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[ text @ ryan, 3:00am ] I’m supposed to be up in an hour, and I can’t sleep. [ text @ ryan, 3:03am ] Somehow I wound up on YouTube… the WEIRD part of YouTube… [ text @ ryan, 3:05am ] Also. Stop it, Caddel

#& ryan #texts ; Ryan.

@caddel

She is presently bent over the open hood of her car, clad in tight jeans and a leather jacket that snuggly hugs the shapely, delicate curves of her waist and shoulders, and with her mass of thick, dark curls spilling like a river of silk down her back as she peers into and around various parts of the engine, her dark brows drawn together in what can only be described as an expression of pure, sheer frustration at her car as she tries to decide what's wrong with it. Pulled off the road and with her phone dead (fuck her life for that to be honest), Yaena has turned on her hazards and put on the emergency brake, hoping she'll be able to fix whatever's wrong with the engine for long enough to buy herself some time to drive it to the nearest garage, but everything she's done has proved completely and utterly useless so far.

Groaning softly, she is the epitome of exasperation as she lifts her eyes to the sky and exhales forcefully through her nose, blowing dark, curling strands of hair off her face, which, too, is rosy and warm with a flush of annoyance, cheeks red and hot with her ire as she puts her hands on her hips and stares helplessly into the sky, counting down from ten to soothe her nerves. She is about to sigh, thinking to herself ok you've got this, you've got this, again and again to keep from kicking the car, when, suddenly, she hears a bike pull up near her on the side of the road where she's parked, and she is turning her head to the side to peer at him, black curls dripping off her shoulders and a quick, somewhat relieved and amused smile forming over the curves of her mouth as her gaze meets his.

"hey you..." she greets him in a breathless, surprised tone, his unexpected arrival shocking her out of the stupor of her anger as her eyes trail after him. "coming to my rescue? - again?" she jokes, hands slipping off her hips as she turns to face him, a fiery flush soon staining the apples of her cheeks.

#dhdhgss #& ryan

closed starter for: @caddel

setting: anywhere in the brooklyn museum during the fundraiser

“Ryan Hunter Caddel... the mightily busy businessman, sure does take his time to show up at events...” she drawls leisurely as he approaches her, and with a languid clatter of her perfectly manicured nails against the wine glass she cradles. Yen is currently perched on a chaise lounge, appearing both simultaneously effortless and over-the-top. it’s far too easy to play up the extravagance she insists to embody; especially when she wants to incite him. “even if it means he's keeping a lady waiting.” this addendum is accompanied by a well-worn smirk and upward quirk of one dark eyebrow. guiding her glass to her lips, she takes another drink, molten gaze never leaving Ryan.

#lmaooo.#& ryan

Outside it’s getting dark. A stirring’s in the air, a breath from somewhere distant as though a storm has swelled and is coming their way where they sit somewhere deep in a forest away from the city. Beside them, the lake murmurs. Gusts of wind that blow in from the distance swirl all around them, cold and wet with that damp, humid summer heat that steams over the lake-water, and she sits near him very quietly, looking at him through dark, thick lashes, and the warm halos of moonlight swathing her; she does not speak much, but drowns in his eyes. She tears her gaze away from the view before them to greet his hand which holds the promise of a warm touch. She curls her fingers into his and squeezes his hand tenderly; she is a distant planet: cold, morose, and sharp; unreachable, even though she had been the one to ask him get away tonight. She wears only dream-silk, a black slip dress, plum lipstick, a cold, sharp expression over her face, but he burns like the sun, and despite her sour mood, she cannot help but smile, reach out to trail her hand over his forehead, his hair, caressing the little curling strands of it; green blue eyes gentle, quiet sparks of unspoken sentiment: to be here, to bask in the warmth of his rapturous gaze, she finds herself bequeathed with an almost unfamiliar sensation of relief... of belongingness; she loves this man, she thinks, and the realization shocks her, but she does not say it.

