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moonchildstyles · 5 months
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oleander
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oleander part one: nothing could draw y/n in the way harry could
wordcount: 11.7k+
cw: this leans into some darker themes including a description of a dead body, mentions of a parent who has passed away, some panic attack descriptions, and just in general some doom and gloom vibes! but I promise this is a love story im just doing something diferent!
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(Y/N)'s eyes followed the immaculately dressed figure floating through the shop. Barred from getting closer with the counter in front of her, she could only watch as he made his way through the small apothecary. He never glanced in her direction, though she doubted he was unaware of her eyes on him. 
Dried herbs hung around his head like a dreary halo, the muted tones falling in line with the rich brown of his hair. He was tall enough that he just barely grazed the line of lavender sprigs strung up and dehydrating above his head. His coat was of a deep green velvet, tailored to show off the broad of his shoulders and strength of his arms. The matching cravat around his neck stood out starkly against the white shirt under his grey waistcoat, his skin appearing almost as pale as the starchy collar standing stiff against his throat. She wished that he would turn around for just a second; she wanted to see his eyes. Were they really as dark as she remembered, or had the town's gossip altered her memory? 
As if hearing her thoughts, he quickly picked his head up and made to turn and match her gaze. She urgently dropped her eyes to her hands, pretending as if she had been preoccupied the whole time by the bundles of sage she was meant to be tying. Now her wishes turned to that of hoping he didn't catch her staring. She was sure he got enough of that as is when he bothered to venture down to their small village; he didn't need any more when he was simply trying to shop. 
Forcing herself to keep her eyes down, (Y/N) tried to forget the Count's presence (was he even a Count? She wasn't sure, but that was what she had heard the women at church calling him, and no one seemed to object). She hoped he couldn't hear the sound of her heart as easily as she could, the beats pounding through her ears just from the fact she knew he was traipsing around her father's shop. Casting her gaze out the small window situated by the collection counter, she tried to see past the thick fog that had gathered that morning and done little to dissipate through the hours. If not for the fact she had lived here all her life, she would have had problems navigating through the mist. She wondered how someone like the Count fared under these conditions. He barely left that castle of his, how did he or his footmen know where they were going this time of year?
Granting herself a single peek in his direction, she saw he had gone back to shopping. He moved so silently, she wondered how he was able to cross the apothecary so vastly without a single footstep being heard. She watched as he brought bundles of herbs to his nose, taking in the heady scent. He always did this, she noticed. He always looked around until he found the strongest smelling bundles. 
Truthfully, to (Y/N), all the bundles smelled the same. She couldn't notice if one sprig of lavender smelled richer than another, but maybe he knew something she didn't. It wouldn't surprise her if he spent his young years studying herbs and reading books about all of the healing plants, or whatever it was that young gentlemen did in their formative years.
Though it was a hard task to pull her eyes away from him, (Y/N) made the effort to do so. Her father really would be upset if she didn't tie up all these bundles before sundown; he barely liked her working at the apothecary as is, he didn't need any other reason to boot her from the counter.
With her eyes trained on her fingers and the clumsy bows she was tying out of twine, (Y/N) practically jumped out of her skin when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Pale hands dropped bundles of herbs on the counter, just barely in her line of sight. Her breathing stuck in her throat when she whipped her head up, finding the Count looking at her with his dark eyes. 
She hadn't misremembered, it appeared. His eyes really were almost black, just barely tinted a forest green on the edges—if the forest in question was being spotted in the pitch of night, only a sliver of the moon and stars above allowing any distinction.
Her heart jumped in her throat, running faster than it had any reason to when their eyes met. She forced herself to swallow it down.
"I'm sorry, sir," she muttered, unable to pull her gaze away from his even if she instinctively wanted to look anywhere else. "Did you find all you were looking for?" 
"I did, yes." His voice was a lulling rumble, rounded and heady as if the goal was to lure her nearer. If not for the table separating them, she would have fallen for it.
Offering a quiet smile, she gave him a polite nod. 
No other words were exchange, as per usual for his visits. The Count wasn't much for conversation and idle chatter like the rest of the village. Instead, she could feel him watching her as she counted up his herbs and the price of each bundle. 
He was buying the same ones he always did: winter savory (he switched to chamomile when out of season), tobacco, and lavender. 
The buds together created a confusing scent, adding to the mishmash of what the apothecary already was. She couldn't imagine how he would put these three together in any space of that castle, the mixture too aggressive. 
Though she tried her best to concentrate on only the herbs, (Y/N) was too aware of the static of his presence. She wondered what he thought when he came down to the village, what he thought when he interacted with people like her. He was always so stoic. He never gave anything away, though that didn't stop the village gossip from running wild about him.
Swallowing around her dry throat, heartbeat bubbling against her ribs, she matched his gaze. The pricing for his bounty came out on buzzing lips, "Sixteen shillings please, sir." 
He didn't bat an eyelash at the price despite it being the biggest single purchase her father's apothecary would see until the next time he ventured down. Instead, he looked at her with his dark eyes and a tic in his jaw. He was unbearably handsome, made of cut edges and smooth planes, but he always looked at her as if he were angry and working to bury it down. She could never figure out why or what exactly made his nostrils flare or his jaw tight when he spoke to her, but she hoped she wasn't the only one he reacted to like this. 
His hands moved quickly, pulling out a small pouch of tinkling coins before he plucked out the exact amount for her. For a moment, she could see bank notes tucked inside the pouch as well. While she wasn't surprised that someone like him would have that kind of wealth, she had never seen it before with her own eyes. 
Passing off the change to her, his pale fingers grazed her open palm. Goosebumps immediately raised across her skin, his touch feeling as if he had been standing in the dawn's dew for hours, allowing the chill to cling to his skin and leach away all hope for warmth. The graze was quick, barely a heartbeat long, but she swore she could feel the lingering touch for moments after. Maybe he really did have a hard time navigating the village when the fog was this thick, having traveled in winding routes and wrong turns for so long he still hadn't been able to heat up even after spending time in the shop. 
Flicking her gaze up to his on instinct, she saw he was looking at the swatches of skin exposed from her dress, eyeing the goosebumps he had plucked up on accident. 
(Y/N) cleared her throat, nothing more than a reminder to herself to keep professional and not to gawk at the man. She placed the change in the small cup underneath the collection counter before reaching for his herbs of choice. A length of twine was used to tie up his product, ensuring he didn't lose anything on his way back home. 
"Thank you," he muttered once she passed them back, their skin no longer grazing this time. 
"Have a pleasant journey back home," she chirped, her voice decidedly pleasant against the bubbling she was feeling inside, "Stay warm." 
The Count didn't give any kind of reaction to her before he was leaving the shop in a flourish. Taking advantage of the window at her disposal, she watched as he ventured out into the fog. The mist mingled around him, making him appear as if he were a ghost—one with the Earth-bound clouds. She was only vaguely aware of the way her body heat ticked up some now that he had left. 
Though she could hear the sound of footsteps descending the stairs that led up to their home a floor above, (Y/N)'s head was outside the shop and away from her father. She didn't turn even when she could tell he had made it to the landing. He was used to it by now, she knew. Her head was always miles away as far as he was concerned—thinking too big for the village with daydreams that were only going to hurt her in the long run. 
The air around her shifted, telling her that her father was just behind her, likely watching to see what had caught her attention this time. 
"Is that Harry?" he grumbled, spitting out the name while dismissing the faux-title since they were alone. 
Her father didn't much like the Count—Harry, as he bitterly spat out. (Y/N) was never sure what precisely had set off her father's distaste for the man, just knowing that he thought Harry to be something of a boogeyman against the village. He didn't even go to church, her father regularly complained. What kind of man was he if he couldn't even bother to trudge down from his palace to spend some time with God, even if it was in the presence of commoners? 
(Y/N) never really minded. Though she'd never tell her father, church was boring. She couldn't blame Harry—the Count, whatever she was supposed to call him—for skipping out. Especially with the peeks at the castle she could garner if she trekked through the woods far enough. She wouldn't want to leave that place for anything. 
Nonetheless, (Y/N) answered with a soft, "Yes." Her eyes were still locked on the form of him she could barely make out through the mist. 
A grunt of disapproval left her father's lips. She didn't have to look at him to know that he had his arms crossed over his chest. "Are you okay?" 
It was when he settled a hand on her shoulder that she snapped out of her staring. 
"Yes, I'm well," she answered as placidly as possible when she turned to face him. She didn't want to show just how affected she was by the Count. Her father would do more than just grunt and disapprove if he knew just how drawn to the man as she was. 
He peered through the window, his eyes surely finding the one dark figure filtering through the fog. His brows slanted into harsh slashes over his eyes. "From now on, I want you to find me when he comes in, and I will take over. I do not want him talking with you." 
Her fingertips buzzed at the new instructions, matching the kickstart to her heartbeats. As much as she heard her father's concerns, and had listened in to all the of the stories and webs spun about this man, those did little to deter her interest in Harry or quell the bubbling in her chest every time she saw him step inside the apothecary. 
"I can handle him, father," she countered, trying to sound as uninterested as possible while attempting to hold her ground, "We barely talk when he comes in, anyway." 
The creases between his brows only deepened when he matched her gaze. "I do not want you becoming one of his victims, (Y/N)."
Her lips thinned at his words. "All of those stories are rubbish, father, you know that," she pressed, her words lighthearted despite the argument she was wagering by not immediately giving in, "Since when have we started listening to what Mary and Ethel have to say?" 
He didn't break any, even when she knew she was making a valid point to him. Gossip was prohibited according to the Bible, and yet he was citing stories she had heard the worst of gossipers weave?
There was no real reason for anyone to believe that Harry had anything to do with what had been going on just outside of the village, he was just easy to pin it on seeing as no one really knew him. She doubted any of them—including Ethel and Mary—could actually believe that he was the one behind the bodies that had been found in the woods, and the disappearances that had been added to the murder count. 
From what she'd heard, all signs pointed to animal attacks—wolves, or bears, or anything viscous. Though her stomach curdled at the thought, she couldn't see the Count being the one to rip out commoner's throats, to leave them crumpled in the brush with blood sinking into the earth. All of it was gossip and evil rumors that had not even a shred of truth inside.
"Still," her father stated, countering her argument, "There's something wrong with him, (Y/N)." 
Wrong was very far from threatening as far as she was concerned, especially when it came to Harry. Though, this most likely wasn't the time to share that opinion. She would keep her thoughts about him to herself, her own small secret against the rest of the village.
Harry didn't scare her like he did the rest of them, but they didn't need to know that. 
"Okay," she relented with a quiet nod, turning back to the collection cup so she could pass off the earnings to her father. "I will come grab you next time." 
(Y/N) wasn't sure if it was the additional shillings added to the cup or her pleasant agreement that had her father's features relaxing with a small smile on his lips, but she wasn't going to object.
Besides, she wasn't going to actually follow through on her promise. Harry was her favorite customer, even if she wouldn't admit it out loud. Her father would have to try harder to steer her clear of Harry.
—————
(Y/N) struggled with the strap of her shopping baskets, one hanging from her shoulder over her back with another dangling from her hand. They were stocked full and heavy, filled with everything her father requested that morning before she was sent off. She hadn't even realized how late she was running with her errands, how many items she had picked up and how heavy her bags were becoming until the sun had already gone down and her shoulder ached with the amount she had packed in. 
With the season's change, the sky was almost pitch by the time she made it to the edge of the village, the air chilled and crisp. Her father was going to have her head for making it back so late, but what could he have expected, really? He was the one that wrote the list, knowing half of the items were only available in the neighboring village. 
She hummed as she followed the path, giving herself some company and filling the silence. She hated being out this late—the dark scared her more than it probably should at her age. 
Her steps slowed as the bag hanging from her shoulder once again began to shift. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't stay put. She attempted to adjust the strap once more as she cautiously stepped over the path. 
With her attention placed elsewhere, she didn't notice the man in her way until she bumped directly into him. 
Her heart started in her chest, rattling against her ribs. She jumped back, whipping her head up with wide eyes. Before her stood the familiar dark-haired figure she had seen just a week prior, pursuing through the apothecary. 
Harry's cut features were pinched with a furrowed brow, his dark eyes trained on her. He was pale like a ghost compared to his dark clothing that blended in with the rest of the night. He reached out to steady her, baskets and all, when she tottered on the low heel of her boot. 
His touch singed her like snowflakes as he grasped at her bare arms. 
"H-Harry," she gasped, his name falling from her lips before she had a chance to collect her bearings. Her skin warmed when her brain caught up with herself; she'd never called him by his name before—or called to him at all now that she thought about it. "I am so s-sorry." 
What exactly she was apologizing for—using his name so brashly or running right into him—she wasn't sure, but she could cover for both, she figured. 
"It is alright," he murmured to her, his hands lingering on her biceps, "I didn't mean to frighten you. Are you okay?" 
"I'm fine, thank you," she asserted, "I wasn't looking where I was going. It has been a long day." 
Tipping his head, as if her word wasn't enough, Harry looked her over before dropping his hands from her arms and taking a calculated step back.  
"I'm sure it was," he said to her, his voice still a low whisper, "Is what why you are out so late?" 
(Y/N) eased into the conversation, despite knowing it was more than a little inappropriate to be alone with a man this late into the evening. She was flattered the Count wanted to speak to her at all, honestly. He always seemed so eager to flee from the apothecary and the rest of the village during his visits. In her dreamland, she liked to think that he actually enjoyed seeing her, this run-in being his opportunity to speak to her without all of the prying eyes trained on him. 
"Yes," she sighed, shifting the small basket on her aching wrist to the other, "I had to do the shopping today, and my father always requests things he knows I have to search all over for, so I've been busy since I woke up." 
Harry hummed at her words, his dark eyes seemingly lighting up with amusement at her trivial complaint. He eyed the heavy bags she was carrying before he met her eyes once more. "Would it be alright if I accompany you back home? It's too dark for a lady like yourself to be walking alone."
Biting back a smile, (Y/N) felt her blood warm under her skin. Someone of his status would know a lady when he looked at one, and (Y/N) definitely wasn't. He had to be teasing her. 
"I'm no lady," she explained, though she didn't sound that convincing under her smile, "But, I think I would really enjoy some company. Thank you." 
(Y/N) was well aware of what it would look like to be walked home by Harry at this time of night, alone on the path and unchaperoned. It would have been bad enough with any man, but seeing as this was the Count, she could only imagine the kinds of rumors Mary and Ethel would spin. The fluttering in her heart urged her to ignore those worries, though; Harry most likely knew better about societal standards than she, given their stations, and he had enough rumors swirling about him that he wouldn't want to add to if he could help it. If he wasn't worried, then she wouldn't either. 
"Lead the way," he said, smiling at her with dazzlingly perfect teeth. 
"Its not too far," she started, peering down the path to see the late night tavern still boiling with people and the small homes that decorated the mouth to the village. "It's just down that way," she told him, nodding her head in the direction they were to take. 
Before she went too far, she adjusted her grocery-laden baskets once more, barely holding back a wince at the weight on her shoulder. 
Harry still seemingly noticed even if she had tried to be discreet. He didn't immediately follow her steps back home. "Let me carry those for you. They can't be too comfortable after such a long day." 
While she was sure it was good form to decline his offer, feign strength she didn't have and continue on without complaint, she wasn't going to pass up on the offer to relieve the stress on her shoulder. 
"I would really appreciate that, actually," she sighed, shifting the basket off her shoulder in a haste, "Thank you." 
"No need to thank me," he answered simply, a pleasant lightness to his features as he took the strap from her hands. He slung it over his own shoulder with an ease (Y/N) could only dream to have. He didn't stop there, taking the smaller one from her wrist as well. 
She was free to roll her joints and feel circulation return to all limbs, more than gracious for her impromptu partner for the night. 
"You said it was this way, yes?" he prompted, starting down the path towards the edge of town where both the apothecary was as well as the flat above it where she and her father resided. 
"That way," (Y/N) affirmed with a smile, falling into step beside him as they started off through town. 
A careful silence fell between them, full of opportunities that twinkled like stars. This was her chance to know him, bask in his presence, learn who she had only gazed at from afar. Though every time she looked at him from the corner of her eye, she felt her throat dry. He was even more gorgeous under moonlight. 
"You know," he started first, unbraiding the silence, "I don't think I've ever seen you come out from behind that counter. I was starting to think you never left; like you were some kind of spirit attached with manning an apothecary at all hours." 
A bubbling peal of laughter felt from (Y/N)'s lips, her hands a fumbling bundle at her waist. "It feels that way, sometimes," she smiled, "But I promise I do have more hobbies than only drying herbs and counting coin." 
"And what might those be?" the Count pressed, looking down at her. In the low light, (Y/N) expected his eyes to look impossibly dark, more like coal than even in the daylight, but she found that ring of green to show more prominently now under the moon. 
"Um," she floundered, tearing her eyes away from his when she felt goosebumps raise over her skin and her heart bounce against her lungs, "I-I like to tend to our garden—for the shop." 
"I didn't know grow everything yourself. That must keep you rather busy." 
(Y/N) shrugged, "It can, depending on the season. But, I've figured it out through the years, and made it easier on me."
"You grow everything for your shop, then?" Coming up to a fork in the path, Harry paused, waiting for (Y/N) to take the first step in the right direction before he followed. 
"Most of it," she mused, an immediate list of their inventory coming to mind, "There's still a few things that I have to scavenge for, but I've become rather good at that as well."
"I don't doubt that," Harry smiled, the curl audible in his voice, "Was it your idea then to start the shop? Fill it with all the things you could grow?" 
"Oh, no," she declined, a furrow appearing in her brow, "My father and mother started the apothecary when my sister and I were still babies." 
"I don't think I've met your sister or mother," Harry shared, casting his gaze towards her once more, refractions of green shimmering in his irises.
While (Y/N) dreaded the subject, she couldn't exactly complain since she had been the one to bring them both up. Truthfully, it wasn't hard to talk about any more, it was harder to field the reactions of those around her when she shared the story. It was never easy to quell retroactive grief. 
"My sister married and moved to the country almost two years ago," she started easy, keeping her gaze forward, "My mother passed away when I was a child." 
When the Count didn't immediately answer, (Y/N) peeked up to find him looking at her differently than before. She didn't find pity swimming through his eyes, only sympathy. He looked at her like he knew her pain. 
"It is a hard thing, losing family," he murmured, shifting his gaze towards the sky, "But, it can only grow easier as time goes on." 
Tracing her eyes over his profile, through the immaculate stone-like chisel of his features and unblemished skin, she swore she could spot the same fine lines by his eyes and slight crease between his brows that she and her sister had sustained since their mother passed. 
She swallowed, hoping her next line of questioning didn't breach too far. "Have you lost family before?" 
"I have," he smiled, though it didn't completely reach those fine lines by his eyes, "It was a long time ago. It's funny how after a while, you can forget what it was like before." 
Though (Y/N) loved her mother dearly and cherished those memories she had with her, she had been without her for longer than she had been with her. She knew what Harry was talking about, exactly. Missing her mother was just a part of her now, and it wasn't anything she tired to push away or get over. She grew around the grief and held onto her mother in that space. 
"Exactly," she agreed, relieved to not be trying to quell someone else's grief and pity for her, "I've remembered her for longer than I actually knew her, but it does not upset me any more." 
"Good," Harry cemented, "She wouldn't want you to be bothered by her memory." 
Looking ahead, the town square was approaching with the town's tavern still full despite the late hour. That was the one place that could be bustling at any time of night, any day of the week. (Y/N) hoped no one would peer through the windows and catch her late night stroll. 
"I apologize for speaking so morbidly," (Y/N) laughed, though she didn't exactly feel guilty to be learning that much more about Harry, "Since you know more about me, I would like to know more about you." 
"I'm sure we could arrange that," he smiled that dazzling smile, "What would you like to know?" 
"I don't think I've ever seen you out in the village before, except for when you do your shopping," (Y/N) mused, hoping to learn a little bit more about what he did up in that castle of his. 
She watched as he shrugged, still completely unbothered by the weight of her shopping. "I come out every once in a while," he prattled, "But I suppose we never have run into each other until now. What a shame." 
