hold on till' the night







👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit


baby can you hurt me so i can fall asleep
tuck me in a bed of roses and tie up my feet
i hope you’re not opposed to this quiet defeat
‘cause i’ll only kiss you back if you bite my cheek

ring around the rosie, i’m lonely, hold me
‘till the night meets morning and it’s half past four
in a dusty motel with the lights down low
i’ll be dressed to impress with no place to go

but i’m restless, cutting up your chest with my necklace
you like ‘em depressed, guess that makes me your number one
best girl, cigarette kiss, burnt breakfast
sorry, but my mama didn’t raise me domestic

cookie cutter lover, like the others
with the shutters down, forget about affection
you do it for the thrill and i do it for attention
we’re doomed, like a broke down car in the fast lane
(like elvis presley) 

resurrect me, remember we started so gently
hanging off the porch, sweet tea in your bentley
you couldn’t protect me, so i made a big mess
good girl gone bad in my sunday dress

peaches and cream, soft ice cream
jumping off bridges and your wildest dreams
ceiling fan sounds and drugstore make-up
that’s what pretty young girls are made of

Made with SoundCloud
Present to my eyes your most haunting nightmares.
Entomb my bones in your deepest fears.
Douse my soul in all your insecurities.
Slice through my skin with the knives that sliced you.
Let my lungs drown in your river of tears.
Let my mind wallow in your sorrow.
Paralyze my whole being with your grief.
But please don’t ever hide these
things from me.
Because the second you do,
I leave.
There’s no beauty or truth in concealing your demons from somebody.
Just a lie that keeps you from loving them properly.
And you’re left with your pride to hold you at night.
And your ego to fuck you till morning light.
—  Only the venerable know love.

anonymous asked:

"I never knew you could hold moonlight in your hands till the night I held you. Baby I'm falling your my moonlight" makes me think if Amy and mark honestly ☺️ idk man it's cute. ~

aw bless this is so cute I love it

I just wanna hold her in my arms,
kiss her all night till the sunrise,
cuddle her under light blankets.
I just need someone to caress,
someone to protect,
someone to live for.
I wanna make her laugh
and smile
and laugh
and tickle her.
I just want to cook her pancakes with cream e strawberries,
buy her flowers
and tell her stupid jokes.
I just wanna take her a million photos,
Watch the moon and falling stars with her,
Dedicate her love songs
and dry her tears.
I wanna keep her warm in winter
and hold her hands,
Wake her up with a cup of tea and a kiss on her forehead.
I wanna take her to the funfair, to aquarium, to the zoo
to see her being happy and nothing else,
I just wanna love her.
Be mine,
I’ll be kind.

Inspired by Charles Baudelaire’s The Ghost
Like angels with wild beast’s eyes
I shall return to your bedroom
And silently glide toward you
With the shadows of the night;
And, dark beauty, I shall give you
Kisses cold as the moon
And the caresses of a snake
That crawls around a grave.
When the livid morning comes,
You’ll find my place empty,
And it will be cold there till night.
I wish to hold sway over
Your life and youth by fear,
As others do by tenderness.


It was another one of those nights. You hadn’t planned to get all dressed up after your shower, you hadn’t planned on wearing those same heels that always left your feet a little sore if you kept them on for too long. But you’d left your apartment dressed up, pregamed, and glowing, a couple of friends in tow while you and he lead the way on the sidewalk. Last night was how you expected tonight to turn out, a night when you’d danced and drank and kissed till the sun came up, till you were joined on the train by those commuters who got an early start to their days while you got a late finish to yours.

But instead you’d ended up cutting your night short, holding your friend’s hair back till you basically had to help carry her home, your own heels in one hand and your free arm slung around her shoulders. You kept glancing down at your purse as you walked, alarmed by how many times you’d heard your phone ring, but you didn’t check. You figured you’d ignore the incessant ringing till later, keep your focus on your almost passed out friend for the time being.

Everything is too bright, the lights are pulsing almost as much as the music is. And so quickly, it makes him dizzy. Most everyone stares, recognizes him immediately, but don’t approach him. He stumbles from the bar, through the dancefloor till he reaches them. Familiar faces, each and every one of them, but the one he’s looking for is the only one he doesn’t see.

“Where is she?”

The girl turns around, surprised at first, but then her face deadpans as she shrugs at him.

“Not here,” she answers shortly.

He nods, doesn’t even bother asking if she knows where she is then. He looks down at his phone, the time blurred by the alcohol in his system. He sighs, scratches the back of his neck as he leans against a booth in the back and scrolls through his contacts. He’s been here too long, probably had a little too much to drink. But he keeps settling on your name, finding it hard to remind himself that it’s over, that you’re happy with whoever it is you’ve got right now. Someone better than him, he assumes, a good guy, a nice, good guy.

You’d gotten her to her door, kissed her through her hair and laughed when she tried to give you a hug, avoiding her breath and trying to keep her face as far away from you as possible. The poor thing smelled horrible, but at least she was home, her overly patient boyfriend would help her wash up enough to go to bed so she could wake up in the morning feeling at least a little less shitty.

After you bid them goodbye, you start the walk back to yours, this boy’s arm around you and your head leaning against him. You’re not sure what you are, if there’s a label that you guys should have or not, but you don’t think so. You’ve done nothing more than kiss or dance together, he’s one of those “friend of a friend” people that happened to be pretty good looking. He’s a good guy, you’d be happy to have a little something develop there, but you figure there’s no rush, though there might be some kind of a spark there, you’re really not sure.

