#Glazing shop drawing

[uniquescadd]

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[caddraft1]

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[hollowedartist]

THE GUY THE LITTLE GUY

I may sell them on my shop but it depends how many people would wan it :)

Just now realizing I never added the doodle

[sainka-juice]

🌻🎂🎈🎃 Some OCs doodle I made on my phone !!! Most of them were made for art prompts on a discord server :)

🍓 I have a sticker shop, sell adopts and have memberships on Ko-Fi, link in bio !

🍊 To protect my art I use Glaze, Nightshade and a watermark, and I encourage every artist to do the same ^^

🍋 All support appreciated <3

[tadpal]

sometimes i see pictures of places I used to live taken when i used to live there and get all I Miss You...... but babe i was a child and MISERABLE

[foxounderscorecube]

Playing playing!

[Image description: traditional art of a pink axolotl floating in blue water, looking happy. It's surrounded by smiling yellow stars. End ID.]

I've listed the original of this piece for sale on my Etsy shop!

Acrylic markers, watercolour, watercolour pencil, and gel pen :)

This drawing is Glazed. My unGlazed art is available for Ko-Fi supporters!

If you're able, adopt an axolotl to help keep their habitat alive:

[chudasamaoutsourcing1]

High-quality Glazing Shop Drawings - Chudasama Outsourcing

Chudasama Outsourcing offers the best Glazing Shop Drawing Services, with the help of their shop drawing experts. They have a great deal of experience with shop drawings in the construction, architectural, and industrial sectors. We offer distinctive shop drawings for storefronts, curtain walls, all-glass entrance systems, glass railing systems, and aluminium panel walls for the glass and glazing industry.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold.

alastor, lucifer, rosie, husk

⌇alastor

you looked the radio demon up and down, thinking that doing so from the farthest corner of the bar would ensure he didn’t see you. it’s not like you could help it though. alastor had switched out his normal suit for a gorgeous red velvet, his hair pulled up with what looked like braids in it, no doubt nifty’s doing. you took a sip of your drink and looked down, seeing him look up at your area of the bar.

you had been doing this since you had sat down at the bar. watching him interact with patrons and royalty, who were there to have their pocket books pried open for some funding as well as support for the hotel. it wasn’t an easy task by any means even with lucifer in support of the idea and here tonight. you were supposed to be chatting people up as well, but after the first guy you spoke to kept his hand on your arm for a little too long, you decided you were too sober for all of this.

you saw alastor’s attention be pulled else where, giving you your cue to look back up. he was angled away from you and you gulped audibly. the way the jacket fit his frame, his hair style complimented his long neck, and how his waist looked so deliciously tiny made your stomach warm and your face heat. you had zoned out, your mind taking you to an alternate reality where you had a chance of slipping off that coat of his… you shook your head and your eyes locked with alastor’s. you’re not sure how it was possible but your face heated even more, almost burning with the blush you had at being caught. you couldn’t look away though, even as he smirked at you.

you swallowed heavily and shakily took a sip of your drink as you saw him depart from whoever he was talking to, walk up to the bar and stand close next you.

“just a few fingers of that old rye you have back there.” alastor requested, and husk nodded turning away. giving alastor a chance to look down at you. you felt yourself shrink under his gaze as he smiled again, almost like a smirk. he grabbed the glass husk handed to him and you watched intently as he brought the glass up to his lips and sipped his drink, glancing at his neck and the way it moved. flickering your eyes back up to his as his grin widened. he bent down at his waist, you both face to face now.

“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’ll catch a cold darling.” he murmured to you, as your eyes widened and you looked down ashamed. alastor chuckled and you felt his finger draw your face up to look at you again.

“cat got your tongue?” he asks, smirking. you try and speak but no words come out and you feel your face and now arms burning. you take your cool hands and place them on your cheeks. he draws them away, holding them.

“don’t do that. i like the red color. red as blood.” he says, kissing your right cheek, then straightening up and taking his drink and himself back into the middle of the party, shooting glances at you from time to time as you still just watched him charm the crowd.

⌇lucifer

there were many benefits to being with the king of hell. you practically never had to worry about anything, be that financial or even emotional or physical. you knew lucifer had you covered. he was in your corner. once word got around that you were dating the king of hell, the perks increased. you’d walk into a shop and the attendants wouldn’t let you buy anything. there was just a small ask to post it on sinstagram or voxtube and review it. which you never minded, but then that oddly started an influencing career in hell. that definitely was not something on your bingo card for when you died.

right now though, you were faced with the biggest detractor of dating the king of hell. he had to attend this gathering. very boring, and you felt your eyes glaze over as you sipped lucifer’s appletini he left. you watched him converse with this group of royalty and business people, you being the only one left at the table. not that you minded and no, you didn’t want to go make conversation over there. you sighed and decided to use this opportunity to really admire lucifer.

he was dressed in his suit but instead of the white base he wore around normally, the suit was gold with red accents. and it just brought out his eyes so well. he looked ethereal standing there, talking to those people. you gave him a once over and all you could think about was getting him out of that damn suit that fit him so well. just imagining him underneath you, panting and sobbing for-

“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i might just catch a cold.” you hear lucifer’s voice in your ear. your gasp sounding more like a moan when he grabs the appletini in your hand and throws it back in one drink.