Her blood warmed at his final comment. He really must be teasing her, trying to pull those shy reactions from her. 
Before she had a chance to say much in response, the rowdy tavern only a few meters ahead burst open with sloppy patrons spilling onto the street. The men were undoubtedly drunk as was apparent in the slurring of their shouts and the stumbling of their feet. Everything was too loud for the quiet of the night, including the calls coming from inside the bar, urging the few that had escaped to come back inside. The night couldn't already be over, it was still early, those beckoning voices said. 
Maybe it was the dark of the night, the fact she had never been around anyone drunk enough to slur their words, or the stark sound of it all, but (Y/N) startled at the disturbance. She almost jumped out of her skin, her feet stumbling with her heels digging into the crumbling sidewalk. She could hear a gasp falling from her throat though she couldn't remember making the noise herself. 
Before she had time to recover, Harry had swiftly tugged her to his other side. She was now covered by his body with her other side sandwiched with the walls of the other buildings lining the street. From where the drunken men stood, she doubted they would be able to accurately spot her given her new cover.
"Thank you," she murmured, her thrumming heart beginning to slow finally. 
When he didn't respond, she looked up to find him shooting daggers towards the men that were being pulled back into the tavern. His sharp jaw was clenched shut with his eyes narrowed in their direction. 
"Harry?" she sounded, breaking him from whatever he had running through his head. 
He whipped his head to face her once more, blinking with a flutter of curling lashes. 
"Yes, sorry," he finally responded, "My apologies, I would have pulled you away sooner had I seen them coming." 
"It's alright," she tried to soothe, giving him a small smile, "The shop is just up there, I think I can survive a little while longer." 
He cast his gaze over her form for just a beat longer, his shoulder relaxing some by the time he met her eyes again. "I'll make sure of it," Harry teased, cracking a smile at her. 
They shared those final paces in silence, (Y/N) feeling rather proud of herself and a bit giddy to have had him at her side for this long, his attention on her. By the time the dark apothecary topped with the small flat came into view, she almost wished they would round the block once more. She still had more she wanted to ask him. 
"It has been a pleasure, Ms. (Y/N)," he bowed to her, carefully pulling her shopping baskets from his shoulder and wrist, "I hope I will see you again soon—maybe we'll run into each other like this more often." 
"Maybe," she smiled, taking the bags from him, "Thank you for escorting me home, and helping with my baskets." 
"It's my pleasure," he repeated once more, the green in his eyes flashing with amusement, "Have a good night." 
Inching towards the door, (Y/N) gave him a nod. "Good night, Harry." 
A soft lipped smile on his marble-perfect face was the last thing (Y/N) saw before she was stepping inside the apothecary. The bell above the door tinkled, alerting her father who would no doubt still be awake upstairs.
"(Y/N)? Is that you?" he called down the stairs, the creak of his favorite rocking chair sounding as he stood. 
"Yes, sorry!" she answered, bracing herself to trek up the steep stairs to the flat with her body weighed down with all of the groceries. "I didn't mean to take so long." 
"I don't like you staying out so late after the sun goes down," her father chided her, pulling the bags from her form and taking them towards the tiny kitchen, "There's no telling what could be waiting in the dark." 
(Y/N) kept her mouth shut as her father went off on his complaints. She didn't mention Harry once.
—————
Dressed in her favorite nightgown with her hair braided back with the same twine she tied her herbs with, (Y/N) peered once more out her window, finding the same black cat that had been out there since she readied for bed still sitting in the garden. 
Her moon-yellow eyes were bright in the dark as she stalked and played with the bugs that threatened the state of (Y/N)'s herb garden. She had never seen the cat before, but she was tempted to convince her father to let her bring the creature inside. She would be a good pet, (Y/N) decided. 
Laying back against her pillows, only dim candle light allowing her to see her ceiling, (Y/N) cast her mind back to the hours earlier. Her day had been terribly uneventful, but had ended in heart-fluttering territory. 
Though she realized, thinking back to the conversation she had indulged in on her walk home, she never caught why Harry was out so late by himself, anyway.
—————
Grey clouds crowded the sky as (Y/N) carefully stepped over the vining brush at her feet. The hem of her dress snagged once or twice on some of the thorny bushes and the rough bark covering unearthed roots. Acres of towering trees formed a canopy above her head, barely letting any of the limited light through. She had her eyes on the ground as she tried to scope out those few herbs she wasn't able to cultivate at the home garden. The basket at her hip was already teeming with a good handful of different bundles, but she still needed to find some winter savory.
More than once, her mind wandered as she trekked through the trees. It had been a week since she had last seen Harry, and yet he was still the one thing that floated through her mind whenever she drifted to her daydreams. She could still see the line of his profile, backlit by the cloudy moonlight. In her dreams, she had the courage to reach out and trace over the line, grazing the bridge of his nose and the dip of his cupid's bow. He grew more and more gorgeous every time she revisited her memories. 
She was already known to have her head in the clouds, dreams too big for the village to contain, but she definitely floated upwards more and more since seeing Harry. 
A small smile worked its way onto her lips the longer she wafted through her reverie. (Y/N) liked to think that if she had acted on that impulse—dragging her fingertip along the planes of his features—that he would have cracked a smile, showing off the thumbed dimples and dazzling teeth. Maybe, he would have even looked at her, wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her to his chest before dipping her in the middle of the street. He could kiss her then, the moment romantic and brazen and—
(Y/N) stopped in her tracks the second she saw the dead body on the forest floor. 
If not for the pallor of her skin, she could have assumed this woman had fallen asleep peacefully among the brush. She looked to be around (Y/N)'s age, unbound hair spilling around her head. Her eyes were closed with her features set in a serene scene and arms crossed over her chest. Her palms were pressed flat over her collarbones, the same way those in coffins were laid to rest six feet under. The pose reminded her of her mother.
Though all of that tranquility went to hell when she saw her throat. 
While the woman had been laid to rest with utmost respect, that didn't take away from the fact her throat was ripped open. (Y/N) swore her own esophagus grew sore and tight while looking at the women. The skin had been slashed out of the way by something sharp and angry, revealing frayed sinew and torn muscle. The raw red hue stood out starkly against the snowy pallor her skin had taken on. Something had attacked her, taking out her throat and leaving her to die right where she lay. 
The most unsettling part, (Y/N) realized the longer she stood there, was that there was no blood. Where she expected to see a crimson crust forming around the wood or a puddle haloing the woman's form, there was nothing. Her wound didn't even look that gruesome, truly. It was clinically clean instead, as if a healer had already cared for her and planned on bandaging the tear before letting her head home. She had been bled completely dry, leaving her with rubbery skin, thin veins, and a clean white dress. 
She had heard about these incidences—people going missing only to turn up later dead—but she never pictured it was like this. To her, everything sounded as if wanderers were attacked in the woods are lost through the elements. Never once through her forages in the area had she ever met the face of someone whose life was taken so decidedly.
(Y/N) wanted to scream, she wanted to cry and panic and run. But, she just stood there. 
Time was stuck as she saw the woman with long red hair, unblemished skin, and a fine gown. 
All at once, the severity of the situation flooded back to her. 
Her sore throat was split open with a loud scream, blood-curdling and eye-watering. She dropped her basket to the floor, returning the herbs to where she had plucked them, before she sprinted towards home. Her dress caught on the thorns of the brush, her feet stumbling over the unearthed roots. None of the obstacles slowed her. She tugged her dress free with every pump of her legs, keeping herself steady with nothing other than the will of adrenaline and fear pushing he along. 
She didn't realize she had been crying until she saw the edge of the village in sight, her cheeks burning with her hands going numb. A man she recognized as one of her father's friends was out in his garden, cultivating the family vegetables when he looked up to see her, concern striking his features. 
"(Y/N)," the man called out, his voice echoing over the space.
Stumbling in her tracks, she fought to keep herself steady. Instinctively, she wanted to keep running until she made it back to her bedroom with her safety intact. She knew she couldn't do that, though. She had to tell someone about the woman, find her family and lay her to rest properly. 
Find who had hurt her. 
"Th-There—She's—Dead," (Y/N) panted, floundering around her jumbled mind. She couldn't find a single coherent thought in her head. 
The man's thick brows only furrowed as he cautiously approached her. "Dead?" he pressed, making himself appear smaller as if she were the creature to be cowering from for survival. 
Hearing someone else say the word had another round of sobs wracking through her body. "Sh—The girl—She's dead. In the woods, there's been another." 
Horror took the man's features. Blood drained from his face, leaving him shades paler than just moments before. 
"Another?" he asked, "Like the others?" 
"I-I think so," she stuttered, moments away from crumbling to the ground. She couldn't be sure if the state this young woman had been in was what the rest of the others had gone through. She hope it wasn't.
A curse was uttered under his breath before he shouted towards his home. He called for his wife, a woman (Y/N) vaguely knew from church. It only took a moment for a woman to stick her head out of the doorway, her features screwing up in worry the second she saw (Y/N)'s blubbering form.
She was only vaguely aware of the man explaining to his wife what (Y/N) had shared, and that he was going to get the others together to recover the body and care for her. His wife needed to take care of her, inform her father of what (Y/N) had seen today. 
Time moved impossibly slow while racing through each second simultaneously. At some point, she checked out, shock setting in as she came to terms with everything she had seen. By the time she returned, she had been deposited on the stoop of the church, a knitted blanket around her shoulders. Shivers wracked down her spine though she could feel herself breaking into a thin sweat. Many of the women of the village had swarmed around her, including Mary and Ethel. Feet away, her father was speaking with the vicar of the church. 
"Drink this, dear," Mary said, shoving a warm mug of something in her hands. 
(Y/N) made no move to follow her given directly, loosely gripping the cup in her palms. Her gaze was barely focused, tears still running down her cheeks, as she absently stared at the cobblestone under her boots. 
Every time she blinked, she saw the bloodless wound on the woman. Her thin, lavender eyelids masking unseeing eyes. Her thin fingers, the pale skin barely covering the bones underneath. The sections of her neck that were frayed and ripped, matching that of the hem of her dress. 
Murmurs arose once more around her. (Y/N) had no doubt there was already speculation about who could have done this—who would have killed someone in such a way that an onlooker end up as traumatized as the dead. A part of her brain pinged, knowing that Mary and Ethel would no doubt be peering accusingly at the castle in the distance, their accusations known without a single word leaving their lips. 
Now more than ever, having seen a body, (Y/N) had no doubt that Harry had nothing to do with these disappearances. 
No human could do what she saw in the woods. 
—————
"Let me grab my coat, and John and I will escort you back home." 
(Y/N) did her best to school her features, regulate her reaction before reaching a gentle hand on Margret's shoulder to keep her from ascending the stairs. 
"Oh, no," (Y/N) declined, canting her head with a soft smile, "You've already been too kind tonight. I can make it on my own—home's barely a block away." 
Margret chewed her lip between her teeth, looking over her shoulder to where her parents were standing by the hearth. So many eyes were on them and their interaction. 
"Really, Marg," (Y/N) tried again, "My father and I appreciate everyone's kindness enough, I would hate to put you out even more and make you go out in a storm like this." 
"But," Margret started, "I don't want to leave you alone. The storm is bad enough without everything that... happened." 
Almost two weeks had passed since (Y/N)'s run-in in the woods, and yet the village's paranoia was at an all-time high. Her father had been at her side near constant since he had finished speaking with the vicar, promising her that he wouldn't let that happen again—finding something so gruesome, as well as a silent promise that she wouldn't become the gruesome sight. He had been shaken by her reaction, telling the vicar that he had never seen her so vulnerable, on the edge of hysterics. 
Any herb they couldn't grow in the garden would now be out of stock until he himself could forage through the woods, but she would never be tasked with going by herself. Otherwise, he was going to be at her side as often as he could be, ensuring she was never alone. If he couldn't be there, then he had pooled together a batch of close family friends who would be willing to stand in for him. She would never be by herself, never vulnerable to another fright. 
(Y/N) was losing her mind. 
Everyone walked on eggshells around her, having seen her breakdown in real time. They heeded her father's request as if law, never allowing her even a second of alone time if not in the safety of her bedroom. Even her time in the garden had been reduced to a field trip for every young woman who was tasked to be at her side, chattering about the most lighthearted of subjects.
While in a few ways, (Y/N) couldn't blame her father, she selfishly didn't really care. She needed her freedom, even if that freedom came in the form of a short walk to her home by herself. 
"I promise I will be alright," (Y/N) tried to soothe her friend, offering her beaming smile to Margret's parents and brother as well. "Thank you all for dinner, please don't let me add to the burden by making you all escort me home in a storm. I would never forgive myself if any of you fell ill." 
It was Margret's mother that seemed to waver from (Y/N)'s reasoning. She most likely didn't want her children out in the rain, either. (Y/N) wasn't the only one in the village that needed to be protected from whatever lived in the woods. 
Peering over her shoulder, Margret searched for her parents blessing that came in the form of a small dip of her father's chin. 
"I will come visit you in the morning, then," Margret cemented, "to make sure you're alright." 
"I look forward to it," (Y/N) chirped, bringing her friend in for a small hug before inching towards the front door. She gave her beaming smile to the rest of the family. "Thank you again," she said, "Dinner was wonderful. I'll have to steal the recipe sometime, Mrs. Wayfield." 
"I'll send it with Margret in the morning, dear," she said, her smile tight, "Get home safe. Don't linger longer than you have to." 
"Absolutely," (Y/N) promised, pulling the hood of her purple cloak over her head. 
Final goodbyes were shared before (Y/N) stepped outside, the raging storm that had been rattling the roof of the home now whipping against her form.
As much as the wind stung her eyes and the rain chilled her skin, she reveled in the experience. She was alone, finally. 
Despite what Mrs. Wayfield said, she definitely lingered longer than she needed to, allowing the rain to soak her cloak and begin to seep through her dress. She had never been one to steep in the rain or bask in storms, but that was going to be changing tonight. 
The direct walk home was decidedly short, taking less than a block's worth of steps to take her there, but she was going to make it as long as possible. She might even take the scenic route, stepping through the center of town for no reason at all other than she wanted to. 
Heavy droplets of rain weighed down her cloak the longer she took outside, the wind whipping the hem around her in waves. Taking her time, she ambled over the cobblestones of the town square, ignoring the drops that slipped over her warm cheeks. 
Suddenly, the storm changed once she reached the center of town. 
Before, it had been nothing but rain and wind, the kind of storm that would put her to sleep in a matter of minutes. Something shifted in a matter of moments, taking the wind and amping it up into swirling chills. A crack of lightning lit up the sky, making shadowy ghosts of all the buildings and turning the trees into bony hands reaching towards the heavens. Thunder rattled the Earth a moment later. The large drops of rain quickly became a heavy downpour, slicking down her form until her clothing was stuck to her body and her eyes were struggling to blink through the droplets. Every time she peeked through slitted eyes, the sheets slammed down thick enough she could barely see through it.
The scenic route no longer seemed fun now that she was out here. She should have just gone home like she promised. 
(Y/N) had to step carefully over the cobblestones, not trusting the grip of her boots over the cracks. She wished she could sprint though the barrage, but she would no doubt lose her footing and smash her face into the rocky ground if she did. 
Instead, she kept her head down and tried to navigate back home through the rain, lacking sight. She kept her pace as steady as possible, giving all her focus to the task of making it home, though she was vaguely aware of a familiar panic growing in her chest. 
As much as she had wanted to be alone, take time by herself and live in the village without her father's word being law, she still saw the gruesome body every time she closed her eyes. (Y/N) had nightmares of that moment she had come across the young woman, though this time she blinked her eyes open when (Y/N) grew close enough before snatching at her foot. A shaky breath expanded (Y/N)'s lungs at the childish fear that something could even be following behind her at the moment. She would have no idea if there was; every sound was drowned out by the pouring rain, her sight impaired by the water running over her eyes and the heavy sheets acting like a fog over the village. 
Unable to resist the urge, (Y/N) whipped her head around, trying to catch the monster in the act of following her. Unsurprisingly, no one was there. 
She was alone, just as she had wished. 
Spinning around, the village was completely vacant. No one knew she was out here. No one would even know if she had been snatched like that young woman. Not until she was found again.
That flare of panic in her chest rose again, clogging her throat and thickening her head. 
She needed to get out of here. Being alone wasn't worth this. She should have just taken up Margret and John on their offer and gone straight to her room. She could have found her alone time on another day. 
Picking the first direction in front of her, (Y/N) stormed through. This had to take her home, right? She had lived in this flat almost all of her life, she wouldn't forget where it was. 
Until, of course, (Y/N) noticed she had taken the complete wrong direction, heading towards the opposite end of the village. A strike of lightning lit up the grey sky, showing off the vague shadow of the towering castle in the distance. 
The Count's home. She had to turn around; she was no where close to the apothecary. 
This time, when (Y/N) spun around, trying to find a direction to head through her woolen throat and mounting panic, she couldn't decide. What if she went the wrong way again? What if she ended up back in the town center? 
What if she died out here? 
The morbid turn of her thoughts took her breath away. 
She was stunned in place, unable to make any move in any direction. 
Suddenly, a hand settled on her shoulder, stilling her shaking form. 
"(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?" 
(Y/N) stumbled, turning around to face to familiar voice speaking right behind her. 
There, backlit by another round of lightning and thunder, was Harry. 
His hair was almost black under the rain, near soaked despite having barely been out in the elements for longer than a few moments. His velvet jacket grew darker with every drop absorbed into the thick fabric. He pale skin was a beacon in the gloom. 
"H-Harry?" 
"You can't stay out here, (Y/N). You're going to fall ill, or worse," he told her, concern dripping from his tone the same way the rain clumped through the length of her lashes. 
When she gave her body permission to do so, she wasn't sure, but in a heartbeat she was clinging to his form. He was her safety in the middle of his storm, keeping her from falling victim to the most morbid of her thoughts. It was beyond improper, but she didn't care as she dug her fingers into his waistcoat. He couldn't leave her here.
"I-I was trying to go home," she whined, her voice fragile under the weight of everything. "I think I'm l-lost." 
She felt pathetic to utter something so silly given she knew this town like the back of her hand, but it was a truth. 
Harry lingered in front of her for a moment, seemingly assessing her before he sprung into action. 
"That's alright," he murmured, speaking as if she were an injured animal, "Let me take you home. I think I remember the way. Is that okay? I have my carriage over there." 
He pointed behind himself, where another slice of lightning revealed a black, boxy carriage led by regal white horses. She could see the vague form of someone sitting in the coach box. 
When she didn't immediately answer, he wrapped a tentative arm around her form. "Let me get you home, (Y/N)." 
She gave an absent nod, willing to let him take her anywhere—anything was better than this, she decided. He bundled her against him as he took her to the side of the carriage, sacrificing an arm holding her middle to open the door. He helped heave her inside, getting her in as quickly as possible.
"Thank you," she peeped when she settled on the bench seat. She kept her eyes on him as he waited a moment, relaying to the driver the new destination.
Her body shook with unstoppable tremors as Harry climbed in after her, her soaked clothing ruining the red velvet under her. She would have to apologize to him later.
It was here, in the dry of his carriage, that (Y/N) realized she was sobbing with rivers of hot tears pouring down her cheeks. It wasn't just the chill of the rain that had her feeling as if she couldn't breathe, she realized. In the safety of the cover, wracking sobs kept her from properly filling her lungs, her inhales way too short to be safe. 
The carriage spun around her despite the way (Y/N) tried to focus on her hands on her lap. This wasn't good, she knew. 
"(Y/N)," she heard, the voice firm and commanding, "Look at me, darling." 
Absently, she pulled her head up to face Harry. 
He was inches away from her. (Y/N) could make out the the shattered shards of green around his black pupils. The strong line of his nose and pillow lips were right there. 
Harry was dazzling. Breathtaking. 
Unfortunately, breathtaking was the last thing she needed right then. 
Before she knew any better, (Y/N)'s lashes fluttered as her eyes fell closed on their own accord, her breathing stunted in her lungs. The last thing she was aware of was Harry's panicked call of her name before she spilled over the velvet seat as she lost consciousness. 
—————
When (Y/N) finally cracked her eyes open, her limbs felt impossibly heavy as if she had rocks tied to each end as she sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Her bleary sight took it's time clearing, allowing heartbeats to pass before the blurry streaks around her came into focus. 