His brows furrow when he hears you phone ring and he glances at his watch, eyeing you curiously.

“Who’s calling so late?”

“I dunno, I haven’t bothered to check,” you reply with a shrug and he nods.

You fall into conversation about your night, laughing about how drunk your friend got, and so quickly, until you arrive at your door.

“You coming in?”

“Nah, I think I’ll head home, I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later,” you say, leaning up on the tips of your toes to give him a quick hug goodbye.

His arm wraps around your waist and when you pull back, he keeps you close. You feel a strange knot in your stomach, nerves you assume. And then he kisses you, a little roughly for someone you’ve known for such a short time, but you have to admit it’s good. You let your arm snake around his neck and bite your lip when you break the kiss, shaking your head at him.

“You must have had a lot to drink tonight,” you joke and he chuckles.

“I don’t think so,” he assures you, giving you another squeeze before leaving you standing in front of your building’s doors.

You wave to him as he hops down the steps before you step inside and head upstairs to your apartment. When you get inside, you drop your shoes by the door, stretching and remembering the stream of phone calls you’d received throughout the night. You lock up and pull out your phone, your lips falling into a flat line and your eyes narrowing when you see all the missed calls from the same number.

I should just call, he thinks to himself, stumbling through the groups of bodies that decorate the club till he’s outside, leaning against the side of the brick building. He waves hello to an excited couple of fans, leans over so they can snap a quick selfie, one that he hopes you can’t see his tiredness in.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, shrugging his shoulders as he unlocks it and scrolls through his contacts again still his blurry vision lands on your name. He lights a cigarette, taking a puff as the phone rings once, then twice.

Your phone lights up again, his name flashing across the screen. You hate that you even think of answering it, hate it even more when you actually slide your finger across your screen and hold it up to your ear.


There’s nothing for a second and you think of hanging up, but then you hear some sort of movement.

“He’s not with you,” he sort of slurs, and you can’t see his devious smirk on the other end.

“What do you want, Zayn?” you ask, exasperated and tired and suddenly desperate to just climb into bed and sleep for hours.

“I dunno…” he trails off, takes another hit of his cigarette tilts his head back, blows the smoke straight up into the air.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”


“It’s gonna be two. Go to sleep.”

“I’m not home,” he mumbles and takes a third hit from his smoke. “Did you go out tonight?”

“Yeah, I went out,” you say, narrowing your eyes even though he can’t see you.

“I looked for you, I saw all your friends here.”

“I guess you saw the wrong friends,” you shrug, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you pour yourself some water, dig through the fridge for a late night snack.

Neither of you says anything for a few long moments, but you can’t get yourself to hang up. You listen to his breathing on the other end, he listens to yours… you both just wait.

“You were with that guy?” he asks suddenly.


“Fuck that guy,” he says, his voice bordering on sharp, but too slurred to actually sound as spiteful as he probably wanted it to.

“Are you drunk right now?”

“Fuck him,” he repeats, lighting up a new cigarette.

“Stop saying that,” you scold him, rolling your eyes to yourself.

“It’s not like he’s there.”

“Don’t assume you know everything,” you say, swallowing because even if he’s right, you don’t want to admit it, as trivial as it is.

“He’s not,” he slurs. “You picked up, he’s not there.”

“Look, what do you want?”

“I just- I…” he trails off, scuffs the bottom of his boot against the sidewalk and starts walking home, trudging along with his cigarette dangling from his lips and his phone still against his ear. “I miss you. Can you come over tonight?”

“Please, just hang up and go home, go to-“

“Let me tell you something. You know, you could uh… you could do better. You could do so much better than that asshole.”

“Excuse me?” you bite back, keeping your voice level, reminding yourself that it’s just one of those drunk phone calls, that you shouldn’t even entertain anything he says with the amount of alcohol that’s probably coursing through his veins.

“Nobody’s ever told you that before?” he questions with a laugh, clearly amused by himself.

“No, thanks for being the one to point it out though.”

“You could though, babe, you could do so much better,” he sighs.

“Don’t call me babe.”

“I wanna see you,” he slurs, ignoring your comment.

“Zayn, I should go, okay? Text me when you get home so I know you got there alright,” you tell him, ready to hang up.

“Talk to me, please,” he replies quickly. “I need you right now,” he says sadly and you flop down on your bed, holding onto your phone still. “I had too much to drink,” he adds quietly and you barely laugh into the speaker, shaking your head.

“Yeah, you did.”

“I meant it when I said I missed you,” he starts, picking back up again before you can respond. “This shit is just hard… I dunno, you know how hard it gets for me sometimes,” he says and you just nod to yourself, remembering the constant conflict between loving the spotlight and hating it. “I slept with a couple of girls,” he adds and you sit up, disgusted and confused as to why that even bothers you at all.

“Not sure if that’s something you need to share.”

“I do,” he says reluctantly. “I didn’t like it, I don’t like this. It’s hard to tell when people are using me or really interested in me,” he admits.

“I know that sucks,” you say apologetically, trying to fight the genuine sympathy you’re starting to feel. “I’m sorry.”

“They were all I had, I paid for them to stay here longer, they were only visiting,” he jumbles the words together, rubs his hand down his face out of frustration. “You were really interested in me,” he observes, his voice wistful.

“Yeah,” you say softly, unsure of what else to say.

“You never said if you’d come over tonight,” he points out and you stay silent on the other end, as does he for a moment. “You’re not,” he says then, his voice low, the sadness clearly audible, even over the phone.

