#gothic christmas song

[breedsblood]

Within Temptation - Gothic Christmas - Live Streaming With Just Jen Reacts

Click Link For Full Video

https://rumble.com/v48o2zn-within-temptation-gothic-christmas-live-streaming-with-just-jen-reacts.html?mref=1t2sy0&mc=e0pra

[guerrilla-operator]

Type O Negative // Red Water (Christmas Mourning)

Whoa, mistletoe (It's growing cold) I'm seeing ghost (I'm drinking old) Red water Red water (Red water) Red water chase them away

[creekbed-burial]

Homecoming by Ethel Cain + scans of my 2016 prom pics on Instax film

[emilyscastlevania]

[neptunefairytales]

Cathedral of Reims (France), with a children's choir singing live (video taken by me, december 2023)

[fenthebonebreaker]

Daily Doodle #0032

Ragnagord, the Evil Reindeer Overlord

@onedoodleaday prompt: Draw the first Christmas (or other Holiday) song you think of without using words.

I know the prompt says not to use words, but this is such an obscure carol I'm posting the relevant verses anyway:

Rudolph, he will change his name

'cause Rudolph just sounds really lame

Now we'll call him Ragnagord

The evil reindeer overlord

His nose shall be red no more

It will be blackened to the core

His eyes will glow an evil glow

To guide the chariot through the snow

-Gothic Christmas, Within Temptation

Gave him teeth like a Siberian Musk Deer just for giggles.

[scarefox]

Someone in need of Christmas songs turned into a dark opera version? Tarja made a whole album 😏 (full playlist)

[bermudianabroad]

Giddy up, Jingle Horse, but whispered instead of sung.

[anitalenia]

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙛*𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 ( • 𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘, 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬, 𝙨𝙛𝙬 • ) ₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖

꒰ঌ ���.˚ mummified, Egyptian pharaoh comes back to life millions of years later ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ mermaid boy (merman) takes you to his secret cove after saving you from a shipwreck ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ ghost /phantom takes care of chores while you’re gone and helps you with anything you need (making your bed, brushing your hair, skincare, etc.) ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ siren sings you her favorite song ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ incubus teaches you how to touch yourself for the moments he can’t do it for you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ succubus gives you a makeover ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ cat hybrid loves when you scratch behind their ears ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ bunny hybrid being too shy to talk to you and ask for what they want ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vine monster always blooms your favorite flowers ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ orc husband needing his tusks sharpened ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ orc husband being a cry baby when it’s just the smallest scratch you’ve ever seen ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ constantly buying werewolf boyfriend new clothes because he shifts in the ones he’s wearing and rips them to shreds ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vampire boyfriend who only likes feeding from you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ witch girlfriend that makes you remedies and herb mixtures to heal your wounds because you’re a klutz ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ siren afraid of the sea and spends her time frolicking in lakes (idc if they’re supposed to be in saltwater it’s fantasy 😜) OR fresh water siren ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ merman teaching you how to swim ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ alien being confused on human biology and how you’re able to feel arousal ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ orc husband making you the best beef stew you’ve ever had ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ cat hybrid leaving dead things on your front porch ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon boyfriend with limitless power and influence whose too shy to talk to you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ minotaur never letting you leave his maze ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ Angel having dirty fantasies about the object (person) of their desires ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ big, beefy, nerdy werewolf boyfriend helps you with your science homework ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ plant monster bursting with beautiful flowers every time you kiss them ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ sleep paralysis demon taking your virginity ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ sexy circus freak fingers you in his tent after the show ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ monster boyfriend who doesn’t fit in your home and constantly has to slouch, his horns scratching your ceiling and head banging into the lights, constantly knocking things over ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ fire bending boyfriend / girlfriend always having such warm hands & hugs ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ ice princess whose breath comes out frosted and wears gloves as to not freeze everything they touch ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon king who leaves hell very frequently to visit the girl of his dreams. she can’t go down to his fiery domain / human or angel girl ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vampire s/o who overindulges in blood and must go to vampire rehab 😜 ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ shy succubus who has never felt the touch of anyone ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ yandere guardian angel who kills any potential suitors until you realize they’re the only one for you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ yandere pack of werewolves that kidnap you for themselves to use as they please ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon king’s butler who believes he can service you more than the king can ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon princes taking turns with their favorite maid ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ warlock boyfriend teaches you how to cook ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vampire girlfriend squeamish about killing the little bunnies who hop in her backyard and would much rather kill people because bunnies are too precious ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ monster boyfriend who can read your mind but doesn’t tell you, just likes to listen to your dirtiest thoughts and act them out later ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ gothic hardcore werewolf girlfriend takes cute and precious bunny hybrid girlfriend to rock concert ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ buying your big bad alpha werewolf husband baby kittens because he loves cats ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ forcing your orc husband into wearing Christmas sweaters with you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ bull hybrid boyfriend being stereotypically hotheaded and always getting into silly fights ⟡ ࣪ ˖

[thenightling]

Unexpected Goth music

In the 90s you had the curious dilemma of both trying to avoid the title of Goth and also being accepted in the perceived Goth community. And there was an unfortunately high number of gatekeepers. You'd get asked what your favorite Goth artist or song was and for whatever reason "That doesn't count." or "That's actually Punk." or 'That's Death Rock, not Goth." or "That's too mainstream, that's not REAL Goth." And it got very irritating. So I'm going to list some of the things I think fit under the Goth genre that many would either not consider at all or would think "don't count." Disclaimer: This list does not contain obvious bands like The Cure, Siouxsie and the banshees, or Bauhaus. Once you remove those you'd be surprised how limited the selection of "real" Goth starts to feel. ______________________ And now here are the things that have (in my own experience) been classified as not Goth despite really fitting the criteria. Aurelio Voltaire - Sometimes considered Goth folk or "Dark Cabaret" or even "Death Rock" (1988 version of The Night) Aurelio Voltaire pretty much personifies Goth music. From his Gothic Neo Victorian / pirate look to such songs as Raised by Bats, Land of the Dead, Vampire Club, and the Neil Gaiman's The Sandman inspired "Come Sweet Death." Aurelio Voltaire is so Goth that I can't help but think there are other reasons people may not want to count him such as unconscious racism. (He's Cuban and has released Spanish language tracks.) Danny Elfman - Perhaps today most well known for his movie scores, particularly the iconically Gothic Nightmare before Christmas (where he was multiple voices including Jack's singing voice), Danny Elfman used to be the front man for the band Oingo Boingo where he had such songs as Dead Man's Party, Flesh 'n blood, Weird Science, No one lives forever, and No Spill Blood. These are arguably Gothic themed but not Gothic "style." However I do feel there is some Goth leanings in his 2020 album Big Mess which was officially released as the genre Industrial Goth. The Hex Girls - This band was invented for the 1999 Scooby Doo animated movie, Scooby Doo and the Witch's Ghost. Representing Gothic fashion, Wiccan spiritual beliefs, and environmentalism the band was meant to be a Gothic inversion on The Spice Girls. Defined as "Eco Goth" though arguably pop their songs actually were really good including "Earth, Wind, Fire, and Air" (though admittedy it should be Earth, Water, Fire, and Air), The Witch's Ghost, and Hex Girl. Inkubus Sukkubus - Considered Pagan Rock, they are definitely Goth, including the songs Sweet Morpheus and Vampire Queen (and several other vampire themed songs!) Blackmore's night - Neo Medieval folk rock band. You know... I think once you get called "Neo Medieval" you get a free pass to call yourself Goth. That's just my opinion. Including the songs Locked Within the Crystal Ball, The Darkness, and Shadow of the Moon.

Within Temptation - Symphonic Metal / Gothic Metal. One question... have you listened to them? Just listen to Angel, Stand my Ground, The Fear, or A Demon's Fate. Eden's Bridge - Progressive Celtic Folk Rock. They have two songs dedicated to Oscar Wilde's The Canterville Ghost. I know one song isn't enough but still... Sonata Arctica - Metal but some of their biggest hits are about magic and more commonly werewolves. Cain's offering - Again, Metal, but the subject matter is decidedly Gothic. Kamelot - Power metal but they have two albums that retell Goethe's Faust parts 1 and 2 (Epica and The black Halo). In fact pretty much everything they do is of Gothic inclination. Richard Campbell - Metal but he did an entire metal opera retelling the novel Frankenstein. I think that's pretty Goth if you ask me.

Smashing Pumpkins - Considered Alternative rock. There was time where just about anything vampire related was advertised with Bullet with Butterfly Wings. And the band is named after a popular Halloween prank. The lead singer is also a professional poet.

Alice Cooper - Welcome to my Nightmare, Keepin' Halloween Alive, The Ballad of Dwight Frye (actor from classic universal monster movies), Gimme, Black Widow (With Vincent Price). He also performed in Tim Burton's Dark Shadows.

