#emmaxxdecody

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@emmaxxdecody answered

Emma threw he hands down in aggravation, spinning around 180 degrees to face Dylan. “No. No, you cannot. Katie has spit up on me three times today. I can’t find my phone. I keep hearing this ticking noise in the bathroom and I think someone stole the fucking potted plant I had on the front porch. I’m exhausted, Dylan.”

“Em...” Dylan reached for her hands tentatively, not wanting to piss her off any further by trying to comfort her if she didn’t feel like it. “Did you check your long coat for your phone -- the grey one with the big buttons? And the nandino pot’s on the back deck, I just moved it when I was getting rid of that hornet’s nest over the door -- didn’t wanna trip on it.”  He squeezed her hands. “I’ll put it back. Did you, uh... you wanna investigate the bathroom together? ‘Fraid I can’t keep Katie from spitting up, though, but I’ll be on Katie duty; give you a break...”

[consequentson]

@emmaxxdecody liked your post “graphic-sapphic: If you straddle my hips and grind slightly, we’re...”

[consequentson]

@emmaxxdecody answered:

“I just…I need some space, Dylan.” It wasn’t for a long time. Just an hour. Some breathing room from a shrieking infant; Emma needed a chance to clear her mind from the burden of a funeral she had attended for a woman who was supposed to be her mother but felt more like a distant memory than anything else. She needed just an hour to walk down the street and listen to her own heart beat in her chest so that she could make sure she was really still alive, that the last 2 years hadn’t been some freak accident she imagined while asleep, or in a coma at the hospital. It was not a reflection, not in the slightest, of the man in front of her. And she prayed to God he knew that.

Space. Dylan was terrified of space, but understanding all the same. The words ‘promise you’ll come back to me’ stuck in his throat as he watched her, wishing he were somebody else -- somebody who could bring his wife good news at the end of the day; someone who could offer so much more, for her and for their daughter. 

“Okay.”  Dylan lifted said daughter a little higher in his arms. He glanced down; wide blue eyes were staring at him solemnly, a hint of a wrinkle in her brow. “Did, um...” He cleared his throat. “Did you wanna take her, or-?” He wasn’t sure whether space included their daughter or just him. “I mean, I just -- if you wanted to, but I can watch her, too, I only...” He trailed off feebly as his eyes fell again, lips turning up at the corner in what was meant to be an apologetic smile but looked more like a grimace.

[consequentson]

@emmaxxdecody answered

“You should be careful…saying anything might get you into some trouble Mister Massett…” Her tone was clearly playful as she stepped toward him, one foot in front of the other. When she reached him, her arms fell around his neck and she tugged him toward her. “I might just ask you to clean the entire kitchen. And we just had 45 people here for a Labor Day barbeque…”

“Anything...” Dylan reiterated before he closed the distance between them and kissed her, a tugging playfully and gently at her bottom lip when they parted. “-- For you.” He’d be happy to clean the kitchen if it meant giving her a break. Funny how what once was a dreaded chore became so much more bearable when you wanted to do it for somebody -- to make them happy. Anyway, it’d feel good to have it done, have the house back to normal. Dylan of course understood the allure of Emma Decody, but he still never got over just how very many friends she had now that they’d moved to Seattle. He wasn’t sure he could even name all forty five of them, honestly. 

[penceyprepreject-blog]

( @emmaxxdecody liked for a starter )

“this is a really, really, really bad idea.  let’s just go.”

[consequentson]

Text: Hey. Pst. Guess what? I love you. <3

[text:] You’re cute. I love you too, Emma. 💐[text:] (I figured out how to make little flower pictures just for you, fyi.)