“I can’t, you know that would be wrong.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” he argues. “Just come over.”


“Forget about him for a second, it’s not like that,” he says frustrated, stomping out his cigarette as he climbs the steps to his apartment. “Please, I just- I just want someone around for a little is all,” he says quietly.

You can hear his door close and you swallow, knowing that if you say yes, that means you’re going right over, no time to waste. If you say no, that could be it. This could be the last time you really talk to him, and as much as you’d like to move on, you’re not sure if you’re ready for that yet. You’re confused, unsure that he thinks that the boy from earlier is the boy, your boy, but also feeling a little… victorious. Like you’re getting to him, maybe. It’s only slightly sad, but very amusing to you that from a few Facebook or Instagram pictures of your nights out that he happens to have his arm around you in, Zayn assumes you’re dating the guy. But you let him assume.

You sigh into the phone and leave your bed, too lazy to change. You pull a pair of more comfortable flat shoes on, keeping your phone held in between your ear and shoulder.

“You’re at home, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little brighter. “So you’re coming then, yeah?”

“Only for a little while, till you fall asleep,” you say strictly and he bites his lower lip as he listens to your voice.

“I’m still drunk,” he says into the phone, and you laugh softly, shaking your head at his words.

“I know.”

“I’ll see you in a few.”

“Okay, babe.”

“Stop calling me that,” you say feistily just before the line goes dead.

The train ride there is short, just a couple of stops before you reach his. You walk with your hands in the pockets of your jacket, annoyed at yourself for being too lazy to change as you fight with your dress to pull it lower on your legs. You feel butterflies in your stomach as you near his building, a feeling you didn’t welcome, let alone expect. You turn the corner and to your slight surprise you see a figure on the stoop and you can just make out that familiar form hunched over, the glow of his cigarette confirming it.


He looks up and his mouth parts, the cigarette almost falling from his lips but he catches it, removing it and holding it between his fingers.

“Thanks for answering,” he slurs, reaching out to give you a one armed hug, his arm around your waist, but the other quickly joins as he remembers how good it felt to hold you like this, to have your body so close to his own.

“No more drunk calls,” you warn him as you step away from him, letting your arms drop from around his waist. “Let’s go inside, you need to get some rest.”

He shakes his head, drops his cigarette and crushes it with the toe of his boot before letting you lead him inside into his all too familiar loft apartment. It looked so unlived in from afar, but you had the place memorized, knew that if you looked in the fridge he’d have take-out leftovers or leftovers from his own home cooked meals. You knew that the living room was covered in footprints and fingerprints, not ones that you could see but ones you’d know were there if you spent enough time here with him like you did. If you sat on the couch, you might feel that little mark in the leather from that time he thought he brought an ashtray onto the armrest and actually didn’t. You smiled at the memory, how you’d sat straddling his lap, laughing wildly together when he stamped the sofa with his smoke, amongst your closest friends and some people you didn’t know at all, one of those parties that you loved and hated at the same time, because it wasn’t like him to throw one, but you knew why he did. He staggers over to you, settling behind you as you lean against the wall, looking over the room, realizing you’d almost forgotten how beautiful his view of the city was from the floor to ceiling windows that lined the open space.

“Cha doing?” he slurs tiredly and you turn around, startled by his sudden appearance.

“Just looking around,” you say dismissively, nudging his arm to get him to follow you.

“Do you miss it?” he asks then, taking you by surprise. “This place. Do you miss it?”

“That’s not relevant right now.”

“Then why are you here?” he challenges, and you feel yourself flush, turning to glare at him.

“You asked me to come.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You wanted to,” he shrugs, stalking off to his room.

You sit, confused and a little annoyed, maybe angry, you’re not sure, but you swallow it all back and follow him into his room, shrugging off your jacket. He stumbles to his dresser and pouts at his open drawer, scratching his shaven head as he looks down at the mess of partially folded clothes.

“You’re more drunk than I thought,” you scoff at him, pushing passed him to dig through his clothes yourself. “Here, put this on. Get comfortable,” you urge him as you shove him towards the bathroom, your hand against his chest.

He reaches up and catches your hand there and your gaze immediately drops to the floor beneath your feet, your skin becoming warm.

“Zayn, don’t do this.”

“You miss me, you wouldn’t have come otherwise,” he drawls.

“No, I was just worried that you were too drunk and by yourself.”

“Yeah because you miss me,” he points out blatantly. “I thought you really liked this new guy, but you’re here.”

Your lips form an “O”, no words coming out. You don’t know what to say, so he keeps going.

“I told you, you can do better. You can do so much better than that guy, babe,” he says, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he adds quickly, when your eyes narrow at the mention of the affectionate little pet name.

He steps closer though, and you think for a moment that his eyes look a little less glossy and hazed than they have all night probably. You can’t help but let yourself lean into him when he wraps his arm around your waist, his other hand resting on your neck and keeping your head tilted towards him. He strokes his thumb along your jaw and you try to look away, but the intensity of his gaze makes it hard to stray away from.

“Do you still think about us?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “About the times we had?”

You can’t lie to those hopeful eyes, you can’t hide what his intuition has already picked up on. So instead, you change the subject.

“You’re drunk. You need to go to bed.”

“Admit it,” he demands.

“C’mon, Zayn,” you urge him and he lifts your head a little higher, lets his own drop a little lower, his breath so soft against your lips, the smell of alcohol and smoke so poignant.