Marilyn Manson - Once Classified as industrial Goth, he was denounced by many Goths as "too mainstream" or "Not Goth enough." The man did covers of Danny Elfman's This is Halloween, David Bowie's Golden Years, Annie Lennox's Sweet Dreams, and Lost Boys' Cry Little Sister. That's pretty Goth if you ask me. My Chemical Romance (MCR) - Do I really need to elaborate wit this one? David Bowie - Mostly considered Glam Rock, Bowie has dabbled in all genres and Heart's Filthy Lesson was definitely industrial. Aurelio Voltaire did a Goth sequel to the songs Bowie wrote for Labyrinth. And Bowie's Scary Monsters and Super Creeps inspired Danny Elfman. You can't get more Goth than that (In my opinion). Even Bowie's album Hours drifts into Emo territory. Prince - At the very least he had a Goth aesthetic. I think if he wasn't black people would be quicker to realize he could fit as Goth. There's a lot of unconscious racism among some (not all) Goths. Michael Jackson - One word. Thriller. He also had The Boogeyman's Gonna Get ya with The Jackson Five, and later Ghost. But once you get Vincent Price to rap you should automatically count. The Rasmus - Rock but most of their songs are decidedly Goth and probably should count such as In the Shadows, Ghost of love, and Lucifer's Angel. Sarah McLachlan - Though considered pop let's be honest. Every Goth and person in the 90s "vampire Scene" had her Surfacing album or at least heard Building a Mystery. Before her music started playing in ASPCA commercials you heard songs like Adia on Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Savage Garden - Though definitely pop they get an honorary mention for having songs inspired by Anne Rice and for naming themselves after a phrase invented by The vampire Lestat to describe the nature of the world in The Vampire Lestat novel by Anne Rice. Sting - Though not always Goth, Sting was in the Gothic horror movie The Bride and wrote a song from the perspective of Louis in Interview with the vampire called Moon over Bourbon Street. Stevie Nicks - She got an American Horror story: Coven tie-in music video and practices witchcraft. That's like hitting a Goth bullseye. Johnny Cash - Wore all black all the time and did a cover of a NIN song that is considered better than the original version, Hurt. Sir Elton John - Glam / Pop rock but he gets an honorary mention for composing the Lestat Broadway musical and having a full demo album that was never officially released and can only be found through dubious / underground sources. (Or Ebay if you were lucky in 2006...) Honorable mention to Bobby "Boris" Pickett for having the first Gothic themed song to get banned in the UK (Monster Mash) for being "Too morbid." You can't get much more Goth than that.

[lipglossanon]

Winter’s Knight

vampire!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

inspired by Leon’s romantic look 😌 and the song Dracula’s Wedding by OutKast 💜 also the poetry mentioned is from Emily Dickinson; there’s also one line plucked from Dracula

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, biting/marking, fated pair, strangers to lovers, blood, blood kink, scent kink, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), OC friend of reader named Lara just in case that throws anyone off, unprotected sex, creampie

title from Winter’s Knight album by Nox Arcana

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!! 💜 😘

“It’s an opportunity of a lifetime,” you mimic in a high tone before rolling your eyes, “opportunity my ass.”

Your friend Lara convinced you to go on this holiday trip with her, all expenses paid, as she wanted the company. The boyfriend that was originally going to be accompanying her had been dumped the week prior. Cheaters never win had been Lara’s flippant reply when asked. 

It felt like it happened overnight and before you knew it, Lara had whisked you away to three different countries one of which being the current visit in question. You think you’re in Romania or maybe Estonia; you’re a little mixed up as your plans had changed mid train ride. 

Lara’s family had some connections in the area and so you were both staying in a rather posh old castle turned tourist destination. 

A very lovely place except now you were completely turned around when all you wanted was to get a bottle of water from the concierge and go back to bed. Your footsteps have slowed considerably as you take in the magnificent gothic architecture and the beautiful paintings ranging from landscapes to some strange brooding man encapsulated in shadows; you’re never fully able to make out what he looks like, too much shadow blanking his features. 

You find yourself at a dead end, ornate furniture filling the space with a singular painting taking up the entire wall. It literally takes your breath away. It must be the place you’re staying in, the front gate still looks the same from what you can tell; it’s this castle seated on a rocky cliff face overlooking the villa down below. Your hand reaches out to touch, but you hover over the gilded frame before dropping it back to your side. 

“Lovely, no?”

A smooth, low voice has you spinning around, a thrill of fear humming in your chest. 

A man stands to the side, a little further down the hall. He’s tall, slim waisted with broad shoulders that stick out to you, even being shrouded in the dim lighting like he is; his eyes shine like an animal’s before you blink and it’s gone. 

That small niggling of fear in your brain is getting louder as he moves closer, making no sound in his sharp dress shoes. 

He keeps his eyes locked on the painting as he stops next to you.

“Quite an ancient castle,” he murmurs, almost too low for you to hear. 

When he finally turns to face you, you almost gasp. He’s beautiful, almost ethereal with his snowy white hair and fair complexion; both make the blue of his eyes almost glacial. 

He smiles sardonically, “Lost?”

You squint your eyes at him, lips pursing in suspicion, “You could say that.”

He grins and his teeth glint sharply before he turns, holding his arm out for you. 

“I can guide you back to your room, miss?”

You smile sarcastically as you step up alongside him, completely ignoring the proffered arm, “Miss is just fine, sir.”

His eyes flick from the end of the hallway to you and he hums in amusement, “Well miss, shall I lead the way?”

“Oh, please do,” you simper and this earns a low chuckle from the handsome stranger, making your heartbeat flutter at the sound. 

He guides you back to the foyer and up the grand staircase, pointing out paintings or furniture that have some kind of significance to the castle. Pausing in front of an oil painting not far from your room, he falls into a sort of melancholy. 

“This was one of the ladies of the castle,” he finally pulls back, turning without looking back at you, “I’m sure you can find the rest of your way, miss.”

You startle, not realizing he was just going to dip out now. 

“Hey!”

He pauses, half turning so you can see the profile of his straight nose and sharp cheekbone.

“Thanks, mister?” You trail off, hand fluttering in the air as you gesture. 

He fully turns to smile at you, “Mister is just fine, thanks.”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of your chest, missing the way he lights up at the sound, eyes cataloging you far more closely than before. 

“Well, thanks Mister,” you shake your head, smile still stretched across your face, “maybe I’ll see you around then.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, bowing to you at the waist, “goodnight, Miss.”

“Goodnight,” you tilt your head and wave your hand.

Laughing to yourself, you turn and head further down the hall and into your room.  He watches you until the door clicks shut and he turns back to leave. Pausing in front of the painting once more, he brushes a thumb across the placard on the bottom. 

“She feels like the one, hmm?” He murmurs to the half smiling woman, “now that she’s here, I don’t know if I can do it.”

A door snapping shut from further down the hall has him pulling away from the painting and slipping off into the night. 

You run into the strange gentleman again in the castle gardens situated just to the side of the towering edifice. Since Lara’s pacing in her room trying to figure out what went wrong with your travel plans, you decided to go for a walk instead of sitting around doing nothing.

You’re looking at one of the dead withered trees off to the side, debating if sitting on the bench here is safe from any falling branches when that low smoky tone speaks behind you. 

“There’s a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, that oppresses, like the heft of cathedral tunes.”

You squash your urge to jump in place and spin around to face him. He’s no less devastatingly pretty in the weak winter sunlight. 

“Good afternoon to you, too,” you smile, enjoying the weirdness he exudes, “and what a conversation starter, might I add.”

He meets your smile with his own little grin, “Somber poetry for a somber day.”

You giggle, “Guess so.”

He gestures and you sit on the bench as he takes a seat next to you. 

“Here on vacation?” You kick at a loose rock with your booted foot.

“You could say I’m here for leisure,” he muses, blue eyes taking in every nuance of you. 

You tilt your head to look at him, “Oh I could, huh?”

Laughing, you straighten up, hands fiddling with the clasp on your jacket, “Well, I’m also here for leisure. Even though it’s kind of an accident.”

He raises an eyebrow and you continue, “It was a mix up and we ended up here. A vacation, just not in the right place.”

“How fortunate am I,” he smirks and you feel heat blaze in your chest, eyes dropping to look down at your jacket. 

You tug on the zipper, catching your finger in the teeth with a hiss. It snags a bit of skin as you jerk it free, blood beading on your fingertip.

His features are serious as he takes your hand in his, “You must see to it so it doesn’t become infected.”

You nod, touched at his concern, “I have some alcohol swabs and bandaids up in my room.”

He brings your hand closer and you get the wild idea he means to suck your finger into his mouth, but he only kisses the back of your hand as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, a light gray fabric that looks like it costs more than your entire wardrobe. You catch his initials, L.S.K., monogrammed in black on the edge. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling flushed in the cool afternoon air as you clasp the handkerchief to your finger. 

“My pleasure. Shall I escort you back to your room, miss?”

Lips parting, you take in his pinched features as he stares at your hand before nodding again, “Yes, please.”

His eyes snap up and he smiles, relief spreading across his face, “Good, good.”

Once you’re both standing, he snags your elbow with his fingers and gently guides you along. Since he’s much closer than before and you’re not sniffling from the cold air, you catch a strong smell of cedar and cloves that nearly makes you swoon. 

“Are you okay?” He stops, grip firming up on your bicep to tug you closer making the smell even stronger. 

