers-blog]

How could it not? The word ‘stay’ was immobile for such a conquest. “I’ve lived a long time without someone’s care,” he gritted out, “and I sure as hell don’t need it now.” And finally, he’d done it. Blanche Rogers was quiet. A fact and action that made him oddly uncomfortable. When her mouth parted he had to strain to listen– something he’d never have done before. His eyes may have drifted off into what remained of his sane nothingness, but he was listening. Phillip retrained dark-lit orbs upon her. No smile, just a woman reborn in the worst of ways. “I don’t want your apology,” he exhaled through a heavy sigh, “there’s nothing to apologize for. And you’re a liar– we both know you’ll make me do this a thousand times over. Now smile, will you? I’m the only one who can pull off that damper look.”

Of all things that could be said for Blanche Rogers, she was no actress. The second he called her a liar the shine in her eyes returned and she sat up straight, attempting to match his height-- failing, to no one’s surprise. “Well, I’m not taking my apology back,” she grumbled, “it’s yours now. Take care of it.” There was no grudge left lingering in his stare and she was relieved, glad to not have chased him off yet. Blanche felt a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach and despite his constant berating, she only felt her fondness for him grow. It was anyone’s guess how long it would take for him to go mad in her company. Like many of the decisions she made, she didn’t think about her next one; she leaned over and kissed his cheek, a simple chaste touch, sure he had never known anything like it.

[blancherogers-blog]

“Mine wasn’t.” Even Blanche’s sarcasm was one dialect he didn’t trust. He was the gun in Russian roulette , and she the bullet to his brain. Unlike that wicked game, however, the bullet didn’t leave a dark crimson outcome. Here she was now; pulling the trigger. Phillip folded his arms across his chest and leaned into the seat’s backing. He could only wait, jaw clenched and stoic, gaze unwavering. “I’m a fortress,” he corrected as she took her breath, “and you know little about me. And it will stay that way.” The devil would avoid a gift like him. “And when I’m dead– with only you and Julian possibly at the funeral– it will still stay that way.” As it should be. No one to bury him by. No, just incinerate him, let his ashes fall like snow. “You’ve really made me regret this outing. But we both knew that would happen, didn’t we? Fucking hell, Rogers, just let me loathe myself for eternity. Quit trying to make me out to be something so god damn special.”

She scoffed, going to mirror his position of crossed arms before she realized what she was doing-- and throwing her arms to the side, taking a moment to collect herself. He was doing what he does best: pushing people away. He was winning. Blanche had never been so thrown off her course and it agitated her. Unlike most, who would let the frustration get to them, she turned it around and let it lull her into being calm. “I hope it doesn’t stay that way,” she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, the sounds of the food being made in the back louder than her. Blanche wanted him to have to try and listen. “I don’t think you’re special. I think you’re a normal guy who deserves to have someone care for him. That’s all.” Staring at the table, picking at specs that didn’t exist, Blanche let the words stand between them on their own. Anger wouldn’t reach to him. He knew that emotion too well. The woman looked back up at him, without a smile, so unlike her, but still gentle in her expression. “Thank you for dinner, Phillip. I’m sorry I made you sorry to come out with me. I won’t make you do it again.” Lie. Total lie.

[blancherogers-blog]

I’m sure you do. Phillip only spared a nod toward the hostess before obtaining a menu and progressing past the podium. He was, after all, a regular. Not a regular with a date that this no doubt appeared to be. Taking his usual seat within the corner booth he set the single laminated menu opposite of him upon the table. A regular didn’t need to procrastinate with a menu. “There won’t be a next time.” The reply came swift and firm, tone void of any care or open for challenge. “You don’t want to be like me,” the man turned serious, brows furrowed and voice slightly grave, “being like me is not something I’d wish for you.” Nothing to be proud of, just damaged bones and frozen veins. “You don’t want my scars.” Physical and mental, tormented and lattice. “Now hurry up and pick something so we can order when the waiter arrives.”