“You do. I know you do,” he says quietly, brushing his lips so softly over yours, you could swear it was the touch of a ghost. But when you don’t pull away, when you rub your palm up his chest and over his shoulder, till your fingers rest against the back of his neck, he does it again, lingers a little bit longer this time though and moves his mouth so slowly against yours. It’s so alluring, so warm and gentle, and it drives you crazy that he can kiss like this even when he’s drunk. You forget though- about the alcohol that stains his lips, his whole mouth with bittersweet flavor, about the kiss that couldn’t even compare to this one from earlier, about everything that tore you apart before- and let yourself get lost in it, in how slow you both start off, in how warm his body is and the disparity of his nose ring when it brushes against your nose so softly.

You let him fill your senses with himself, with his kiss. It’s so warm and desperate and a little rougher when he pulls you tighter against him to walk you over to his other dresser where he picks you up and sets you on top of it, your lips barely leaving his in the process.

“Zayn,” you say softly, pushing him back, your voice against his lips. “We can’t- I can’t, you’re drunk and you don’t know what you want and-“

“I want you,” he argues. “I know what I want. I don’t think you do,” he contradicts, hitting the nail right on the head, a consistent activity for him tonight.

“I… you’re right. I have no idea.”

“It’s not him though.”

“I guess not.”

“I thought you were happy.”

“We’re not even dating.”

His eyes widen and he nods once, taking your face in his hands.

“So… why aren’t you kissing me then?” he asks, his voice breathy and low, like silk against your mouth.

“I dunno,” you breathe against his lips, your breath cut off with another kiss, as tantalizingly slow as the one before.

He caresses your neck, splays his free hand against your lower back to bring you closer. You hold onto his shoulder, hypnotized by his touch as his mouth moves so languidly against yours. His tongue slips passed his lips, swiping over your own till you part your mouth against his and let him in, tasting and exploring one another’s mouths after so much time apart. You draw him closer, lock yourself around him and you can feel his body loosen with your touch. You pull away again and rest your head on his shoulder, listening to his breath slow down, his heart rate regulating as yours does.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say hopelessly and he tilts your head up.

“Be with me,” he suggests, a slightly drunken, but one hundred percent sincere smirk on his lips.

“It’s not that easy,” you say sadly, rubbing your palm softly over his cheek. “You’re not that easy.”

“Neither are you,” he says with a sad smile.

You stay like that, limbs wrapped around each other and your breaths the only sound in the apartment.

“Thanks for picking up,” he says, his words less slurred than before. “Thanks for listening,” he adds quietly, his mind clearly clouded with thoughts of regret and confusion and the struggle to adjust, to accept.

“You know I’ll always be your friend for that,” you comfort him and he shakes his head, stepping away from you.

“You know that’s not what I want.”

“I know,” you agree, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach and the racing of your heart.

You want to hold him again, kiss him till your mouths go numb and your clothes come off and you can’t tell his heartbeat from your own.

“Come here,” you whisper, beckoning him with a nod of your head and he saunters back over, his head drooping down.

You peel his shirt over his head, take him in as you remember, except this time with blonde hair that works so well. You gaze at the tattoos and the little indents of his hips that you memorized so well, biting your lip at the sight of that all too familiar happy trail. You push him backwards gently, guiding him towards his bed and he sits down, pulling you in between his legs and grabbing your hips, kissing your stomach over your dress.

“Nice outfit by the way,” he mumbles, his words muffled by your dress and you giggle, scratching the top of his head gently.

“Thank you.”

“Can you stay with me tonight? Just till I fall asleep,” he mutters and you nod, scratching the back of his neck now.


He climbs into bed then, too distracted to bother with his jeans. You watch as he rolls underneath the covers, making room for you beside him. You settle against the headboard, your legs crossed and his head in your lap, his arm draped over you, almost snaking around your waist.

You stay like that and listen when he thinks out loud, scratch his back when you can feel he’s getting tense till he falls asleep, his breath leaving his parted lips in soft puffs. You sigh at the sight of him, so vulnerable and sweet, his eyelashes spread so beautifully against his cheeks and his lips so pink. You try to untangle yourself from him to leave, but his grip around you only tightens when he feels the movement, like he’s scared to let you go. So you stay, awake almost all night thinking about him, about everything as he sleeps. He told you you could do better and you found yourself scared and happy and excited and nervous all at once when you realized that the boy on the phone, the boy sleeping practically on top of you right now who could leave your entire body tingling with a drunken kiss might just be the best.

You turn over, your cheek smushed into a pillow you don’t remember falling asleep on the night before. You pick your head up, your eyes barely open and look around the room, your lips parting when you remember where you were- though you don’t remember falling asleep like this, under the covers and covered so securely by thick, warm blankets in the cool room. You remember leaning somewhat uncomfortably against the headboard, Zayn’s arm across your lap and his head resting against your thigh-


You sit up quickly, stretching as you hop out of bed in search of him. You start to freak a little when you realize your stuff is scattered through his apartment, your shoes and jacket and phone all in different places, your make up smudged from sleeping with it still on. Yet you still focus on finding him, calling his name once. You push open the bathroom door, you poke your head into the kitchen, you check that seemingly empty room that’s actually cluttered with drawings and spray paints and tons of other art supplies, and you even crack open the door to his at home studio, expecting to find him there for sure and frowning when you don’t. And then you remember the one place you didn’t check, the spot he’d go to if even the studio or the drawing room wasn’t enough.