“undressing you? you were already undressed in my mind. already on the bed if i’m honest.” you murmur to him and watch the blush take his cheeks.

“this boring you?” he asks smiling.

“desperately.” you look at him. “we should go back home. we can pick up where i left off envisioning you on our bed underneath me… begging for more.” you grin wickedly as lucifer gulps. he quickly makes his way over to the group, explaining something and you see them all nod. he quickly makes his way back to you and takes your hand, waiting for you to get up. then he all but drags you out of the venue.

“let’s go home.”

⌇rosie

you had told rosie she should wear her new dress. and damn it she was so excited about it, that of course you said yes. now… a part of you regretted saying she should as one of the gentleman in cannibal town kept talking rosie up while she was checking out a long line of patrons. you tried to breathe as you just watched rosie. you knew she was capable of taking care of herself. you watched how she nimbly packed up different items, wrapping them all while charming all around her. her figure was so graceful and the dress hugged her just right, accentuating her waist. you bit your lip watching her. both of your eyes widening as you caught each others gaze.

you blushed deeply while she smirked at you and checked out the last guest in line. finally she took a second to come over to you.

“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold darling.” she purred as she strode up to you. you saw behind her the same gentleman watching the both of you, his gaze hungry. you glared at him as you grabbed a bit of rosie’s skirt possessively, but not wanting to make a show. she chuckled.

“he’s really got you worked up, don’t he?” she asked.

“he keeps flirting with you. it’s disgusting.” you comment, looking at rosie. she hums and pulls you up so you were standing. she still towered over you, as she gently maneuvered you face to look up at her. she smiled again, licking her lips and she bends down and kisses you. your eyes widen as you throw your arms around her neck, reaching up on your tip toes to get closer.

you hum into the kiss, gently weaving your fingers in rosie’s hair and pulling at her nape. you feel the growl that comes from her, slightly panting as she break.

“get a fuckin’ room! absolutely disgusting. there are children!” you hear susan yell and you sigh. you hands at rosie’s waist, absentmindedly rubbing over the boning in the dress.

“i think you need to get back to the shop.” you sigh and rosie nods. “anything i can help with?”

“sit there and look pretty for me?” she asks and you laugh, nodding. you turn to the check out area and smile even brighter.

“he’s gone!” you exclaim. happy the guy from before wasn’t in the store.

“oh, yeah. he left right when i kissed you.” she laughed, patting down some of the fizz in your hair. “needed to make sure that everyone else knew who i was with though.” she winks and walks back up to the front counter as you sit back down and sigh. you wondered how you got so lucky.

⌇husk

watching husk talk to other patrons and quickly whip up drinks was a past time of yours that you greatly favored. it was sort of relaxing seeing him in an element that he excelled in, but honestly, just watching him and how good he was with his hands made you blush.

you were currently off, deep in thought, but husk caught your glance. your eyes widen as you try and look away, attempting to save whatever shred of dignity you had by playing it cool. you knew husk wasn’t dumb though. he had seen you staring.

he went back to work quickly enough and you waiting for a few more moments before looking out of the corner of your eye at him, watching him rim a glass with salt. he poured two liquors in at the same time topping off with some red liquid and a lime wedge, pushing it towards a demon who giggled as their hands touched being passed the drink.

you rolled your eyes and as soon as husk’s back was turned you took your opportunity to really look at him. he wore his usual suspenders and pants, but he had slicked back his hair tonight and had on a white button down shirt with suit themed cufflinks. it was an incredibly dapper look and you couldn’t help imagine taking off the damn shirt he was wearing. loosing your grip on reality again, you didn’t notice a drink being slid to you. you hear the drink before seeing it in front of you, looking up, you meet husk’s eyes. a smirk almost tattooed on his face. you blink a few times, trying to understand, when he chuckles.

“if ya keep starin’ at me sweetheart, and undressin’ me with those eyes of yours, i’m gonna catch a cold.” he takes back your old glass and leaves you sitting there bewildered as he helps the next guest. you take a sip and see a slip of paper from under the glass. you squint to read the scrawled handwriting.

“meet me at 1. party should be wrapped up then. you can stare all ya want.”

you placed your hand over the paper and felt your cheeks grow warm. he was going to be the death of you.

[munivrse]

༊*·˚ hold me

alpha!gf!bada....

c/w: gp!bada... alpha bada... rough, possessive gf bada. fingering. knotting. lots of cum... mild marking. mentions of breeding and pregnancy....

a/n: uhm... merry christmas! @princhii @thevenussapphic

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

“do you think these are cute?” you hold the items up to bada, awaiting a response.

bada is extremely distracted right now. there is a man staring at you from across the aisle and something about it is making bada’s head spin. after he stops practically eye fucking you, he meets bada’s and his face pales a bit. bada’s eyes narrow and she steps impossibly close to you, watching him until he walks to the next aisle.