“‘m okay,” you murmur, eyes drooping as you slump against his chest, “just smell good.”

You feel him laugh and the low baritone makes your cunt throb so hard you whine into his jacket. 

“Maybe moving from the cold into the warmth has made you dizzy,” he says kindly, “come, let me help you to your room.”

Completely unsure as to what’s happening to you, you let him lead you back to your room. Your legs don’t seem to want to move the way you want to and the more you breathe in whatever cologne he’s wearing, the more slick drips from your pussy into the gusset of your panties to the point you’re soaked between your thighs. 

He murmurs low platitudes in your ear that just makes everything better worse, so by the time you make it back to your room and he eases you down into your bed, you’re asking him to stay. 

“No. You’ll thank me later,” he soothes, pulling off your winter boots and tucking you under the covers. 

“Please,” tears prick your waterline, emotions and hormones all over the place. 

His lips thin and he runs a hand through his white hair, strands ruffled when he clasps your hands together, “Just close your eyes. I’ll stay here.”

Dropping to the floor, he kneels alongside your bed, keeping your hands together. Struggling to keep your eyes open, you just know he won’t be there when you wake up and some part of you hates that idea. 

“Didn’t think it would affect you like this,” he murmurs as you drift off. 

With a small shift, he moves forward and pulls the pricked finger into his mouth. His hot tongue lashing against the digit is the last thing your mind holds onto before it slips away like sand in the tide. 

When you come to, it’s dark outside and Lara is shaking your shoulder. 

“Finally,” she huffs, brows pinched, “thought I was gonna have to take you to a doctor or something. You good?”

You squint at her but can’t remember anything but the stranger you met helping you back inside from the cold. The rest is a cloudy blank in your mind. 

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” you raise up, pushing the blankets away to swing your feet out of bed, “what’s up?” 

As you shift, you notice a small square cloth and a bolt of memory, of sitting on the bench with that man, makes your eyes widen. You pick up the handkerchief and tuck it into your pocket. 

She smiles weakly, “Kinda stuck here a few more days then we’ll just fly back home in time for Christmas.”

You frown, an uncomfortable sadness pinging in your chest, “Oh? That’s fine. I like it here, so it’s not like it’s a hardship.”

Lara laughs, “Maybe for you. I’m ready to be somewhere that has pizza delivery.”

You grin, “Fair enough,” you push her shoulder, “well, when do we plan on leaving?”

“Two days is what my travel agent says,” she looks down at her phone, “that was the nearest opening since it’s the busy season and plus a storm is coming in tonight.”

“Ahh,” you nod along, “plenty of time to sightsee then.”

She giggles at your teasing and stands up from the bed, “I just wanted to let you know. It’s kinda late but the kitchen’s still open if you wanna grab something. I’m honestly exhausted from being on the phone all day so I’m gonna crash.”

“Hang on!”

You throw on some shoes and meet her at the door, “I’ll walk you to your room and head down to grab some food. You sure you don’t want anything?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head, “I had something earlier since I thought you’d eaten. You sure you’re feeling okay, though?”

“Mmhmm,” you smile, pausing outside her door, “promise.”

She returns your smile, “Okay, goodnight then.”

“Night!”

The door snaps shut behind you as you walk away, heading to the staircase and down to the restaurant. You take your time, stopping to look at various paintings on the way down, even pausing in front of a suit of armor to peer into the empty helm. 

“Expecting a skeleton?”

You jump backwards, nearly tripping as you stumble into the firm chest behind you. 

Righting yourself, you feel hot all over in embarrassment as you meet your strange acquaintance for the second time today. 

“U-uh, hi,” you feel jittery with nerves, like a new crush, “thank you for today by the way. I don’t know how I got into my room, but I’m guessing you helped?”

His brows raise in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by a warm smile that makes butterflies flutter in your chest, “Yes, you weren’t feeling well. Dizzy from the temperature change.”

You take a half step back, leaving more distance between you two. 

“Well, thank you,” you clear your throat, “uh, I was going down for a late dinner, do you want to join me?”

A sly grin crosses his features making you nervous, “I’d be delighted although I’ve already.. eaten this evening.”

“O-oh okay,” you stumble over your words as you turn to walk down the stairs, “anything you’d recommend?”

A sharp bark of laughter escapes him as he walks alongside you, “No, nothing I’d recommend. Although I’ve heard their special today is excellent.”

Surprised at his outburst, your brows furrow as you smile in confusion, “If you say so.”

You lapse into a comfortable silence as you both make the walk to the dining room. There’s just something about him that draws you in like a moth to a flame. At first you just thought it was his strange mannerisms, but in the short span of time that you’ve spent together you just feel connected on some hidden level that you’ve only just discovered. 

Dinner is a quiet affair; the strange man, who you still don’t know the name of, joins you for your meal. He makes small talk about the local area in which he’s well informed about, no surprise. After you’ve finished your meal, he offers to take you out for an after dinner stroll around the castle before bed. 

Not wanting to leave his company just yet, you readily agree and let him lead you around the place. It’s as he’s guiding you down a long L shaped hallway filled with more paintings that a chill runs down your spine and he freezes in place, half turning to shield you from the person who seems to materialize in front of you two. 

“Hello, Leon,” a silky voice purrs as a beautiful woman steps into view. 

She’s beautiful and ethereal in a way that’s almost terrifying, much like the mysterious gentleman half blocking your view; Leon she called him. 

“What a lovely surprise,” she steps closer, form appearing to ripple in the dappled moonlight streaming from the windows. 

“Ada, how can I be of service?” His polite tone’s cold and to the point, even as he pushes you further behind him. 

“Aww, don’t be like that,” she lilts, voice playful and coaxing, “I’ve already seen your pretty playmate. Is she a new friend?”

You blink and the dark haired woman is standing next to you, Leon twisting uncomfortably to turn around. 

She twirls a strand of your hair with a manicured nail, “I won’t bite. Unless she asks,” she winks at you and your eyes widen in surprise.

“She’s new, yes. A visitor,” Leon’s hand reaches out to grasp your hip, tugging you into his side, “so don’t play games.”

“Games?” She laughs, eyes bright, “are you still sore that I stole Claire away?” she pouts at him, “she wasn’t your one, so why are you still upset?”

You watch all of this with rapt attention and so much confusion. 

He scowls at her, eyes darkening as he straightens his stance, “It doesn’t matter if she was the right one or not, you stole her away from me.”

She laughs outright at that, side stepping away from you and closer to him, “Can’t steal someone if they want to be taken, right, Leon?”

He deflates a little, gaze flitting to you and back to her, “What do you want now?”

“To bother you,” she smiles over at you and you notice her incisors are longer than normal, “since I’m just passing through, thought I would say hello to an old friend.”

They stare at each other for a beat longer than what’s comfortable before she sighs melodramatically. 

“As much as I would love to stay, and believe me I want to so very badly,” she blows a kiss at Leon as she walks backwards to the far end of the gallery, “I do have unfinished business nearby that I must take care of. Ciao!”

It’s so quiet after she leaves that the ringing in your ears sounds abnormally loud. 

Leon clears his throat and gives you an apologetic smile, “I’m very sorry about all of that.”

You wave your hands, “No worries. It’s not really my business, y’know.”

He winces at that and you scrunch your nose, internally cringing at yourself. It’s a somber feeling as he quietly leads you back to your room. 

Pausing at the threshold, you reach out and snag the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Hey,” you murmur, dropping your gaze to the fabric you’ve pinched between your fingers, “you wanna meet up tomorrow?”

He frowns although you don’t see it and slowly tugs his arm loose, “I don’t know.”

Whatever feeling that has been building in your chest feels like a punctured balloon at his flippant tone. 

“Oh,” you drop his shirt like it burns, willing the tears away at least until you can shut the door, “I-I didn’t mean to— nevermind. Kinda silly of me. Hopefully I’ll see you before we leave.”

His fingers circle around your wrist tightly, holding you in place, “You’re leaving?”

You level him with a flat stare, “Of course. We’re only here for a couple more days. So if you’ll excuse—“

He presses forward, pushing you through the doorway to follow after, letting the door swing shut behind you both. 

“Let go of me,” you twist your arm but Leon doesn’t budge. 

A concentrated look arrests his features, blue eyes skimming down your body and back up to your face. 

“Leon,” you bite out sharply, making him draw up short, “that’s your name, right?”

“Yes,” his eyes look wild as he lets go of your wrist to grasp both of your hands with his own, “yes, my name is Leon. Leon Kennedy. I’m sorry, this isn’t quite how I wanted things to go.”

You finally pull your arm away, “I’d like it if you left. I’m really confused and you’re acting strange.”

He looks at you so sadly it makes your chest hurt, “Can I show you something? I’ll leave you alone after that if that's what you’d like.”

Pursing your lips, you squint at him until you finally nod, “Alright.”

His shoulders sag and he walks back over to the door. Holding it open, he waits until you cross the threshold before stepping back in front of you. You make the short walk to the painting down the hall from your door when Leon pauses. 

You look at the painting then to his serious face with raised brows.

“You’re showing me this again?” Confusion colors your tone, “am I missing something?”

“Have you read the name underneath?”