“Zayn?” you call out softly onto the balcony after you’ve crossed through his bedroom again, sliding open the glass doors that lead to the small patio.

“You’re up,” he says, a small smile on his face that you can’t see completely, part of his face shrouded as he looks at you sideways, a cigarette dangling from his lips as usual.

“You didn’t hear me calling you.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been out here.”

You close the space in between you and drape your arms over his shoulders, letting your fingers spread out over his bare chest. He smells good, like he’d taken a shower and sat there lathering for hours. You nuzzle your nose against his shoulder, trailing into the crook of his neck where you press a gentle kiss to his skin.

“But I can’t call you ‘babe’,” he says jokingly and you giggle against his skin.

“I’m still deciding, actually.”

“Really?” he says brightly, pulling at your arm so you come around to face him.

You shake your head, trying to hide your face.

“I’m a mess,” you tell him when you see his eyebrows raise. “I should get home, freshen up and uh… get my head together, okay?”

“You can do that here,” he offers, tilting his head to one side with the suggestion. “I know you don’t have clothes, but you can borrow some of mine for the day.”

“My face wa-“

“I have some still,” he admits. “I felt bad throwing it out,” he adds quietly and you lean down, kissing his cheek before drawing away abruptly.

“I guess I’ll go freshen up then,” you say quietly and he nods, his gaze only leaving you when you’re out of sight, disappearing into the bathroom.

You swear that was the best shower you’d ever taken. You feel so clean after, so renewed and fresh. You step out of the bathroom with your clothes gathered in your arms and your towel wrapped neatly around you. You’re greeted by his warm smile as he steps inside from the balcony, his eyes flickering back over to you when he realizes you’re just in a towel.

“Feel better?” he asks, clearing his throat and looking away.

“Much, thank you.”

You’re not sure what to do next and neither is he apparently so you retreat back into the bathroom, pretending you have something else to do in there. You’re just staring in the mirror after splashing a little more cold water on your face and drying off when he nudges the door open with his foot, knocking twice to make sure it’s alright to enter. You tell him to come in and he hands you a pile of folded clothes, some boxers, some grey sweats, and an old crewneck to be exact. You smile your thanks, lean up too to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and you can’t help but wonder what he’s doing to you, what you’re doing to him.

You emerge from the bathroom shortly and he smiles at you, wrapping you in his embrace as soon as you’re close enough.

“I always liked how you looked in my clothes,” he says. “Especially this jumper.”

“I like it, too,” you reply shyly, biting your lip and forcing yourself to look at him, smiling when his finger drifts over your jaw.

“You stayed last night,” he states, and you don’t know what to say, you can’t even tell if he’s saying it out of disbelief or what.

“And you were drunk last night,” you say, trying to make light of the situation, but you can tell y his face he takes it differently.

“I know and I’m sorry, I am, I know I shouldn’t have called I- I don’t know why I did, I know I shouldn’t have.”

You reach up and lay your hand on the back of his neck, scratching soothingly, waiting for his eyes to meet yours.

“It’s okay,” you assure him when he finally looks into your eyes. “If you didn’t, I wouldn’t be here now, right? Unless you want me to go, then I can do that of course, I don’t-“

“No, no, of course not. The last thing I want is for you to leave,” he confesses, hugging you tighter and burying his face in your neck, taking in how you smell and feel, how perfectly you fit against him. “Not again,” he adds quietly.

“I had a reason,” you tell him, pulling away from the hug, feeling yourself get defensive.

“I know, I know, I’m just saying,” he sighs, “I don’t want to be apart from you again, I don’t want to hurt you. I… want you to stay. I want you to be the one by my side, I want to be the one by yours.”

You pull away, confused and nervous all over again.

“It’s just so much so quickly, Zayn, I… I don’t know what to do.”

“You want me right? You still thought about us even when we weren’t together, right?”


“And I want you, and I never stopped thinking about you, my love.”

“It’s just a lot at once.”

“Don’t make it a lot then, just let yourself get what you want- what we both want. Don’t overthink it,” he pleads, taking a step closer to you to close the gap you’d made, walking with you till you hit the bed, slowly sinking down onto it. He slides onto the mattress, settling down right in front of you.

“Zayn, you didn’t know what you wanted. I tried to be there, I tried to lo-“you sigh to yourself, afraid to admit your feelings, to open yourself up to him. “I tried to love you, Zayn. But it’s like you were afraid and I don’t get it, I don’t get how you couldn’t accept what I was trying to give, but then you tell me about these girls that use you and- and-“

He scoots closer, rubbing your thigh to calm you down.

“You were so caught up with these shady girls, and you shouldn’t have been. You never deserved that, you don’t deserve to feel used like that, I would never do that to you, Zayn, I would never make you feel like that.”

That anger and resentment comes flooding back, but that look in his eyes, the way he nods and holds your face when you finally stop rambling, says something to you.

“Why do you think I called you, huh?” he asks, his thumbs stroking at the skin just below your eyes, the warmth of his hands against your cheeks so calming. “I trust you.”

“You should. You should trust me, I know what you’ve been through, what you’re going through, I know you,” you say pointedly, and he just looks at you with a smile on his face.

“I know,” he says, his voice happier than before, his smile growing. “I realize that. I know you’re better for me than anyone,” he admits and you look up at him, searching for the sincerity in his eyes and you see it immediately, you can feel it in how he’s pulled you closer, one hand still on your face. “But I need to know, and you need to say it- am I better for you?”