“… are you good.”

bada’s head whips to yours and she realizes just how close she had actually gotten. she was nearly squishing you against the clothing rack.

“shit— sorry. sorry baby,” bada steps back, “they’re really cute. you wanna go try them on for me?”

bada watches as you nod and bounce away. she felt odd. like… like there was something coursing through her that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. she followed you into the dressing room, sitting on the stool in the corner.

you make quick work changing out of your current clothes and into the white dress that caught your girlfriends eye. when you face the mirror, you spot bada behind you, scanning your figure up and down. she takes her lip between her teeth. when her eyes reach yours, her eyes a slightly hooded and have the slighted glaze over them.

“you look great, baby. spin for me?”

you do as your told, spinning until bada’s hands catch your hips. she pulls you on top of her lap. her eyes focus on your figure once again, stopping when they see how your breasts almost spill out of your low cut top. she licks her lips— you look fucking delicious

“you look so pretty today, angel.” bada’s eyes flick back up to yours. she moves one hand from your hips up to cup your jaw. she pulls you in for a searing kiss, tongue licking against your own. you feel her hips buck up into yours and she lets out a quiet hiss.

“so fucking pretty for me.” she continues her assault on your lips and pushes you down into her lap. her head is spinning and she feels like she’s floating. bada continues moving your hips back and forth on her lap, pushing up into you, fighting for any sort of friction for her weeping cock-

“shit- shit, princess. keep grinding on me like that. please, baby.”

you pull away from bada slightly, just enough to utter a couple words,

“we can’t bada. we’re in public-”

bada lets out a loud, loud whine. her hips stutter as she fucks her hips against your clothed lower half. the grip on your hip tightens so much bada distantly thinks of how her fingertips might leave marks on you which only spurs her on further.

“f-fuck. please baby. i need it.” she whispers against your mouth, eyes welling up with tears.

your hand goes up to cup bada’s forehead-

“you’re burning up. are you okay?”

bada’s hand leaves your jaw and stops at your throat, squeezing lightly. she pulls away from you with spit slicked lips. she takes all of you in, the way you look just slightly fucked out. the way you’re gripping onto her shoulders as she guides your hips to rub up against her own.

you let out a weak whine, “bada-”

and bada’s eyes roll to the back of her fucking head. her mouth opens in a silent moan, entire body tensing as she creams her pants, hips slowly rolling into your own as she draws out her orgasm. and you feel the wet patch before it even connects in your brain exactly what just happened.

needless to say you both quickly left the shop, an embarrassed bada trailing behind you, holding you against her body as you walk out.

you guys dont discuss it any further.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

three days later you find yourself trapped under bada as she subconsciously buries her face into your neck. your hands rub up and down her back,

“bada..?”

she groans a little in defiance.

“c’mon you big baby, wake up. i’m dying.”

she doesn’t respond immediately, she just shoves her face further into your skin. after a couple moments, you switch to lightly raking your nails against the fabric of her shirt.

you hear her hiss and feel her pull herself up. she positions herself so that she’s fully hovering over you. she’s got a lopsided grin on her face,

“g’morning baby.”

bada’s arms cage the sides of your head as she leans down to press a kiss to your lips. she pulls away but something in her brain short circuits when she tastes your lips. she immediately swoops back down to kiss you again, one hand cradling your head. she kisses down your jaw, down your neck,, and stops at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you feel her sigh into your neck,

“i’m gonna call out today.”

you run your fingers through her hair,

“you okay?”

“yeah i just..” she croaks out, voice scratchy from sleep, “i just feel like i need to be close to you right now.”

she leaves soft kisses against your skin. she distantly wonders why she feels like she’s gonna die if she’s more than 6ft away from you, but all thoughts are thrown to the window when you decide to scratch her scalp with your nails.

“feels so good, baby. thank you.”

you continue running your nails across her scalp. she’d been so clingy lately, you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for her. she’d been a little more lazy, a little slower in her movements.

“you smell so fucking good, y/n.”

you push her off of you and giggle,

“im gonna go try and make us breakfast—” badas eyes light up but you raise your hands up, “dont get your hopes up. we’ll probably have to order in anyway. i am no chef.”

as you shimmy your way out of bed, bada takes in the way your hips sway when you walk. they way her shirt reaches just below your ass. she can kinda see your curves through the fabric of her shirt—

bada feels herself sweat as the thinks about taking you just like that. raising her shirt up. pulling your flimsy panties to the side and fucking you full of her. she wonders, distantly, how well you’d take her knot.

well, fuck. bada throws herself back into bed as she comes to her realization— shes in a rut.

she stays like that for about 15 minutes. she tries really, really hard to push those thoughts down and be normal. but then she hears pans clanking in the kitchen and she remembers you’re there and her feet guide her to you, without thought.

when bada reaches her destination, she leans against the door frame. she’s been doing alot of admiring lately. this time she admires your legs and how your thighs rub together when you walk. she wonders how they’d feel wrapped around her head—

“fuck it.” she mutters.

you hear her, feel her before you see her. her hands grip your waist as she flips you to face her and lifts you to place you on the counter. when you take in her appearance, shes flushed from neck up. sweat beads at her forehead. her pupils are blown wide and her mouth is open in a slight pant. her tongue darts out to wet her lips as her eyes flick from your own down to your lips.

