#especially alex

Even in my fantasy, I can't commit to believing

That I'll get what I want, I'm afraid of what I want

Even in my fantasy, I keep the car running

In case I need to take off

--

Let's try this again

I'm on my way to your house, guided by the stars

🧹 seeking the (sex) services of a witch (so many for this one and so much writing on one i need to get done)wip

It’s a warm afternoon in August when Henry’s doorbell rings. It hasn’t for a while, but he’s been keeping himself busy with plenty of mail orders and working on a book – a collection of older, no longer used spells and potions that he feels are still very relevant. It’s an odd time for someone to be at his door, and he hopes it’s not another client for the neighbors next door; he’s had fewer of them since they finally put up their sign. This has been ever so good for him, as he has had more than enough of being propositioned by people who are too lazy to go next door when he tells them they have the wrong door, especially the women. Henry looks through the peephole on his door, and the gentleman standing there nearly takes his breath away. He almost takes back everything he said about not wanting to be propositioned by the neighbor's clients anymore. He steels himself and grabs the doorknob, opening the door to a man even more beautiful than he appeared. Henry’s breath catches in his throat when the gentleman smiles and asks, “Hello, are you Henry? Do I have the right door?” All he can do is nod.

this weekend you can also