Shaking your head no, you step forward to read the small gold plate underneath. 

“Claire Kennedy née Redfield,” you murmur to yourself. 

Claire? That mysterious woman mentioned her name earlier. The one Leon said she stole away. The correlation is there but you feel like you’re missing a huge part of the puzzle to actually end up at the correct explanation. 

You turn to Leon, “So is this the Claire you were talking about?”

He nods, eyes heavy and sad as he flits his gaze between you and the painting, “Yes. It was a political marriage. We were friends before everything happened.”

“Ookay,” you frown again, “so she ran off with her girlfriend?”

He flinches at that, “My other wife.”

You feel floored, “Wait, what?!”

Rubbing your forehead, you’re getting a pain behind your left eye from trying to parse it all together. 

“So, your new wife ran off with your then current wife? Am I getting that right? How long ago was this, Leon?”

He gestures a little wildly at the plaque, “You didn’t see the year?”

Squinting, you lean forward and can make out circa 1849. 

“Fuck off,” you blurt out, leaning back and taking a half step away, “what kinda joke is this?”

“I wait my whole life to bite the right one,” he mutters to himself, hand raking through his parted hair, “that’s not to say I didn’t mess up a couple of times before.”

You take another step back, away from Leon, “What do you mean?”

His eyes snap over to you and you freeze in place. Everything about him seems to be amplified to ten now, he’s exuding an energy that makes the hair on your arms stand up. 

“You’re the one,” he steps up until he’s in your personal space, “Ada and Claire were accidents. I didn’t realize that there’s only one compatible partner for me.”  

“Compatible partner?” voice pitching high, “you sound crazy right now.”

His brows lower, “You feel it too, little miss. It’s why you passed out earlier. Blood calls to blood.”

You’re hit with a wall of need so crippling your legs give out making you come down hard on your knees. 

“I’ve been shielding you,” he murmurs, kneeling in front of you, hands reaching out to brush across your jaw and neck, “it’s a lot to take in, I know.”

Gasping in deep breaths, you’re overwhelmed with the scent of cedar and cloves from earlier. You don’t know how you forgot that smell but now it’s all you can concentrate on; your head goes fuzzy as arousal sweeps through your body. 

“What is this?” you slur, eyes hazy as you slump forward into Leon’s shoulder, “what did you do t’me?”

“Nothing,” he soothes, petting down your back, “it’s just the effect of the compatibility. I can’t explain it; I just instinctively know it’s right.”

Reaching out, your hands weakly clasp at his shirt, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay,” he coos, “let me take you to my room.”

Not able to argue against him, he easily lifts you into a bridal carry. He uses one hand to block your eyes and you feel cold wind before he removes his palm and you see you’re in a room three times the size of your own. Leon eases you down onto an absurdly luxurious bed, sheer drapes lost to the shadows of the ceiling. 

Once he steps away, leaving a sizable gap between you both, the dizziness subsides and your thoughts aren’t as fleeting. 

“What the fuck?” you whisper, hands shakily brushing wisps of your hair back from your face, “what the ever loving fuck? Am I losing my mind?”

Your eyes quickly dart around, taking in the opulate furnishings and huge windows overlooking the cliff side, showcasing you now must be on the upper level of the castle. Your gaze lands on a time worn painting off to the side of Leon and his first wife, the dark haired beauty he called Ada. Next to it is another portrait of his second wife, Claire, yet another beautiful woman with red hair. 

Leon’s hands ball into fists at his sides as he takes in a deep breath, “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Leon, what’s going on?” Your voice breaks, mind struggling to keep up with what’s happening to you. 

“My first wife,” he points to the older portrait, “we were human at the time.”

“At the time?” You squeak out.

He hums, eyes flashing in the low light, “Yes. Then the change occurred to me after getting lost on a hunting trip. When I returned, I offered it to her but she refused,” he tilts his head up and shields his eyes with a hand, “and I made her like me anyways. She was my wife. Our vows were to be together in sickness and in health. She didn’t see it that way.”

You watch as he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, stepping to the portrait with his fingers outstretched but never outright touching the canvas. 

“She said it was til death do us part but I thought she was my one,” he sighs sorrowfully, “so I changed her and she loathed me. She eventually left one night never to come back. I didn’t chase after her, resigned to her resentment. I didn’t hear from her for hundreds of years. Then Claire came along.”

Your eyes jump from Ada to the smiling redhead in the other portrait. 

“Her brother needed her to marry someone with an upstanding background; someone with title and lands to trade,” he smiles bitterly at you, “I posed as my own great great nephew and set up the marriage. We became friends through our letters and when we wed it was wonderful. I kept what I was from her for as long as possible.”

He steps over to you and you flinch making his eyes droop in pain. 

“She figured it out quickly, such a smart woman,” he smiles crookedly, “I loved her dearly, but she wasn’t enough either. I changed her thinking that this is it, but it wasn’t. She wasn’t the one either. Ada came soon after and easily whisked her away from me.”

He sighs forlornly. Your lips part but you change your mind and refrain from saying anything. 

“Claire’s brother even convinced Ada to change him so he could defend her honor against me,” he blows out a short breath, “letting you know in case he shows up to be the gallant hero.”

“Leon,” you murmur, at a complete loss for words. 

“We all understand each other now and they’re happy where they are,” he laughs derisively at himself, “and I’ve lived alone here, running this place through a shell company hoping against hope for just one more chance.”

“This is insane,” you finally say to him, “you’re telling me you’re a vampire and I’m beholden to you? And on top of that you practically have a coven. This is impossible.”

“But you feel the pull, too,” his voice dips into that low smoky tenor, “you’re the one. You are to be my new bride.”

Your laugh startles you both, but you can’t stop the manic giggles once they start. Once the mania seems to pass and with it your hysterical laughter, you finally get yourself under control and clear your throat. 

“Prove it,” you tell him seriously, heart beating so fast your sure he can hear it, “let me see this vampire side of yours and if I believe you, if you convince me, then I’ll be your bride.”

His smile lights up his whole face making your breath catch.

“That’s easily done.”

He stands directly in front of you and that strange energy fills the room; you watch in complete astonishment as he looks like he dissolves until there’s only mist floating in the air. It drifts languidly past you and you feel the bed dip with body weight. 

His hot breath caresses your ear, “Is that enough, little bride?”

A full body shudder hits you as he kisses across your neck, the sharp prick of fangs dragging across your skin. 

“Let me bite you,” he whispers sweetly, “let me show you how deep our bond truly is.”

Feeling completely off centered, you breathe out one word without thinking, going with only what feels right.

“Yes.”

His teeth sink into the side of your neck and you cum, slick filling your panties until you’re sure it’s dripping down your thighs. It feels like a typhoon of emotions rains down through your body, pleasure so strong your eyes sting; then, it’s swept through to be quickly replaced by a feeling of home so deeply connected to the man behind you you could openly weep. It’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place somewhere in your chest. 

Moaning, your hands scratch at the bedding and he hums against your skin. Pulling away with a low groan, he runs his tongue over the puncture marks. 

“So good,” he mouths against your jaw, “let me mark you again.”

Whimpering, you lean back against him as he sinks his teeth into a new spot, softly sucking blood from the wound. His hands slip around your waist to pull you into the V of his thighs. You choke out a whine as your cunt throbs, on the verge of another orgasm and he hasn’t even touched you intimately aside from his teeth in your neck. 

“Leon,” you keen, one hand reaching over your head to tangle in his soft, snowy hair.

Chillbumps race down your body when he finally pulls away to place a soft kiss on the bite. He sucks at the tender skin making you mewl longingly until he pulls away with a sigh. 

“Let me taste that sweet little pussy,” he purrs in your ear, “I have been dreaming of biting your thighs and kissing your cunt til you can’t take anymore.”

Tugging his hair harder, you whimper and nod your head, “Please, Leon.”

The scent of cedar comes across stronger as he kisses your neck one last time before shifting you both until you’re laying back on his bed. He strokes his hands all down your body, eyes drinking in your expressions.

“You’ve been driving me crazy this entire time,” he slowly undresses you, scraping his sharp incisors against the skin he reveals, “smell so good, so sweet. Makes my mouth water.”

You whimper while watching as he unbuttons your jeans and works them and your panties off of your legs. He groans to see the slick mess between your thighs, cunt glistening with your arousal. 

“Look at you,” he breathes out, blown out pupils flicking up to your own dazed eyes. 

Wasting no time, he lays down between your spread legs and kisses the top of your pussy, ignoring where you most want his mouth. He drags his lips down and then buries his face in your cunt, spreading your lips apart with his tongue as he licks all over your pussy. Grunting, he shoves his tongue into your hole to spear you open on the thick muscle. 

“Leon,” you whisper down to him, feeling so turned on you can’t think straight. 

He groans and pulls back, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

With a sigh, you relax against the sheets only to jolt as your pussy throbs when he bites you at the crease where your cunt meets your thigh. 

Crying out softly, your head thrashes against his bed as he repeats it on the other side. 

“I know, but bear with me,” he murmurs, blood coating his mouth as he lovingly kisses the puncture wounds, “doing so well.”