“i need you,” her voice cracks in need, “are you gonna let me have you, baby?”

your skin pricks with sweat too, almost mirroring your partners. its then you have the realization as well. how clingy bada has been, how needy she is, how domineering shes been with you. the way she’s dressed you for the past week— baggy clothes… her clothes. you realize now she’s been marking you for the past week, putting extra on your plate. covering you up more, making sure you were warm and comfortable.

“bada are you-”

“yes— yes. tell me i can take you. tell me you want it, pretty girl. tell me you need it.”

bada’s eyes shift into something less desperate, more dangerous. her hands grip your hips and pull you into her own and you feel it. a cock, hot, heavy. waiting for you. you whine out upon contact,

“i need it bada, please.”

bada lets out a dark chuckle,

“so polite. so easy.”

she presses her lips against yours, calculated and smooth. her mouth molds against your own and you feel her pant each time she pulls away. her lips are more needy than the last each time she goes back in and eventually she nips at your bottom lip hard enough for you to physically wince. your eyes squeeze shut and tears prick your eyes.

“shit- sorry… fuck— no i’m not. you look so pretty like that.”

her kisses continue down your neck,

“’wanna make you cry today-,” she sighs into your neck, thinking of all the ways she’s gonna make you feel good tonight. one hand travels from your hip up to your neck, the other dips its fingers in your underwear. she forces you to look at her as she inserts two fingers inside of you, her thumb rubbing slow circles into your clit.

“gonna make you sob while i make it fit.”

her fingers crook up inside of you, rubbing against your gummy walls. you’re so wet that you can hear squelching as she fucks her fingers inside of you. she inserts a third as soon as she feels you relax,

“you’re gonna take it all for me today, right princess?” she presses a kiss to your lips when you nod in response,

“you wanna make me happy don’t you?”

and its almost as if your body is molding to her every will. your neck bares for her, almost presenting yourself for her. you do want to make her happy. your brain wills for you to do everything in your power to make her happy right now. your brain was so cloudy and—

“poor baby. it’s okay,” bada grins, she loved when you were like this. it made her feel useful. powerful.

your legs instinctively spread more for her and she inserts a fourth finger. tears well up in your eyes and bada kisses them as they fall,

“don’t want you to hurt too bad baby.”

once she thinks you're stretched enough, pulls her sweats down just enough to accompany her cock, she guides it into your cunt, groaning as she pushes in. your eyes begin to close but she taps you on your cheek to grab your attention,

"look at me while i stretch you out, angel."

your brows furrow together as you do your best to keep your eyes open as you take her, inch by inch. as soon as she's finished pushing into you, she gives you a sloppy kiss on the lips,

"i'm gonna make you feel so fucking good baby, just relax for me."

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

it started out so soft. so caring. after round 3, bada stopped caring. stopped being so soft.

“’fuckin— shit— fuckin take it baby. like a good girl would.”

bada’s got her arm wrapped so tightly around your neck your ears are nearly ringing.

the first round she fucked you on the counter, whispering how nice you felt around her. round two was in the hallway, against the wall. she held you up with your legs wrapped around her and praised you on how good you were being. round three was on the bed, plush blankets surrounding you while your hair was splayed around you like a halo. she told you how proud of you she was, how it was just gonna be a little more.

now she’s impatient. the only thought in her brain was to breed you, make you hers. fuck you full of her cum. ruin you for other people.

after the last round she’d flipped you so that your stomach was against the bed. she’d pulled your hips up to meet her own but you’d made the mistake of clawing the sheets, almost like you were trying to run away.

bada didn’t like that.

she wraped her arm around your neck and yanked you up against her. your arms couldnt find purchase anywhere other than gripping her forearm. tears were streaming down your face. you felt so fucking full. cum was leaking out of you with every thrust.

“’s too much baby— please.”

bada kisses your temple in response,

“jus’ a little more.” bada groans out, “you’re so fucking ungrateful. maybe a knot would shut you the fuck up—” and bada’s eyes roll to the back of her head at the thought of it. she needed to so fucking bad. she kept cumming and cumming but felt no relief. she needed to knot you, she needed to plug you full just for her.

“you’re gonna look so pretty, angel. covered in my cum. wish i could take a picture and post it for everyone to see.”

bada’s hips stutter as she feels you clench around her. she swears she feels the beginning of a knot form.

“’m gonna cum in you again. ‘should cum on you this time. make you reek of me.”

bada releases you from her hold in favor of pressing you back into the mattress, muffling your yelps and moans.

“bet you’d like that. being covered in my spunk. at the end of the day, you’re my pretty, pretty, cum hungry whore. god—”

bada grasps at your hips, grinding her cock into you. your hands grip the sheets above you as you feel her knot catch at your opening. she fucks deeper into you,

“bet you wanna hang off my knot everyday. get fucked and bred morning and night.”

she leans down and intertwines your fingers with her own. her lips graze your ear as she whispers,

“i’d do it for you, too.”

and at this point, shes stuck inside of you, ready to burst. her brain is like mush as she keeps trying to get friction by grinding into you,

“id fuck you all day if i could. force myself into this pretty little pussy from the time i wake up until i’ve fucked you back to sleep. could spend hours in this cunt.”

her teeth graze the juncture between your neck and shoulder. a warning. a threat. a promise.

