𝒅𝒚𝒍𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍

[dylancarmichaels]

ofesmes·:

“ you certainly didn’t have to , ” esme smiled , leaning in , slightly , to the familiar feeling of a kiss pressed to her temple . even as he set the box down , even as he carefully opens it , her gaze is settled on dylan against the backdrop of a new home , and she’s so sure . the colors of the walls and whimsical design of everything else could reflect her personality all she wanted , but there were aspects of dylan throughout as well found in refurbished bookshelves and a lack of extravagance in exchange for a cozy warmth . still , it wasn’t quite home . not yet . and she feared it wouldn’t be if there was too much distance between her apartment and victoria , if dylan wasn’t around as much as he had been over the past year . a glimpse of yellow peeks through white packing peanuts and steals her attention , breath hitching in the back of her throat as he pulls a yellow vase from the box . “ dylan –– … ” it’s whispered as she reaches out to take the vase in her hands , carefully running her fingertips along the crack down the middle , “ this was your mom’s . the one you told me about … the one she liked better broken . ” she glanced up at him , heart lurching at the sight of his smile , and carefully set it on top of the counter . reaching out , she gathered the fabric of his shirt in one hand and pulled him closer , tilting her chin to leave a lingering kiss on his lips . “ i love it , ” she said softly , still leaned in , “ thank you . ” she stepped back , looking back to the vase , “ are you sure ? this is … pretty precious cargo . ”

quietness is dipped in a proud, still shy smile. it’s lingered with pursed lips, and kindness that settled the dust behind brown eyes. she’d stirred him awake, and suddenly--- the blacks and greys turned to color again. suddenly, blue became his favorite color once more, in the very same shade as her stormy eyes. the carmichael house was toxic, and even with all the staff, he felt isolated in that big empty house. rarely was he home these days, because where esme macmillan went, dylan carmichael had followed. he would watch her skate, during the evenings, and he’d take her out for warm chocolate and peppermint when she finished late. dylan had been a shell of himself, with no intention on living past his twenty-third birthday. and yet, here they were--- and he’d be turning twenty-four this year. if it wasn’t for her, he may not have woken up this morning. if it wasn’t for her, he may not have known what it was like to feel anything again. she was a saving grace, she was his lighthouse. “mhm..” it’s still quiet, and his smile is just as timid, staring at the glossy yellow that had been kept dusty from years in an attic so that his father didn’t have to look at that thing. “she would have wanted it here-” soft, but undeniable. “instead of locked away in an attic, i think.” 

[dylancarmichaels]

his gaze has glanced around the soft pastels of an apartment, with hues of ice blue and shades of whites.  it was exactly how he imagined it would look, exactly perfect for esme. there were curtains that touched the floor, and sunshine that made the inside illuminate with light. he’ll step over the threshold, and there’s a box in his hands-- he can tell she’s curious, because he hadn’t given her any heads up that he’d bring anything. “i got you something.” stated lowly, but happily simple. he’ll lead them both into the kitchen, kissing her temple and carefully setting down the gift and a perked brow. since he met esme, he knew what it was finally like to be excited again. he knew what it was like to feel joy, to touch it deep down in his chest with the same kind of sunlight that brightened through parted curtains. and he’ll be careful when he opens the box, from each side as styrofoam peanuts escaped onto the table, and down onto the floor. a smile finally reaches the warmth of brown eyes, dusted with dark curls as his gaze flickered from the box to her. “it’s..” words trailed off, and he reaches down, pulling out a yellow vase. old, pristine, and hand-made, with a crack that dipped down the middle.  “for your place. i want you to have it.” 

[dylancarmichaels]