You splay back out against his sheets as he buries his face between your thighs again. He keeps your legs spread as he slowly kisses and sucks at your cunt, like he’s never tasted anything better in his life. Everything’s sensitive and on the verge of too much, but you wouldn’t dream of asking him to stop. That slow syrupy pleasure that’s made your thoughts honey thick is more than welcome. 

He laps along the seam of your pussy lips until he glides the tip of his tongue up to the hood of your clit. Leon circles the pudgy bud all slow and soft, tongue dipping down to flutter inside your soaked hole. Groaning at the slick flooding his mouth, he laps at your cunt with long broad strokes of his tongue. He pulls back to suck on your pussy lips before kissing across to your thigh and sinking those sharp fangs into your supple skin. 

Your back arches, a low whine spilling from your kiss bitten lips. He kisses and sucks the bitemark until it's ugly and irritated, then drags his lips back to your cunt, kissing your mound softly.  He makes out with your pussy with hot and bloody open mouthed kisses, spit drenching your swollen clit as you moan loudly. 

Your orgasm builds higher and higher until it’s a tight band ready to snap in your lower belly. Leon senses you getting closer from your body spasming and your voice gaining in volume as he greedily eats your cunt, hungry eyes watching you from between your legs. 

With a low keening groan rumbling from deep in his chest, he sinks his fangs into your fat pussy lips as he fucks his tongue into your clenching hole. That pinprick of pain flooded by intense pleasure is enough to push you completely over the edge. Wailing, your spine bows as your climax floods through your body, cunt pulsing and gushing slick as your toes curl in the sheets. 

Almost growling into your pussy, Leon flutters his tongue into your hole, lapping up all the slick dripping from your cunt, tongue loudly squelching in and out of your clenching walls. 

He finally pulls away with a low moan of pleasure, lower jaw coated with slick and blood. 

“So good for me, little bride,” he slinks up your body, joints moving unnaturally but you're hardly able to think past the pleasure buzzing in your brain, “going to make you mine, keep you forever.”

 Humming, you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him down into the messiest kiss of the night. He almost snarls into your kisses as he gets rougher, tongue and teeth dominating your mouth, a bruising pressure on your lips. 

“Promise me you’ll stay,” he demands, eyes flashing at you as he presses you down harder into the mattress, “stay with me, be mine.”

You softly brush back his hair, voice soothing as you reply, “I promise, Leon. I’m all yours. I’ll be your new bride.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck before sinking those deliciously sharp teeth into you again. Weakly moaning, your eyes roll back as your clit throbs in time with your heartbeat. You feel him shudder when he pulls away to kiss the sluggishly bleeding marks.

“My bride,” he sighs, dragging his pouty lips across your jaw, nose tracing your skin, “you promise to give me all that you are.. all that you will be.”

“Promise,” you gasp out as his hand sneaks down to tease across your clit, cunt soaking the sheets further with fresh slick, “promise, Leon.”

He kisses you then, the hot copper tang of blood flavoring his sweet sentiment. You’re swept under another tide of arousal from his messy lips and tongue while his fingers play with your pudgy clit. 

He shifts until he’s next to you, blood smeared mouth parted as his eyes trail down your body. Gripping your hip, he helps turn your body to face him, leaving you both lying on your sides. Your hands reach out to trail down his chest just now noticing that he’s still dressed.

“No fair,” you tease, tugging on the silky  material.

He laughs softly, bringing your hand up to kiss your inner wrist before scraping his fangs across the sensitive skin making you shiver. Letting go of your hand, he quickly undresses, dropping his clothes off the side of the bed in a heap. You bite your lip, taking in the long lean lines of his body, eyes widening to see his thick cock filled out and resting against his thigh. 

“Leon,” you breathe out, wide eyes tracking back up to his pale blue ones. 

This time your hands lightly scratch along his pecs to his twitching abdominal muscles, nails barely scratch the soft thatch of hair above his hard cock. 

“You can touch me, liebling,” his lips quirk up into a half smile, “I only bite a little.”

A giggle slips out and your hand grasps the base of his dick and squeezes earning a low groan from the handsome man next to you. 

“Stroke me, tease me, do whatever you wish,” he murmurs, hands coming up to cup your breasts, “I’ll enjoy it all.”

You whimper as his long fingers dig into the soft flesh of your breasts, thumbs rubbing circles across your stiff nipples.

While one of your hands teases the head of his dick, you slide the other one to cup his balls making his cock kick, blurting precum onto your fingers.

“It’s so sticky,” you murmur unthinkingly, smearing the precum around his tip making it slippery for your fingers to rub across. 

He groans loudly, bucking his hips and sliding his cock through your fingers in a clumsy effort to fuck your loose fist. 

“And these are so sensitive,” his low tone razes goosebumps as he tweaks and pinches your nipples until you’re rubbing your thighs together. 

“Leon,” you moan, arching your back to press your breasts more firmly into his hands. 

“I haven’t had a chance to taste these,” he purrs, ducking his head to nip your chest.

“Please,” you tighten your hand around his cock and pump your fist, “bite me.”

He presses closer against you, hands pushing your breasts up as he dips his head down. Kissing the stiff peak, he licks around the puckered skin close to your nipple. 

“Smell so good,” he mumbles, kissing your nipple softly before sucking it into his mouth. 

He rolls his tongue around the hard bud before pulling away with a soft pop. He drags his lips down to suck on the skin underneath your breast before opening his mouth and biting deep into the tender flesh. 

“Oh god,” you cry out, body writhing so much Leon has to use one hand to grip your ribcage tightly to keep you still. 

You're too out of it to jerk him off, hands instead moving to grab onto his hips. He pulls away with a gasp only to sink his bloody teeth into the soft fat of your other breast. Your cunt is a drippy mess by the time he pulls away the second time, tongue sucking the blood off his fangs as his eyes seem to shine with unnatural light. 

“The finest of wines,” he smiles at you, licking his lips slowly. 

Your cunt throbs and aches, walls fluttering around nothing—feeling empty and needy. 

“Leon,” you grab his hand and guide it to your soaked cunt, “please, I want you.”

“Oh my beautiful bride, so wet and ready for me,” he hisses, easily sinking two fingers knuckle deep into your clenching pussy.

Your hands move from his hips to dig into his shoulders making him grind his fingers deeper into your aching cunt. He pulls them halfway out before thrusting them back in, the flat of his palm smacking against your swollen clit. 

Nails digging deeper into his skin, you rock your hips in time with his hand, whining and moaning as he fingerfucks your pussy rough and deep. 

“Such a sweet little wife I have,” he kisses your ear as your eyes struggle to stay open, cunt clamping down on his fingers from the endearment. 

He drags his cock against your thigh, smearing precum against your skin to mix with the slick dripping from your pussy. 

“I want to be inside you,” he whispers hotly against your lips, “I want to be buried deep in my bride’s pussy as I drink from her pleasured body.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, throat dry from all your gasping and panting, “I need you inside me, Leon. Please.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly making you  whimper once your cunt’s empty again. Leon shushes you gently, gripping his cock in one hand while his other grabs your thigh and wraps it over his waist. Rubbing the fat head of dick up and down your slit, he teases his cock across your hole before using the tip to part your pussy lips and rub across your sensitive clit.

You rock your hips forward and he kisses your neck, tongue lapping at the marks he left. Moving his cock back down, he slowly presses his dick into your leaking hole. 

“So tight,” he murmurs, praise lacing his tone and making you hump down onto his cock.

He lets you work your wet cunt on his dick until he’s buried fully inside your pulsing heat. 

“Needed this,” he groans, rutting his cock slowly in and out of your pussy, “needed to be inside of you, a part of you.”

Pleasure washes over you like the tide meeting the shore. Leon’s cock grinds against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt making you ooze slick until it’s dripping down his balls, leaving a creamy ring around the base of his dick. 

With a small shift, he rolls you completely over onto your back, body weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucks in deeper inside your fluttering pussy. His pelvis grinds down onto your pudgy clit sending little bolts of desire throughout your whole body. 

“Leon, so good,” you whimper, fingers grasping at his biceps, hips rolling forward to keep his dick inside you, leaking tip pressed against your cervix. 

“Taking me so well, a perfect fit,” he kisses you gently, sucking your tongue into his mouth, teeth nicking the muscle causing blood to flavor your kisses. 

Moaning hungrily, Leon gets rougher, mouth pressing against yours so tightly your teeth ache. A high keening cry slips out between the bruising press of Leon’s lips against yours. Pulling away, he growls and drags his mouth to your neck, lathing his tongue against the multitude of wounds he left earlier. 

“So tight around me, are you getting close, little love?” He chuckles and teases your neck with his teeth making you keen and squirm against him. 

“Yes, please, ‘m close,” you moan, legs coming up to wrap tightly around his waist, “w’nna cum, wanna feel you inside me.”

Leon hums and swivels his hips, rutting his cock into your cunt without pulling out until you’re clawing at his back with short choked off whines. He grinds against your clit until your eyes roll back into your head. 

His teeth sink into your neck one last time, pushing you over the edge for the second time as your orgasm crashes through your body. Crying out, your arms and legs lock around Leon’s body, head thrown back as your cunt clenches around his dick. 