“wanna get you pregnant— fuck you full of my babies.”

bada can feel the beginnings of her orgasm begin, pleasure licking up her spine.

“i want it, bada. i’d do anything for you. anything to make you happy. please fuck me full. get me— ah fuck— get me pregnant. please bada please—”

bada’s eyes roll and her body tenses up as please wracks through her veins. her vision blurs and her hands grip yours so hard its starting to hurt. shes letting out airy whines and the occassional grunt as she empties herself inside of you. her head spins and she tries to ground herself by pressing kisses along your shoulder but, god, she feels like shes fucking floating.

you, on the other hand, felt like you were going to burst. you felt every spurt of cum inside of you. she was just pumping you full of her seed and it made you feel… good. warm. fuzzy. you could feel her big frame surround you as she nearly sobbed into your neck as she busts inside of you.

eventually, her hips stop stuttering and her cries turn into sniffles. her body relaxes into yours and her once stiff hands mold into your own, the grip significantly softer this time.

a couple minutes pass as you both relax a bit. bada speaks up,

“you okay, angel?” her thumb glides across your knuckles. her lips press soft kisses against the back of your neck.

“mhm… you’re heavy though.”

bada chuckles and removes her hands from yours. she peels herself up and repositions you two so that you’re both laying on your sides.

“i should chose a more… uhm.. comfortable position to.. uh..”

you roll your eyes. she cannot be serious right now.

“are you fucking stuttering right now.”

“no! no— i. i am not stuttering i’m just…” she trails off, embarrassed. she shoves her face into your neck,

“can i please catch a break? i just came like four times baby PLEASE—”

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: thank you for your patience with me while i was gone!! im back and with gp!bada nonetheless... please please please give me feedback on this. i've never fully written gp! so do let me know if you liked, disliked, etc! thank you 🫶🏽 missed you all fr 🌟

[yawnderu]

Thin Walls — Keegan P. Russ x Reader

Dbf!Keegan collab with the amazing @moosch MWAH

Check out her amazing drawing on this<3

There were rare times Keegan felt like he may have chosen the wrong job. Right now? Covered in dirt and grime, seeking shelter in an abandoned building with the rest of the ghosts after a particularly hard mission was one of those moments. What was supposed to be a three hour mission went downhill and turned into four long days of chasing down an enemy for intel.

The first thing he did as soon as the building was cleared was to fish for his phone, reading the thread of messages he had from you; ranging from telling him about your day, to complaining about missing him and how he owes you a shopping spree for going dark. He rolled his eyes, a deep chuckle rumbling out of his chest and escaping his lips. A new text caught his attention, scrolling down to read it.

Brat: [16:38]

I see you online, can we ft? Papa wants to see u :)

He stares at your message for a few seconds, considering his chances. Keegan looks like shit— eye black smudged messily all over his face, uniform dirty and muddy, a streak of dried up blood dripping down his forehead, and icy blue eyes so tired you would think he died and was never informed. He didn't want you or your father; his best friend, to see him at his worst.

Glucose Father: [16:40]

Sorry princess, signs too shitty for that. Send me some pics of that bratty face and maybe I'll take you shopping when I'm back?

He internally cringed at the text, rarely even using his phone unless it was to text your father and you. His fingers tap on the sides of his phone as he waited for a reply, putting the idle chatter of the ghosts in the back of his mind as he went to another room with the excuse of being able to get some sleep once and for all.

For a second, he ignored the phone vibrating in his hand, leaning against the wall and sitting down with a groan, sore muscles finally able to rest, even if only for a few hours.

Brat [16:43]

Sent 6 attachments.

His tired eyes drifted down to his phone, opening the message and being received by the sight of you, a smile adorning your pretty face. His gaze softened and his pants tightened as he noticed you wearing one of his shirts, fitting into it so much better than he could. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, listening to the chatter on the other side of the thin wall before his free hand drifted down to his growing bulge, holding back a groan as he palmed his sensitive cock over his pants.

"Fuck..." He whispered, hesitantly lowering his fly enough to pull his dick out, gloveless hand feeling the length of it before he started stroking slowly, moving his hand up and down while he looked at your pictures. They were completely innocent pictures, really, simply showing your pretty face and bright smile, yet he couldn't help it.

He was trying his best to be quiet despite how good jerking off felt after so much stress. His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes screwed shut as his mind came up with the filthiest fucking images, thinking of your lips wrapped around his cock, struggling to take him as he fucked your face. He could just imagine the noises that would come out of you as his thick dick was shoved all the way down your throat, a deep growl coming out of his lips as his rough fingers massaged his tip, spreading the leaking precum and using it as lube to jerk off better.