a smaller rink , privately owned and operated , was nestled just north of victoria and only twenty minutes from home . its bleachers didn’t quite layer themselves and the only hockey games it ever saw were closed practice scrimmages , but esme knew it better than most places . banners dipped down from the ceiling on either end of the rink , some more faded than others , with names of athletes past and present who’d trained there before heading on to an olympic games . the quiet is what she found herself drawn to , somewhere to hear the familiar sound of blade cutting through ice , to dip back into something she’d loved , more than anything , for a long time . sleeves covered her palms as she leaned down , fingertips brushing sleek ice , and her pace slowed after a couple hours already spent nearly overworking a body that hadn’t seen this kind of duration in weeks . a twinge of pain dulled behind her ribcage , and features furrowed into a shadow of worry … until the sound of a door closing stole her attention , and that aching faded behind the noisy heartbeat of a girl in love . even on skates , there was a subtle shift in the way she glided towards him , like the lightness in her chest was carrying her forward . “ you would not believe how happy i am to see you , ” she comes to a stop at the barrier between bleachers and ice , carefully reaching forward , underneath the opening of a familiar denim jacket , to gently grab the fabric of his shirt at his sides . there’s a tilt in her chin as she looks up at him , bright eyes glossed over in quiet admiration and cheeks reddened by the cold air of an ice rink , and she’ll lean up to place a gentle kiss at the corner of his lips . “ even happier if you put those on , ” she’ll nod to a pair of skates , lingering near her back , on a bench nearby , before looking back up at him , “ because i’m going to keep asking and it’s better you learn now , when we’ve got a rink to ourselves , than around christmas at a very public rink . besides , where are you going to find a better teacher ? ” she’ll pull back , with a hopeful little grin , still holding onto him but at an arm’s length . “ c’mon . i promise full recovery services if you wind up sore tomorrow , and , ” she shakes her head , “ i’ll fall down every time you fall down . or , even better , show you the vhs tapes my mom has of me actually falling down when i was first learning to skate . not pretty . ” — @dylanxcarmichael​

the cold had caught his attention  ,  but only after the frame of a tiny brunette had  .  his gaze has lingered on the beating of a steady heart  ,  and how her palm pressed against her chest  .  he’d seen her push herself before  ,  and there’s a tiny flicker of of worry that mask the way to brown eyes  .  his head is dipped softly  ,  and footsteps are echoed in the four corners of a skating rink that was far too small to hold someone as mighty as her  .  the distraction is loomed in the same way warm irises are gentle  ,  finding her on the corner where ice meets threshold  ,  and she’s wrapped around the middle of his chest  ,  chin tilted upwards with a sparkle in deep blue  .  and his features softened in retraction to her compromise  .  the truth of the matter was  ,  she didn’t have to bribe him with the chances of falling  ,  or old scrapbooks  ,  home videos-- though he’s peaked an interest in seeing those one day  .  all she had to do  ,  was ask- and sweet dylan carmichael would nod quietly  ,  and do whatever is that would promise a twinkle in her eyes  ,  or a kiss to the corner of a crooked smile  .  “i’m going to end up sore-” he’ll add  ,  his voice reached in it’s normal quiet pitch  ,  reaching up to tug a beanie off messy brown curls  ,  tucking it into his back pocket  .  “but i don’t mind ..” another silent gesture  ,  calloused fingertips whispered over the curve of her jaw  ,  tilting her gaze up to look at him before she pulls back  ;  leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to the burn of heightened apples  .  he’ll turn then  ,  back to a bench where a pair of skates sat  .  his back is turned  ,  but his chest rumbled with nerves  .  you weren’t an athlete  ,  and you never have been  ..  you couldn’t complete with the likes of exes that were over six foot  ,  broad shouldered- and sharpened on the heel of a blade  .  but you could write her love letters  ,  signed in cursive for every year that you’ve loved her-- starting with the beginning  .  you could write about the way he’d been late to class  ,  rattling off an answer to a lecture that had taken their professor the last thirty minutes to explain  .  you could write about how when he’d slipped into a chair just in front of hers ,  how he’d glanced over his shoulders  ,  to be met with the sunken shoulders of a girl --  who had already been watching him  .  softness embellished around soft curls  ,  just whisked out of her eyes  ,  framing high cheekbones  --  and how his heart fluttered once  ,  for the first time in years  .  ---  how you fell a little bit in love with her that day  ,  too  .  so dylan ties the skates  ,  careful as he’s glided from stable ground  ;  to the slick slip of ice  .  nearly stumbling already  ,  he’s gripped the railing --  nose wrinkled with a nervous deepening of a heartbeat  .  “this is embarrassing ..” mumbled lightly  .  and he’s sucking in a breath  .  “but i promised i’d follow you anywhere-” a quiet huff of breath  ,  clouded around parted lips  . his gaze lingered a little longer  ,  back pressed against a safety guard  .  his shoulders are a little softer  ,  and he’ll glance down to his feet  ,  back up to a tiny blue eyed gaze  .  “think i’ll make gold this year?” 

[upir]

“My soul chose yours. And a soul doesn’t just forget that.”