“So lovely,” he pulls back, licking the blood away from your neck, “my perfect bride.” 

He rabbits his hips into your squelching cunt until finally stilling, cock buried balls deep inside your spasming pussy as you milk his throbbing dick. Your pussy walls flutter and clamp down around him as he spills hot and sticky inside your slick heat. 

“Beautiful,” he kisses your earlobe with a sigh, cock kicking inside your pussy as he finishes painting your walls white. 

Endorphins make you dizzy and bubbly, smiling up at Leon’s blood stained face as he gazes lovingly down at you. 

“My husband,” you murmur, lovesick and sweet, hands coming up to caress his face and he kisses each of your palms. 

“All yours,” he promises seriously, “there is a reason why all things are as they are.”

You laugh and smooth a thumb under his eye, “You’re so cute.”

He snorts a laugh, delighting you immensely, and settles down into the messy sheets before pulling you into his chest. 

With a soft kiss placed atop his heart, you snuggle into his body until he wraps his arms around you. The soft rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep. 

Talking to Lara the next day is surprisingly easy. You have the feeling Leon used some weird vampire energy on her since she seemed unusually chill about it. Promising you that she’ll keep in touch once she heads back home, you spend the few short hours she has left together before she leaves early for the airport. 

It’s sad to see her go, but with Leon’s steady presence next to you filling your senses with that wonderful smell of cloves and cedar, you have zero regret in staying. 

[deathbydyingpod]

You come home for the holidays – no one is there. The whole neighborhood’s a ghost town. Snow suffocates the street in deathly silence. The same Christmas song plays on the radio, over and over. The snowmen watch you, knowing, smiling… it's the Gothic Vibes of December.

[a-snake-makes-moodboards]

Gruelle from VHS Christmas Carols moodboard with vampire and gothic architecture inspo

requested by: my awesome moot @watchoutpaul-hemightkickyourhead!! (I fully didn't realise it was you at first I'm so sorry😭😭)

x x x x x x x x x

[divider creds: @sister-lucifer]

(images not credited were found on Google images)

song to go with it: 'MOTHS' by Nyxjvh

[louloulemons-posts]

weirdly specific I know but what about fem!goth!reader who's been best friends with eddie for years. he thinks he knows everything about her until one day he climbs through her window to hang (bc of course he does, he can't use a door like a normal person, even if her parents aren't home, where's the fun in that?) and finds her rocking out to taylor swift and it turns out shes a massive closet swiftie.

Weird But F-ing Beautiful

Modern!Eddie X Fem!Gothic!Reader

Summary : You were a metal head with a secret, you love Taylor Swift.

Word Count : 1k

(How I imagine Reader would defend Taylor)

Warnings : not proofread, 3am writing (again-pls someone save my sleep schedule), so many taylor references!, swears, petnames, cuteness, eddie and reader are just adorable honestly

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You and Eddie had known each other for years now, you’d say he was your best friend in the whole world.

The pair of you had a lot in common, you were both unusual and unique people. You bonded over that, along with your love of bands like Metallica and Black Sabbath.

You’d always liked darker things, loving halloween whilst most liked christmas. Horror movies and true crime documentaries brought you comfort.

Complaining about summer as your dark wardrobe made the heat cling to you, it was just the person you were. But you had a secret, one that even Eddie didn’t know of.

You absolutely loved Taylor Swift. You’d found yourself bopping along to one of her songs that was on the radio and were hooked, owing all of her albums and having them on regularly.

Enter Sandman to All of the Girls you Loved Before was quite the contrast, but you loved it.Walking down the halls to your locker, Lover was playing in your ears.

People who passed you wouldn’t think that, ripped tights, a skirt that went just above your knees, dark top with long flowing sleeves - bat wings Eddie liked to call them.

Fingers and neck decorated in mismatching jewels, huge boots, a corset around your waist and eye liner that took longer than you’d care to admit. Love Story didn’t really look like a song that’d be your favourite.

Arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you softly. Pulling out an earbud you spoke, “Edward.”

“Hello Sweetheart.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Milkshakes?”

“You paying?”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Sipping on your strawberry shake you chuckled at Eddie, leaning over the table you wiped whipped cream off his nose. “Thank you,” he blushed.

“Don’t mention it Rockstar.”

“Sooo,” he said.

“Hm?”

“I may or may not have gotten two tickets to see one of the best bands of all time, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with?”

“Oh my god One Direction have reunited?” You laughed, “Shut up. Will you come with me?”

“I mean I guess I could free up some time for you,” you smirked, taking another sip of your shake.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Thank you for the milkshake.”

“Anytime Sweetheart, I’ll text you the details of the concert and stuff.”

“Please do. I’ll see you later,” Leaning over and kissing his cheek, cherry red stain being left on his skin.

Heading up to your room, neither of your parents were home yet. Throwing your bag down you put a record on, Taylor.

Humming to yourself as you undid your boots, you decided to start on some homework. Turning up the music and tuning everything out for a while.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Stood in front of your mirror, you began wiping your makeup from your face, eventually singing along. “I remember when we broke up,” you sang softly, humming mainly.

Sliding off your rings and necklaces, your hair being pulled out of your face, comfortable for the night. God how did this woman make these songs so catchy? What was in them?

You couldn’t help yourself, “I used to think we were forever ever …” You put your books away, cleaning your desk, “We are never ever ever getting back together!”

Dancing around your room, you laughed as you spun around your room. These songs just made you so happy, “We are never ever ever ever getting back together!”

“Okay I get the message,” a voice laughed.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” you screamed.

“Wow chill it’s me.” Eddie.

Storming over to your record player you turned it down, Stay Stay Stay playing quietly in the background. “What the fuck are you doing here? How’d you get in?” you shouted.

“Window. Came to bring this back, wasn’t expecting a concert.”

“Oh fuck off Edward,” you huffed, taking a ring out of his hand. Turning away from him and putting it with your others.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I um didn’t know you liked this music.”

“Well I do, got an issue?”

“No. Just … do you actually like metal or was that just umm …”

“I like both okay? Sometimes I just want to feel like a happy, silly teenage girl. Her music helps me do that, or if I need to cry, or fall in love or anything really. I love metal, I didn’t lie!”

“Okay. I believe you. She’s cool.”

“You think?”

“Well you like her, so she must be.”

“Shut up,” you smiled.

“I’m serious. Teach me the way of Taylor Swift,” he grinned, dropping on your bed.

“Well thats 10 albums, and then there’s Taylor’s versions.”

“God you’re a proper little nerd.”

“Says the one who loves D&D,” you smacked him lightly.

“I’m not saying she’s bad! I like that one umm … Enchanted?”

“Yes! It’s her newest re-release, god I love that album and 1989s out soon as well.”

“Slow down babe, you’re losing me.”

“Sorry, so um Enchanted?” you asked, standing up, pulling the vinyl out of its case, replacing it on the record player. The song played softly. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” you smiled, turning back to Eddie. “Thank you for bringing my ring back, where was it?”

“My van, must have fallen off.”

“Or you stole it.”

“Me?” You nodded.

“Don’t think it’d fit Sweetheart.” The chorus played, and Eddie began to hum along, standing to be in front of you. “I like this other side of you.”

“Thought you’d make fun of me.”

“I’d never. I like all parts of you, this might be my new favourite, maybe we can see her concert.”

You snorted, “You willing to sell a couple organs?”

“For you, I do anything.” You smiled up at him softly, he nudged your nose with his.

“As Taylor said, I was Enchanted to meet you,” he smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : This was so fun to do! I just jammed out to Taylor the whole time and it was great. Thank you so much for this request I hope you enjoyed it 🤍

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[llorom4nn1c]

♡ A guide to emo, goth, and scene! ♡

So since I see a lot of confusion over certain subcultures are and the differences between them, I thought I would make somewhat of a master post basically outlining the characteristics and differences of three aesthetics that I see misinterpreted a lot. If I do at any point get something wrong, feel free to correct me because I really don't intend to spread misinformation.

🎀 Emo

Emo is a music based subculture that first emerged in the 80s out of the hardcore scene. The name emo came from the music genre emocore, which was short for emotional hardcore. The fashion is typically pretty casual, with some staples being straightened and teased hair with a sideways fringe, black clothing, band shirts, arm warmers, sneakers, skinny jeans, fishnets, arm warmers, wide leg pants, studded belts, and merchandise from various properties like Emily The Strange, Nightmare Before Christmas, and Ruby Gloom.

Since the early days of emo, the music in the subculture has expanded outside of hardcore and post-hardcore, and has since gone on to include alternative rock, horror punk, metalcore, pop punk, and screamo. Some of the most prominent artists in the scene are Avril Lavigne, Blink 182, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, Pierce The Veil, and Sleeping With Sirens.

Since the subculture is mainly music based, fashion is not as important to being considered part of the scene. Therefore, not dressing in a specific way while listening to the music wouldn't make you a poser, but dressing emo while not listening to the music would. What is not considered emo is listening to a random genre of rock music. Bands like Metallica and Nirvana, while enjoyed by many emos, are not emo bands and therefore don't make someone emo. Furthermore, I can't believe I need to say this, but, contrary to what many people seem to think, kawaii people are also not emo. While it is common for kawaii people to listen to metal and other heavy music genres, their style is not at all similar to emo and they don't consider themselves as part of the subculture either.