The volume change in his voice didn’t frighten her, like he obviously wanted it to. He wanted his words to change her mind, change her opinion of him. Blanche assumed he knew it would be a hell of a lot tougher than that. “It was sarcasm,” she clarified first, keeping eye contact with the man, not giving him the satisfaction of dropping her eyes. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who wishes in the first place. And for the record,” Blanche turned her body all the way towards him, a rant revving up in her chest, “being like you: not so bad. I know, I know, you think you’re the worst and devil’s gift to mankind-- but you’re not. You may be a massive ass at times, but you have everyone’s respect. You know how to get a job done and if you think you’re fooling anybody by pretending not to care about anything, you’re more of an idiot than you think you are. No one is a stone wall, buddy. Not even a precious thing like you.” She gave him one last hard look, daring him to challenge her words (he would), before turning her body back forward and shrugging, trying not to seem as affected as she was. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

[blancherogers-blog]

The route had been mapped the day of their arrival, and thus had been firmly imprinted and filed within his head. Rush hour had also been a simple fix as the sleek vehicle could maneuver with ease throughout a road’s standstill pileup. Once his helm was relinquished Phillip tucked it beneath his left arm. “Nothing of interest to you.” But everything would interest her; a situation he tempted to avoid at all costs. He replied to following statements with a shake of his head and steady gate toward the restaurant’s entryway, where he promptly opened the door and ushered Blanche inside. “Your compliments earned you a free dinner.” You would’ve paid regardless, his conscience remarked. “Still not certain why you’d want to spend your time with me. Bad call on your part, naturally.”

“I beg to differ,” she sung, though he already knew she would. Nearly everything about him piqued some sort of curiosity from her; from an eyebrow raise, to a frown, to a snarky comment, to a leak of personal background information he’d let go of every now and again. The dim lights in the Thai place adjusted easy to her eyes, giving her time to aim a planted smirk at Phillip. “Is that what got me a free dinner, then? I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Blanche already was making plans for a next time, further confirming his wondering. Why did there always have to be a reason, a why, for him? Couldn’t he live and let live? “Because you’re the baddest of the bad and I want to become like you,” she answered as if there was a question mark at the end of his statement, before huffing and rolling her eyes. “Because I like you, Phillip,” she said seriously this time as he choose a booth, Blanche sliding in next to him, “and don’t ask me why I like you either.” He wouldn’t want to ask her. She might actually tell him.

[blancherogers-blog]

Phillip scoffed. Of course they were different. There was no one in the entire universe he’d ever relate to. He caught her interest regarding his bike in silence. At least it meant no one had been snooping around his things, as she clearly hadn’t come in contact with it before this swell event. He retrieved the final helmet with an outstretched arm, leaning back from the table once the identical item was within his grasp. “It isn’t going to fit perfectly,” he relayed while passing it back over his shoulder, “but at least your gorgeous face won’t get marred if you hit the pavement, right?” He shut the visor, smirk hidden by its tint and lost to the outside world. Arms encased him. The key paused within the ignition, and Phillip momentarily stiffened. The contact wasn’t welcome to him, but it was necessary for something like this. He breathed once. Twice. Then turned the key and turned the throttle.

He didn’t care about her dreams. He didn’t care about her feelings. He did, however, think her face was gorgeous. Blanche had to catch herself from not responding with an overwhelming amount of shock. She stayed cool -- amazingly, first time for everything -- and let him drive, the helmet not quite fitting but doing its job. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the Thai place, the scent making Blanche happier than she’d been all day. She quickly let her arms fall, having noticed the momentarily freeze in his body back at the garage, and took the helmet off, letting her hair fly out everywhere. “God,” she began, staring at the bike, “I was already astonished at the bike, but you can drive too. What other secrets you got hidden?” She waggled her eyebrows at him to assure him she was teasing; never knew when she was going to hit a sensitive spot. She really should be more careful with the guy. But when he tried so hard not to impress her, he did the exact opposite. Naturally, the blame was on him.

[blancherogers-blog]

“Don’t make me change my mind, Rogers.” Or regret this entire ordeal. Which, to no surprise, he was already beginning to do. “Your world is clearly much different in comparison to mine. Come on.” Leading them toward the garage Phillip slipped a key from his pockets confines and held the door for the woman following in his step. His vehicle resided at the garage’s edge, hidden beneath a cover as dark as the obsidian bike beneath it. The tarp was folded and stowed away upon its removal, an action followed by the ex soldier swinging a leg over the seat and dawning a helmet that rested upon the handle’s ledge. Sliding up its visor he turned his attention back to Blanche. “I have a spare if you need one.”