Your lips part as if to speak, but nothing comes out. You grasp at Zayn’s face, only your finger’s sticking out from the sweaterpaws his jumper’s created. He leans into your hand and you can’t help but force him closer, to tilt your head back and press your lips to his because words wouldn’t be enough anyway. You’re reminded of last night, of the passionate, alcohol tainted kisses you’d shared, and how pure and electric this one is in comparison. Your noses bump together, your tongues move sloppily for a moment as you try to get closer and you smile into the kiss, your lips staying parted when he breaks away suddenly.

“Can I call you babe yet?” he asks, panting, lips pinker and his arms locked tightly around you.

You laugh in his arms, holding his face to yours. “Yes, babe, you can call me that,” you say and he practically knocks you down with his enthusiasm when his lips meet yours again, your lips melting together, your arms wrapped around each other like your life depends on hanging on to one another. Your movements become clumsy when he pulls the sweater he’d let you borrow over your head, disregarding it on the floor. You rush to get the sweatpants off and he does the same, your bodies crashing together against the wall after you’ve stood up to get the pants off and he joined you, eager to touch you, hold you, kiss you till you were gasping for air to breathe that wasn’t his. You laugh breathily against his mouth, gasping at his roughness, but smiling at the eagerness, the desperation that you know is mutual. He pins you against the wall, kissing every inch he can reach. You do the same, needing to feel him closer. He bends down as his lips work over your skin, moving so softly across your shoulders and your breasts, his tongue dipping out to wet the skin of your stomach and your hips. You hold onto his shoulders as he moves lower, smiling when he nuzzles his nose into you, just above the band of the underwear you’d borrowed from him.

“This should be the other way around I think,” he jokes as he pulls the boxers down your legs, earning a laugh from you.

Your laughter fades when his gaze grows more serious, your breath hitching when he holds onto your hips and rubs his nose against your inner thigh, kissing you softly. You bite your lip, breathing heavily when he does it again, closer to your center. Your next breath leaves you in a curse when he tilts his head back and slides his tongue in between your lower lips, tasting, teasing you with soft breaths and kisses. You lean your head back against the wall, biting your lip to keep your noise under control as his tongue moves against you, swirling in between your legs. You grip his shoulder with one hand, the other resting atop his head, and for a moment you miss when you could pull at his longer strands, have something to hold onto.

Sh- shit, you curse under your breath, panting when his tongue moves harder against you and he sucks, pulling at the flesh with his lips. He does this again, likes how tightly you hold onto him when he does something you really like. His grip on your hips tightens as he sucks on you, his tongue flicking over your clit and then sliding downwards. You curse again, your legs becoming weak, your eyes falling shut as you lean against the wall. He looks up at you, rubs one hand up your body to squeeze your breast gently and you grab his hand, letting him know to stop. He pauses, still looking up at you and rising to your level when you grab his hand in yours, kissing one of his fingertips then sucking it softly, your eyes not once leaving his. He watches you, mesmerized as your eyes blink closed, only to stare right into yours when they open again.

“Babe,” he says quietly, getting your attention so you slow to a halt.

He guides you back to bed with him, dragging his boxers down his legs, so you share the bed completely exposed, your skin burning under his stare. He rolls on a condom that he grabs from his bedside table, tossing the ripped gold package on the floor with his clothes, crawling till his body hovers directly over yours. You watch as he kisses down your body again, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh briefly before snaking back up your body, nuzzling against the hollow of your neck and kissing there before he finds your lips again.

“God, I missed you,” he confesses softly, his voice a throaty, low whisper.

“I know,” you say back, pulling him down for a deeper, warmer kiss. “I missed you,” you admit then, holding his face to yours so he can feel the words you speak against his mouth.

He presses his lips to yours again, adjusting himself in between your legs so he’s lined up with you, his lips staying pressed to yours when he slides into you. You moan into his mouth and can’t help it when you lean your head back. You’d forgotten how good he feels, how perfectly he touches you and kisses you because he knows your body so well, knows what to do, where to touch and how to touch it to have you coming for him in minutes. But he knows just as well how to make you last, like he’s doing now, switching the pace between slow and hard, fast and hard, soft but slow. It’s agonizingly good, how he fills you with each thrust, pounding against you, your mouths bumping sloppily against one another’s lips, desperate to touch but hard to keep together with the constant movement of your bodies. You mold together so perfectly, sweaty skin on skin, his back streaked with red from the scratching you just couldn’t control anymore, your expression twisted into one of need, of pure desire. You urge him to go harder and he does, pounding into you, the smack of his skin on yours and the sound of your breathing, your moans of each other’s names the only sounds in the room. You long to grab at his hair, to pull at something because his touch is just too much for you. You arch back, cursing through your breath and letting out a loud, panting moan when you can’t hold back anymore. He rocks his hips against yours, your heels digging into his back. You long to be closer, closer than you are now even despite how you’ve filled each other’s veins, flooded each other’s senses with the touch of one another. He tugs at your lower lip, whispering in your ear that you’re his everything, that you feel so fucking good underneath him like this. You bite back a moan, gasping when his thrusts become relentless, the headboard leaving scratches in the paint on the wall. You feel your climax closing in, feel how your body tightens, the sensation pooling in your belly as Zayn urges you to come for him. You do when he starts to suck softly at your neck, one hand massaging your breast as he continues to pump into you. You curl against his body, your fingers pressing hard into his back, cursing out into the room when you feel the high wash over you. You see nothing but him, feel nothing but how he continues to move inside you till he finds his own high, letting his head rest against your neck as he finishes off, breathing you in. You pant beneath him as he collects himself, his forehead on your shoulder as his body lies on top of yours, both of you a mess of sweat and tangled limbs and a want so desperate, you’re not sure it can ever be fulfilled. You watch as he rolls off of you, tosses the used rubber away into the trash and quickly comes back to rest by your side. You prop yourself up on your elbow, admiring the ink that adorns his skin, how tranquil he looks right now with his eyes half closed and a lazy smile on his lips.


