#loudbarks

Friday came much quicker than he anticipated. Between the successful day out shopping—where he served as the sole audience member and judge at Agent Provocateur—and making sure Jiji had everything he needed, they were whisked away to Alaska. Frankie did have her own jet, a fact that startled Ardan so greatly that he drank most of the flight to busy his lips from saying something uncouth. Just how much money was she able to get from husbands' past? However much it was, Frakie deserved that and double for what she had to go through. The demon was much too eager to reap the benefits of another man's folly. He had opted to carry his carry-on and the trunks of Frankie’s wardrobe so they could carry Jiji. Their belongings went straight into the rental car as he let Frankie bring them to her little slice of Alaskan paradise. It was breathtaking. The scenery was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, rivaling his host’s home back in Ireland. He knew the water was the main attraction for his lover, but he found himself appreciating the surrounding forests and the cold front that encircled them. He wondered what wildlife lived among them.

As if those words bound him, Ardan did exactly what Frankie commanded him to. He stayed. The pressure of sunlight against his closed eyes finally woke him up. He slept well, much better than he cared to admit. It most likely had to do with the comforting weight he held in his arms. Looking down, he took in the sight of red, messy hair. From the sound of their breathing, Frankie was still sleeping. Good, she needed as much rest as she could get.

Her fingers were still curled around his hand, acting like the anchor that kept him here with them. Ardan would be a monster—figuratively—to disturb Frankie like this, so he didn’t. Instead, he dipped his head down, lips planting a soft, warm kiss on the top of her head. Even though he could have kissed or touched her more, he fiercely resisted the urge to.

Ardan was a natural ragebaiter. He couldn’t help it; it paired well with his nature as an insufferable demon. From the way he spoke to his actions, he could drive just about anyone to the brink of insanity if you kept them in a room with him for more than five minutes. The reactions he elicited from mortals and immortals alike tasted just as delicious as human souls did, and who would he be to deny himself his sordid version of joy? So it made sense that Ardan would restart his antics with his fiancée, and he learned quickly just how full of rage she actually was.

He put all of Frankie’s mugs on the top shelf. Jiji watched as he woke up early that morning to enact his ridiculous little plan. The feline familiar chirped away, as if he were warning the demon just how bad an idea this all was. But Ardan pressed on anyway, showering the cat with pets until he hushed, hopped off the counter, and returned to his own devices. Once he had successfully migrated Frankie's mugs to the top cabinet, he slipped back into bed with them and pretended to wake when they did. The two of them descended the steps, chatting away about what the day had in store for them. Frankie mentioned shopping, and he knew immediately what that meant. A whole day of carrying bags, watching them try on outfit after outfit, and applauding each one, because Frankie looked stunning in everything—even a potato sack. Ardan watched silently, eyes bright as they fixed a pot of coffee for both of them. A tiny smile tugged at the edges of his lips as Frankie opened the cabinets, confusion evident on their face as their armada of mugs disappeared. They began to go through each cabinet and drawer until the only ones left were the ones Frankie couldn’t reach. She turned to him, glaring daggers at him, and finally, Ardan began to cackle. “Sorry, kitten,” he taunted, hopping off the stool and going to the top cabinet, swinging the doors open to reveal Frankie’s mugs. “I couldn’t resist teasing ya—”

They started to hunt together more often after their first night together. It gave Ardan such a rush to finally have someone—his beloved Frankie—cause as much chaos as he did when it was time to claim souls for his master. The siren was his everything; she was the woman who found ways to love every disgusting, nasty part of him. To do this together with her was something he couldn’t begin to describe, just how thankful he was for. He understood that the hunts brought a sadness to them that he had never experienced. It was humanity seeping back into Frankie’s ancient bones after all this time away from it. Because of that, he never pushed them. He let them set the tone and pace every time they did this together. And when things didn’t go as planned or in a way they wanted them to, they retreated back home to lick their wounds, watch something that comforted them together, and try again.

Ever since he proposed, Ardan couldn’t stop looking at Frankie’s hand. It was difficult not to; not when the fancy vivid blue glistened so brilliantly under the restaurant lights. The diamond shone brightly with the same, enpassioned promise he gave her since he got down on one knee: that he would stay with her through this eternity and every other one after that. Blue-gray eyes softened, taking in every groove of their knuckles and curve of their fingers. To adorn Frankie with something as beautiful as the love they shared was a privilege Ardan would never tire of possessing.

After placing their orders, Ardan shuffled the menus over to the waiter before turning his attention back to his fiancée. His smile was fond as he watched Frankie look from his face to his hand. Dutifully, he slid his hand towards her, already understanding what they wanted. The demon’s palm up to signify for them to follow suit and join him. They did eagerly, and he grinned as the diamond gleamed every time her fingers moved. Frankie’s hand joined his, and even when they faced opposite directions, he could tell she was already measuring his hand with keen precision. Their fingers brushed against the midpoint of his palm, while his fingerpads easily stroked against their wrist. The comparison made Ardan chuckle, fond and low as he glanced up at Frankie. His free hand clasped around the stem of his wine glass, and he took a long, unhurried sip.

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

(bc we all know ben CANNOT resist them cheesing)

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone: angels by the xx he is a softie