She was in an immaculate bedroom, she realized. Her body was cushioned by luxurious velvet, dyed a deep crimson. The mattress underneath was plush and inviting, urging her to sink deeper and deeper into the dreamy bedding and warmth it offered. A length of fur ran across the end of the bed, tickling her bare ankles as she stretched. 
Sitting up where she had been nestled atop the bed, more and more of her head came to her. The bed was even more opulent that she thought. Four posters shot up from around the frame, holding curtains made of delicate black lace. Her hands ached just looking at it, thinking about how long it would take to make something so beautiful, even with the help of one of those sewing machines. More furs and velvet decorated the large space; everything honing in on the darker spectrum of colors. Here and there, pops of gold thread appeared like minute rays of sunlight. At the bedside was a bouquet of cut flowers, all in rich violet hues and smelling sweet enough to draw her in like a butterfly. And she almost did, sticking her nose into the tall stalk of trumpet shaped flowers until she realized what kind they were and jerked back. 
Foxglove, she recognized them to be. Poisonous. 
Around the stalk were wisteria blooms and plumes of baby's breath. The wisteria was another set of flowers that were gorgeous to look at, but deadly in the end. 
Pulling away with a stiff back, she set her bare feet on the ground. Now that she was free from the flowers, the woody scent of winter savory and spike of tobacco in the background were the prominent aromas taking her attention. Looking around her, her cloak was dry, laid on the end of her borrowed bed alone with her boots set up in a neat row by her feet. 
This place was extravagant. A fairytale daydream, perfect for her head-in-the-clouds mindset. 
This had to be a castle. No random hut could have something this indulgent.
There was only one castle she knew of. 
Memories came back to (Y/N) in pieces. 
The storm. She had left the Wayfields' home, telling them she would head straight home despite knowing she was lying. She had wanted some time alone, away from her father's overprotective gaze. But the storm was too much. She had pathetically lost her way and panicked, remembering the woman she had found in the woods. 
Then, there was the gleaming black carriage. The ghostly pale face of the Count who offered to take her home, get her out of the rain and into safety before he would be on his way. She remembered him helping her into the carriage, telling the coachman that they needed to drop her back at the apothecary. Her emotions had fluctuated to opposite ends of the spectrum: extreme panic under the sheets of rain to the deep relief she felt at seeing a familiar face who could help her. 
The last few things she could remember was the guilt she felt at ruining the luxe seating in the Count's carriage before looking up to see him facing her directly with his breathtaking features. That was all that had been left before she tumbled back and lost consciousness. 
This was no doubt the Count's home. There had been times she had wondered what kind of interior a building as magnificent as this one would have, but she had never thought of something this indulgent. 
Though, despite her admirations, she couldn't stay here. 
She was never supposed to take even the long walk home, let alone travel all the way to the gargantuan home that the most notorious member of the village resided in. (Naming him as a member of their village was a stretch, but the easiest way for (Y/N) to think at the moment). There was no telling how long she had been out, but her father was going to kill her even if it was ten seconds. 
Despite the ache in her bones and the stiff fabric of her ill dried dress, she forced her boots back on, the laces pulled into clumsy bows. Her cloak was grabbed in a haste before she started towards the door. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she needed to get back home as soon as she could.
Swinging open the heavy door, (Y/N) swayed on her feet, stopping in her tracks when she saw who was on the other side. 
Propped against the opposing wall, between more cut flowers and immaculate paintings, was the Count himself. 
He was at attention within a second, but (Y/N) had caught the way he had been slumped against the wall, his shoulders a sullen slope. In an instant, he had crossed the grand hall to meet her at her door, his hands reaching out towards her. His eyes looked darker than ever, only light shatters of deep green apparent in his iris. His usually flawless hair was left in disarray. Somewhere, he had shed his coat and cravat, leaving the billowed sleeves of his shirt and grey waistcoat the only articles on his torso. Even the neckline of his white shirt had been left loose, a stretch of creamy skin on display. 
"Are you okay?" he breathed out, his gaze immediately tripping down her form before she had a chance to answer, "I-I tried to make sure you hadn't injured your head, or-or worse when you fell faint, but I couldn't be positive." 
Her lashes fluttered in a blink as she startled over his concern. She had never seen him so discomposed, his demeanor world's away from calm. 
"I-I'm alright," she breathed, finding her tongue in her dry mouth, "You brought me to your home?" She could vaguely remember him ordering the coachman to take her home, back to the flat above the apothecary. 
He wet his lips, his eyes searching through hers as he collected his words. "When you fell faint," he started, "I was not sure if you would have been alone if I took you home. I was worried; I decided to take you back here, so I could keep an eye on you. That's all, I swear it." 
She was sure he knew just as well as she that being alone like this—unchaperoned, neither of them dressed as they typically should be, no one aware of her whereabouts—was more inappropriate than a single moonlight stroll through town. This could ruin both of them if anyone found out; (Y/N) would be deemed unbecoming for marriage, and the small amount of reputation Harry had would be buried six feet under. 
Throughout all, (Y/N) still found her skin warming, seeing how genuinely he spoke of her and his worry of her well-being. Other than her cloak and boots, she could tell none of her clothing had been tampered with. He had done nothing more than keep an eye on her. 
"Thank you," she swallowed, nodding her head as she allowed a small smile to curl her lips. She felt a bit desperate then, hoping he knew how deep her gratitude went. "Truly, thank you. I-I don't know what happened to me, it was scary." 
"I'm sure it was," he murmured, the tight set to his features loosening the longer she stood in one piece before him. "I am glad I found you when I did." 
"How long has it been?" she asked, noticing not a single window that could give away the time of day. She wasn't even sure if it was still night time.
He deflated some at her words. "A few hours, I think" he shared, dropping his gaze as if realizing just now how long he had been her self-appointed guardian, "The storm finally ended not too long ago. You were exhausted, (Y/N)." 
She had never heard her name wrapped in his voice before. Looking at him now, she was back in that carriage with her lungs stunted and mind only on him. She swore she could see his eyes lightening before her gaze, more and more green coming to the surface like a murky pond under sunlight. The panicked urge she had to race home slowly melted out of her. 
"I'm not surprised," she agreed, finally breaking her gaze from his for no other reason than to allow her breath to come back. She cast her eyes around the opulent space, taking in the priceless art around her, the glossy flooring and detailed decor. "This is your home?" 
"For as long as I can remember," he smiled, pride straightening his shoulders as he followed her line of sight, "It's my sanctuary. If you'd like, I can have the kitchen make something for you and I can give you a tour of the grounds in the meantime." 
Instantly, she wanted to accept. She wanted to see what kind of creations a place like this could make in the kitchen. She wanted to know where he had found such gorgeous, but deadly plantlife. She wanted to know if any of her daydreams had been right about this place. 
Unfortunately, there was that niggling worry that popped back up in the back of her mind. 
"As much as I would love to, I can't," she reluctantly let out, "I have to go home. My father... he's probably rallying the village as we speak, trying to find me before he loses his mind." 
Harry's expression fell, losing that pride over her praise. Nonetheless, he gave her a relenting nod. "I understand," he said, cracking a small smile, "I have had you hidden away for long enough, I suppose. I'll have my staff ready my carriage, and I'll have you home by dawn."
"Thank you," she said earnestly once more, "Really, Harry. I fear where I would be if you hadn't come across me." 
"I do as well," he shared, his voice low as if sharing a secret with her. 
This time, (Y/N) didn't wipe the smile from her lips as she looked up at him. Another shade of green seemingly appeared in his gaze. 
—————
"You're not coming with me?" (Y/N) asked, poking her head out of the door of the coach when Harry didn't immediately follow after her. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to crest the horizon, giving away just how long she had been far from home, though that didn't stop her from stalling. 
"Unfortunately," he said, keeping his feet planted on the ground outside the carriage. He looked up at her from where he stood, holding the door open as he spoke to her. "I have business to attend to very soon; I wouldn't have time to arrange everything if I escorted you this morning. I hope you'll accept my apologies, anyway." 
Though she was disappointed she would lose out on time with him, she couldn't blame him. He must be a busy man if he had this place to call home and a full staff to take care of it. He didn't have time to chauffeur her around the village, even if that was what she wanted. He didn't even have a chance to tell her where he had found the flowers for his bouquets. 
"I suppose I'll forgive you this time," she said, a sly smile on her lips that had Harry's own lips blooming, "But next time, I won't be so lenient." 
"I appreciate your grace, my lady," he played along, offering her that dazzling smile and dimpled cheeks. "I promise to see you soon. I feel like I'll need to visit the apothecary sooner rather than later." 
(Y/N) could take that promise. "I will make sure we stay stocked, then." 
"Until next time," Harry said, inching away from the carriage with reluctant steps deeper into the shadows.
"Until next time." 
With that, Harry closed the door to the coach, relaying the destination to the driver. 
With her hands in her lap and heart bubbling in her chest, (Y/N) allowed her cheeks to split with her smile. Definitely better than any kind of daydream her cloudy head had come up with.
—————
As soon as she approached the church, (Y/N) was grateful for the instructions she had given to the coachmen to drop her at the edge of the village, leaving her to be the only one who had seen the carriage at all. As she had suspected, her father really had rallied every able body in the town. She could only imagine she had caught them right before they started combing the woods and terrorizing the neighboring villages until they found her. 
It was Margret who had seen her first, breaking down into tears with a bursting sob before she was running towards (Y/N).
"Where have you been?!" she screamed, collapsing around (Y/N) in a steely hug, "I—We—Everyone thought you were—" 
Margret didn't have to finish her words for (Y/N) to know what had been on the village's mind. 
Before she had a chance to do anything more than reciprocate the hug and draw a breath, her father was barreling over. "(Y/N)!" he shouted, a mix of relief and anger tinting his tone. She doubted he even knew how to feel in that moment. 
"I'm sorry, Margret," (Y/N) muttered, offering a consoling smile before pulling away from her hug. The Wayfields stepped forward to collect their daughter while (Y/N) went towards her father, already dreading the lecture she would receive. "Father, I—" 
The air was stolen from her lungs the second he scooped her into a tight hug. "My daughter," he murmured into her hair, nestling her against his chest, "I thought the worst." 
"I'm sorry," she whispered, aware of the eyes watching their embrace. 
"What happened?" he asked, pulling away to face her with watery eyes and warm cheeks, "Why didn't you stay with Margret and her family? They said you went through the storm alone, promising to come back home." 
(Y/N) felt immense floods of guilt bubble through her system. This wasn't the welcome home she had thought she'd garner. 
"I hadn't meant to frighten anyone," she started, hoping the rest of the village overheard, "I only wanted a minute alone, but I was planning on coming home right away. But, the storm was so heavy, and I scared myself. I was disoriented and ended up a village over. I stayed in their church for the night, until it was safe to come home." 
The lie slipped off her tongue like water, the story planned from her time in the carriage. Her guilt only worsened knowing she was deceiving her father, but she didn't want anyone to know where she had spent the night. Despite the impropriety of the whole thing situation Harry, she didn't want Mary and Ethel chattering to her father that the Count was trying to steal away his daughter and flay her before dropping her in the forest. 
She didn't want Harry to be dragged into this. 
His features tightened at her words, but she could see as he ultimately accepted them. "Okay," he relented before flexing his arms around her in a pulsing hug, "Never again, (Y/N). Do you hear me?" 
"I hear you," she promised, holding him back just as tightly. 
Over his shoulder, she could see the gleaming of a black carriage ascending the trail towards the large castle in the distance.
—————
oleander, if consumed, can slow the heart and cause death within hours.
ahhhhhh! super super super different for myself ngl! I changed a couple of ideas I had just bc I started scaring myself but thank you so much for reading! im so happy im finally putting out a halloween fic! so sorry for any mistakes and if theres any ideas or thoughts please send them in!
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justmeinatree · 5 months
Text
A Wet Dream Just Dangling
Summary : vampire harry wants to eat you out.
TW : smut, period sex, oral (f receiving)
Word Count : 1.5k
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“c’mon, darling,” harry coos, laying in bed, tangled up with you, using the softness of your tummy as a pillow. “don’t have to be shy with me.”
“harry,” you giggle, biting your lip, “never in a million years would i have thought of doing this.”
“hmm, i could wait a million years, but i’d really rather not,” he grumbles, fingertips gently stroking your skin. “you know it’ll make you feel better, my love.”
“s’embarrassing. and really awkward,” you groan, stuffing your face in a pillow, fingers carding through your boyfriend’s hair.
“nothing to be embarrassed about. totally normal thing,” he turns his head, chin pressed into your skin, peering up at you. “besides, s’not like it’s my first time.”
“that doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” you giggle. 
when you met harry, and inevitably fell deeply in love, you knew there would be a learning curve to dating him. the whole vampire thing being a bit of an adjustment for you. 
in the last 6 months, you’d gotten used to the feeding part of dating him. a weekly, sometimes twice a week, occurrence, that you’d grown to honestly be excited for. the intimate part of it all wasn’t lost on you. if anything, it made you feel closer to him.
so far, the idea of period sex hadn’t come up. that is, until today. your cramps were a little worse than usual, and although you know that sex has helped to alleviate them, you also know that he’s not just asking for sex. he’s asking to eat you out.
“beautiful girl, you’ll love it,” he hums, pecking over your stomach, tongue darting to take a few tentative licks of your skin. 
your taste invades his senses immediately, fangs poking out on their own accord, gently scraping against you, just enough to make a trail of goosebumps follow their path.
“harry,” you whine softly. he knows that whine, knows that what he’s doing is working. and the lower he makes his way down your stomach, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting, the more he can smell you. smell the blood, smell the arousal mixing in. his mind starts going hazy, only able to focus on blood, blood, blood. but more specifically your blood.
“please,” he mutters so softly you barely caught it, fingertips dancing by the waistband of your sweatpants, lips and tongue and fuck, so much harry, ghosting over your hips. “please, will you let me, my love ?” little puffs of warm air tickling your skin.
“do it,” you sigh contently, setting your reservations aside at the pure desperate neediness to his tone. you’re not sure you could have ever imagined your big scary vampire to sound so soft and small, it made you give into him even quicker than usual.
the next moment flies by in a flash, your pants ripped clean off you, legs spread wide, thighs held open with his hands, an animalistic growl echoing from harry’s chest, fangs on full display, dropping down to breathe you in.
“fuck, fuck,” harry groans, his temple resting against your inner thigh, eyes locked on your cunt. you were absolutely soaked. your hormones on overdrive from your period, plus well, day 2 of your period, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen something so fucking beautiful. 
his tongue tentatively pokes out, taking a lick at your sopping folds, harry’s eyes rolling back. “fucking christ, my beautiful girl, can’t-“ he shakes his head, taking another lick, “can’t hold myself back. stop me if it’s too much.”
and with that, he delves in. face instantly pressing into your cunt, tongue darting into you, licking at your inner walls with purpose.
you struggle to keep up with the quickness of it all, your body reacting to harry before your brain has a chance to keep up. with your back arching, a loud moan echoing through the room, you grip into his hair, pressing yourself more into his face.
you can feel the vibration from his groan, your pussy clenching on his lapping tongue. you can feel the bluntness of his fangs encompassing your heat, a slight sting from time to time, when they scrape particularly roughly. you can feel the nipping of his nails in your skin, thighs aching from his strength holding you spread open. 
with your period long forgotten, cramps seemingly swept away with the flick of harry’s tongue, you keep rolling your hips into his face, causing his moans to increase.
harry’s mind is reeling, so far gone, overtaken with the continuous flow of blood. he doesn’t have to pace himself, doesn’t have to worry about taking too much. he can slurp up as much as he likes. add in the sweet taste of your arousal, and all he can focus on is more, more, more.
his eyes flick up to meet yours, the darkest crimson you think you’ve ever seen looking back at you. you note the deep red smeared over his pale porcelain skin, and you feel yourself tug on his hair harder, the sight making your skin prickle. you weren’t sure how this scene could ever be so beautiful, but here it was. and it made your stomach clench. 
you can see the moment harry knows you’re going to cum, his eyes looking at you in recognition, cunt throbbing on his tongue, his mouth moving north for a moment to suck and flick at your clit. instantly, your orgasm crashes over you, back arching, legs trembling against his hold.
and harry’s ecstatic to lick you through it, scooping up the bubbles of blood, a guttural moan vibrating from the depths of his chest, his tongue migrating south again, face following suit.
without a moment to breathe, harry being hyper focused on blood, languidly stroking his tongue up and down and up and down through your slit, from entrance to clit, lapping up the blood, the arousal, the overwhelming sense of you, you, you.
“harry,” you whimper breathily, trying to compose yourself post orgasm, all while still having his tongue scooping from deep inside you. you couldn’t budge your legs at all, no matter how hard you tried to close them, your entire body prickling with heat every time he’d stroke your sweet spot.
your whines fall on deaf ears, harry much too busy with his face buried in your cunt. it was moments like these where he loves that breathing isn’t a problem he needs to worry about anymore. 
so he continues on, sucking and slurping, getting completely lost in the seemingly endless supply of sustenance. so much so, that you’re almost certain he’s completely missed the fact that you’re cumming again.
your moans had gotten increasingly loud, body trembling and wracking in his hands, fingers pulling tight on his hair. your cunt was clenched hard around his tongue, but his muscles were strong, and it didn’t stop him one bit. growling pants coming from between your legs, he flicked his tongue over and over and over against your inner walls.
body covered in a sheen of sweat, you were panting, whining, so fucking overstimulated. and yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him. even with your third orgasm looming, the coil in your stomach tighter than it’s been all night, almost painfully so, you could not stop.
your hips try to lift off the bed, muscles stretching and tensing all at once, an explosion of heat and tingles spreads through you, your cunt at the centre of the storm.
harry groans happily, his mouth working you through your third orgasm, hands sliding from your inner thighs, around to the small of your back, holding you. 
instantly, your legs close on his head, a moan vibrating from harry’s mouth, his hold leaving your back, sliding over your bum, up the back of your thighs, to press your knees into your chest.
and for the first moment since his escapade began, he pulls his mouth away from your pussy, looking at it, admiring his beautiful girl’s most intimate parts. he knows he’s pushed you to a limit, doesn’t have to ask, he absolutely knows you well enough by now. 
he still, however, unable to help himself, takes a gentle lick all the way up your slit, your body flinching in response. “m’sorry, darling. just so pretty.”
heat rises to your cheeks, wiggling your hips, trying to get away from him, as embarrassment, shyness creeps up on you.
and again, knowing you so well, harry notices, shaking his head, pecking against the back of your thigh, knees still pressed to your chest. he takes another gentle lick up your cunt, groaning, “don’t know why you even bother with pads and tampons. fuckin waste of money, if you ask me.”
……
Masterlist
tags : @gorlsinmultifandoms @cc-horan
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kiwikiwiandkiwi · 1 year
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Harry as Danny Zuko — Harryween (31.10)
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harrysfolklore · 1 year
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LOVE AT HARRYWEEN
yikes this is bad but i wanted to post a little something
ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated !
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"Is it beetlejuice?"
"Nope, It's not."
You were currently trying to get your boyfriend to fold and tell you his costume for his very own fancy dress party, Harryween. However, your plan wasn't working because no matter how hard you insisted, he kept refusing to tell you.
"Come on baby, give a little hint at least," you pleaded again, giving him your best puppy eyes. "It's going to make you horny, that's the hint," he sent a wink your way and you rolled your eyes at his cockiness, but you knew he wasn't lying, whatever he put on was going to make you go all horny and flustered.
"That's barely a hint, you know whatever you do makes everyone horny," and before he could give you another cocky remark, you continued "Besides, I showed you my costume weeks ago, It's only fair that I get to see yours too." you got closer yo him, grabbing his arms and wrapping them around your waist, and the look he gave you made you think that we was enjoying watching you get impatient.
“You let me see your costume because you’re a doll and you love me,” he grabbed your chin to peck your lips quickly before continuing “Stop being an impatient little thing, honey, just a couple more hours before the show starts.” you rolled your eyes again at your boyfriend’s words, he could blame you for being impatient, but that’s the way you were built.