She has been cold, unreachable, distant: a sharp shard of ice— she realizes this... But with him... with him it's different. With him, she's different: where sharp and cold, she turns to molten sunlight, soft and slow and tender. She softly runs her fingers through his hair, caressing the side of his face. Her blue green eyes are very bright, shimmering like a cluster of stars. She leans in, nudges her nose to his, and says, very quietly, “I would give a pretty penny to know the thoughts going around in here.” she presses a kiss to his forehead, verdant eyes revealing from behind long, dark lashes as she draws back to stare at him, fingers still caressing the crown of his head.

@caddel

#& ryan #during her Being Harassed by Mathias EraTM

@caddel

“speak of the devil, and he doth appear... A little bit late to be wanderin’ out here all alone, Caddel...” lest he forget her alluring wit, Yen is quick to remind him, flashing a playful , charming grin his way as she leans against the side of her building, smoking, enveloped in starlight and billows of white smoke, her posture perfectly poised and steeped in the extravagance that she insists to embody, “want a bit of company?” she offers playfully, dark curls spilling off her shoulders as she pushes herself off the wall and languidly tosses her cigarette aside, but the moment he's pried his helmet off she's on him, arms delicately slipping around his waist to pull him close to her just as she leans up to capture his mouth in a warm kiss. Her dark hair drapes over her shoulders in messy, jagged curls. She squeezes him hard against her, pulling him as close as she can given he's still astride his Ducati, tongue grazing the side of his throat before she seals a ‘kiss’ where his neck and jaw connect, whispers, “where are we going?” a little, breathless demand, blue green eyes revealing from behind long, thick lashes as she stares up at him, already completely and wholly enamored by the very sight of him, the warmth that he exudes, molten and inviting. Fuck, she's obsessed with this man, she swears, and although she would never admit it, it's plainly evident in the way that she drapes her smoldering gaze over him, blue green eyes fire-bright and ravenous as they hold him in their depths.

She tears her gaze away from him to greet his hand which holds the promise of a warm touch. She curls her fingers into his and squeezes his hand tenderly, expectantly pushing him a little to make space for her to get on his bike.

#& ryan

@caddel

She's being followed — has been for a while now as she's been navigating her way from the office back to her flat— there's a man hot on her trail, and she's unarmed and wholly alone in a dimly-lit part of the city where stores close before 8, and there are locks and bars on every door and window.

He's been skulking after her for an entire ten blocks now, smoking constantly on the drizzling streets as they slip in and out of the shadows, clouds of white, hot smoke billowing around him as he growls and mumbles curses through his teeth at her; had she been armed, had it been earlier in the night and not fucking 3 in the morning, she would have turned around and told him to fuck off, but she has not slept in days now; haven't eaten anything more than coffee and bourbon in so long, she feels as though she's about three seconds before passing out as she wraps her leather jacket tighter around her body and walks faster toward her neighborhood, heart pounding. To top it all off, he's fucking gigantic, a 6 and a half feet tall beast of a man, and no matter how hard she might attempt to punch or strike him in any way to get him to fucking stop stalking her— he would undoubtedly overpower her. He's closer now, she can tell by the way his voice, dark and throaty, hitches as he more or less runs toward her, tries to grab at her arm and she furiously shakes him off, spits a cold little fuck off, at him, fear resting at the crest of her throat, trapped by her teeth. Her eyes are scanning the immediate vicinity as she hurriedly walks away from him, dark curls spilling down her back as she moves, when, suddenly, she notices a motorcycle parked just ahead of her at the end of the block, and a man pulling off his helmet, and she is quickening her pace, more or less running towards him and reaching out to grab at his arm just as the strange man behind her reaches out to grab at her hair, and she is whispering a breathless, sharp little he's been following me for ten blocks now, out of breath and shaking with relief as she presses closer to the man on the bike, feeling like a mess of nervous energy, overspilling with adrenaline as she clutches at his forearm.

#& Ryan #!!!!! Here it is !!!!