“Maybe we’re different, in every single way,” she drawled, her accent slightly escaping as she walked alongside him, barely noticing when he held the door our for her, “but our worlds are currently the same.” And if it wasn’t obvious Phillip was at the top, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. Blanche watched with interested eyed as the tarp was removed. She nearly let out a purr at the sight, but held back and only let a small ‘mm’ sound escape. She would be embarrassed, but Blanche had never hidden her admiration for a gorgeous vehicle and everyone on the team knew that about her. He should take it as a compliment. “I probably have a helmet in one of my bags, but that’s upstairs. I’ll take the extra.” The brunette all but hopped onto the bike behind him, thinking nothing of resting her arms on his waist, ready to wrap around him when he started the bike. “Safety first,” she grinned behind his shoulder, always hoping her next smile would be contagious to him.

[blancherogers-blog]

Charlie hardly batted an eyelid at the appearance of her best friend, who had seen her scantily clad more often than not, and who had decided to take up residence on the bathroom counter. “You’re full of jokes this morning, aren’t you?” She quipped, shaking her head as she began to unbutton her jeans. “Maybe if this whole being a criminal thing doesn’t work out, you can become a comedian – I’d suggest touching up on your humor though, B.”

She scrunched her lips to the side, narrowing her eyes. “You’re the second person who told me I need to work on my jokes. I’m starting to think you’re all against me.” Even as she said it, they both knew it wasn’t true. If the team had turned against her, Charlie would always be on her side. And Blanche would be on hers. It was how it was. “If the criminal thing hasn’t worked out by now, I doubt I’ll get far anywhere else.”

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“You seem to have a real hunger when you’re sleep.” Audrina observed before smiling slightly. It wasn’t like she could comment on weird and wacky stuff that people do. Audrina had already been half way to the door when Blanche rejected her offer. “Oh, okay then. Coffee?”

“When I sleep, when I’m awake. I think I have some kind of disease that keeps my from gaining weight. I’ve never bothered to look into it.” Which, in Blanche’s words, was true. Her mother had looked into it and had never found anything, but not before at least a dozen of doctor visits. “That I will agree to. Coffee sounds delicious for the middle of the night.”

[blancherogers-blog]

“Do a few Tours overseas and get back to me.” He grumbled his reply, soon moving off to roll his eyes upon her mention of his pun. Why she pursued to occupy his presence he’d never come to understand. “Not asking me on a date are you, Rogers? I do nothing of the sort.” And certainly not with a teammate he saw on the daily. No, he preferred strangers partaking in one night stands. “Fine, but we’re taking my motorcycle. It’s been in the garage for far too long. What kind of food do you like? Your answer better be Thai because that’s where we’re going.”

The day she saw Phillip going on a date would probably be the day she said no to a perfectly good brownie. It wouldn’t happen. It was hard to picture what the man would look like taking a girl out, opening the doors for her, pulling out the chair for her to sit in. What little picture she could imagine, she couldn’t say she hated, but it seemed next to impossible. And so she thought nothing of them taking his bike and going out to eat, where he deemed acceptable. “I love Thai. I love food. And I’m deserving of the motorcycle? I’m really moving up in the world.” She tried to hide her excitement, but Eliza and her had both peeked at his bike once or twice. It was a pretty thing and even though Blanche preferred cars over bikes any day, nothing could help the obvious grin that spread across her face.

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Phillip scoffed. “I’ve killed plenty of people, Rogers, hearing of your father’s death couldn’t possibly affect that.” Nor change the way he felt about the possibility of a family, as his upbringing was just another cause to how he’d never wished to have one. Less disappointment to muster. “Yet you won’t getaway from me. If I let you, where to?”

“You’re a real badass,” she rolled her eyes, a curl of a smile returning to her. Not at the thought of him killing people, of course. She recognized that many people on the team had done many terrible things. She accepted that. It astounded her, still, how easily Phillip was able to brush off these sort of things. She didn’t think she would ever understand him. But damn it, she wanted to. Didn’t know why, didn’t think to wonder why. “God, you know how to get me with a good pun. Anywhere you want. We could scout out routes for when we leave, safest and shortest ways and all that.” If he liked worked, she would work.