“Whatever, if you’re not going to tell me I’m going to bribe Lambert into doing it,” you got out of his hold and grabbed turned on your heels, when you felt his hand come in touch with your bum in a playful way, “Good luck with that, sweetheart.” you turned your head and saw the huge smirk on his face.
He was a complete tease.
//
You decided to get ready at yours and Harry’s LA home instead of Kia Forum’s backstage, you wanted to take time with your makeup and hair so your costume was on point.
For this year, you decided to go as a cheerleader, but your top had “HS” engraved in the front with sequins and beads. It was safe to say that Harry went nuts when you showed it to him.
With your VIP lanyard around your neck and your pom poms in hand you made your way around Kia Forum. You took the opportunity to greet some fans, compliment their costumes, ride the ferris wheel and enjoy the pre show buzz.
When it was time, you made your way to your designated place at the back of the pit, deciding to not stop by backstage and just get the first glimpse of Harry’s costume when he came out on stage, like the rest of the fans.
Lovie: Aren’t you going to stop by to give me a good luck shag xx”
YN: Nope, rockstar. Hurry up we’re all waiting for you
Lovie: You’re a tease. Stay close where I can see you x
You let out a small laugh as you texted your boyfriend, if he had teased you about his costume all week long, it was only fair that you skipped his beloved pre show make out sessions.
To say that your impatience grew by the second was a correct statement, you were dying to see his costume once and for all and cut the mystery, and it was when the melodies from “You’re the one that I want” and you got a glimpse of Sarah’s big Sandy wig that it clicked.
He was going to be Danny Zuko, your lifetime crush from your favorite movie, Grease.
And then he made his appearance on stage, with his proper Danny Zuko hair, leather jacket, eyeliner and black jeans.
You couldn’t wait for the show to be over to give him the post show shag of his life.
taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches s @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @sunflowervolume66 @vanteguccir @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @leadmetogarden @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @ivegotparticulartaste @eviesaurusrex @olivialovesh @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @gumballavocadoharry @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @rafeyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry
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A Dark Love
Summary: Two murders on the run in the 70’s fall in love.
Warnings: enemies to lovers, murder, death obvi, gore, smut, knife kink, blood kink, mentions of cannibalism, lots of angst,just a warning this is kind of heavy! So if you don’t feel comfy don’t read ❤️‍🔥
Wc:3.8k
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Y/n is sure that man is watching her every move. Either that, or it’s her paranoia building up after being on the run for ten days. 
Ten whole days without a single cop glancing her way, after murdering two men at a bar she thought they would at least have a lead on her, but nothing. Nothing for a whole year. Since the news broke of several different men carelessly slashing women, Y/n has decided if men can kill women for no good reason, she can kill men for no reason. It’s better to have no men on the planet than only a few good ones. 
Her first was Tommy. Thirty two, blue eyes, brown hair, two hundred and three pounds, born January fourth nineteen forty two. He lives alone in a two bedroom apartment, his room filled with porno mags and disgusting memorabilia of past girls he obsessed over until his last moment. 
Y/n met him behind a bar just ten hours after the news about Lynda Ann Healy broke. Y/n was so disgusted and horrified that she fell into a spell once he tried pulling her back into his busted Red Ford pinto that she killed him right then and there, pulling the sharp buckle from her belt and stabbing him, walking all the way back home will bright crimson blood dripping from her face.
That night she discovered her new love. She had always adored taking care of herself, taking it slow and appreciating the simple things in life, like a hot bath or a new rose scented face cream- but nothing made her feel quite better than seeing her plump young skin masked in a coat of blood. She felt like she was reborn, branded into a new woman with a new fresh hungry need to kill. 
Since that night she’s been slashing into any man she can, the more bloody the better for her, bathing in the thick blood like it is a luxurious skin cream.  Now she’s up to fifteen bodies. 
“Have a problem?” Y/n calls over, feeling the cool metal of her dagger press into the plump skin of her thigh to make sure it was still right where she wanted it. There was nothing she loved more than leading a man down onto his knees for his last sight to be her uncovering her sharp blade. 
The man is handsome, standing tall with a slim but sturdy build, Tattoos, silky hair piled on top of his head- he obviously hasn’t gotten a haircut in a few months, big green eyes, a mustache dusted above his lip, dressed in some button up shirt with all too tight pants.
 She can have a little fun with him before she kills him. 
“Not at all, sweet thing.” He shoots her a wink before lighting a joint, taking a drag from it then passing it off to her. She pushes it back toward him but takes her place leaning next to him against his shiny blue car. “No thanks.” He lets out a tiny laugh, pulling it back to his mouth instead. “Your loss.” He breathes out, smoke falling from his mouth. 
“I don’t smoke strangers' pot.” Y/n says, glancing up at the man. He smiles, “Then let me introduce myself. I’m Harry. Now we know each other, babe.” She rolls her eyes, stepping back. “I can already tell you’re an asshole.” He tosses his arms out, “c’mon, I don’t bite.” A large smile spreads on his lips, but she ignores it and walks back to the car.
Y/n isn’t quite sure why the man’s stupid words bothered her so much, but she had a feeling about him and something was off. She walks a few feet back to her car before getting inside and starting it up. Shoving the key in and twisting it she realizes the old car finally bit the dust, merely taunting her with a cough but no roar to start. 
Her head turns at the noise, seeing Harry roll up next to her. “Looks like you need a ride.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing her couple of bags and stuffing them in his car before flopping into his passenger seat. The car was stolen so she wouldn’t miss it. 
What’s the worst that could happen? If he tried something she would just plunge her dagger straight into his heart… but she would lose her cool if her favorite corduroy skirt happened to get blood splatter on it. 
“Where are you going?” He asks, glancing over her tight and reserved body language. “Anywhere.” The 
“Seriously, where are you going? I thought we were over that stranger danger shit.” Y/ns rolls her eyes at the man, picking at her manicured nails to avoid his gaze. “I’m just going.” it's his turn to roll his eyes, scoffing at her. “Seriously,”
“Get off my case, asshole. You need to take a chill pill.” 
“I need to chill?! You need to stop being so fucking up tight!” The second he raises his voice at her she spreads her legs and pulls her dagger from the inside of her thigh, gripping it tight in her hand while he throws his up in surrender.``Hey, Hey, Hey” he rushes out, getting her to back off. “Either fuck off or ill slit your throat. It’s up to you Harry.” She says with a sweet smile, her heart racing from the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the excitement of possibly getting a small taste of the pretty boy's blood. 
“Jesus, sorry.” She gives a tiny nod at his apology and backs down, but not before he starts chuckling. “But you wouldnt of stabbed me.'' He raises her hand again, carelessly aiming to just teach him a lesson instead of actually killing him. 
“Fuck!” He shouts, blood pouring from his hand. “Dont get it on my fucking skirt!” she shouts back, groaning at a little drop of blood soaking into her skirt. Harry quickly pulls the silky wrap she had tied around her hair and wraps it around his hand to stop the bleeding. 
After their panic settled they both let out a shaky breath before Harry pulled her in, grabbing her knife and pressing his lips to hers. “That was so fucking hot but if you ever do that again I will kill you.” 
The car is stopped in the middle of the road but that doesn’t stop them from tearing off each other's clothes. She yanks Harry’s button up shirt open while he peels her panties down her legs. She takes her turn and unbuckles his belt, shoving her hand down his pants and pulling his cock out. 
Hushed words are exchanged as she slides his big cock deep inside of her pussy, licking the fresh blood that drips down his wrists as he thrusts in and out of her from under her. 
Harry holds her dagger against her neck, the sharp blade scraping against her delicate skin. She lets out a moan, her mouth and chin covered in his blood. He kisses her, his tongue slipping inside of her mouth to taste her. 
 “I can’t believe you stabbed me.” He laughs on her lips, softly dragging the knife down her throat before pressing it between her breasts. He kisses her one last time before pulling away breathlessly, “if you ever try that again, I promise, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” He presses the tip of the dagger into her chest enough to draw a bit of blood then pulls it away. 
To be clear, Harry has never killed a woman. Really just killing random men, slitting their throats or strangling them when he notices they are following a young girl home, or slipping a pill in someone’s drink, only for good reason. He’s not a psychopath, he’s only murdered 12 people!
“I’m cumming, fuck.” Y/n cums, letting out a moan and pulling herself away from the man.
After they dress themselves, Harry returns to driving, stepping on the gas and riding down the old country road. It was an absolute ghost town, corn fields, boarded up farm houses, and abandoned shops are the only things left in the old town. Y/n loved this. This was the kind of place she could stay in forever, a town where there are little people and no one cares to get to know the tiny population. 
She might consider settling down here, there’s only a gas station and a tiny grocery store, but even those are smaller than the average small town shops. This looked like a lowkey spot to hide out in, or maybe it is something straight out of a horror film- but so is she. 
“Pull over” Y/n finally speaks up after about twenty minutes of driving in silence. There was a tiny yellow motel, paint chipping and graffiti covered all along the exterior. “What?” Y/n rolls her eyes at his questioning she grabs the wheel from him and drives through the grass and into the parking lot of the rundown motel.  “What the fuck?!” Harry yells, quickly putting the car in park. Y/n jumps out before she can hear any of his bitching and walks through the motel and into a check out counter. 
Behind the counter there is a man, a short but sturdy build man with clown makeup on. Any normal person passing through this town and stopping at the motel for a safe place to lay their head for a night would be startled to see such a man behind the counter but this comforted Y/n. If the tall man was anything like her, she knew there wasn’t a chance the cops could bust her here. 
“Howdy… Gus. I’m going to need a room for tonight.” She glances at the big wooden sign that reads “HOWDY” with a large cowboy hat burned into it. She isn’t sure where she is, but wherever she was she knew it was just a bunch of homicidal fucked up hicks. 
“Single bed or two beds?” The man grumbles, a low deep voice coming out of such a short man. “Single bed.” Harry comes behind her, scoffing. “I’m going to need a room too.” 
“Bad news, there’s only one room.” 
“How many beds?” Y/n shoots up, hoping she doesn’t have to deal with this man for god knows how long. Yeah, he was just inside of her thirty minutes ago, but that doesn’t mean she wants anything to do with him. 
“Only one.” Fucking classic. 
“Well you can just keep on steppin’.” Harry shakes his head at her words. “No way, not after you drug me with this hell hole.” Y/n pulls a tight lipped smile, shoving her hand into her pocket aggressively and pulling out some bills and change to slam on the counter before snatching the key from Gus’ hand and stomping off. 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
The door flies open while Y/n storms into it, almost hitting Harry with the heavy wooden door. When she takes a quick look-see around the room she is instantly disgusted with the orange shag carpet, the stiff avocado green bedspread and the brightly cartoonish art bolted to the wall. “Well isn’t this just fucking nifty.” She lets out a huff then throws herself back on the bed. 
“You act like I’m not bummed out about this too! But we both need a place to crash and it might as well be with each other since we’re in the same boat. So, if you could stop your whining I’m going to clean up my hand.” 
She looks away, rolling her eyes. “I won’t hesitate to whip out my blade on you again.” He tossed a hand out to her before locking himself in the bathroom. 
Y/n takes this time to unpack her bags, which is really just unzipping them and then tossing them onto the floor. 
She’s not sure why she was drawn to this place, but she had a good feeling about it. Sometimes she regrets hurting all those men, having to live such a quiet life, always being on the move and never stable. But she’s hoping soon enough the investigation will be closed. They have been working to figure out who is behind this string of murders for far too long and she knows if she just sticks it out a little while longer they will give up. She’s sad for the families grieving, but not sad that there is a couple less useless fucks in this already shitty world. 
Hopefully she and Harry will get along. They got off to a rough start, and are still in a rough stop, but she thinks with a little work they could be partners in crime- no that she’s planning on killing any men while she’s in hiding, but if need be. 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
“Where did you run off to?” 
Y/n  pushes open the motel door, kicking it shut with her heel and pulling her glass bottle of big red up to her lips for a swig. She dumps the big paper bag onto the entertainment center of the motel room, tossing a bag of chips at the man, then pulling her carton of cigs out and lighting one up. “Convenience store.” She mumbles through her exhale of smoke, flopping back on the squeaky bed where Harry sits up straight. 
“If we’re going to be staying together we need to learn a little bit more about each other.” Y/n rolls her eyes, taking another drag off of her Marlboro. “Why are you suddenly Mister moral? Don’t you like…kill people?” Harry rolls his eyes, he’s grown increasingly agitated with her and if she wasn't such a pretty girl maybe he would kill her. 
“Yeah, bad people. But that’s irrelevant. I hardly know you.” 
“That didn’t stop you from fucking me in your car twenty minutes after we met, even after I stabbed you.” Harry stands up, shaking his head, leaning back and growing out of frustration. “You’ve got a smart fucking mouth.” She gives him a breathy chuckle. “Yeah?” She slowly rises to her feet, ashing her cigarette on the shag carpet and taking another drag from it. “What are you going to do about it?” He takes that as a challenge, grabbing her jaw with his bandaged band, four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other. 
They lock eye contact for a couple of beats before Harry pushes his lips onto her, pushing her down onto the bed and unbuckling his belt. It was already three in the morning, and they both know people are sleeping but no one staying in this hell hole is resting well. She slides down the silky sleep shorts she had slid on along with a tattered graphic tee before heading off to the store. Y/n keeps her eyes on his hands as he pulls his belt off and pushes his trousers down. 
Hushed words are exchanged and before either of them know it Harry is deep inside of her, lifting one leg to get deeper. 
Y/n smiles blissfully, reaching for her dagger she had tossed on the bed and sliding it against his hip bone, making sure not to nick his sensitive skin with her piercing sharp knife. Harry grabs it from her hand, trailing it up her hot body and slowly makes his way up to her neck. He traces the blade around her ear, taking his time before he slides it against the side of her neck, making sure to be soft with her. She annoys the fuck out of him, she has a smart mouth and was too reserved for someone so mouthy, but he cant help but kind of adore her. 
He quickly pulls out of her, cumming all over her pussy. “Oh fuck” she whispers, flopping her head back and relaxing into the bed. 
Harry pushes her shirt up, kissing over her bare chest and trailing it down her stomach. She feels a fluttery feeling in her belly. Similar to how she feels after she comes home prior to slashing into a man, blood spraying all over her face. She gets to stand under the warm spray of her shower, watching the water go from crimson to clear and drain down, giving her skin a good scrub before sitting bare in front of her vanity and pampering herself with rich creams. She feels like she's being taken care of, such a light delicate feeling. 
 He sinks to his knees, spreading her legs wide and burying his face between them. 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
“Rise ‘n shine.” Harry sings, shaking Y/n awake. 
Y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning and getting in a good stretch so she's not so stiff. “What's on your face?” Harry's hand comes up to wipe at his face, examining the splatter he wipes off. “Oh, i'm not sure.” he walks into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up before stepping back into her vision. 
“I've been thinking a lot this morning.” 
“It’s seven in the morning, how much thinking can you do?” Harry shrugs at her questions, pushing his frankly, fabulous hair back and starting to gather his things together to pack in his hefty leather bag. “Like I was saying, I’ve kind of been thinking… let's leave. Let’s go find some other place to stay.” 
Y/n whips her head back to him whilst she strips naked and starts the water in the pink tiled bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? I thought we decided that this was the perfect place to hide out! It’s a fucking ghost town here.” 
Harry rocks back and forth then turns on his heel to start pacing back and forth in front of the messy bed from Y/n tossing and turning all night. “Not to get all weird but I can't talk to you when you're bare naked. it's tripping me out.” She scoffs, “Prude.” then steps into the shower. 
“If you dont mind, make this shower lickety split. I'm itching to get out of this place!” Y/n groans at his nagging, quickly rinsing the shampoo out of her hair and squirting a rather large pile of cream white conditioner into her palm and working it into her hair. “Why are you so impatient? Why cant you take a fucking chill pill.”
“This place is just creeping me out, man. I gotta get out of here.” She groans again, feeling the irritation bubble up and begin to boil over. “We agreed that this is the perfect spot to stay. I'm already settled in. Why leave now?” 
“Enough with all the questions, please.” 
“Why?!” 
“Cause I fucking killed Gus! Okay?! Now please, can you speed this the fuck up so we can get into my goddamn car so we can find some other place to stay?!” Y/n calming but quickly rinses her body off and steps out of the shower, drying herself off much too quickly, basically still dripping wet and she throws the towel into a tiny laundry basket. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Harry throws both of his hands out.
 “Again! Jesus christ can you just put something on?” 
“Oh my god!” She throws a shirt at him, sliding panties up her legs and quickly getting dressed, deciding to go simple with a pair of yellow corduroy flares and a black rolling stones tee shirt tucked into it. “I guess lets fucking go since you decided to murder someone.” She grabs her back and Harry trails right behind her, walking down the long dark hallway. “We're literally on the run to try to get out of murder charges and you decided to kill the dude behind the check-in counter. What the fuck was that for?” Harry grumbles, obviously growing more and more agitated by her never ending questions and attitude. “I dont want to talk about it.” 
They hop in the car, and take off once again. 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
They've been driving for a while. 
If Y/n is honest, She’s kind of bummed that they had to leave that motel. At first she was just worried that they would catch wind of another murder and have her and Harry’s name tied to it, but thankfully their records are clean and Gus never took record of their stay. But now, she just misses it. It was a little spooky and there were other sketchy weirdos staying there but that comforted her more than anything. 
Y/n thinks she's feeling a touch homesick, after moving into her previous apartment she finally had a place of her own to call home with no roommate, it was all to herself. Having no sense of stability, only being on the road was kind of messing with her, but as much as she doesnt want to admit it to herself- and especially to him, having Harry as a partner in crime has been really great. 
“So, do you think youll ever go back to wherever you ran from?” Y/n shakes her head, her feet hung out of the window and a cigarette perched between her two fingers. “Nope. kind of starting fresh. Finding a whole new job and shit, a new place to stay. Maybe I’ll be an avon lady.” They both laugh at her joke. “Me too. Now that I've left there's no way I'm going back.” 
“Can I ask you a question and get an honest answer this time?” Harry quickly glances at Y/n, “Sure.” There is a beat of silence before she speaks again. “Why did you kill Gus? I can tell it wasn’t just because he pissed you off. We stayed up talking all last night and you dont kill unless you've got a good reason.” 
“So you want the honest answer?” 
“Yeah” 
“It was because of you.” 
“Me?!” Y/n shouts, she hardly spoke a word to Gus. 
“Yeah, he was telling me how hot he thought you were and for some reason I just kind of… lashed out.” 
Y/n takes a moment to process it, ashing her cigarette and taking one last drag on it before putting it out in the car's ashtray. She clears her throat, “So what, do you think i'm your girlfriend or something now?” 
“Well, if you want. I'm not uptight about shit like that or anything. We can just vibe it out.” Y/n softly laughs. “Okay, lover boy.” 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Y/n and Harry finally found a place to stay. Thankfully, Harry and Y/n both had good money saved up prior to them being on the run so they splurged at a nice hotel and decided to stay in the suite. 
This time, Y/n didn't throw a fit when she had to stay in the same room and same bed as Harry. She lets him be a gentleman and he carries her bag up to their room. This time, its going to be different. This time they are going to stay put,find a spot for them to settle down together- not just in a hotel room. Maybe they will put their lives of crime behind them and stick together as one happy couple. 
Maybe. 
Hiiiii!!!! If you liked this PLEASE reblog!! I’ll love you forever and I doubt a lot of people are going to read this due to sensitive subject matter but hoping this will hit my target audience 😭 im really scared that this got boring towards the middle but it was inspired by house of 1000 corpses! hope you liked it !
Tag list: @harrysddtittys @hopeyoustaythenight @harrysdimple05 @damnasstyles @harrysfolklore @msolbesg @thismaydestroyme @stallrry @ayeshathestyles @michellekstyles @lhharrylilpumpkin @kissmyaxe140 @buckymydarlingangel @cherrycolas-things @luvonstyles @victoria-styles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite
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hstylestuff · 5 months
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like or reblog if you save
give me credits pls
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hsonlyangelxo · 5 months
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She was something else
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stylesrecord · 1 year
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HARRYWEEN New York – Night 1 (October 30, 2021) New York – Night 2 (October 31, 2021) Los Angeles (October 31, 2022)
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daily-stylinson · 5 months
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2 yrs ago today, my happiest babygirl 🥹🫶🫠
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polydeuces · 6 months
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𝖎 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙
𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯: 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸.
𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 (𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔟𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱) !
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[𝘈/𝘕: 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦’𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸. 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳. ]
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wellbealrightipromise · 5 months
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happy one year to those who celebrate :))
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moonchildstyles · 5 months
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hemlock
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oleander part two: sneaking away to see harry, y/n learned more than she bargained for
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—————
The blunt of (Y/N)'s teeth sunk into her bottom lip, holding back the lingering smile that wanted to curl her features. More than once, she peeked through her lashes to the darkly dressed figure sauntering through the apothecary. 
True to his word the last time they had met, Harry returned to the apothecary sooner than usual. It had only been a pair of weeks since she had seen him previous when she was being carted away from his castle. He had been on her mind since, hoping he wouldn't wait the usual two months before she would see him perusing the shelves once more. 
The second that she had seen him step over the threshold of the front door, her heart fluttered through her chest in a rattling beat. A lopsided curl made a home on his own features, but they both stayed quiet. 
They both knew they couldn't exactly boast about their clandestine meetings. Their encounters were unspoken secrets that they could now share in fleeting glances and small smiles. 
It was seemingly harder than ever to keep her eyes to herself and her feet behind the counter this time. That alluring draw of him had been elevated that much higher now that there was more of that connection forged between. More than once, before falling asleep, she sent herself sweet dreams with the final thought of just how concerned he was, reaching for her when she woke up after the storm. 
As if knowing exactly what was on her mind, Harry flicked his gaze over his shoulder to her. She didn't turn away in time, instead allowing her skin to warm when his eyes grazed over her skin. 
He was the first to break the contact before he absently reached for a bundle of lavender sprigs and started towards the counter. They both knew he didn't really need anything new, but shopping for more was the perfect excuse to share space once more. 
"Did you find all that you were looking for, sir?" she asked, repeating the same script she had always given him when he dropped his purchase on the counter. 
"I did, thank you," he smiled, canting his head as he watched her take her time checking him out, "The weather has been rather intense lately, don't you think?" 
She had her head down as he spoke, though she didn't mask the smile that bloomed across her features. She knew what he was getting at. "Definitely. The storms have been unlike the previous years. I had a bit of trouble a few weeks ago during one of the thunderstorms, but I'm doing much better now." 
"Good. I am happy to hear that," he drawled, his voice thick like the velvet she remembered glazing over her skin when she woke up in his castle. "I hope the weather stays stable for a little while longer, as I'm planning on throwing a dinner party in the coming weeks."
(Y/N) perked up, her meandering fingers slowing. "Really? A dinner party?" 
"Yes," he cemented, linking his dark eyes with hers in unwavering contact, "I am planning on it being an intimate affair, only a few in attendance. I do not have the specifics planned out yet, but invitations will be sent out in the coming weeks." 
She really hoped she was picking up on the correct message he was passing along, and it wasn't just her dreamy heart that told her that she would be one of the few receiving an invitation. Her lungs squeezed at the thought of rejoining him at the castle, even if it included the prying eyes of others. 
Collecting herself, she passed back the lavender bundle. "I am sure it will be wonderful, sir. I can't imagine you would plan anything less than flawless." 
"We will have to see," he started, dropping coins on the counter without having to be told the price, "I expect it to be perfect as long as the right guests show up." 
Another meaningful glance was shared between them. A slight quirk appeared on his lips. 
"Until next time, (Y/N)." 
Blinking with a flutter of her lashes, she swore she felt her skin warm despite the low temperature of the shop. "Until next time, sir." 
Using the window beside the counter, (Y/N) watched him head straight towards a midnight carriage drawn by bone-white horses. Pulling over the cobblestone, the coach headed straight back towards the castle, no other stops made.
—————
The rickety stool under (Y/N)'s feet wobbled some as she stretched to the tips of her toes. Her breath was stuck in her throat each time she felt that small stool creak under her feet. No matter the dropping of her stomach every time her stability tottered, she kept up her task of hanging the herbs from the lines criss-crossing through the apothecary. 
Just as she took another twined bundle of lavender from her basket, intending to add it to the row that needed a few more days of drying before being added to the shelves, a knock sounded on the front door of the apothecary. The sound took her by surprise, her balance waning with her hand over her head and toes stretched in her boots. 
The door was unlocked, right? The shop had been open for hours; there was no reason to give a knock to the door.
Nonetheless, (Y/N) carefully climbed down from the stool. Looking towards the door, she saw an unfamiliar, pale face looking through the glass. The sight had a zip of fear going up her spine, her hand fluttering up to rest on her throat. The man on the other side of the door didn't have any reaction to her fright, his features set in expressionless stone. 
While she didn't recognize this man, there were small details that she could also see in Harry. This man had pale skin, and dark eyes. He looked to be impossibly still, stuck in a moment in time. 
He could clearly see her through the glass, a surefire sign that the shop was well open and ready for customers. Still, he stayed out in the late morning dew, patiently waiting for her. 
While there was no way he hadn't caught her reaction, (Y/N) still tried her best to school her expression into something pleasant. Moving across the shop, basket of lavender at her hip, she opened the door for her new patron. 
"Good morning," she greeted, feeling the touch of frigid morning air grazing her skin, "How may I help you, sir?" 
Ignoring her initial question, he only asked, "May I enter?" 
Taken aback, she floundered over her response. "Um—I—" she stumbled. She'd never had to invite a customer in while the shop was open. Collecting herself, she bowed her head as she opened the door wide enough for him to make it through, "Yes. Please, come in." 
He moved deftly over the floor, barely making a sound on the floorboards. "You are Ms. (Y/N), right?" 
Giving a fluttering blink of her eyes, (Y/N) nodded her head. "Yes, I am." 
The man silently pulled out an envelope from his jacket before passing it off to her. Cautiously taking it from his grip, she tried not to appear as curious as she felt when she peered down at the elegant letter now in her hands. 
On the front, in glimmering, burnished gold lettering was her name scripted in looping font. Just the weight alone was enough to show just how important this correspondence was, as if the hand-delivery wasn't enough to give away as much. Only for the fact she still had an audience, (Y/N) refrained from slipping her finger under the blood red wax seal enclosing the flap.
Instead, she tucked it behind her back before looking up towards the footman. 
Only, he was gone. 
She just barely caught him on his way out, the length of his dark hair fluttering behind him as the bell above the door tinkled. The sound was decidedly quieter than when she had pushed the door open herself to let him in. She hadn't even heard him cross the space, the floorboards giving nothing away under his footfalls. 
There was no chance to say anything to him—thank him for the delivery, ask him who the letter was from, anything at all, really. She was unable to catch even what direction he disappeared in, only knowing that she was now alone. 
A grin plucked at her lips at the thought. 
(Y/N) didn't waste a second before she was pulling out the letter once more, wanting to open it as soon as possible while she had the privacy. 
Allowing her eyes to peruse over the gorgeous stationery, she could see the faint flecks of shimmer in the ink used to spell out her name. The wax seal was a vivid red color, embossed with a bold S wreathed in thorns. Doing her best to keep the wax intact, (Y/N) carefully picked at the edge to flip open the flap. Inside, a folded letter awaited on another piece of rich stationary. 
Her breath was stolen as she unfolded the paper, looking over what exactly had been so important to be delivered directly to her hand. 
It was an invitation. 
The ink was the same burnished gold, accented with filigree style line work across the edges. There was a texture to the page, (Y/N) unable to keep from running the pad of her thumb across the page. It was luxurious—the kind of correspondence she figured nobility would have the privilege of receiving. And, it was addressed to her. 
A week from today's date, she was requested to be present at Harry Styles' home for a dinner party in celebration of the turn of the season. The same party he had told her about a week prior. 
There was no doubt she would appear mad to any onlooker that dared to peer through the windows into the shop, seeing as how she was grinning down at the letter. She had hoped this was what Harry had been telling to her without actually saying it—that she would be invited to his home for this dinner. Her heart sped up behind her ribs, her breath shorting in her lungs at the idea of rejoining him at his home. 
Without permission, a squeal escaped (Y/N)'s lips. She couldn't help herself as she twirled her dress fanning around her ankles, as she pressed the letter to her heart. 
There was no doubt she was mad now.
—————
(Y/N) had been riding high all day after her special delivery, only for the comedown to have her face planting into the earth. 
There was another body found. Another young woman laid to rest in the woods with her throat ripped out and no blood left in her body. 
The village was submerged in shades of blue for the rest of the night, including her father by the time he made it home. He had gone out with others of the town to help carry the woman back to the village in hopes of giving her a proper burial with her family. 
He had been practically silent since he scaled the stairs of the apothecary, joining her in the flat above. His energy was hard to ignore, even if her mind continued to wander more than once to the letter she had spent hours memorizing when she had been alone. She had been so excited when receiving the correspondence, but now that giddiness had to live alongside that simpering grief the rest of the village had slipped into. 
There was nothing but the sound of cutlery clinking against their chipped flatware, dinner nothing more than a warming stew and the last of the summer vegetables that had been harvested. Her father saw their home through unseeing eyes, as he couldn't seem to focus on one space for too long before he was flitting to the next. (Y/N) matched his silence, keeping to herself in hopes of allowing the night to pass quickly. In the morning, hope would be restored to her neighbors and she wouldn't feel so out of place still feeling excitement for her invitation. 
"What is that?" 
Blinking with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) checked back into the unexpected moment. "Pardon?" 
Her father's eyes were fixed over her shoulder, towards the kitchen where the leftovers of the stew were simmering on the tiny stove implanted in the space. "What is that?" 
Twisting in her seat, she tried to follow his gaze. "There are some leftovers if that is what you are wondering—" 
"No," he cut her off, pushing his chair away from the table before stalking towards the kitchen. 
At the last moment, she realized what exactly had caught his attention. 
During the hours she had been left alone while he aided the village in bringing the young woman in the woods home, she had read and reread and reread the invitation as many times as she could. She admired the gilded writing, the exquisite seal, and every luxurious detail. She had left it out on the counter while she cooked, leaving it in arm's reach. 
That was where it still sat. 
That was where her father was headed. 
For the first time, she felt fortunate for her father's aching joints and the long hours he had been on his feet—even before the trip to the forest. He was moving slow enough for her to jump up and cut him off, as if she were joining him in finding whatever he had fixed his attention on. 
"This?" she asked, plucking up another piece of mail that the Wayfields had sent along with Margret the day previous. "It is only a recipe from Mrs. Wayfield—for her potato soup and the bread with the bubbles she's so skilled at making." 
She waved the envelope for her father to see, though it was decidedly less ornate than that of the one she was currently hiding behind her back. If she could, she would have crossed her fingers in hopes of him falling for her ruse. 
He blinked as he took in what she was trying to pass off as the same piece of mail that had the wax seal and glimmering writing. "There was another letter, (Y/N). Where is it?" 
Her palms began to sweat. Her father would not be happy to know she had been requested by the Count, especially not on a day like today when he had undoubtedly spent plenty of time with those who accused Harry of being a monster. 
"I do not—" 
"What are you hiding behind your back?" 
"Nothing." Her response came too quickly. Her father's eyes narrowed. 
"(Y/N)." 
"It is really nothing," (Y/N) tired again, digging up any kind of excuse she could, "I was doing inventory for downstairs, and—" 
"(Y/N)," he said once more, his voice edging into something sharp and steely. Now wasn't the time, he was telling her. "Let me see." 
She only swallowed, keeping her hand stuck behind her back. 
Everything happened in a vacuum then. Time was ticking with her heartbeats while staying still in the middle of the kitchen. It didn't take much for her father to reach around and grab the letter, ripping it out of her hands before she could even tighten her grip.
There was panic sifting through her veins as she saw him look over the letter, the flap roughly pulled open with the letter folded open with careless fingers. She took quick strides towards him, intending to pull the stationary right out of his hands, to keep him from damaging the page any more or looking over the invitation. There was barely a fight, her father raising it out of her reach with his gaze hardening more and more with every word he read. 
"This is from him? And, you are trying to hide it from me?" he seethed, looking to her with blazing eyes, "After everything that has happened today, you are trying to protect him?" 
A lump sat heavily in her throat, (Y/N) attempting to swallow around it through her eyes never left the letter that was above her head. "It's not like that, father," she tried to argue, "You know he has nothing to do with all of that. It is only a dinner party; I think he is trying to get to know us more, and he knows me from shopping downstairs, so—"
"How do you know?!" he boomed, breaking for the first time (Y/N) had seen since her mother's passing. "How do you know he has nothing to do with the dead girls? How do you know he doesn't have everything to do with it all, (Y/N)? You think it is safe to attend a dinner party at his dungeon? You welcome his advances knowing all that you do?!" 
(Y/N) was rooted in her spot, listening to the tirade her father bubbled off. There was nothing she could say, nothing that could satisfy him no matter how carefully she picked her words. 
"I know he is a well-off man, (Y/N)," he continued, taking her silence as response enough, "But you do not know him, no matter what you have been telling yourself. You daydream, and romanticize, and let your head wander too far from reality. How can you find reason enough to think it is safe to attend a party at his home? Have you already forgotten what you saw in the woods? Do you realize how easy it would be for you to join them?" 
His words stung. He had always had a problem with her active imagination, the willingness she had to let her mind wander and come to the prettier conclusion, the softer avenue. Is that what she had done with Harry? Was that the missing piece? While she was wondering what it would be like to glide across a ballroom in his arms, feel the soft of his lips over her cheek, what the swirls of his curls would feel like between her fingers, the rest of the village was seeing the sharpened teeth and soulless eyes of a beast. Was she really that naive? 
"I have not forgotten about that night, (Y/N). I have not forgotten about the night you were missing, either—wherever you truly were." 
Dropping her gaze to the floorboards, (Y/N) felt her eyes sting. 
While she knew he couldn't have been completely accepting of her lie, this was the first time he had acknowledged that her word hadn't been completely true. 
"I am not letting the next body we find be yours, (Y/N). You are not going to that dinner party, do you understand me?" His command was emphasized with the sound of paper crumpling in his fist. He was ruining her invitation. 
(Y/N)'s tongue was too dry for her mouth, unable to form a single word. 
In a blurry moment, she was aware of her father stretching across the space, throwing the stove door open to reveal the small fire confined to the space. He tossed the letter in, the seal melting and slopping off the page while the paper singed and blackened at the edges before ashing away. 
"Do you understand me, (Y/N)? Look at me, and promise me you will not go." 
Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched the page burn away. How could she have let this happen? 
"Do not take the last of my family away from me," her father pleaded, finally seeming to break through the cloud in her head. 
"I will not go," she agreed in a distant voice. "I understand." 
When her father wrapped his arms around her, (Y/N) wanted to reciprocate with her heart though she could only do so with her arms. 
—————
(Y/N) crawled on her hands and knees, ignoring her designated companion for the afternoon, as she weeded the herb garden. Lucy chattered away behind her as if they both didn't know (Y/N)'s head was miles away.
In her imagination, she was at the grandiose castle that no one else in her village had seen the way she had. She was there with the kindest man she had ever met, the man who cared for her in the middle of a storm when he could have kept moving and abandoned her to her own devices. She saw him when he rushed across the hallway, panicked that she might not be as well as he thought. She saw him as he positioned himself between her and the group of rowdy men spilling out of the pub. Those small things were more than she was sure he even knew, actions that someone who was practically a stranger wouldn't do unless they had a good heart. 
She pinged between the castle, and back to the kitchen of her flat. There, she saw the way her father's eyes had blazed at her, anger boiling under his skin as he reminded her of what he had to lose should she end up one of those in the woods. She saw hints of the mourning man she had met after her mother's passing and her sister's departure. In the end, she knew he was nothing more than a scared father, seeing danger where she didn't. She had never seen him like that before. 
Was she truly so blind? Her father was scared enough to shout and holler at her, keep her from ever spending a second alone, while she couldn't find a single clue as to what would make him think as much when it came to Harry. If she were being honest, she found him to be a better man than her sister's husband, and yet her father had been more than happy for Arabeth when she announced her engagement. Was her head truly so high up in the clouds that she could miss something so terribly wrong with Harry? 
More than once, despite promising to her father that she wouldn't attend the dinner, she had considered what it would be like to go anyway. Though that thought never made it too far as soon as she remembered just how easily information like that would spread through the village—everyone was too nosy for their own good and would love to share a sighting of her up at the castle despite her vow. Besides, as dumbfounded as she was when it came to the aversion some felt to Harry, she couldn't deceive her father any more than she already had.
She loved and cared about her father, even if they were on the opposite sides of so many debates these days. He worried about her beyond reason at times, but she had to understand him. Even if that meant skipping out on the dinner party and going against the romantic heart sitting in her chest.
"Right, (Y/N)?" Lucy bubbled.
"Right," (Y/N) blindly answered, blinking out of her head. She didn't have a single idea of what exactly she was agreeing to, but it made Lucy happy. 
She had given the right answer.
That was all that mattered.
—————
Twirling around on ornately beaded shoes, (Y/N) looked up in wonder at the castle walls covered in gorgeous, hand-painted patterns. Her dress fanned out around her like creamy frosting on a tea cake. From steps away, she could feel Harry's eyes on her as she traipsed around his home, adoring each and every detail she found. 
"There is more, if you are ready to move on?" he offered, bouncing his eyebrows as if to tell her that she definitely wants to be ready to move on. She couldn't imagine what else he could show her on this tour that could top the places that had already blown her mind.
Nonetheless, she placed her palm in his offered hand, biting back a smile at the feel of his cool skin. 
He guided her through the halls until they hit the back door. Outside, a garden awaited. Trees full of dripping wisteria greeted her, the lilac shining like the moon above. Lines of honeyed foxglove and velvet roses drew the boundaries around a perfect lawn. He pulled her along with him to the middle, beams of moonlight highlighting the pale shade of green he had dressed in for the occasion.
"Dance with me?" he asked her, coal eyes adoring over her features. 
All it took was a nod of her head before she was pulled towards him, a symphony striking up without warning. 
He twirled her through the grass, fallen wisteria petals kicking up around her gown, the roses swaying as if reaching out to touch them. Harry looked like a prince, complete with soft hands and a tender smile. 
After twirling enough to get a giggle in her chest and head turning, Harry pulled her to his chest, settling down. 
"I have missed you so, darling," he crooned, lips by her ear, "I fear I can no longer wait such stretches between seeing you—I don't have the strength to deprive myself." Looking up at him, she saw deep shadows cast across one half of his face while the other was bathed in the pastel light of the stars. "You take up more and more of my mind everyday." 
An easy grin took place on her lips. He thought about her as much as she did he?
"Kiss me, darling." 
Eagerly stretching to the tips of her toes, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to pucker her lips. She could feel the tip of his nose grazing her own, skin chilled against her heat. 
The faintest brush of his lips against hers, lashes fluttering—
Breathing in a gasp, (Y/N) was pulled from her dreams. Despite her stilted breathing, her heart had never been so steady in her chest.
While she tried to never read too much into her dreams, she couldn't help but to feel as if this night had been a sign. She had just decided that tomorrow night, she would stay home as usual, skipping the immaculate dinner at the Count's home, only to find herself touring his grounds in her dreams. 
She was supposed to join the fray tomorrow, she cemented. She would find a way to keep the event from her father, from the nosy neighbors, anything to keep the night from souring. 
So many variables sung through her, asking how at all she would make it up to the castle without an escort, how she would even skirt past her father in the first place, how, how, how. (Y/N) ignored them all for the time being, instead allowing a smile to settle on her features as she laid back. 
This time tomorrow, she would hopefully be in his arms.
—————
"Goodnight," (Y/N) pleasantly chirped, accepting her father's hug and kiss on the forehead. 
"Goodnight, love." His parting words were the last she heard from him before they both retreated to their separate bedrooms. 
The moon was bright in the sky as she closed the door to her bedroom. With her window open just a crack, there was little sound tittering through the village. The only vestiges of the busy Friday came from the tavern down the block that was just beginning to gear up for the night. 