“You’re… I dunno…,” you say inexplicably.

Describing how beautiful he looks, how soothing the sound of his breathing and the feel of his skin against yours is- it’s nearly impossible. He’s like a dream.

“Is that a good ‘I don’t know’?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning down to kiss his lips, “it is.”

He pulls you closer to him so you’re half on top of his body, your legs around one of his, his arm wrapped around you. He seems tired now, lazy and smiley and happy. You kiss his head and whisper for him to rest with you, be lazy like this all day.

“Thanks for picking up,” he sort of whispers, cuddling into you like he needs you to be closer.

“Thanks for calling,” you say with a smile, kissing his chest and looking up at him, falling into quiet conversation, interrupting each other with stolen kisses in between words and laughter, repairing what you both thought had fallen apart. 

i just had a dream about me and josh dun holding hands the whole night till 7am and it was really sweet and now i kinda like him, but i ain’t got no time for another fave

One of my favorite poems of Baudelaire…

The Ghost

Like angels with wild beast’s eyes
I shall return to your bedroom
And silently glide toward you
With the shadows of the night;

And, dark beauty, I shall give you
Kisses cold as the moon
And the caresses of a snake
That crawls around a grave.

When the livid morning comes,
You’ll find my place empty,
And it will be cold there till night.

I wish to hold sway over
Your life and youth by fear,
As others do by tenderness.

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

Le Revenant

Comme les anges à l'oeil fauve,
Je reviendrai dans ton alcôve
Et vers toi glisserai sans bruit
Avec les ombres de la nuit;

Et je te donnerai, ma brune,

Des baisers froids comme la lune
Et des caresses de serpent
Autour d'une fosse rampant.

Quand viendra le matin livide,
Tu trouveras ma place vide,
Où jusqu'au soir il fera froid.

Comme d'autres par la tendresse,
Sur ta vie et sur ta jeunesse,
Moi, je veux régner par l'effroi.

Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du mal

Hold Me Tight Till the Night Ends

Summary:   His every move was slow and so tender, making her heart flutter. He breathed on her jawline, making her dizzy. Every kiss made his lips to curl into a smile, trailing his touches on her bare spine. She never knew that with his one touch, she can feel thousands of sensations all at once.

She was sitting on the couch, her head resting on the edge of it. She removed her shoes and massaged her feet. Tired and exhausted after such a long day. And it was worth it, after all it was her best friend’s wedding day.

“You must be exhausted.” He brought a glass of whiskey, and sat beside her.

“Yeah, everything happened in a blur, and then,” She was lost when the realization hit her. He was there, finally. Even after running away from everything, she ended up with him.

“It’s just, I have never imagined Damon as a marriage type.” She tried to hide her increased rate of heartbeat by changing the subject.

“Well, people do crazy things when they are in love.” His every smile was cracking the walls of her soul.

“So how is everything in your life? Anything new?” She wanted to ask if he had already fallen out of love with her, or if he is seeing someone currently, but these were the questions, that haunted her all night, and They stayed on the tip of her tongue, but never came out.

“Everything is fine, I guess. What about you? How is everything on your end? I heard you are pretty famous on stage. Trying for Broadway?” His twinkling smile reminded her why she left her home town in the first place. She dreaded to fall for him all over again. And she was right, he still had the same effect on her. The difference was, these five years had changed him a lot. She could see that he was calm, and had accepted her as nothing but a friend. She was no one to complain, when it was all her doing, when she was the one who took the steps back.

“Caroline, don’t.” he couldn’t hear anymore. Her every word was feeling like a dagger, stabbing him again and again.

“Am I wrong, Stefan? The moment I started my stupid feelings to come in the way, everything was ruined. I destroyed our friendship at that very moment, Stefan. After that it’s like a train wreck of wrong decisions by me. And thinking of starting something with you is one of them. So, I-”

“No, I am not listening to any of it Caroline.” He cut her off, without giving a second thought. For the first time, he was losing his patience with her. “Nothing, has changed between us.”

“Every damn thing is changed. I can’t do this anymore, not now, not ever. It’s over, Stefan.”

It was quite hard for her to bring out those harsh words out of her mouth, but she had to do it, for both of their sakes. She was fast in walking away from him, but he was faster. She turned, and he was in front of her.

“I am not letting you walk away like this, Caroline. You can’t just say it’s over, and move on.”

“I can, and I will.”

“And what about me? What about my feelings?” he was shouting now, listening to how stubborn she sounded.

“Yes, you liked me. I heard that in the rave party, Stefan. It won’t be hard for you to back off now, before the feelings grow anymore. It’s better now than later.”

“Yeah, well, you should have given me this warning way before…. Because I don’t think if I can take my feelings back now.” he snapped.

“If you don’t, I am done with our friendship.”

She walked away and he didn’t followed, the stinging sensation still on the back of her tongue left by those crude words. It was difficult for her to stay at the same place, reminding her of his very essence. And so, she ran away. It was not Caroline Forbes like. She always faced every hard time with open arms, winning in life. This time, it felt different, she was crumbling, broken and shattered.

