🪼 𖦹 ༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. ࣪🐚𓇻 ݁
ֺ ༊彡⬭ 𓈒 ݁ ꒰ 🪸 ꒱ ࣪𓂂 ׅ 𖼐꒱࿐ ִ ۫
Not today Justin

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

titsay

Love Begins
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styofa doing anything

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noise dept.

Andulka
Misplaced Lens Cap
$LAYYYTER
AnasAbdin

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Discoholic 🪩
RMH

ellievsbear

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Mike Driver

PR's Tumblrdome

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@ilycove
🪼 𖦹 ༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. ࣪🐚𓇻 ݁
ֺ ༊彡⬭ 𓈒 ݁ ꒰ 🪸 ꒱ ࣪𓂂 ׅ 𖼐꒱࿐ ִ ۫
And here he is again.
Toasty’s grip on your shoulders tightens, hugging the air out of your lungs. His fingertips dig into your skin, indenting a mark onto you. His face rests on your collarbones, burying himself beneath your bones.
They feel your hands in their hair, undoing the braid you had put in earlier in the morning and gently scratching his scalp, combing through the waves the braid had left. They let out a sigh and squeeze your waist.
A meek voice claws its way through, the vibrations from his mouth sending shockwaves through your neck. “Do you have to leave?”
There's something about you that draws Nightowl in. You've only known each other for a few months, maybe half a year maximum, but he almost feels like he's known you before.
No, he knows it. Maybe in another life, with him being a prince and you being a knight, but he can tell. With every slip of the tongue- accidentally saying that he's known you forever, if forever can apply to six months.
He's staring at your icon on his screen, huffing out in annoyance when he can't bring himself to call you. You asked him to, and yet he feels nervous. Scared even.
A part of him thinks it's first date jitters. A louder part of him says that's not true because you've called one-on-one before, but you're also his best friend. Best friends don't go on dates. Right?
His stomach almost begins to hurt at that realization.
hi guys! it's been a while, i'm sorry for being inactive for so long.
i wanted to give everybody a bit of an update on the future of this blog. to get this out of the way, i've completely distanced myself from dating simulators, our life and blooming panic alike and have since picked up a new fandom that i've fallen in love with that i'm writing for now (nothing new there LOL). there's a chance i'd write for it still but it'd either be a) a request or b) a once-in-a-while kind of thing.
i really wanna thank everybody for their continuous support on here. i hope you guys know that i read every reblog and smile at every notification that i continue to get on here. you're all so kind and i hope to see you soon. <3
Quest mindlessly hums as he's supposed to be teaching you how to play guitar. He has you placed in between his legs, snuggled up nicely to his chest. You can feel his thighs rubbing against your hips, and you almost think you're dreaming.
His guitar strap is wrapped around your neck and his arms are over yours, mocking the movements yours are making. You can see his hands so clearly, so vividly. They're almost like a painting, his tattoo, bones, and veins sticking out perfectly, like a picture perfect memory.
He keeps whispering in your ear. Try this cord. You're doing so well. Now, place your index finger on this one. A little flatter. Bend your fingers more. Stay focused, angel. But how can you focus?
You and Cove sit a distance away from each other, your index fingers the only heat the two of you shared in the autumn. The ocean air seemed to whisper and flitter about, sending chills up your spine even through Cove's sweatshirt.
Everything in the kitchen was messier than anything you've ever seen before.
The counters were covered in something white and powdery, you couldn't tell what it was anymore. It was going to be hell to clean up. The only thing that was untouched by the tornado of flour and powdered sugar was Quest's glasses, sat delicately on top of the microwave.
A pair of arms wraps around your ribs and holds you tight. Xyx buries his head in your collarbones and takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent and your familiarity.
The rain's been coming down for a while, you assume, because his hair is wet and making you laugh softly as it glides up and down your neck. A hand reaches up to mess his hair up and he stops breathing entirely, for a moment at best, like your touch scared him to the core. You frowned at the thought and turned (to the best of your abilities) towards him. "Hi, love. Is everything alright?"
He doesn't reply and that's more of an answer than anything to you.
Xyx’s hair tickled the base of your neck, his arms slithering around your waist and gripping like a vice. “I think the odds are in my favor today.”
You refused to acknowledge him for the time being. You’d asked the receptionist at the hotel you were staying very politely that you needed two beds, and here you were. In his arms. Which was nice, you loved him and he loved you and he was really warm, but it would be even nicer if he wasn’t being such a smug asshole about all of this. “This is only something that happens in bad fanfiction.”
Cove’s hands traveled across your body, an almost motherly expression on his face. "I feel like your fever's gotten worse."
You turn over in his tight hold, your eyes clashing with the ocean. "Maybe it's because you keep cuddling me."
Quest likes to think he met you where the soul had met the bone, where your smiles and touches made his heart ache. His arms envelop you, calloused finger tips drawing sleepy circles into your waist. He sits and breathes you in, breathes you out.
Compared to him, you're little in his arms, really. You lay there with your head resting on one arm, and connecting little freckles of his like you're creating constellations with the other. The two of you just sit in serenity, not wanting to break the silence and tenderness that floats in the air quite yet. Part of you doesn't want to leave because, well you're comfortable, but if you'd turn around you would meet his pretty blue eyes that are like an ocean that threatened to swallow you whole. Or, willingly, you’d drown. And you weren't so sure if you’d want to be saved.
The day comes when you find one of Aether's more hidden scars, his bare and muscled back shown to you in all of its glory. Your eyes travel across the different wounds on his back and find a particularly nasty mark. It's healed over well, but it's raised and pink unlike all his other ones. You point it out to him and he freezes up. Do you think he's ugly now? Scars weren't pretty, no no, they were quite the opposite weren't they? Were you going to detest this part of him when you promised to love him whole?
(He wouldn't blame you. He wouldn't love him either.)