— Ben Maxfield (via sunsetquotes)

[perfectlyfuckingcivils]

[talesfromthecrypts]

#soft

[5july]

[witchesters]

Endless Love (2014)

[haleyjames]

[evabrighis]

#married

[dylancarmichaels]

D Y L A N .

calloused fingertips dipped under the fabric of her shirt , trails of warmth left in the wake of his touch , spreading throughout her body and rising to the brims of her cheeks while sinking to the bottom of her heart . it was a back and forth , a push and pull , a lean in every time he pulled back , and with her hand pressed against his chest , she could feel the way his heart was racing just as hers was . in small moments of clarity , she caught her mind wondering if he’d thought about it — the closeness , the gentle brush of skin on skin — like she had . he’d pull away , and she moved closer , only stopped by the sound of her name whispered with a softness that stole the air from her lungs . she hummed in response , lips pursed as the tip of her nose brushed back and forth against his . lashes fluttered as he seemed to stumble over his own words , and a content sigh put her at ease as she pulled back , just enough to look at him . really look at him . wisps of black curled around his eyes , casting the warmest shade of brown and the saddest gaze in shadow . intimacy painted a subtle shade of red across his cheeks , a long the tip of his nose . lips , often pressed into pursed thought or weighed down at the corners in a pout . a face that seemed to separate itself in every crowd , brown eyes that casted downwards on the edge of a classroom , hands that gripped the cover a book or the stem of a pen scrawled across paper , a smile that could stop her heart — … it was the make up of a boy she’d wanted to know for years . her heart skipped , and she knew now the way he seemed separate because he had the innate ability to silence the business of the rest of the world . she knew that his eyes were the same color as his mothers , and that they lit up at the corners of a dimpled smile . she knew that those same hands had spent years reaching out , fingers outstretched , trying to catch his mother’s pain in order to heal , only to watch it slip through empty spaces in between ; gentle hands , delicate hands , capable of the most calming and exciting touches . and that smile — that heart stopping smile — whispered words that slowed down time . i love you , spoken into the quiet of her bedroom , as he held her closer . i love you , and her heart leapt into the back of her throat . i love you , and she loved him back . dear god , she loved him back . gentle fingertips brushed up the height of his cheekbone , before settling under the striking edge of his jaw . “ i know i don’t have to say it back , ” a breathless whisper as blue eyes caught golden flecks reflected back at her , “ but i also feel like i haven’t been subtle with the way i feel about you — … ”  it was honest . she wasn’t sure when it’d arrived , couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment she’d fallen in love , but it was there . it was there , in moments when he’d catch her quietly looking , attention seemingly gravitating towards him even when he wasn’t vying for it . it was there , in the way her hand so easily found his as she chose to stand next to him in a room full of vipers , comforting and calm and completely there for him . and it was there , in the way she’d always preferred solitude , until she knew the quiet happiness that came with his company . she leaned forward , resting her forehead against his , as her fingers entangled into dark curls . “ you love me , ” it’s melodic at the level of a whisper , smiled against her lips in subtle triumph as she leaned in . he loved her , and he was holding her against him like a lifeline , and it was everything . he loved her , and she loved him . “ you , ” still quiet , but pressed against his lips , and then at the corner of his mouth , the warmth of his cheek , the corner of his jaw , “ love me . ” and she’s completely wrapped up in him . you don’t have to say it back ; but there was nothing else she wanted to say more . he deserved to know that she had decided , definitively , to love him back , and that she would continue to make that choice . because it was the only one ; there was only him . “ and i love you , ” pressed against his skin , quiet as ever , words meant only for him .

she loves him  ,  and it keeps a broken heart from breaking any more  .  instead  ,  it mends with the hue of softness  ,  it’s taped back together in the way his name sounds like milk and honey on parted lips  .  he’s sure  ,  if he could write a hundred novels  ,  there wasn’t an english word capable of expressing just how much  -------   he loved her  .  just how beautiful  ,  just how enthralled he was to have her  ;  for her to be his  ,  and for him to be hers and for the world to finally feel like he belonged  .  to not be outcast by the shades of blue  ,  and how they dipped behind a writers fingertips  .  to not be clouded by his father’s name  ,  and a girl he wasn’t sure even really liked him  ;  much less loved him  ,  before esme  .  how lucky he was  ,  to be given the chance to know her  ,  and be loved by her  .  how lucky he was  ,  to know the memories of her bathed in moonlight  ,  caressed under the sheets of a bed  .  how lucky he was  ,  to be hers  .  and how it’s the only thing that mattered  ,  the only thing that threaded that broken heart  ;  into something worth living again  ;  something worth beating  ,  if it was beating to love her  .  and everything he wanted to say  ,  locked away in a clever mind  ;  touched behind long fluttered eyelashes  .  he’ll lean forward  ,  and his nuzzle will touch the bridge of her nose  ,  only to kiss her again .  

