that open eyes kiss does things to me

One night, Mike brings El home from a date at the movies and pulls up by Hopper’s place ten minutes before curfew, as he usually does. Just as they’re saying goodnight, Mike leaning forward to kiss his girlfriend (the fact that he can use that word still sends him spiralling into lovesick fervour), the opening notes of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now come sounding through the speakers of the car he’s borrowed from Karen. El’s eyes widen with delight and she quickly turns the volume up, so loud that Mike is sure it’ll wake the neighbours—not that the Hoppers have neighbours—they still live in a secluded spot by the lake. El grins up at Mike and he grins back. They both love this song. 

And neither notices the soft glow of a cigarette on the front porch, behind which Jim Hopper sits, watching their flailing arms, mimed microphones, nad exaggerated facial expressions, illuminated by the headlights of the car. Smirk on his lips, Hopper thanks whatever god is listening that he can’t hear them singing over the volume of the music; neither his daughter nor her boyfriend are particularly vocally talented. He is glad, however, to see El so happy and carefree; glad that she’s free to be silly and having fun with a boy he knows loves her very deeply. 

but baby, maybe i’m just tired. my eyes don’t stay open no more, not once it’s dark out and oh god, does it get dark out lately. the moon comes early, before the sun has really seen me. and baby, maybe you’re just sleeping. you don’t read me like you used to. my palms are open, ready to kiss your cheeks and you don’t hear me when i tell you i am crazy. i am crazy, don’t you get it? i say the same old things until they’re a song that can’t stop repeating, that won’t stop playing, that won’t ever cease. but they’re not pretty sounds no more, no they don’t remind you of daisies or nice dreams. no, they’re like nightmares and turning the lights off too soon. not pretty like you, or the coffee house we went to before it closed. and it don’t look the same, baby. no, everything has changed. don’t you see it? the world’s a broken bone. the world’s got a lot to learn. i want to teach it what i know.

i have a soft, sweet, seemingly endless love affair with the sun. the way she wakes me in the morning, slowly at first, and then vibrantly all at once. the way her light shines on the simplest of things, making them eerily glow…turning everything in her path yellow. the way she hugs me in the afternoons, hanging just a bit lower to give me a personal kiss, illuminating my freckles. even when she leaves me at the end of every day, she does it effortlessly, with bold and beautiful color, or sometimes she slips away with little trace at all. it’s beautiful. all of it. and i think my favorite part is knowing we will meet again in a few blissful hours when she opens her eyes.

Saudade // chapter seven

Please don’t kill me for this chapter. For some of you it might not have sense and so on but yeah it does in my head ;p not much is going on in it but some things are said and done sooo…..

WARNING

Since you’ve been warned now enjoy! :)

“Hi.”  Val said as he opened the door.

“Hey.” Zendaya replied smiling at him warmly.

“You look beautiful.” He couldn’t help his eyes roaming up and down her body.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek softly.

“Thank you.” She said before he even managed to pull back.

“Please come in.” He stepped away letting her in. “And don’t feel to stressed but everyone is expecting you, especially…”

“Zendaya!”

Keep reading

Don’t tell me he doesn’t love her
Because he never said it with words
Screw words
Fuck words
Words are overrated anyways
I love you can be overlooked in things as simple as
Words
I love you means something when it’s in the form his affection takes
When it decides to spread its wings and go for a fly
He loves her in the way he kisses her with his eyes closed
Not willing to open them until he breaks away because he’s afraid
That if he does
He’ll wake up from the ecstatic dream he’s having
To find her lips never really touched his in the first place
He loves her in the way he sneaks a glance at her
Like every moment is precious and his longing
Oh his heart-aching longing
Is something to be ashamed of
Because it’s not like she could ever love him back
He loves her in the way his eyes flood with tears
Every time they say goodbye
And no one notices
Because they’re all too busy assuming
That love is some all-powerful endgame force
That love cannot be felt towards more than one person at a time
That he got the girl and she got the guy and god,
How could they ever love each other when they have a life like this?
But he loves her, I know it
Even though he doesn’t say it
Because words could never be
Are never
Enough
—  fuck words (says the poet); (s.k.)