It was an hour or so later that they were tangled in bed,conversation turned to kissing, turned to a more quiet conversation, turned togentle touches. But that was when they heard the knocking. A seemingly distinctknock on his wall, but when he investigated nothing was there. It was cleartheir senses were heightened due to the movie they’d watch, much more easilyscared than they’d normally be, but even that realization didn’t help. Again,he slunk back into bed, the girl clinging to him and he held her again. “There’snothing there, we’re good,” he whispered, but again the knocking returned andso he forced a small laugh after he heard her whimper. “Shh, we’re okay, we’reokay,” he cooed. “I love you, I’ll keep ya safe.”

It had been the silence on the subject that Zeke was able to bite down the fact that one day, Tinsley left. They never spoke of it besides the one time, he  brushed it off with a smile and told her ‘no worries, everything is good I get it.’. He did. He did get it, he’d done what she had to so many women in the past that he lost count, lost track the faces or what they probably looked like in the morning. Yet she had to bring it up. Maybe it was on accident, alcohol induced stupidity as they sat alone, talking at his place but it didn’t help his reaction.“We don’t need to keep fucking trying to talk about it.” The first words came out in an ugly grumble, his gaze parted from hers and glued itself to the wall. Zeke never handled confrontation well,  he’d always laugh about it or  make some stupid joke. Nevertheless she persisted in her own… Tinsley-esque way.“I don’t  know what you want me to say? Do you want me to say I fucking hated your guts Tinsley? Do you want me to tell you that I never wanted to see your face again? Because – “ he paused, downing the liquor down harder before standing up, fingers running through his hair to ease his own frustration. “Because that’s just not how it is. I couldn’t fucking hate you. You fucking left big fucking whoop maybe next time I’ll ghost you, who knows? Not me” His tone was erratic but he was staring at her with a sense of seriousness only meant to put her on edge, and it seemed to work when she stood up, an anger in her eyes that he’d never seen before he lashed back out as well. “Stop the bullshit Tinsley. You’re making it look like you give a shit. You left, we were fine, everything was fine. “Now it wasn’t. That blissful ignorance Zeke had been holding onto was torn away just by a few simple words, another apology, a comment on how she’s shocked he doesn’t hate her, and doesn’t understand it. It was the last and more irate apology that brought his hand to swing, knocking a glass of the counter to the bartop in his apartment. When it crashed, there was no reaction, just a loud huff as he approached her with his voice still loud but not wavering. “I fucking love you, Tinsley. I have since probably the day I fucking met you but you’re the first girl that I thought it was okay to not have you like everyone else does because I thought we understood each other. I thought it wouldn’t matter as long as we didn’t talk about it. So tell me why the fuck you want to keep talking about it?” @wendydarlings

Send me 📷 for an instagram page ft both muses (open) !!Posted! Here is it <3

Send me 📷 for an instagram page ft both muses (open) !!Posted! Here is it <3

send me five times kissed for a drabble about five times our muses kissed The first time had been laced with alcohol. Sloppy, passionate and filled with the vibrations of the dance floor. It carried on two hearts throbbing in unison without any regrets, no questions and barely a name to add to the touch. The first time had been loose and lacking emotional fortitude but was soaked in understanding, it spoke words of wisdom, fear and spoke in it’s own soliloquy. It was fingers wrapped in caramel curls, bodies clashing together with rhythm that only the spirits would be aware of. The first time was the sweet sense of victory of two kindred spirits finally finding their way.The second time was coated in laughter. It was palm to cheek, feet on the dashboard and the sunset behind them. It was meshed with one hand on the stick, slipping into four wheel drive and music playing softly from the car radio. The second time had been the perfect escape, it loathed the idea of staying in one place, it enjoyed the parties the dancing the fun and most of all it was the enjoyment of company and understanding. It was warmer than the first, held tighter with the feeling of some form of adoration and most importantly, it was just them playing with the echoes of time, racing to see which would be knocked down first.The third time was under the thin grace of Merino wool sheets, limbs kissed by fabric and lips tracing every available contour. It was pressed tighter with legs wrapped around his waist, soft breaths dipped in lust as giggles echoed against the marble floor, the bed making itself the perfect place to hide away the fear of standing still. The third kiss was one between her thighs, making airy laughter spread as fingers pressed against her skin. It was the third time his hands had found a home, a home in not trying to run away, not trying to break it off and slip into the night — no but the third time was when kisses turned into affection and tongues began to speak words.The fourth time was when he realized that he might stay. It was under the blanket of a cloudy morning, coffee in hand and head shaking as he waited for her. The fourth time was the moment that things seemed to shift, the song playing on the radio seemed to be more fitting than it had the day before and the look of her didn’t make it all seem lackluster as it risked in the pale tone of goodbyes. No. The fourth time was when his heart actually raced, his hand reached out for hers and lips pressed to her knuckles. It was the time that made him wonder if it was worth changing, worth stepping away from the limelight and to stop relieving himself of other women.The fifth time  was when everything changed. The fifth time was not knowing it would be the last, that kisses fallen to goodnights would be long forgotten in the lapse of a late evening. It was the kiss that reminded both of them that things couldn’t change, they were mere nomads, searching for their own perfection and while they’d found it in one another at a time, there was always a need to move on. The fifth time had been the surprise. The half asleep press to his lips coated in goodbye, sorrow linked in the decision to never change and that things, while they were right (and always were) they weren’t right then. The fifth time was when he woke up to an empty bed, hand reached out for a figure that wasn’t there without even a note left in her stead. No. The fifth time was when he chose to move on, time had brought them together for a period only to shake things up —- and it did. She always did.

i’m goingggg

lISTEN i wanted all of my instagrams i’ve made to be in one blog.... i just didn’t realize i’d made 284302830289328420 of them

top reason summer stinks: you’re either sweating your ass off to sleep or could be brutally attacked by a monster at any moment