 i love you ,  and it’s whispered on whisked lips  ,  dipped down pale collarbones  .  i love you  ,  and it’s tugged at the hem of a shirt that’s tilted over her over  .  i love you  ,  and his hand is slipped under the small of her back  ,  to pull her closer  ,  and up to a cushion of pillows  .  i love you  ,  and he’s kissing her down the dip of her chest  ;  sloped by the slender curve of hips  ;  and hands linger just above the hem of a button  .  his heart stammers with nerves  ,  but he’ll look up in comparison  ;  a silent mouthing of permission  ,  before he’s slipped between the denim fabric of a zipper    then he’ll raise up to capture her lips again  ;  his own red and flushed by the explored and uncharted  .  “if you want me to stop  ..”  whispered as another precaution  ,  and fluttered lashes are caressed by soft brown eyes  .  his frame hovers over her  ,  watching in delicate silence as his hand is met with the fabric of lace  .  and he’ll silently whisper into the crook of her neck  ,  a mantra of compliments  .  you’re beautiful  ,  he says over and over again ,  like fluttered butterflies  .  and he’ll slip between her legs   ,  a racing heart proven that he hadn’t touched anyone in years  .  he wants to be with her  ,  in every way that someone could  .  and it’s why the curiousness has touched behind warm irises  ,  watching the way her body reacts to movements  ;  learning as he goes  .  what she likes  ,  with the arch of a back  .  what promotes a gentle sigh  ,  and how her lips parted a few minutes in between  .  he’ll dip back down again ,  kissing and pulling at the hem of denim until they’re gone  .  and he’ll inch closer  ,  lining her inner thigh with an open mouth kiss and feathering upwards  . arms looped around her thighs  ,  but he’ll ask her if she’s okay  .  silence  ,  masked on his end  .  and he’ll gently move between the lace  ;  grip tightening only slightly when her back arches  ,  if just to keep her in place  .  

[dylancarmichaels]

& imessage.  ⧸   ‘ dylan 🌙 💫 ’

esme: ah see i think you’re probably just a little bit in love with me, which MAKES everything i do appear to be endearing. things like this are exactly why i can’t study at yours anymore.

esme: it’s usually closed on sundays but i might’ve batted my eyelashes to get a set of keys and permission, of course.

esme: well, i’ll just have to be extra careful to make sure you don’t fall, then. besides, i’ve been told i’m an excellent teacher.

esme: i think you’re right. far too sweet for something like armed robbery.

dylan: more than just a little bit, i think. but that's not true, i've always thought you were endearing. you can study here, i'll promise to not distract you.

dylan: of course you did. but i do like the idea of not being surrounded by people while i embarrass myself.

dylan: i don't know.. pretty sure i'm going to fall.. but if you want me to come, then i will.

dylan: that's what makes it the perfect crime. it's how i stole your heart.

[dylancarmichaels]

& imessage.  ⧸   ‘ dylan 🌙 💫 ’

esme: ah, distracted. right. i’m going to take absolutely no responsibility for that one and leave myself sticky notes reminding me that studying at your place is a horrible idea :)

esme: it’s fine really i’m giving up for the day anyway

esme: you coooould bring it by the rink though.

esme: whatever? you don’t want to hear the terms and conditions first? i could ask you to rob a bank dyl

dylan: it's cute, when you're studying medicine. there are times where you get this really concentrated look on your face, and a little crinkle in your brows. and when you read, you mouth the words. everything you do is endearing.

dylan: are you back in the rink? that's good, i'd love to come by and watch. but i don't know how to skate.

dylan: and i'm afraid you're very small, if i accidentally crush you, i don't think i could forgive myself.

dylan: i'd be very bad at bank robbing, i think.

[dylancarmichaels]

& imessage.  ⧸   ‘ dylan 🌙 💫 ’

esme: hi did i leave my patho book in your room?

esme: you know what no nevermind even if i did i've just read the same paragraph four times so it's not like i'd be able to focus anyway

esme: what do you have going on for the rest of the day?

dylan: you did, it's sitting on my desk. you were supposed to study the other day, and we got distracted.

dylan: are you sure? i don't mind bringing it by.

dylan: whatever you ask me to do. :)

[katherinewhistler]

[dylancarmichaels]

@ofesmes

[sorenkingsley]

[dylancarmichaels]

@ofesmes

[mouseremote147863456]