While the prospect of others milling about the center of town was a worrying obstacle, (Y/N) was grateful for the kind of cover their presence would offer. The dinner party was set to begin in an hour, and she was going to have to sneak through town and up the winding path to the castle. 
There was no way she was going to make it on time, given the fact she had to wait to ensure her father was truly asleep, ready herself to attend such an event, and make the trip sans carriage. It wasn't an impossible list of tasks, she just hoped that she would still make it in time for dessert. 
Creeping across her room as quietly as possible, (Y/N) tried to prep herself as much as she could without alerting any of the creaky floorboards or sweeping too quickly through her room. She couldn't be sure exactly what her father could hear from his quarters. She couldn't risk him entering and finding her going against his direct wishes of staying away from the castle.
It wasn't until the only blinks of light came in the form of twinkling stars and a sliver of the moon, that (Y/N) was both ready and almost positive that her father was well asleep. She couldn't be completely sure of the latter unless she waltzed into the bedroom and saw him asleep with her own eyes, leaving her to assume the snoring she heard wasn't just an elaborate ruse on his part. Having raided her closet, attempting to find her most lavish of pieces, she was left in a plain purple dress with small beading here and there—it was the same gown she had worn to her sister's wedding, though it was nowhere near as ornate as what she could remember of Harry's estate. She hoped she would still be found acceptable at least. 
Donning her cloak, she took the first step in her plan. Every move she made was calculated and careful as she pried open her window enough to slip through. Dangling her feet over the edge, she felt around for the small ledge offered underneath her window from the sloped awning that wrapped around the building. It wasn't anywhere near stable enough to hold her weight for long, but it was enough to help her down before skirting towards more stable avenues. 
Her skirt caught on the sill for a lingering moment, keeping her from landing as gracefully as she had hoped on the textured ledge. With the heels of her boots clattering against the side of her home, (Y/N) cringed with her eyes crinkling closed. She could feel her heart in her ears, pumping against the confines of her throat as she waited for the slam of her father's door. Long, laborious moments passed before she realized with flooding relief that she had garnered no attention; her father was still well asleep and the patrons of the pub kept up their own noise down the street. She allowed herself then to carefully slide down the uneven awning on her bottom, until she could safely hop down to the soft soil at the back of her home. 
The landing was nowhere near graceful, but it was silent. Straightening up and brushing off the debris that landed on her gown, (Y/N) allowed a small sense of accomplishment to take her. For her first time sneaking away, she had done alright for herself. 
Peering at her herb garden instinctively, she could make out the gaze of her moon-eyed black cat. The kitten played with the bugs floating around, stopping for a moment to match (Y/N)'s eyes. 
A small smile perked over her lips. She could only take this as a good sign—she was doing what she was meant to tonight. 
The first few strides away from her home were done as quietly as possible, with her head down and hood of her cloak on. There was nothing going on in her head other than the hope and prayers that she would make it out of this without being caught. She wished the most pleasant and calming dreams upon her father, anything to keep him deeply in his sleep. 
It was when she had cleared the block of her home without a single person spotting her that she had picked up the pace. The event had to have started at least a half an hour ago, and she had to hustle there if she wanted to experience any of the get-together before the festivities ended. If she was quick, she could make it to the castle within the hour. 
That was if the dark didn't scare her off first, of course. 
That juvenile fear followed her on her trek, breathing down her neck enough to push her into bursts of jogging over the path until she felt as if she had outran her invisible enemy. More than once, glancing towards the woods that weren't that far from the path, her active imagination was sparked, showing her all the things she hoped she would never truly see. 
Forcing herself to keep her focus, (Y/N) did her best to keep her head down and attention placed on the tail end of the party she was eager to catch. Working over the steep hills and sloping declines, she attempted to push herself to go as fast as possible while still keeping her breath in her corset. Every time she looked ahead, she allowed a small celebration knowing that the castle was looming closer and closer with every pace. 
As time ticked on and a bead of sweat dropped down the back of her dress, (Y/N) could only hope she made it in time and wasn't turned away despite the disheveled state she would no doubt turn up in. 
Her legs pumped harder at the thought.
—————
(Y/N) didn't have much memory tied to the lawn of the castle from the last time she had visited. She wasn't even conscious during the arrival, and her departure had seen her entirely wrapped up in Harry himself. This left the sight of the foliage around the otherwise dreary exterior quite the sight. 
As if she had conjured it herself, Harry had what could only be described as a grove of wisteria trees surrounding the grounds. Lavender petals swept across the ground, leaving what emulated a floral moat around the castle itself. From down in the village, she couldn't glimpse any of this, their forest having cut off sight of the magnificence. It was along the facade of the home that she saw long flower beds filled with the gaping mouths of foxglove stalks, blood red roses with thorn laden stems, and bushels of small white flowers growing from purple spotted stems. Hemlock, she knew them to be called—another poisonous variant Harry had unwittingly planted. 
Out front, there wasn't a single carriage or horse awaiting its master's arrival. She wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but maybe the evening was going to drag so long that everyone's transportation had been shooed away for the time being. 
Scaling the sloping hill that led up to the grandiose entrance of the castle, (Y/N)'s huffed breath created small puffs of white in front of her. Despite the chilled temperature, she was still overheated rom her strenuous trek all the way up. 
Approaching the door, she gave herself a moment to primp over the details of her appearance. Pulling her hood from her head, she attempted to smooth out her hair, hoping the twine she had holding back specific strands could hold for a bit longer. Dabbing at her features with the neck of her cloak, she tried to eradicate any sweat that had prickled her features. Though she knew she was dressed nowhere near as nicely as she figured Harry's other friends would be, she still brushed her hands down her dress in a final act before raising her hand to knock at the door. 
Her heartbeat stilled in her chest as she waited. 
When she first heard the click of the knob on the other side, she immediately straightened her posture. 
While there wasn't much she could expect, given there was nothing there for her to compare this evening to, (Y/N) definitely hadn't anticipated having Harry be the one to greet her. After finally meeting one of his staff, he had thought the footman that had delivered her invitation would be the one to deal with the menial task of welcoming her in (or shooing her away). 
Instead, she was gifted with the sight of Harry in an all black getup. The only pops of color came in the form of a forest green cravat and the hint of rouge on his lips. She shied away at the thought of the flush coming from the mouth of a young woman. His skin was just as creamy as she remembered, the planes of his face cut and severe. Nonetheless, when he looked at her, softened edges jumped out, gentling even his dark gaze. 
Making an effort to keep herself from floating over to him as if a moth to a black flame, (Y/N) rooted herself in her spot. "I am so sorry I'm late," she offered, her voice a bit watery and uneven, "I hope you can still accept me, despite the hour." 
The smile that had filled her dreams bloomed across Harry's features, his rouged lips acting like rose petals. 
"You are not late at all," he told her, eyes bright and dazzling, "I could never start without you, my guest of honor." 
(Y/N) felt flushed as he welcomed her in with a flourish, bowing out of the way as if she had any right to that caliber of greeting. 
"Guest of honor?" she asked, stepping over the threshold with shy paces. If she had known as much she would have ran less and dressed nicer. 
"Did I not tell you?" he smiled, shutting the door behind her as she untied the neck of her cloak, "I thought I had put that on every invitation." 
"I think it may have slipped your mind," she told him, playing along with his game. 
Shrugging, he gave her a roguish smile, taking her cloak only to throw it across the back of a lounger planted in her foyer. "It may have." Sidling up next to her, he offered his arm for her to take. (Y/N) settled her hand in the crook of his elbow, biting back the fluttering grin that plucked at her lips. "I suppose we have time for that tour now that you're here, right?" 
Instead of following right after him, (Y/N) turned to him with confusion knitting her brows. She knew he had to be a bit unconventional given his reclusive status, but she figured he knew better than this. 
"But, your guests. Should we not join them for dinner?" 
Amusement lit up his features, shatters of green appearing in his irises. Dipping his chin as he looked at her, he whispered, "May I share a secret with you?" 
(Y/N) couldn't help but to fall into a conspiratorial role with him. She had hoped she would earn a chance to learn everything about him. "Of course, you may." 
Harry huffed a laugh at her intrigue. Ducking his head, he positioned his mouth by her ear. He was close enough she could feel a chill radiating from his skin, his breath fanning across her own. 
"I only invited you." 
Rearing back, (Y/N) felt both flattered and bewildered by his admission. "But," she started, searching his eyes for any kind of tease, "I thought this was supposed to be a party. It's not much of one if there's only me." 
He gave her a shrug, shoulder bouncing with her hand still settled in the bend of his elbow. "Why would I invite others if I am only wishing to see you?" 
Flattery won out over the bewilderment she felt then, a shy smile taking her features. The only way she knew she wasn't dreaming was the degraded state of her dress—she always dressed herself immaculately in her imagination. 
"I am especially happy I could make it, then," she decided, peeking up at him through the fan of her lashes.
The feel of his gaze tracing over her face had (Y/N) straightening her posture with a tickle going down her spine. It was if he were taking note of everything, keeping her expressions to himself for later. A pleased smile plucked at the corner of his lips at whatever he found as he dropped his gaze down her neck. 
"I am, too; more than you know," he shared after a heartbeat, collecting himself before setting his gaze forward. He bobbed his arm under her grip, edging her towards the grand. "Shall we?" 
Though she felt a touch of deja-vu, finding herself in another predicament where she was unchaperoned with Harry at her side once more, (Y/N) was beginning to no longer care what even her father would say should he catch her. No wonder Harry kept to himself and did as he pleased—it was rather satisfying. 
With the silence their only companion, she nodded her head. 
"We shall." 
A dazzling smile spread over his lips. 
—————
(Y/N) was enchanted as she traipsed through Harry's home, her hold on him being the only thing keeping her from being lured away by whatever trinket or art piece that caught her eye. He pointed things out as they went, allowing her to fawn over the grandness he lived in. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a fond smile on his lips as he watched her. Though she didn't have an exact idea of what it was like to go on a promenade through royal grounds for a courting date, she figured this is what it felt like. 
His home reflected his personal taste for dark colors and luxurious details. Vases full of the purple blossom she had found out front lined the halls, mixing with the musk of the familiar herbs she sold to him. Deep greens seemed to be the running theme through the color scheme, allowing any other hue to emulate a bloom through the brush of the forest floor, or the night sky peeking through the canopy of trees. There were rooms upon rooms shielded behind heavy walnut doors, no less than a handful down each hall he took her to. There were too many for (Y/N) to keep track of, though Harry seemed to know exactly what was behind each door without a moment's thought; even when she swore they had been turned around and looped in a circle, he knew just where they were with a description of every hidden room. 
With the sheer amount of space he was showing her, Harry didn't have time to show her every single room, to push open the door and introduce her to the space, instead offering the highlights as they went. (Y/N)'s favorites came in the form of a budding library (the walls were complete shelves along with freestanding cases that cozied up a sitting area in the middle; the shelves held enough books to keep anyone busy for over a year but there was still room to grow, giving the possibility to read for a lifetime when full), an adorably grey tea room, and a painter's studio set up for portraits. Even with those spaces that took (Y/N)'s breath and sparked a world of imagination, her most preferred spot was the newly erected structure out behind the castle. It was a greenhouse, he'd said. An entire home the size of her own flat with the sole purpose of nursing and growing any and every kind of plant. 
"It's a budding interest of mine," he said when they had stopped to admire the glass-paneled house through a stretching window of the castle, "You've inspired me." 
It was like he knew that would have her blood warming and her teeth sinking into the pillow of her bottom lip. 
Soon enough they turned down a hallway familiar to (Y/N). This was the same wing that housed her room he boarded her in during the storm. 
"Remember this?" he prodded with raised brows, taking her down the walkway. 
Tipping her head back, she set her sights on the ceiling. Above was the same muted floral mural that had been painted across the rest of the castle ceiling. With her eyes following the thorned vibes through the different blooms, (Y/N) absently nodded her head. 
"This is where my room is." 
It wasn't until she heard his huffed laugh that she realized what she had said. Her eyes rounded out in horror with embarrassment warming her skin. 
"I-I'm so sorry—I misspoke—"
"It's alright," he soothed her, flexing his arm under her hold, "You are the only guest to have ever stayed in this room, so it is yours in my eyes as well."
Harry led her towards the chambers, pushing open the door as if it was another new space for her to explore. Inside, it was just as she remembered, thick velvets and cozy furs. Another bouquet of flowers was delicately perched on the table as if in wait for her. The only difference came in the ornate wardrobe that was now pushed against the wall in front of the four-poster bed. The doors were wide open, showcasing whatever hung inside though from where she stood, (Y/N) couldn't see a single stitch of what it was. 
"Go take a look," he told her, dropping his arm as he urged her forward. 
Without the anchor of his body, (Y/N) drifted towards the open wardrobe, her hands a bundle at her waist. When she saw what exactly had been showcased inside, she felt her jaw fall into a gape. 
Hung up on a satin wrapped hanger was the most gorgeous gown she had ever seen. The fabric was glimmering and slick like silk, redder than anything she had ever seen—as if the fibers had been dyed with fresh blood. The skirt was full, layers of crinoline underneath though the overlay still draped and folded atop the filler. The bodice was a stiff corset, cut with scooping neckline that made (Y/N) want to blush at what it would look like on, tapering straps holding the whole garment upright on the hanger. She kept herself from reaching out to turn the dress, though she wanted to know if she really did see the edge of a bow stationed at the waist for it there was even more dress to be fawned over.
"What do you think?" Harry prodded, his voice closer behind her than she remembered. 
She kept her eyes forward, on the crimson masterpiece. She could only imagine how long it would take to craft something so stunning. 
"It is gorgeous," she sighed. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she turned to look at him with a pleasant smile on her lips. She wasn't here as the guest of honor to give out her fashion advice. "Just like the rest of your home," she recovered as if she hadn't been standing, staring at the dress for a handful of minutes, "Breath-taking." 
His pale lavender lids were on display as he looked at her through the fan of his lashes, a huff of laughter falling from his lips. "Thank you," he told her, "But, what about the gown?" 
"Oh," she sounded, happily taking the excuse to lay her eyes upon the dress once more. Was it possible more of the skirt had unfurled, as if the fabric was closer to that of a blooming rose than a stationary garment? "I've never seen anything more beautiful," she shared honestly, "It would be impossible to find anything to compare." 
"You won't have to worry about that," he mused, stepping around her to pull the hanger from the rod. "Since this one is yours already." 
(Y/N)'s jaw dropped at his declaration. Her eyes downturned as she took in the full of the gown, unsure of what exactly to say to such a claim. 
"I-I," she floundered, unable to find her words, "I'm sorry?" 
Harry looked genuinely pleased with her reaction, proud of himself for finding something she clearly loved so much. "I had this made for you," he told her, presenting the gown to her as he held it up, "When I decided that I wanted to invite you over, I figured I couldn't exactly celebrate my guest of honor without a gift. I hope I didn't assume too much, but I thought you might even like to wear it this evening." 
She had been struck speechless as she listened. Not once had she ever received a gift so grand, so gorgeously outside of her means. 
"But, please," Harry continued when she didn't give an answer, his expression falling some though he tried to hide it, "Do not take this as something you have to accept if you do not want it. You look wonderful already—heartbreakingly so, if I'm honest—and I do not want to force you to change if you'd rather not." 
Unable to hold back her own plume of laughter, (Y/N) shook her head. In what world would her refashioned nightgown look heartbreakingly wonderful? As she had said before, there was nothing that could compare to this dress. 
There had to be etiquette that came with accepting a gift of this caliber, but (Y/N) preferred to use her ignorance to her advantage at the moment. It couldn't be considered too offensive if she loved something he had made just for her. 
"I love it," she reiterated, sneaking a cautious hand out to trace her fingertips over the silken fabric, "I would love to wear it tonight, Harry." 
He brightened immediately at her acceptance, relief touching his features now that he was no longer floundering over his present. "I'm glad," he cemented, laying the garment on the edge of the bed with a flourish, "I will give you a moment to change before we start for dinner, if that's alright?" 
While the draw of the gown was significant, (Y/N) kept her eyes on the man who had given it to her. A giddy smile was on her lips as she looked up at him. With this gift, she would almost look as if she belonged at his side—it would make sense to see her on his arm to a stranger's eyes. 
"Thank you, Harry."
Bowing out of the room, he stopped to tip his head to her. "It is my pleasure, darling." 
—————
Having had enough practice with tying her own corsets and stuffing herself into various dresses for church and other village-wide occasions after her sister moved away, (Y/N) didn't take much time to change into the crimson couture. She had lingered over the process a bit, savoring the feel of the expensive fabric and the novelty tying system on the back (there really was a bow at the bustle, too!), but she had been more excited to meet with Harry once again. Once she had the dress adorning her body—the piece a perfect fit—, she had spotted a few extra pieces lying around the wardrobe that she couldn't help but to use to her advantage. 
A pair of beaded red slippers were snug in the corner of the wardrobe, levels above what she currently had on her feet and had trekked up to his castle in. On a shelf built in above the rod the dress had previously been hung up on, were a pair of long white gloves—the kind (Y/N) could only picture on a princess. She couldn't help herself as she drew on the gloves, the satin glimmering alongside her dress. Using the twine she already had in her hair, she tried to twist her strands into something more elaborate to match her new attire. When she finished, she had settled on an updo, keeping everything out of the way as to show off the gown in its entirety. 
Looking at herself in the mirror, (Y/N) had never seen herself in such a light. The scooping neckline of the dress showed off more skin than she knew a woman could even show in public, the swells of her breasts pushed up and swelling over the corset. The skirt draped itself over her form, creasing and folding in waves that flourished out before hitting the ground. Turning to the side, she could glimpse the bow that had been fastened to the bustle of her dress, a detail she loved more than she had thought. Her gloves came up to the mid of her bicep, the addition making her feel more regal than she had any business to. She felt the only thing missing was a rouge to be swiped over her lips and a red flush to her cheeks. 
Leaving behind her now designated room, her rudimentary gown left behind in a puddle on the floor, (Y/N) half expected Harry to be stationed across the hall from her like the last time she had emerged. Instead, she found herself alone in the stretching corridor. Her heels clicked over the floor as she made her way down. 
While she had already had an eyeful of the space the pair of times she had been escorted down this same hall, she still found something new to look at with every turn of her head. If not for the fact Harry had to be waiting for her on the other side of the castle, she could have luxuriated for hours here. 
Traipsing through for the first time on her own, (Y/N) noticed small details she had overlooked in Harry's presence—particularly the lack of staff. Other than the footman she had seen a week prior, there didn't seem to be anyone else here with Harry despite the size of his home. She would have figured there was a team of people, different departments and leads that would have been tasked with taking care of the grounds, the different wings, everything. And yet, she seemed to be the only beating heart around. 
Perhaps he wanted to have privacy for the night, she figured. Harry definitely was the type to request something of the sort. 
Retracing her steps until she found the same set of grand stairs Harry had escorted her down after she recovered from her fainting spell during the storm, (Y/N) was proud of herself for navigating the maze that was this castle. Just as she crested the mezzanine before the final set of steps to the ground floor, she caught sight of her waiting prince. 
Harry seemingly hadn't realized she was there as she caught him cozying up to a familiar black cat. She could hear the low murmurs of his croons to the moon-eyed kitten, petting his fingers under the scruff of her neck while she leaned into his touch. (Y/N) couldn't contain her own coo once she saw him press a kiss between the cat's ears. 
With that, he realized he was no longer alone, having been caught doling out affection to what (Y/N) had previously thought to be a stray. 
"(Y/N)," he started, gently setting the kitten down back on her paws before she scurried away. He still hadn't looked at her as he brushed his hands down the front of his coat, "I am so sorry. I hadn't realized you were—" 
His words were suddenly stuck in his throat when he cast his gaze upon her. 
(Y/N) have never seen him at a loss for words before, his dark eyes wide with mouth in a soft gape as looked at her. While she had felt his eyes on her before, this moment was different than what she had experienced prior. It was as if his hands were on her, fingertips glancing down her throat, sweeping over her collarbones and cleavage. Her bare skin was chilled where she swore she felt his eyes linger, goosebumps awakening. Was this how he felt when she looked at him? Could he feel how drawn to him she was? Was her romantic heart too high up in the clouds as she assumed that he could experience that similar warm chest and twirling gut that she did when she saw him?
