#witcheking

                                 ‘   don’t you ever   ...   miss   home   ?   ‘   she   mumbles,   knees tucked in as she   settles down   besides the other.   not   too far,   yet   close enough   for her   voice to carry.   ‘   I MEAN,   it’s   nice   here   &   everything,   but it’s not   ...   well,   home.   ‘   //   @witcheking,   ♡   !

               ❝ My house isn’t haunted. I would just call it OCCUPIED by a few humble spirits just looking to live out their sentence in peace. ❞  Barbara and Adam had long since stopped trying to haunt the house in order to scare away the residents. Besides, scaring the family away would mean scaring Lydia away, too, and she had become like a daughter to them. In turn they turned out to be second parents to her.  ❝ What do you know about haunted houses anyways? ❞

annoyance       blooms       behind       brim       of       readers     ,                over    the    edge    of    selected    novel                –––––               she    regards    him    as    such    ,            without    any    attempt    to    disguise    sourness    .                 ❛              .   .   .       can    i    help    you    ?            ❜                    (      customary    greeting’s    nonchalance    bordering   hostile    !       )                 /           @witcheking       ♡     .

violet eyes focus on the papers in her hands. it would be a lie to say she actually cared about what was going on in this town, however, mae finds it to be a rather relaxing activity. she doesn’t grace him with a gaze just yet, waits patiently until the finishes the article before she sets the papers aside. legs crossed, maerose leans back in her seat as she finally looks at him.  ❝ i honestly don’t see why you are coming to me of all the people. what exactly to you expect from me? ❞

she  leaves  him  wondering  why  she  told  him  that  in  the  first  place  .   for  when  lucy  casts  her  eyes  out  at  the  dizzy - coloured  night  she  only  says  ,    “    i  have  no  sense  for  death  .   when  he  comes  i  am  invariably  surprised  .    ”

MICHAEL      SEES          –––          always    far   more   perceptive   than   she   gives   him   credit   for   .            considerable    efforts    gone    to    in    hopes    of    making    herself    appear    unaffected    ,          untouched    ,           wiping    away    flakes    of    running    mascara    from    ‘neath    eyes    ,          patting    mussed    rouge    to    close    repair    .             grief’s    a    burden    she    bears    alone    ,          &        intentions    to    share    that    weight   ‘pon    shoulders    with    another    run    null    .               ❝            SHIT    ,           ❞              comes    mumbled    curse    ,            &         with    it    ,            all    resumed    nonchalance    mustered    to    drive    final    nail    into    the    coffin    of    normality’s    facade    .            straightened    shoulders    sag    ,            sigh’s    puff    bustling    from    faded    lipstick    ,            ❝           –––      is    it    that    obvious    ?           ❞

he wants to marked. thats what started all this. his attitude, ever a thorn in the side of those around him, has been cranked up the an insufferable degree with the sole purpose of instigating the sort of punishment he’s been itching for. its fulfillment couldnt be sweeter than the press of Michael’s statuesque frame against his, the cage of his arms keeping Alec tight against both his chest and the wall of the elevator. a soft ding interrupts their kiss as the doors open, but neither moves to separate. in fact, alec’s right leg rises to hitch itself around michael’s waist. he’s unable to free his arms from michael’s bruising grip, but his fingers twitch with the desire to tangle in his hair, even as he whines from the pain of teeth splitting his lip in their bruising kiss.