🎀 Goth

Goth is probably the oldest subculture here, with it dating back to the 70s English punk scene, with bands like Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Cure pioneering the culture. The post-punk band Bauhaus' debut single 'Bela Lugosi's Dead,' a song inspired by the famous horror actor Bela Lugosi, who portrayed Dracula in the 1931 film adaptation and also starred in White Zombie which is a film that's typically referred to as the first zombie movie, is often considered the first gothic rock song.

Goth is a subculture with many different sub-subcultures. Some of the most popular are batcave, bubble goth, cyber goth (formerly referred to as gravers), death rock, mall goth (formerly known as spooky kids), nu goth, romantic goth, steampunk, vampire goth, and, my personal favourite, gothic lolita. Contrary to what many people think, I don't consider aesthetics like pastel goth (which I do love) to really be a part of goth since it doesn't have roots in goth. Obviously I'm not going to go over every substyle because that would take way too long and would have to require its own post, but some common staples in most of these styles is lots of black, horror-inspired imagery, very big teased hair, black or red lipstick (red was the most common in the earlier days), and very pale almost white skin. Therefore, e-girls and emos (e-girls especially) are not goth. Also, the fetishisation of the 'big tiddy goth girlfriend' is very demeaning and offensive to goths, as well as just not funny at all because of how it objectifies and reduces them to simply walking breasts who wear black.

Goth music is, in my opinion, some of the most accesible and palatable alternative music. The most popular genres are dark wave, electronic rock, gothic rock, industrial metal and rock, new wave, and post-punk. Some of the most popular bands are Bauhaus, Evanescence, Joy Division, Marilyn Manson, Rammstein, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Birthday Massacre, and The Cure.

🎀 Scene

Scene is an aesthetic that originated in the 2000s on the website MySpace as a derivative aesthetic to emo. Many scene kids were considered emo posers because of their unconventional style and the music they listened to, which included genres ranging from crunkcore to metalcore, often being considered 'trashy' by other subcultures. Despite all of the hate towards scene kids, many embraced their label and many of the most popular people in the subculture started being known as scene queens who are also often credited as the first influencers. This included people such as Ambrehhhisdead, LedaMonsterBunny, and Melissa Marie Green.

Some staples to the style are colourful clothes, straightened and teased hair with colourful raccoon hair extensions, the scene swoop fringe, brass knuckles or diamond necklaces, bows, leopard print, zebra print, colourful shorts, tutus, tight clothes, sunglasses, knee high converse, band shirts, and merchandise of characters like Gir from Invader Zim, Gloomy Bear, and Hello Kitty. Personally, I would consider the modern rendition of scene, scenecore, to be a different aesthetic that, while it is pretty similar to scene, typically borrows from aesthetics like glitchcore rather than emo or mcbling.

Scene music is pretty diverse in what it provides, as it ranges from very heavy genres such as deathcore and metalcore to more pop and rap adjacent genres like crunkcore and neon pop. Some of the most prominent artists are 3OH!3, All Time Low, Asking Alexandria, Blood on the Dance Floor (unfortunately), Bring Me The Horizon, Brokencyde, Cobra Starship, Dot Dot Curve, Jeffree Star, Ke$ha, Metro Station, and Millionaires. A lot of the music is known to ignore many of the typically conventions of music, with the lyrics often containing themes relating to partying and sex.

That's it, byeeeee! ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♡

[foundtherightwords]

The Hollow Heart - Chapter 9

Pairing: Hellcheer, Gothic AU

Summary: To escape her mother's control and the stifling society of Gilded Age New York, heiress Christabel Cunningham impulsively marries Henry Creel, a charming and seductive stranger, and accompanies him to his remote mansion on the West Coast. There, as Henry grows cold and cruel, Christabel must uncover her husband's sinister secret before it's too late. But can she trust Kas, her husband's enigmatic assistant, who seems to be her only ally in this strange place, or is Kas's loyalty to his master stronger than his attraction to Christabel?

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 5.4k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Chapter 9 - A Palfrey White

Christabel didn't know when she'd first realized that her husband held her in contempt. That he didn't care for her she already knew, knew from the night they consummated their marriage, and perhaps even before that, since the moment she'd woken up alone on the train after their elopement. The contempt, though, took a little longer to register.

She was too proud to admit that she had made a terrible, terrible mistake in marrying him. For a while, she had believed that for all their differences and Henry's indifference, she could learn to tolerate him and they could make a life together. After all, she had heard much worse from the married women in her circle back in New York, tales of husbands who beat and abused their wives, husbands who brazenly carried on with actresses and servant girls, or husbands who forced their wives to bear so many children in search of a male heir that the wives' bodies simply gave out from exhaustion. Henry was none of that. He put a roof over her head, kept her in relative physical comfort, and now that his visits to her bedroom were less frequent, it seemed that his biggest failing, from the outside at least, was simply negligence. All the little things he did or failed to do that chafed and pricked at her, were nothing serious, or at least she told herself so. But as their marriage entered its third, and then fourth month, Christabel could no longer ignore the truth—that not only Henry had no love for her and had married her for her money, but he also actively disliked her.

But she wasn't ready to give up. Henry had given her just cause to hope that he could change, that their marriage could work. To let go of that hope would be to let herself fall into the abyss of regret and misery, and so Christabel had held on to that diminishing hope, day after day, week after week, month after month.

After the disappointment of Christmas, New Year was luckily uneventful. Other than a toast with champagne at dinner on New Year's Eve, they did nothing else, and Christabel didn't push for a celebration either. At midnight, she sat by her window, listening to the dull popping sound of the fireworks exploding five miles away at Sutro Heights, wondering if the coming year would be better or worse. She could probably watch the fireworks if she went down to the beach, but that would put her close to the lighthouse, and she wished to avoid it if she could, or, rather, to avoid its inhabitant.

Since Christmas, she had been feeling rather awkward around Kas. She missed him when he wasn't around, but at the same time, she dreaded seeing him so much that she never went back to the lighthouse and even stopped going to the hothouse altogether. When she ran into him, she only exchanged the briefest words necessary with him. But at night, it was a different matter. She would sit at her window for hours, watching the lighthouse, drawn to it like a moth to the flame, listening to the phonograph until she'd learned all the songs by heart. He was right, the music kept the ghosts at bay. Instead, it brought memories, memories of his eyes on her, his fingers around her hand, his lips on her palm. And that was precisely why she had to avoid him.

One day in mid-January, Kas drove Henry into town at sunset. They came back later that night, pulling a little covered cart behind the car. Curious, Christabel went down to meet them. Henry exited the car, looking mightily pleased with himself, and even smiled when he saw Christabel at the front door.

"Come, darling," he said, beckoning to her. "Let me show you something."

Surprised at his pleasant tone, she let him take her arm and followed him to the garage by the side of the house. Kas had parked the car and was now opening the cart, revealing a little white horse—not full-grown, probably a yearling. Although it still had that gangly, awkward look of a foal, there were already hints of beauty and power in its long, slender legs, the perfectly balanced back, the dark, intelligent eyes, and the elegant toss of its tail and mane. But what captured Christabel's attention was its coat, the smoothest, shiniest white coat she had ever seen. As it timidly stepped out of the cart, it was like a sliver of the moon had fallen to Earth and was glowing in the dark.

"Oh, what a beautiful creature," Christabel breathed out.

"Magnificent, is she not?" Henry said. "Didn't I say that I would give you a better rate of interest for your money?"

Christabel turned to him, astonished. "Do you mean that she's mine?"

She saw Kas flash Henry a strange, inquiring look, and Henry shrugged, as though the idea had just occurred to him. "Sure, why not? If you like."

"Oh, thank you!" In her joy, Christabel forgot all her anger toward her husband. She threw her arms around him to give him a kiss, but he deftly stepped away.

"Not in front of the servant, darling," he said, and Christabel backed down, abashed.

Still, she was too ecstatic about the horse to be hurt by his rebuff. She went over to the animal. Kas put some sugar from his pocket into her palm, which she offered to the horse. The horse sniffed Christabel's hand, a little warily at first, and then, after giving the sugar a lick and satisfied that nothing was amiss, she crunched up a cube of sugar, her sharp ears flicking in obvious enjoyment. Christabel slowly reached out her other hand and petted the horse's mane.

"Such a lovely thing you are," she crooned. "Where did you find her?" she asked Henry.

"She came all the way from Turkey," he replied. "You wouldn't believe the trouble I had to go through to bring her here."

"This is why you didn't say anything about my Christmas present, did you? Because she didn't arrive in time?"

Again, she noticed Kas giving Henry that strange look, but Henry didn't seem to be paying attention. "You're not angry with me about that, are you?" he said. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

Christabel tried to put on a stern face, before eventually relenting and saying, "All right, you're forgiven for now." She went back to petting the horse. "I think I shall call her Luna."