He swapped to another photo of you smiling brightly at the camera, holding up a piece sign. What a fucking sight for sore eyes. He imagined your pretty face glazed in his thick white cum, tongue tainted by his seed. His hand involuntary moved faster and harder up and down his cock, applying more pressure with each stroke until he had to bite his lip to stop himself from making too much noise, aware enough of the thin walls.

He couldn't wait to go back home to you, making you cuddle up to him and holding you like a lifeline, the plush of your ass pressing up against his cock as you allowed him to grope you, his hands grasping at as much as he could grab while his hard clothed cock rubbed against your ass. You're killing me, brat.

A deep, low moan came out of his lips his cock twitched in his hand, balls tightening up as ropes of thick, white cum shot out, covering his hand. He squeezed his cock a little bit tighter, making sure all his cum was out, taking another look at your pretty face in the selfies before he began cleaning up.

Evidence hidden and with his cock back in his pants he stepped back into the room with the other ghosts, instantly met with the amused faces of Ajax and Kick, clearly holding in their laughter.

"Had some fun, bro?" Ajax asked, not even able to hold in his laugh anymore, Kick following right after.

"Yeah, yeah." Keegan grumbled, rolling his eyes as he sat down and pulled out his flask.

"Next time I'll do it in the same room as you motherfuckers." Logan's frown deepened.

[chudasama]

Shop drawings are mostly used to show production processes and specifics. These Glazing Shop Drawings are created by contractors or manufacturers to precisely show how a product is fabricated or installed. Our Shop Drawings for construction comprise coordinated, structural, and architectural shop drawings. Our professional team’s thorough floor plans and collaborative 3D models may be utilized as reference materials for the essential measurements, space verification, MEP coordination, and other checks. For more details, read our blog https://www.chudasamaoutsourcing.com/blog/shop-drawings-and-its-types/

[thesethreefates]

All the flowers mentioned in The Amazing Devil lyrics 🌱

EDIT: I have released a print of this on my shop! https://thesethreefates.etsy.com/listing/1663121663

[caddraft1]

The Role of Glazing Shop Drawings in Building Standards

Glazing shop drawings are detailed, technical drawings that illustrate the specific glazing materials and components to be used in a construction project. Commercial glazing involves designing, manufacturing, and installing glass for commercial buildings. Glazing is a very essential element in the building construction. It increases a building’s safety, environmental sustainability, and visual appeal. For more details, read our blog https://caddraftingservices.in/blog/the-role-of-glazing-shop-drawings-in-building-standards/

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

💬 Seams sleepover micro-drabble request for a morning-after snuggle/coffee/realistic morning breath kinda morning for Joel and Pin!

Where Else

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 350 words | warnings: rated M, insecurities, morning wood, waking up with Joel is a warning on its own | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

It’s been months, seasons, since the day Joel came to you in the shop, stuck in his jeans. And yet, it all feels so new. Neither of you being ones to rush things, it’s not until the little town of Jackson is once again blanketed in snow before Joel spends his first night at your cottage.

You awake to deep, steady breaths on your neck, arms tight around your waist under the duvet, broad chest against your back, and your lips stretch into a slow smile, before morphing into a yawn -

Your gentle awakening is rudely interrupted by a sudden self-consciousness that snaps your mouth shut. When you live alone, you don’t think about things like morning breath. But now that there’s a man - this particular man - in your bed…

Gingerly, you try to pry Joel’s grip off you, half a mind to slip into the bathroom to brush your teeth before he wakes up. But he stirs behind you, breaking the morning quiet with a deliciously low grumble. ‘Where y’ goin’, sweetheart?’

‘Bathroom.’

‘In a bit,’ he says, rolling you over so that you’re face-to-face.

His hair is endearingly mussed, eyes heavy with sleep, and he leans in to kiss you. Awkwardly, you draw back ever so slightly, but Joel catches the movement, and he frowns.

‘What’s wrong?’

Embarrassed, your cheeks touched with heat, you stutter, ‘I - um - I have morning breath.’

Joel blinks, then one corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. ‘So what?’

Thrown by his nonchalant reply, you shrug. ‘Um, I don’t know - do you - want me to brush my teeth before -’

He doesn’t let you finish, pressing his lips against yours, tongue swiping inside with a groan.

Pulling back, pleased at the way you’re staring at him with your eyes glazed and lips wet, he grins. ‘You taste good.’

‘Joel -’

A squeal escapes you when he rolls you under him without warning, biceps flexing with the movement. He brushes his nose against yours, while something else much bigger and harder nudges between your thighs, and he rasps in your ear.

‘Let’s see where else you taste good, sweetheart.’

Note: Thank you for this request @suzmagine! This was a great warm up since we're heading in this direction for the main series, I cannot wait to write what happens the evening before 😉

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the divider.

[lonelystarrs]

The Pudding

Barou Shouei x FemReader (Ft Isagi Yoichi)

Barou was acting like you’d been winding him up to brat tame, however you’d been on your best behaviour since Isagi came to crash with you guys for awhile, who knew he’d be such a homewrecker and not even release it was his fault. That pudding Barou was obsessed with do be good though!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • DomBarou • smut • Barou being Barou. • dirty talk -filth • this do be spicy get your face fans out• 5 years after Blue Lock • Isagi temporary house mate causing arguments • crack • established relationship • the ending tho 💀 isagi you homewrecker.