There were intentions behind his eyes—more than what was acceptable for him to say out loud. 
"You look... I don't think there are any words that could describe how you look right now, actually." 
Despite the shy peal of laughter his words elicited from (Y/N), he was thoroughly serious as he spoke. The sentiment only made her heart flutter in her chest.
"Thank you," she smiled, descending the stairs. Harry didn't hesitate to offer her his arm when she reached the landing, pride puffing his chest when she took it without question. "I hope it's alright I'm using a little extra I found in the wardrobe." 
"It is more than alright," he beamed at her, dazzling smile to match the fractures of green swimming to the surface of his coal eyes, "Everything in there is yours now." 
"You don't mean that," she laughed off, diligently following him as he brought her to the dining room. 
"The whole wing could be yours if you asked," he countered, his offer seemingly serious despite his grin. 
Before she could argue, he pushed open a grand door, leading her into the dining room. Inside, a long table sat at the center of the room. Ornate candles lit the space, showcasing hints of gold and shining onyx among the otherwise muted room. On the table was a feast (Y/N) had never seen the likes of before. 
Meats, cheeses, wines, and breads were placed all throughout on pristine china. Steam rolled off the dishes in alluring waves, like the smoke from a candle freshly snuffed. How his staff had pulled something off so elaborate without making a single noise, she couldn't comprehend, but she wasn't about to start asking questions in the face of greatness. 
"My goodness," she murmured. Looking at this spread, she was suddenly grateful that she had taken such an exhaustive route up here. She had all the room in the world to try everything in front of her.
"I was unable to ask for your favorites before tonight, but I hope you'll find something to your liking," Harry prattled, much too modest given the sight before them. 
"I have no doubt," (Y/N) responded, allowing Harry to guide her to an empty chair at the head of the table. 
Once he helped her settle in, he took his own seat on the opposite end of the table. "I hope you don't mind," he started, a goblet in hand already filled with a deep wine, "But I told my staff to take the night off. We'll have to serve ourselves, but this way we'll have more privacy." A beat passed before a furrow appeared in his brows. "Unless you would prefer their presence. I know this is our first formal meeting, so..." 
"No, no, it's alright," she waved him off, not feeling the need to have others present while she dined with him. Besides, she would hate to have been promised the night to herself only to be called back. "I think we'll be able to keep a handle on ourselves."
(Looking down, she just missed the way Harry looked at her with his dark eyes gleaming and a shrewd curl to his lips at her words).
While it was surely odd for Harry, (Y/N) didn't mind serving herself—she did it every day, anyway. With her eyes bigger than her stomach, she couldn't help but to overfill her plate with the way she wanted a bite of everything. Before she knew it, there were three different cheeses, more kinds of dinner bread than she knew even existed, and helpings of figgy chicken, creamy potatoes, and rosemary scented greens. If she could get away with it, she would be grabbing seconds. 
Flicking her gaze up when she realized just how rude it must be to be so engrossed in her meal when her host and sole company was just across the table, she found his eyes already on her over the rim of his wine glass. The crystal just barely hid the amused curl of his lips. 
"I apologize," she mumbled, dropping her gaze though she could still feel his eyes on her features. 
"No need," he said, waving her off, "I'm glad you want to try everything." 
Eased some, she picked up one of the gleaming silver forks complimenting her place setting and began picking at her food. "Do you have any favorites?" she questioned, feeling a bit silly to be asking what his favorite food was. 
He shrugged in response, canting his head some as he raised his wine glass. "I tend to favor the wine at a dinner party, if 'm honest." She watched as he took another sip, the deep red color seemingly staining the crystal. The center of his lips even seemed to take on the dye, emulating that tint of rouge he had started the night with. The wine lingered in the bowl of his glass, seemingly thicker than any spirit she had seen before. "I'd rather hear about your favorites, (Y/N)," Harry said, tipping his head towards her with his features lit up with the amber candlelight. 
A small curl tugged at her lips then. It was an interesting feeling, being so drawn to him and finding comfort in his presence, then remembering that he didn't even know the color of the rainbow she preferred or the season she thrived the most under. Trivialities didn't seem so important when there was that innate need to be around him. 
"What do you want to know?" she preened, unsure of where to start when it came to herself. 
The reflection of the candlelight emulated stars in his eyes as he fixed his gaze to her. His eyes felt like a pair of hands on her body once more. 
It was only when he flicked them up to match her own, that he spoke again: 
"Everything." 
—————
"... I had never seen my sister so mad at me before," (Y/N) laughed, setting her chin in her hand, unconsciously leaning towards Harry from where he relocated to sit at her side. 
The dinner part of the evening had ended some time ago, (Y/N) satisfied with her fill while Harry nursed his never-ending glass of wine. The attention had shifted then, turning to any anecdote of information he could pull out of her on his quest to learn the everything he requested to know about her. Soon enough the space between served to be too much for either of their liking, ending with Harry sidling up beside her, taking one of the unoccupied seats at her side. The intensity of his gaze was unwavering as he listened to anything and everything she had to say, unwilling to miss a single detail no matter how minute the story it was that she shared. More than once (Y/N) had attempted to redirect some of the conversation to him, only for him to casually mention the kinds of travels he'd been on and the people he'd met before he brushed it off in favor of hearing more of her voice. She wondered if he even knew just how intriguing he was, how fascinating his own stories would be to someone like her, who had stayed in the same village all her life. 
"I could imagine," he smiled at her, the cut planes of his features having melted down into soft curves and rounded edges, "You sound like you were a little terror." 
(Y/N) was prepared to counter his teasing remark when the echoing chime sounded from the grandfather clock stationed at the head of the room. The heavy gonging detailed out the time having turned into midnight—much later than (Y/N) had anticipated staying out when she had snuck out at nine. 
Her shoulders fell when she realized that her night had to be coming to an end soon.
"What is wrong?" Harry asked, picking up on the decline in her expression. 
"It's getting very late—later than I thought," she started, turning to him with regret ready on her features, "I won't be able to stay much longer if I don't want anyone noticing I'm gone." 
Harry finally seemed to pick up on the time then. She had shyly shared with him earlier that she hadn't exactly gained permission to join him for the evening, and had still gone anyway, making it so her cover for the night had to be pristine should she want to keep herself out of trouble. 
"I suppose it is rather late," he mused, a pinch appearing between his brows as he stared at the clock, "But, we still have some time, don't we? I don't know if I'm ready to send you home yet." 
The flattery went straight through the ladder of her ribs and to her heart as she listened to him. While she knew better than to linger longer than what she could handle, she knew she wasn't ready for the evening to end either. 
"I just do not want to scare my father again, not after I had disappeared during the storm." 
"Was he very upset?" he asked, concern in his eyes when he turned to face her. 
(Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth. It wasn't a particularly light topic bringing up the reaction her neighbors had when it came to him. "I hadn't told him that I was with you that night, but I think he knew anyway. There are some... gossips in the village that I think tried to convince him that you had hurt me or tried to keep me away from home." 
His brow creased further at her words. "I am well aware that there are some... unsavory attitudes present when it comes to me and the fact that I don't associate much with the day-to-day of the village and that there have been concerns when it comes to what is being found in the woods, but," Harry paused, his gaze intent on hers with the shattered green of his eyes floating in his irises, "You know I would never hurt you, right, (Y/N)? I care about you—more than I probably should, but the last thing I would ever want is to bring you harm." 
She was not the person that needed to be convinced of his intentions, (Y/N) having seen the genuine concern in his eyes when she woke from her fainting spell, having felt his soft touch, having heard the gentle way he spoke to her as if she were a wounded animal. She knew where his intentions lied and she felt safe within them, but she was still taken aback at the clear set of his eyes, honesty lining his features. She had never doubted him before, but now there was no room for any kind of counter argument that could wiggle in the back of her mind. 
"I believe you," she told him, her voice a sudden whisper as if sharing a secret not to be heard by the walls, "I know you better than they do, and I'll trust your intentions over any rumor. I trust you." 
Harry's eyes rounded out as he listened to her, taking in her genuine take the same way she had his. 
"Thank you," he smiled, matching the soft volume of her voice. Glancing once more at the clock, Harry stood to the full of his height with his hand outstretched towards her, "I don't want to land you in any trouble, but if you have some extra time to spare with me, there was one more place I wanted to show you before the night is over." 
She didn't have to think before she was placing her palm in his, the chill of his skin leaving no other effect but goosebumps on her own. 
—————
(Y/N)'s heels clicked on the glossy, black floor under their feet as Harry escorted her to a grand set of double doors they had initially passed by during his tour. He held a proud smile on his lips when he pushed the door open, the hinges gliding without a noise.
Stepping over the threshold, (Y/N) was drawn in by the sprawling ballroom inside. It was the kind of space that would fit in perfectly for royalty, she thought as she fawned over the sparkling floors and high ceilings. Green and gold accented the space, more flowers spilling out here and there. The walls were elaborately furnished with filigree and art, mirrors strategically placed as if the space didn't look big enough on its own. 
"I've never actually used this room before," Harry murmured, following after her as she took in the space. 
"How could you not?" she answered in awe, twirling around in search of every detail, "I would host parties every night with something like this." 
There was amusement in his tone when he responded, "I think it's rather obvious that I didn't care much for other's company—except for you, of course." 
Her skin warmed at his words. He was teasing her again. She didn't know what to say, only biting back a shy smile as she settled on her feet, turning to find him already looking at her with a clear gaze. 
"I was hoping, before the night is over, that you might dance with me." 
Harry offered her a pale hand, his features softened in wait for her response. 
She didn't have to think before she was placing her palm over his, fingers curling into a hold. "But there's no music?" she said, canting her head. 
Pulling her towards him, Harry matched her gaze. "That's nothing to worry about," he shared, his voice suddenly a low secret between the two.
While (Y/N) didn't exactly understand how he was going to replicate any music without a single musician present, she didn't have time to ask before he was placing a firm hand on her waist and clasping their joined hands in a stiff hold. Instinctively, (Y/N) settled her own hand on his shoulder falling in line with his moves. 
(Y/N) was far from well versed in the proper moves needed to pull off any kind of elaborate routine, but as she looked into his eyes, she didn't need to think before she fell in line with Harry's guidance. After only a moment, the clacking of her heels the only noise, suddenly the ballroom was filled with the delicate singing of a violin and thrumming keys from a pianoforte. 
She wanted to turn her head, to see if there was a hidden stage that she had missed, but she held her gaze steady with Harry's. A dazzling smile pulled at his features, his hand squeezing at her waist as he twirled them around. 
"Better?" he murmured, his voice mixing with the music. 
She could only manage a nod of her head, her own lips beginning to curl to mimic the set of his own. 
Taking a deep breath into her lungs, (Y/N) dropped herself squarely in the moment. This was everything her romantic heart had always desired: flourishing music while she twirled in a gown made only by the finest hands, a handsome, heart-fluttering partner at her side. Poems were written with the sole purpose of attempting to put into words what the feeling she had in her chest was like. Paintings were made depicting the light that came with dancing with one's beloved. Her own dreams urged her to find something like this in her lifetime. 
Time stood still where she was, feeling the cool weight of Harry's hand in her, and the effortless gliding he evoked from her. The music swelled and dipped, taking her through the seasons with Harry twirling and holding her every hour. It could have been days that she stayed there, her eyes fluttered closed with a quiet smile on her face, and she would have barely realized. 
Blinking her eyes open, she saw Harry looking down at her. This was her one—the man in her sonnet, the one in her portrait, who she'd seen in her dreams. 
"I wish I knew what the inside of your head was like," he told her, drawing her away from him only to twirl her in a swirl of crimson. He brought her back to his chest, his hand on her waist slipping to loop around the curve—highly inappropriate though (Y/N) wouldn't dream of stopping him. 
"It is nothing special," she shied away from his words, turning her head as he led them around in the ballroom in a structured circle.
"I doubt that," he said, dipping lower until his lips were at her ear, "You are nothing less than absolutely special, (Y/N)." 
Harry drew her away from him once more, holding his hand up above her head as she was twirled. As she spun, she just barely caught her reflection in the gilded framed mirror hung on the wall. The slash of her red dress caught her eye first, bright against the deep green and dark shades splashed throughout the space. 
But the most jarring part of the sight was the fact that she was dancing alone. 
Harry was nowhere to be seen in that small glimpse, her hand holding nothing but the thin air. 
Before she could truly catch any kind of detail, she had been spun away and back to Harry's chest. 
Not even a single heartbeat of time had been missed while (Y/N)'s skin erupted into goosebumps. What an odd trick of the light, she thought. She must have had more wine than she initially figured.
"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, keeping her firm against his chest though now there was a cream between his brows. 
Shaking her head, (Y/N) cast that glimpse out of her head. It wouldn't have been that hard for him to blend in with the rest of the ballroom, she argued, with the way he was dressed in all black. 
"Yes, I'm alright. Just a little dizzy, I think," she laughed, tightening her hold on his hand. If she really was growing that dizzy and the effects of the wine hitting her that hard, she was going to have to make a real effort to stay upright. 
"Stay close, darling," Harry murmured, "I've got you." 
(Y/N) all but keened at his words, doing as he said and happily staying close to him with the planes of his chest pressing against her corseted breasts. The music reached heights and valleys around them, the strings of the violin singing in a tenor (Y/N) had never dreamed of hearing so smooth. She was transfixed in the moment, twirling and stepping, allowing Harry to guide her every which way. Even when her inadequacy showed, he kept his hold on her strong, catching her through the stumbles with a small smile as if a promise to keep that misstep between them and this empty ballroom. 
A gasp left her lips when Harry stopped them only to fluidly dip her backwards with his face hovering over hers. He held her steady with his arms turning into steady bars around her back and her own looping around his neck. Her gasp turned into a fluff of giggles leaving her throat, never having felt anything like this before. Harry laughed with her, lingering in that stance as she dropped her head back, extending her neck with her eyes closed. 
Time stood still then, (Y/N) luxuriating in the feel of faux-floating in his arms. She swallowed when she felt the icy touch of the very tip of his nose skimming the column of her throat. She felt her lips stretch into a dreamy smile as she cracked her eyes open.
To the side of them, hanging from its gilded frame, was the opulently large mirror she had peeked at a handful of minutes prior. This time, when she peered at her reflection, she could no longer deny what she had seen before.
With her eyes wide, (Y/N) saw herself hovering in mid-air, no other soul present in the ballroom. There were indents in her dress where she knew Harry was holding her, where her skirt flared around their feet and had been pushed back by his legs. But she was the only one seen in the reflection.
Her mouth dropped into a gape, a quiet gasp falling from between her lips. 
"(Y/N)?" he started, righting her position as she went stiff in his arms. She couldn't tear her eyes off of the mirror, watching as the space around her interacted with her with phantom hands. "What is wrong? What are you—" 
In that moment, though she could only see him from the corner of her eye, she figured Harry had to have caught on to what she was seeing—or not seeing, really. 
That pause in the universe as they danced finally resumed in that moment, the trance broken. (Y/N) scrambled out of his arms, dropping her own from around his neck as she stepped back. Her heels clacked over the floor, her skirt dragging. There was no more music tinkling through the space, only echoing silence. 
A pinch knitted her brows together, her head tipping as if she could catch another angle and suddenly see Harry in the glass. 
"D-Do you see it, too?" she whimpered, hoping against all odds that she wasn't losing her mind right now. What was in that wine? 
"(Y/N)," he started, stepping towards her with the movement echoing in the silent hall, "I can explain." 
That had her whirling around in her spot, decidedly moving out of reach from. His response was far from reassuring. 
"What?" she sounded. What was there to explain? All he was supposed to tell her was that yes, he saw his reflection missing too, but that mirror had always been faulty—he was working on fixing the issue, it was nothing for her to worry about. 
This time when she looked at him, (Y/N) swore Harry's eyes had grown darker. The smatterings of green had shied away, leaving only the coal-like expanses against his pale skin. 
He was real, right in front of her. She felt the planes of his body, the strength of his grip. She had seen him through the village, let him hold her, she had seen him interact with others as well. Why couldn't the mirror see him? 
"A-Are you a ghost?" (Y/N) choked out, feeling as crazy as her question sounded. Mary and Ethel would be proud of the nonsensical explanation her brain had handed her. 
When she saw him roll his lips between his teeth, gaze flitting past her and towards the mirror at her back, (Y/N) felt her spine stiffen.
"Not quite," he started, expression grim, "It's complicated." 
While she hadn't exactly had a preferred response in mind, she figured it would have been better than a simple declaration of it’s complicated. (Y/N) began backing away from him then, clarity entering her mind in a chilling sweep. 
Her head had been so in the clouds, luxuriating amongst the swelling music and fanciful notes. She had been too preoccupied with everything Harry, the way she was drawn to him, keening under his attention and mooning over every word of flattery he gave her. Now, details began to fall into place. 
His skin, in her hand and pressed to her chest—even through layers of clothing—was cold. She had never given it much thought, just assuming that he was one of the few that ran colder than others and took the chills easier. Now, she could only see the pale pallor of his skin and the temperature and wonder how easily he would fit in with the corpses found in the forest. His eyes were always so dark, (Y/N) barely unable to differentiate the center from the iris, only when she squinted and took the time could she pick out the shades of green inside. Normal people didn't just... lose their reflection. Mirrors caught it all, no matter how dingy or foggy. Harry was invisible to the glass. 
Her eyes dropped to the center of his lips where the pillows housed a small tint, red and warm. 
"What are you?" 
When he took a cautious step towards her, (Y/N) all but stumbled back, itching to keep the current chasm of space between them. Harry stopped where he stood then, dropping his gaze from hers. 
(Y/N)'s heartbeat sounded in her ears while she awaited his response. 
"It is... hard to explain," he answered, "Can I show you something that might help? My library—I can show you there—" 
Drowning out the rest of his words over a rush of blood pumping through her body, (Y/N) stared at him. Her insides twisted as he took in more and more of him. Her father had always said that with her head so far up in the clouds, the fall was going to shatter her when it happened. It appeared that fall was happening now. 
Was he really a demon like the church women said? Was he the predator that committed those heinous acts scattered about the woods? Warnings had been everywhere: the way she was drawn to him like a moth to a singing flame, the way he reeled her in wish his unmatched beauty, and the way everyone around her seemed to know better. She had willingly walked into the lion's den, though there was no telling what kind of beast had truly laid claim to the territory. She was nothing but a stray bunny, a lamb separated from the flock, that had witless fallen into a trap. 
"(Y/N)," Harry said, his voice cutting through her whirling thoughts, "Please. Don't be afraid of me." She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, his features tight with shining eyes. "I promised you, remember? That I would never harm you. You said you believed me." 
Despite how disconnected she wanted to be, (Y/N) felt something in her chest crack as she listened to him. She was scared and confused, overwhelmed by the unknown that was standing in the room with her, but there was still the person she did know there as well. And that person looked heartbroken. 
"I just don't understand," she whimpered, fearing the volume of her own voice. 
A spark returned to him then, hearing her response. "I can explain," he said, stepping away from her towards a pitch black chaise lining the wall, "Give me a moment, and I will explain as much as I can." 
She was sure she was meant to take his lead, joining him on the velvet cushion, but her feet didn't allow more than a drag. She wanted to understand him, but she could understand him just fine without crawling in his lap. Instead, (Y/N) followed him far enough to watch as he took his seat from where she stood a meter away. 
"(Y/N)—" 
"Tell me," she started, her voice bursting through before she had given much permission, "Are you—... You're not human, are you?" 
Her words hung in the air between them, echoing through the too big, too silent ballroom. She didn't need to hear him to know what his answer was. 
"No. I'm not."
Harry had his eyes fixed on her, watching for every reaction she gave. (Y/N) wished she could have been stoic like the elder women of the village, or less reactionary like her sister, instead she was an open book doling out every reaction on a silver platter for him to consume. While she had been expecting as such, her head would never—could never—comprehend the answer he gave. 
"I am what is called a vampyr," he cautiously continued after a moment.