“It’s good, it’s not like I can make a career out of the stage, because of the constant move and everything, but it relaxes me.“ Life was good at the small town of Florida near Miami. It wasn’t home, but she learned to like it. When people see the same things, each and every day for five years, they tend to start getting used to it. Managing as an organizer for parties and still pursuing her stage career wasn’t easy. But, it kept her busy, and so she did it anyway. Even to that day, she couldn’t shake him off from her mind, her thoughts, her every bone ached for him. Does it make her selfish if she wished to cross him on turning to every corner? Does it makes her vulnerable, when her eyes searched for that similar, perfectly carved face in that applauding audience, does it make her insecure that he forgot her so easily, filling her eyes with nothing but disappointment.

She laughed away her pain, but the layers beneath those smiles were never hidden from Stefan.

“I should go now.” she was about to stand when she felt her hand being pulled from behind and she fell backwards.

“Where were you planning to go in the middle of the night?” she was relieved to see him still caring for her. But, whom was she kidding to? This was Stefan, and he cared for everyone. She wasn’t special, and she had lost the place of a friend in his life too.

“I was going to Bonnie’s.”

“If you don’t remember, she isn’t here, she left for her project trip after the wedding. Besides, Elena and Damon are already gone for their honeymoon, and there are plenty of room in this house. You can use one, Caroline.” This was becoming harder with every second to inhale the same air flowing between them, being all alone with him would definitely be the wrong idea. But she nodded her head in agreement anyway.

“It’s good to have you back Caroline.” His eyes were intense and sincere.

“I am not staying here forever. I should remind you I don’t live here anymore, if you have forgotten.”

“I know, but I am glad that you came.” He reached out to hold her hand.

“It doesn’t look so convincing to me, when you neither looked for me, nor even tried to contact me.” She bit her tongue for not being in control. He sighed, as if he almost knew her reaction to be.

“You told me to let you go”

“And you did.” Her heart sank when he didn’t defended himself.

“I know it won’t make much sense, but I think a little part of me always wanted you to look for me, to come after me. And with every little disappointment I guess, the hope inside me started to die.” She was being selfish again, for thinking, after everything she said, he will ever come to her. He wanted to try and she ruined it all, how can she blame him? But yet everyday she ended up with a thought that he might still be waiting, and started her every morning with a hope that he might come to check on her someday.

The reality in front of her snapped her out of her delusion. She can never be the one, for anyone. The thought brought all the past ghost rushing in her thoughts, her eyes were wet, and she tried to keep the teardrops within her eyes.

“It was nice of you to spend your time in the healthcare center.”

She frowned when the words sink into her head. “How did you…? Nobody knows about this, not even Elena or Bonnie.”

“How can you even have this doubt that I would have let you stay all alone, unprotected, and no one to look out for you?” his eyes were focused staring down on his hands. When he looked at her, she was in disbelief.

“I was always there Caroline, with your every step. I was there when you first moved into that small apartment, I saw you walking every day on those streets, laughing and making everyone smile around you, when you gave away all those performances, I applauded the most, I laughed with you when you smelled the flowers in that shop in the corner of the street. Every day you bought two flowers, for your mother, and every day, I fell for you more and more. You told me that it will be easy to stop the feelings, it wasn’t, and now it’s impossible.”

For the first time after so long, they were in each other’s proximity, lost to find any more words and thus, preferred to stay silent. No one knew, who leaned on or who took the step forward. They were so close, that even one movement would have broken the shield she created around herself. However, Stefan was the first one to remove that space hovering between them, when his lips softly touched her. How could he wait any longer, when she was there, finally just an inch away from his arms? It was a swift brush of his lips that engulfed the whole of Caroline’s. Nothing mattered, but him. His every move was slow and so tender, making her heart flutter. He breathed on her jawline, making her dizzy. Every kiss made his lips to curl into a smile, trailing his touches on her bare spine. She never knew that with his one touch, she can feel thousands of sensations all at once. He slipped the strap of her dress with one finger, and when his warm breath touched her skin, it exploded her from inside, her whole body was on fire.

They were too broken to be together, she was convinced that it wasn’t meant to be, their mere presence would destroy each other. But at that very moment, every piece of the puzzle felt fitting perfectly together, saving each other. “Caroline” he whispered near her collarbone. “When you were gone, I lost a part of me too. I care too much about you, to give up on us.”

“Even when I told you to?”

“Especially when you told me to.” He touched her cheeks with the edge of his nose, his exhales forming goose bumps on her porcelain skin. She entangled her fingers in his caramel hair, stroking them. He wrapped his hands around his waist to bring her closer, leaving no space of air between them. Slowly, he picked her in his arms to take her in his room. She stroked his arms while kissing his bare chest. His hands were lost in her hair, playing with it.

“Caroline.” He said in between the kisses “I think I have a thing for your hair.” She chuckled.

“Do you ever feel like there is no one in this world who cares about you?” the phrase she said once way in the past fading with his every kiss. The night was dark, but with every minute passing by, their world was shining with light more and more. When she woke up her body was pressed to his body, his arms about her waist, keeping her tight in his grips, almost in a fear of losing her once again.

“The roses I bought were for you, one for mom and one for you.” She felt his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent.

“I never knew that you felt so strongly about me.” He held her tight bringing her closer to himself.

“Me neither, because I never realized that I had fallen madly in love with you, Caroline.” His eyes were closed, but he could see her smile reaching to her eyes and touching his soul.