Frantic, aggressive and a borderline bully -Barou Shouei was showing all these traits when he’d stomped his way over to you, red eyes glowing as his figured shadow drew closer.

Normally you’d do something to warrant this kind of a reaction from him, brat taming you was something he enjoyed and something you found amusing to draw out in him.

Today however? You hadn’t done anything, in fact since Isagi came to crash a couple of days ago with you both for a few weeks you’d been pretty good. Barou only allowed it because Isagi was easy to live with, he knew this from his days in blue lock, collecting laundry and at least trying to aid his level of OCD with cleaning. He was respectful and he, unknowingly to you or anyone else owed Isagi a favour.

Why? That secret would die with Barou -and with Isagi if he kept his word on not telling anyone. Barou had actually asked him to try find out your ring sizes, which he had successfully done -fuck knows how he pulled it off and fuck knows how Barou bit his pride to ask. He wanted someone outside to get the job done, he himself or his sisters would be way too obvious. Apparently he took you shopping with Bachira who you had a soft spot for, the guys eccentric personality made it easy to fall for, he made you try on a load of stacking rings and Isagi remembered the one for your ring finger, clever little shit Barou had to give him that.

“W-wait Barou, s-slow down-“

You tried to tighten your thighs together in an attempt to block him but he’d only pushed his weight by his hips further into you causing you to spread them.

Normally Barou would prep you, much needed considering how thick and long this guy was, he was built like a god head to toe and taking him was always a stretch.

You were actually a little worried at how fired up he was, but equally excited by his sudden attitude shift, he was fine this morning but he was borderline feral at the moment.

Barou snorted a laugh, red eyes looking up to you as he held himself over you. Hands planted by your sides as you gripped onto his forearms to brace yourself, his huge biceps bulging as he held his own weight above you. His shoulders looked fucking huge, pure muscle hovering over you as sweat dripped from his body from his wound up he was getting not even cooling down after he finished a work out. His cock rested hard on your stomach, leaking at the tip.

“Huh? Where’s that cocky attitude gone, girl?”

Eyes returning down he watch himself as he lifted his hips, flexing his thick, heavy cock to hit his stomach watching the pre cum link between him, before dropping it down to press the thick tip to your entrance. You clenched around nothing as he pressed against you, easing the head in.

His deep voice making bumps rise on your skin, there was nothing unmanly about this guy, he oozes testosterone and gruffness, but that voice? God it got you every time, especially when he was threatening you.

“I’ll warn you now-“ he glanced up at you, his gaze harsh as he kept eye contact “-I’d find something to hold onto if I were you. You’re getting devoured, teach you to stop pissing me off.”

You swallowed and he was drinking in how vulnerable you looked under him, eyes glazed and doe like, it sent his ego soaring. The growl that left his chest was feral, eyes flashing as he tried to control himself from pushing himself in with one thrust.

Barou was mean, but not a complete sadist.

You moved a hand to press against the headboard behind you, the other remaining on his forearm.

He felt the tight ring of your cunt protest as he pushed the head in, you were so tight he couldn’t pull the head back as it gripped onto him and it was game over for you when he felt it sucking his cock in.

He pushed through to the hilt, bullying this thick cock through your velvety walls as they gripped him, milking any precum he had crawling up his dick.

“Fucking hell s’fucking warm, how you stay this tight huh? This cock not fucked you enough times?” he breathed out, not once dropping that gruffness his voice carried. He pressed his forehead against yours looking down at his cock buried in you. Barou was big, he had the length and the thickness but this man knew how to roll his cock into you.

“B-Barou s’too much please just -“

“Tch, thought you knew what you were in for? Acting cocky and now whinin’ cause you can’t take me? Suck it up princess, wanna help yourself? Reach down and play with your clit as I fuck you, it’s the only mercy you’re getting.”

You whimpered under him, your hips twitching to try angle yourself better as your pussy clenched around him.

Despite years of being together he was still a stretch to take especially when he’d been away for a few weeks for soccer and you’d not had him. This time, it was because he’d remained rather tame while Isagi was crashing at your place whilst he moved into his new one.

You had no idea why Barou was so pissed off, he only got like this when you’d been teasing him or winding him up until he entered his brat taming mode.

This time though -you hadn’t.

You pussy was soaking, drooling to your ass and over his cock and balls, he tilted his hips so the hilt of his dick rubbed your clit and you threw your head back with an unholy moan.

He withdrew slowly, a deep groan leaving him as he watched his thick dick slide from you covered in slick.

“You’re a mess, acting like you can’t handle it but she’s drooling for me-“ he thrust sharply, hitting that spot in you that made your breath hitch, your mouth fell open as you looked down in slight worry, your hand on his forearm quickly pressed against his six pack.

“Found it already huh? Tch, too easy thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

He rolled his hips beautifully into you, setting a pace that was borderline cruel -hard but not quiet fast enough to build your orgasm as quick as you’d want it.