With her mouth agape, she watched him, waiting for more of an explanation than some unknown word. 
"What does that even mean?" she peeped when he said nothing more. 
This time, Harry avoided her eyes as he searched for the right words. He leant forward in his seat, placing his elbows on his knees as he dropped his gaze to center on the glossy floor. Only if he peeked through his lashes could he see her. 
"It means," he started, a heavy breath pushing his lungs to expand, "That, I am dead. But, I am able to be among the living." 
The edges of (Y/N)'s vision began to swirl as she tried to comprehend what he was so simply serving to her. 
Dead. 
Harry is dead. But, here he was, living and breathing, blinking with his heart steady in his chest, right in front of her. 
She breathlessly tried to ask for more information, though barely any thought came from her mouth. "Wh-W—Dead?"
Flicking his head up, Harry hesitantly matched her eyes. "My heart no longer beats, but, still, here I am," he offered, tone gentle and forgiving, "I don't know how it's possible, but I've been existing this way for a long time. I don't understand it either, (Y/N)." 
Her lungs felt stunted as she couldn't help her own eyes from dropping to his chest, where any normal human's heart would be pumping blood through full veins. She thought, if she waited long enough ,started hard enough, that she could prove him wrong somehow. What if Harry had it all wrong, that he had been convinced by someone—something—that he wasn't like anyone else? Here she could prove to him (and herself) that his heart was beating and he was alive and everything she had slowly been putting together was nothing more than the effects of too much wine and an overactive imagination. 
Alas, there was no bold evidence that his heart was hammering against his chest as hers was. Instead, he was silently still, skin pale and chilled. 
She fell to the ground then, her dress fanning around her form with her hands limp in her lap. Looking at Harry with pleading eyes, she wanted nothing more than for this to be a cruel joke. 
"Bu—Harry?" 
Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry closed his eyes, unable to continue watching as she crumbled under the weight of the truth. 
"I-I'm sorry, I don't have any answers on why or how," he started, feeling as pained as she, "All I know is that I woke up this way after a night I can't remember, and have been attempting to figure it out since." 
She canted her head, observing him as he sat with his eyes shuttered. "But you... You don't look dead?" 
This seemed to be the wrong question to ask as he dropped his head, leaving (Y/N) from gleaning anything from his expression. "There are things I need to be able to maintain myself or I would wither away like any other person, but..." 
"It's complicated?" (Y/N) finished for him, feeling the lame weight of the explanation on her tongue. 
Harry nodded his head, keeping his gaze down. "It's complicated." 
(Y/N) base level instincts wanted her to run, bolt from the castle and make her way back home in a puddle of tears and seek out the shelter of her father. Harry's half-explanations and full deceptions should be enough of a warning sign to compliment the red flags others around her had seen and pushed her to acknowledge. 
Despite it all, as she sat, watching him wrestle with his speaking his own words as much as she was hearing them, she made no move to leave. Maybe she hadn't completely crashed down just yet, because she swore the longer she sat here, streaks of intrigue and curiosity sparked through her head.
Besides, through the muck and the revelations slowly sweeping over her, a near silent thought in the back of her head reminded her that he promised he'd never hurt her. If he had truly wanted to harm her, he would have done it by now, right?
"What do you mean that it's complicated?" she asked before she had even given permission for her thoughts to float around the room. 
"I have had to do things—things I am not proud of—to be able to stay alive—or whatever I am. But, I am trying to move past them and grow into something more," he told her, his words turning into a plea as he finally matched her gaze, "I promise I am different now." 
That base instinct inside of her triggered a gut feeling (Y/N) couldn't ignore. Flashes of the woman she found in the woods blinked through her memory, her nightmares intermingling with the grotesque sight. 
"The people in the woods," she murmured, unsure of what she wanted out of bringing this up. She wasn't asking, but she hoped Harry had an answer for her, though she feared what that might be. 
Harry looked to her with a clear gaze, his shoulders sloping in defeat. He looked pained as he fought to pick out the right words for her. "That is not me," he told her, though he looked far from finished, "But, it's who I used to be. I have not done... that in a very long time, but Mitchell—m-my footman—he-he's trying to learn. He doesn't know how to contain himself yet, but he will." 
Vividly, (Y/N) could recall the sight of the bloodless corpse, all color leached from the woman's features. The frayed column of her throat, ripped out of the way in favor of the flesh and muscle underneath. The woman had been deliberately stowed away, carefully placed after being mauled and used until she had nothing left to give. The memory warped until Harry was standing over the woman's body, blood cascading down his mouth and soiling his clothing
A shudder wracked down her spine.
She remembered thinking just how impossible it would be for a human to do what she had seen. 
"You've done that to others before?" she whispered, fearing how badly her voice would crack if she attempted anything louder. 
Hanging his head in shame, Harry nodded his head. "It's been almost a hundred years, but yes." 
A hundred years. 
Harry on the outside was a young man, not the kind of person that spoke of decades of his life out in the world. He showed no age, and yet, he didn't hesitate before offering a number. 
She had thought it was wild just how much he seemed to have travelled while being so young. 
(Y/N)'s world turned on its head then. She must have really downed the wine during dinner. Maybe even the scent of the wisteria and the foxglove had worked its way into her brain and was taking more and more of her sanity. 
She had to leave. 
Stumbling to her feet, (Y/N) swallowed around her dry through, her breathing coming in concerning puffs with her corset tight around her torso. 
"I need to go," she told him breathlessly, "I-I—I'm sorry, I need to leave." 
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and started out of the ballroom. She needed space, this castle was too small, the walls too tight, the corset digging in too deep. She had made it just to the double doors before she was aware of Harry's presence behind her, his steps silent over the floor. 
"(Y/N), wait," he pleaded, "I can explain everything, I-I promise. I've never had to explain to anyone who didn't already understand, but I'll learn, please give me a chance." 
Her pacing never wavered as she burst out of the ballroom, hustling through the winding halls and gloomy decor until she found herself heading towards the front door. The pounding of her feet over the glossy flooring matched that of the beating in her chest, her ribs sore and lungs aching. 
Just as she placed her hand on the door, aiming to push it open and allow herself to spill into the night, a cold hand on her shoulder stopped her. 
"(Y/N), wai—" 
Twirling around, (Y/N) startled with a gasp ripping through her throat. On instinct, the vision of the corpse in the woods in the back of her mind, she cupped her hand over her neck as if that could stop him from ripping it out. 
Harry's hand dropped from her shoulder immediately, his gaze dropping to where she had protectively clutched her throat. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession, a whimper involuntarily dropping from her lips. 
He crumbled at the sight, despair washing over his features. (Y/N) didn't know what to do as he fell to his knees, looking up at her with glittering eyes, more and more shatters of green appearing. His fingers clutched at his waistcoat, skin turning bone white from the strength. 
"(Y/N)," he almost cried, "I—You have to believe me. I would never hurt you, you know that. Please, please don't be scared of me." Glittering tears pooled in his eyes. "I am more devoted to you than I think I even realized, I would sooner sacrifice myself than let anything hurt you. Please, just... I don't want to frighten you, I'm sorry." 
She was rooted in her spot as she heard his pleas over the rushing of blood in her ears. Under her palm, she could feel her pulse thrumming in her neck. 
What kind of predator was he, to crumble and bow before his prey? No vulnerability could be shown during the hunt, even from the most skilled of hunters. And yet, if Harry were the lion here, the one stalking and waiting for the moment to strike, he was doing a poor job of keeping the upper hand. With the way they were positioned—(Y/N) with her back to the door, knob under her other hand, and Harry at his knees before her,—she could easily escape before he had a chance to do anything more than to grasp at her gown before the material inevitably slipped from his hands. 
He'd had plenty of better—easier—opportunities to hurt her. Tonight alone, when he dipped her low, neck on display, as they danced in the ballroom, he could have easily made her into one of the many found in the woods. Instead, he had held her carefully, skimming his nose over the skin in an affectionate touch before pulling her to his chest. Countless times prior—the night in the storm, when she had slept so soundly in that bedroom, the night walking alone through town—he could have stolen her away without a single soul to witness. 
Instead, he had cared for her. He put her somewhere safe to wait out the storm and sleep off her panic. He had ensured she hadn't walked home alone in the dark with a rowdy tavern bubbling with drunk patrons. He had treated her like royalty all night, never once looking down on her should she not know the proper etiquette. Even now, he was pleading with her to please understand him, that he had never wanted to simply scare her. 
For a moment, she wished she could have seen what this looked like to a spectator. She wanted to know if all of her emotions were seen as plainly on her face as she felt them in her chest. The comedown was gradual and mind-clearing, but Harry stayed right where he was, patiently awaiting any kind of response she could give him.
(Y/N) had the upper hand here. 
Lowering her hand from her throat, her shoulders dropped into a declining slope. Unpinching her features while her lungs evened out. 
"I am overwhelmed, I think," she told him, swallowing down the thick lump in the throat, "And, confused. But I believe you." 
Relief came over him at once, his posture slumping as he collected himself. A beat passed before he rose to his feet, exhaustion touching at his unblemished features. 
"Thank you," he breathed, looking at her with a clear gaze and unguarded expression, "I understand. I was confused once too—it's not easy to comprehend." Wetting his lips, he tipped his chin with the downturned eyes of a scolded pup. "Perhaps, I can ready the carriage for you to make it home, and rest for the remainder of the night. And, if you are still open to seeing me again, I will give you whatever answers I have to anything you want to know." 
Too many trains of thought were passing through her head at the moment, keeping (Y/N) from giving him a clear answer. While she was sure right now that she wanted to know everything about what he was and who he was, explore the half-truths she had learned, there was no telling what kind of clarity the morning would bring. 
"Okay," she answered quietly, not wanting to give anything more away until she knew more. She made a move to step around him to which Harry caught on and allowed a wider berth for her to pass. "Let me change, and then I will be ready to leave." 
"You don't have to do that," Harry stopped her, his sullen expression returning with delicate heartbreak, "The gown is yours. You can keep it." 
When she offered him a small smile, she could see the pieces of him mending back together. "I think this may be a bit hard to travel in and hide from my father, that's all," she told him, shooting her palms over the skirt, "I will have to come by to collect it another time." 
It was like watching the sunrise the way a smile bloomed over Harry's features, dazzling and hopeful.
"Another time, then."
—————
From the carriage ride, to trekking back to her room, and finally settling in bed after doing her nightly ritual, (Y/N) had been left alone with her thoughts. 
No one had caught her, that much she knew from the fact her father was still snoring in the other room and the tavern was still bustling with no attention paid in her direction. At least, she didn't have to worry about that. That way, her head could be filled with endless questions. 
No matter how scared she had been in the moment at the castle, (Y/N) knew that she was never in any real danger. She didn't understand Harry and who he was revealing himself to be, and she doubted she ever truly would, but she knew in her heart that he was never going to harm her. The kind of man that would rather sit and speak, drop to his knees with words of devotion, couldn't be that much of a monster, could he? 
Confusion muddled her thoughts. Every time she reassured herself, she heard glimpses of the word Dead wrapped in his voice, detailing out just how his heart was still in his chest. She saw the memory of the dead woman in the woods, and the countless others she had been spared of seeing with her own eyes. While he may not be the culprit of these bodies, he had been once. 
It was an odd thing, the curiosity she felt. 
She wanted to know him. She wanted to be close to the man that she had met and practically courted with these last weeks. She wanted that man and had allowed her heart to stake a claim on him. But, she was confused with the part of him he shared tonight.
Staring at her ceiling, (Y/N) attempted to reconcile everything she knew. 
Those two facets of him could both be true, she thought. He could be the kind of creature that had done things she didn't want to fathom, while also being the kind of man that she had sought out and had embraced her in those small ways. Tonight, she had feared a threat that had been brought about by the unknown and the lack of understanding she had around him, but never once was the real Harry the thing that had frightened her. 
She could be comforted and confused by him at the same time, too. 
A rustle from the herb garden had (Y/N) tentatively peering out her window. 
Amongst the leaves and bundles was the moon-eyed cat. The same one that she had last seen in Harry's arms. 
She was going to speak to him again, she decided. There was more she had to know about him and her heart wasn't ready to shy away from him yet. 
—————
when the flower of hemlock is consumed, it can poison the lungs and cause death through suffocation.
ahhhhhh! the ballroom scene was the first thing that came to mind and inspired me to write this whole piece so that was a lot of fun to come together and I really hope you guys like it! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas or whatever you want to share please sent them in!
413 notes · View notes
justmeinatree · 5 months
Text
Oh, I Think She Said
Summary : a tooth rotting harryween treat.
Word Count : 1k
A/N : this is the cheesiest thing i’ve ever written, i dont know whether to love it or hate it
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“you can’t be scary for shit !” you laugh, playfully smacking harry’s arm. 
you loved halloween, it was by far your favourite holiday. and being able to celebrate it with harryween was the icing on the cake. 
you did have a self imposed rule though, that you needed to have the opportunity for some kind of horror makeup, seeing as your night costume was matching with harry and “this was a family show,” so harry didn’t want to be scary on stage.
so now here you were, spending your day with harry around the stadium, both of you sporting some kind of freaky makeup, as he had insisted that you do something for him as well. 
the opportunities where harry lets you sit down with him and paint his face whichever way you want, are some of your favourite memories with him. he’s so trusting and fun loving, never wanting to know what you have planned, waiting for the surprise reveal, every time. in the end, he’s always so pleasantly surprised. looks himself over, admiring the details you’ve put in. and that’s just one example of when you really see the love he has for you, through the reflection in the mirror.
but right now, you wanted the photo that was being taken to match the vibe of the makeup and well, not a single bit of harry really matches the spookiness that is this makeup. he’s just a giant teddybear with black smeared on his face.
harry laughs, putting his hands up in defence before his strength takes hold over you, arms wrapping around your entire body, pinning you tightly to him.
you wiggle in his grip, trying to break free, but you both absolutely knew you weren’t going anywhere. harry’s much stronger than you are. you feel his lips pressing to your neck, his lips parting for his tongue to poke out, tasting your skin. “not letting you go until you apologize to me,” he murmurs against your ear and you can hear the smirk on his lips.
for a quick moment, you cuddle back into him, eyes closing, focusing on harry’s mouth against your neck. you faintly hear the clicking of a camera, photographer taking a few shots for you both, before someone else comes to whisk you away. the show was nearing, you needed to get into your costumes.
fluttering off hand in hand, you both end up in harry’s dressing room, washing off the dark makeup, going through an endless amount of wipes. your eyes focus through the mirror, on the costumes behind you, a flash of nervousness etching itself on your face. 
harry notices, about to say something before hearing you, “do you think they’re gonna get it ?”
“mine alone ?” harry hums pensively, “maybe not. but it’s planned that the camera will flash to you, remember ? your costume really completes it. s’that why you’re nervous ?”
you shake your head, you had gotten used to the cameras a long time ago. “aren’t you nervous,” you ask quietly, looking up at him. 
“have you seen what i’m wearing ? of course i’m nervous. nervous my prick’s gonna fall out,” he laughs, trying to lighten the mood. and it does work as he managed to pull a breathy laugh from you. but the worry is still present in your eyes.
“you know it’s time sweetheart,” he hums softly, smiling reassuringly at you. “can’t keep wearing this forever,” he nods towards you. “gotta let people know eventually.”
“i know,” you take a big breath, nodding. “i’m excited to tell everyone. i really am. but it’s still a bit scary, you know ?”
harry nods at that, leaning over to kiss the tip of your nose, then your lips, “i understand. and yes, i am a bit nervous too. but it’s a good nervous, yeah ?”
“mhmm,” you nod, kissing him again for a moment before he pulls away.
“right, can’t be late. lets do this baby,” he smiles, getting up with you and bringing you over to the clothes rack. you watch harry strip his robe off, as you do the same, both of you putting on your costumes.
they were fairly simple, but obvious none the less. you do take the time to laugh with harry as he slips on his tiny yellow shorts. christ, you really do hope tonight doesn’t end in a wardrobe malfunction. scary makeup would be far more appropriate for a family show.
fortunately for you, and in the spirit of harryween, the setlist has been altered. seeing as harry thought it to be totally unfair for you to be backstage for the entirety of the show, as the third song was coming up, a few notes from kiwi can be heard blaring through the speakers.
the crowd goes crazy, shocked to be hearing it so quickly in the set. harry’s spotted you, by the barricade, next to the security man you had both arranged this with. 
he makes it through the first verse, chorus, second verse, and as the second round of the chorus comes up, harry changes up the lyrics, belting out, “she’s having my baby !” 
and he’s pointing at you, the camera panning in your direction, as harry’s running up the catwalk to get to you. 
there you are, on the big screen, jumping around and singing along, in your juno costume, and beginnings of a baby bump on full display, having gone with a fairly tight striped tshirt. this was your first opportunity to go out without a sweater in almost a month now, and you were revelling in it. harry’s costume of bleeker now making perfect sense to the crowd. although so far, it wasn’t like anyone minded his little yellow shorts.
the crowd was screaming, absolutely losing their minds, chanting excitedly. the camera panning to some fans with tears in their eyes as harry’s now made it to where you are, smiling wider than you think he ever has, dimples etched deep in his skin, blowing you kisses.
you can see the adoration, excitement, pride, joy, how deep this moment is hitting him as he can hear, can see, can feel almost 100 000 people radiate excitement and pride and joy right back at him.
the song comes to an end and the crowd is screaming so loud, harry doesn’t get the opportunity to address them right away.
as things quiet down just a bit, he chuckles into the mic, “look at my beautiful girl. i’m gonna be a dad !”
……
Masterlist
tags : @gorlsinmultifandoms @cc-horan
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kiwikiwiandkiwi · 1 year
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HARRYWEEN (31.10) — bonus:
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bluebirdharry · 1 year
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Keep Driving | Harryween, Los Angeles 31/10
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stylessatellite · 1 year
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HAPPY HARRYWEEN 👻🎃
From my Tech on Tour Series
- y/n_tech is your user and there’s no specific face claim yet
A/N: First post! Hope y’all like it and feel free to like and reblog :) also in case you couldn’t tell, I ran out of usernames towards the end, so you can comment username ideas if you want!!
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hshq: Harryween 2022. Los Angeles. October 31st. Can’t wait to see your fancy dress.
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hshlyrics: is it beetlejuice?
sunflower_randomname: missed the opportunity to name it Harry’s Haunted House
↳ ilovesproutrry: and missed the opportunity to do some form of trick or treating as well
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harryflorals: First look at harry as Danny Zunko for harryween via: harryfan3
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harryfan6: people died. it’s me. i’m people
hslotrry: what happened to the orginal plot of the movie?!?
↳ harryfan4: i think i like this plot better
yn via insta stories
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harry_ update: “Yes?” Harry’s answer to Chris Olsen’s “DADDY?” sign tonight
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harryfan4: well I think we all know who’s on cameras tonight @y/n_tech
↳ harryfan01: @y/n_tech we see you
↳ y/n_tech: shhh. no need to call me out
harrysteponme: this was an acknowledging yes, not a questioning yes, and I stand by this
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harryflorals: “Now I’d especially like to thank my y/n tonight because without her *dramatic pause* Hopelessly Devoted wouldn’t have made it on tonight’s set list. Everyone give it up for y/n, who remembered to bring an extra set of amp cords.” Harry mentioning y/n tonight during his thank you speech
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harryfan69: ahhh harry calling y/n “my y/n” >>>
tpwk_fan1: if he wanted to he would people
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harrystyles: HARRYWEEN. Los Angeles VI. October, 2022
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y/n_tech: hey danny, wanna share that milkshake?
↳ harrystyles: only with you sandy ❤️
↳ tpwkfan2: if they break up, love isn’t real
↳ fan6.tpwk: PARENTS
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y/n_tech: HARRYWEEN 2022 👻 🎃
ps) @harrystyles i’m hopelessly devoted to you as well <3
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📌 harrystyles: I’ll be hopelessly devoted to you for as long as you want me
↳ harryfan33: y/n pinning this is so real
jefezoff: He just started blushing so hard when you pinned his comment
↳ harrystyles: No need to call me out Jeffery
↳ tpwkrandomname: you know you’re down bad, if you heard/ read this in harry’s voice
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