Barou watched your tits bounce with each thrust into your pussy, hugging him begging it to fill you with his cum, but he wasn’t done yet.

Your vision blurred as he shifted you, only to focus again as he looked down on you folded beneath him. He had hooked both arms under your knees to push you upwards under him, folding you in half as his hands grip the head board behind you to stabilise himself.

Your eyes widened at what he was about to do, tears gathering in your eyes as he moulded you into his own version of a mating press. Mounting you like some animal as he stared down at his prey.

“You’re fucked now, woman.”

His first thrust hit so deep you almost seen stars, head kissing your cervix as he pushed to the hilt whilst rotating his hips in circles.

“Your safe word, you got it?” You nodded dumbly and he pressed a kiss to your leg, a fleeting moment of showing his softness before his annoyance for whatever triggered this took him over again.

Your hand moved to press a finger to your clit and Barou’s eyes followed to watch you rub circles into it, matching his pace to each round.

He was impossibly deep even he could feel resistance to how deeply he’d managed to bury himself into you -actual pride swelling in his chest at you being such a champ and taking him like this. Your clit was hard and burning under the pad of your finger as you eased towards cumming for him. Each squelch of his cock bullying into you, each slap of his skin as his balls hit your ass every moan that left your throat as you begged and spurred him.

Slurring words of adoration for him as he drank everything you gave him, his ego soaring with his heart as he started to rut into you violently. Knuckles turning white as his gripped the head board, sweat dripping from him onto you under him as he pushed himself physically.

“Fuck,” a frustrated growl left him, “-fuck you’re too fucking good.” His words through grunts as he kept up a feral pace. “-you’re fucking made for me.”

“Y-yes!”

“Yeah? You made for this king? Made to take this dick?”

“M-made for you- Ngh-Barou I’m gonna- hah- please I’m cumming, Barou- y-yes there, please-“

“Yeah? Keep fucking begging n slurring all dumb like that, makes me wanna devour you.”

He felt you start to roll your hips under him, your spare hand blinded reaching for his on the head board, finding it you gripped it, fingers laying over his. The finger on your clit started stuttering, picking up a fast messy pace.

“Cummin’ f’you- Bar-King, fuckfuckfuck!”

He smugly watched you lose it under him, body tightening and your toes curling, feeling your pussy clamp around him made him buckle slightly, edging him towards his own release. He didn’t ease you down, instead Barou shifted another gear as his pace turned fast and hard.

“S’Kings gonna fill that pretty cunt up-“

He flipped his hand, twisting it to lace his fingers through yours and planting beside your head, letting one of your legs lower. Barou pressed his lips to your leg still held up by his other, placing wet kisses between bites, panting through his nose as he groan into your skin holding between his teeth.

His thrusts turned sloppy but kept their hardness fucking into you like an alpha fucking his mate through a rut.

“Take it all -fuuuuuck!”

He hunched over you pressing his hips to yours as he spilled into you, cock flexing inside you as he moaned into your leg, red eyes half hooded and glazed. His hips twitched against you as you clenched around him, stomach muscles flexing in little spasms as he came hard emptying into you.

The room was filled with both your panting, coming down from your highs and Barou released you, sitting back onto his folded legs spread. You whimpered as his cock pulled from you now half hard as he softened. Your legs bent up and still spread, shaking as you felt the tremors start to inch up your body. Hands shaking you sat up onto your elbows, Barou was still breathing heavy, red eyes fixed on your swollen pussy starting to leak out his cum and he groaned again. It was the only kind of mess he deemed somewhat acceptable. Running a hand through his hair you could see him shaking lightly, a smug smirk made it’s way to your face.

“The fuck is with that smug smile? Knock it off,”

“You’re shaking.”

“I fucking wouldn’t be if you hadn’t ate the last pudding!”

“What?” You deadpanned at him, “-I didn’t.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I didn’t eat it and it was there this morning.”

“-wait, Barou did you just fuck me like that cause you thought I ate your last pudding?!”

“Hardly the first time, you act like a brat to get fucked like one. Got what you wanted now go out and replace it!”

“I can’t fucking walk! You literally just beat my pussy up!”

“Yeah? I’ll do it again until you stop stealing my shit!”

“I didn’t eat it Barou!”

Meanwhile Isagi sat in the spare room listening to you both from across the hall. -completely forgotten about that he was currently residing with you guys and was actually in the building.

An impressively raging hard on at the inspirational rough sex he’d just heard whilst looking down at his hands, one with a spoon and the other holding an empty container for pudding. He’d been eating it whilst you guys fucked like animals in your bedroom. Like popcorn at a cinema.

Man, Barou really liked his damn pudding, Isagi didn’t think he’d heard him that angry since he called the king a donkey back in Blue Lock 5 years ago.

He shrugged and cleaned the spoon off, ah well Barou didn’t know it was actually him who’d stolen the last pudding, ‘sides it was worth it listening to that.

© pharix 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

[moonchildstyles]

hemlock

oleander part two: sneaking away to see harry, y/n learned more than she bargained for

wordcount: 16.7k+

—————

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!