"Very fitting, darling." Henry nodded at Kas. "Put her in the stall, Kas, and let Mrs. Creel have free rein of her."

"Yes, sir," Kas said, but remained where he was. Feeling his eyes on her, Christabel looked up from where she was crouching next to Luna. He was gazing at her and the horse, and his expression puzzled her a great deal—it was something akin to pity, although whether it was pity for her or the horse, she could not tell.

***

Now that she had Luna, the bleakness of life at Creel House lifted a great deal for Christabel. In the morning, she no longer dreaded getting up, for she had Luna to take care of, and at night, she slept more soundly, thanks to all the time she spent outside of the house and all the exercises she was getting. If the weather was nice, she would take Luna along with her on her daily walk around the island or down to the beach. She ordered a training saddle and taught Luna to bear the weight and to be led by the reins. On rainy, foggy days, Christabel kept to the stall, which was a part of the garage, now converted with a bed of hay and a trough, and groomed and brushed Luna until her coat shone like silver.

But it wasn't merely the physical exercises that lifted Christabel's mood. The little horse filled her heart as well, the heart that had been empty for so long without her even knowing it. Luna was so well-behaved, never tried to bite or pull at the reins, and so clever too. She knew the moment Christabel lifted the saddle down from the wall that it meant a walk, and when the combs and brushes were brought out, she would stand still, ready for the grooming. Every morning, as soon as she opened the garage door, Christabel could already see Luna pressing her nose through the slats of her stall, waiting. She would greet Christabel with some light, affectionate nips or nudge Christabel's arm with her head, like a dog. Those simple gestures never failed to touch Christabel, and she poured into Luna all the love and affection she hadn't been able to give to anyone. She spent most of her time with Luna, even sometimes just sat with her in the stall, reading or sewing, taking comfort in the horse's warmth and calmness.

Thanks to Luna, Christabel also found a new determination to work on her marriage. Henry remained distant and distracted, but she told herself that was simply how he was. Given the opportunity, he would show his affection in his own way. She tried to be less demanding, less irritable with him. And she tried harder than ever to avoid Kas. For all of her softening feelings toward Henry, she still couldn't seem to shake off a strange flutter deep inside when Kas looked at her, when their hands accidentally touched as he served her during meals, or when they brushed past each other in the corridor.

What made it all the more difficult was that Luna seemed to have taken a liking to Kas. If Kas happened to come into the garage for something while Christabel was brushing her, Luna always greeted him with a soft whinny and nosed about his coat, searching for sugar. Somehow he always had sugar ready in his pocket as well, which made Christabel wonder how spontaneous his visits to the garage really were.

"Now, Luna, leave Kas alone," one day Christabel chided her, half-joking. "You know too much sugar is not good for you."

"Let her indulge a little, Mrs. Creel," said Kas, giving Luna the sugar cube and rubbing her short mane. "Let her be happy."

"What do you mean?" Christabel asked, bemused. "She's perfectly happy." But Kas was in one of his cagey moods and only went on rubbing Luna's mane, saying nothing.

In February, an unexpected letter came for Christabel. It was from Jason, who was in town on business and wished to invite her and Henry to dinner at his hotel. She didn't quite know how to feel. The letter was polite and friendly, as though they had been regularly corresponding with each other, with no mention of what had transpired between them all those months ago, no indication that Jason was angry or offended by her elopement. Could this be an olive branch of sorts? Perhaps her mother wished to reconcile and had asked Jason to act as a mediator, or Jason himself was hoping to build up a friendship.

Henry was a lot less optimistic.

"Absolutely not," he said flatly the moment Christabel brought up the invitation. "I'm far too busy to go to dinner with some New York snob. And why would you want to see Carver anyway? He tried to force you into marriage. For all you know, it could be a trap. The moment we show up, your mother may leap out from behind the potted palms and demand that the police arrest me for kidnapping."

"Don't be ridiculous," Christabel scoffed. "In fact," she said, with a burst of inspiration, "it would be quite suspicious if we refuse. It would look as though we were trying to hide something." Henry continued to scowl at her, but she could see him wavering. "We need not stay longer than necessary," she continued, smiling sweetly at him. "If he becomes rude, we'll leave right away."

In the end, Henry had reluctantly agreed. Christabel couldn't quite believe it, not when she penned the short note of acceptance to Jason, not when they drove into town, not even when she walked into the dining room of the Palace Hotel in her evening gown of claret velvet trimmed with black lace, with her arm through Henry's. Heads turned as they entered, and Christabel's heart swelled with unaccustomed pride. Yes, she and Henry made a handsome couple. For all his claims of not caring about his appearance, Henry was looking exceptionally dashing that evening, and he'd even worn the cravat and pin she'd given him for Christmas, much to Christabel's joy. Perhaps he was not so indifferent after all.

Dinner started well enough. Jason filled Christabel in on news of her mother and New York, while Henry talked about his studies and San Francisco. Christabel had forgotten that he could be so charming when he wanted to be. As for herself, she remained quiet, keeping up a façade of normalcy, watching and gauging Jason's true intention. She wasn't sure what she would say to him. She wouldn't dream of hinting at the truth of her marriage to Jason or her mother, but perhaps... if her mother was willing to reconcile... it would be nice to have a sympathetic ear.   

"This wasn't just a social call, I'm afraid," Jason said, after the main course was served. "I was tasked with an important mission in coming here." Christabel braced herself as he continued, "Heather would be quite angry with me if I fail, so—"

"Heather?" Christabel interrupted him, not understanding. "Heather Holloway?"

"Yes." A smug smile lifted Jason's mouth, turning his handsome face disagreeable. "We are engaged."

"Congratulations," Christabel said impassively. Heather was one of the debutantes that had always hung around Jason. Christabel was friendly with her, as she was with all the girls, though they had little in common.

Jason apparently mistook her disinterest for dismay, for he turned even smugger. "That's why Papa sent me on this trip to the West Coast, you know," he continued. "He wanted to make sure that I can be trusted with the responsibility once I'm a married man. Heather and I will be traveling in Europe for at least six months after the wedding, and he doesn't want me to slack off altogether. Heather was quite put out, of course, but she's overseeing the building of our house on Fifth Avenue, so I hope it would keep her busy and happy. She insisted that I personally invite you to the wedding."

Christabel finally understood. This was no extension of the olive branch. This visit was not to reconcile. It was to brag. Jason had come here expecting to see her writhing in regret and shame over her elopement, hoping to show her what she'd missed out on, to tell her that she could've been in Heather's shoes had she been a little more sensible. 

With that, her intention of telling Jason the truth about her marriage instantly vanished. Her marriage with Henry may not be perfect, but at least at Creel House she could be herself. She could talk to Kas and fall asleep in the hothouse without fearing judgment or gossip. She would not give that up to be in Heather's, or anyone else's shoes for that matter. She had been in those shoes. Nothing sensible about them. They pinched.

"Anyway, we're hoping that you, both of you, can make the trip to New York this June for the wedding," Jason concluded.

"We'd love to, but I don't know if we can get away," replied Christabel, turning to Henry with a bright smile. "There's so much to do around Creel House, isn't that right, darling?"

Henry was taken aback at her sudden enthusiasm, but he went along anyway. "Yes, indeed," he nodded.

And so Christabel spent the rest of the meal telling Jason about Creel House, exaggerating its charms and completely passing over its sinister aspects, giving every impression of being a happy, contented bride. Henry was on his best behavior as well, though Christabel could detect a trace of sarcasm under his polite words.

By the time the meal was over, Jason was looking quite deflated. Christabel asked him to stay in touch, knowing that it wouldn't happen. "My mother doesn't answer my letters," she added. "But when you see her, please thank her for sending my things from New York. It means a lot."

Jason frowned. "I don't understand," he said. "She didn't send you anything."

"Yes, she did. After I arrived in San Francisco."

Jason was still looking mystified. "But I thought you went back for them. Your mother told everybody that she returned from Tuxedo Park to find your room cleaned out. She was quite angry about it."

Surprised, Christabel turned to Henry, who was looking bored. He must have gone to her house after their wedding and packed up her things, knowing her mother wouldn't. Oh, how she had misjudged him! Who needed flowery words and gentle touches, when he did such thoughtful things?

She left as she'd arrived, with her arm through Henry's and her head held high. In saying goodbye to Jason, she was finished with the past. Her life was here now, with Henry, and she would do everything she could to make the best of it.

As Kas drove them home—Christabel noted, with delight, that she had started to think of Creel House as home now—Henry leaned back against the seat with a sigh of relief. "There," he said. "I hope you're satisfied now."

"Oh, yes, thank you." With Kas at the front, Christabel couldn't kiss Henry as ardently as she wished, so she satisfied herself with a peck on his cheek instead. "And thank you for packing up my things from New York as well. I should've known my mother wouldn't be so kind."

"What on Earth are you talking about?"

She smiled. "Useless to dissemble, darling. I know what you did."

Henry turned to her with a frown that wiped her smile clean off. "I didn't do anything. I have no idea what happened to your stupid possessions."

It was clear he hadn't heard a word she'd said just then or to Jason. Now that she thought back, Christabel remembered that Henry had been with her the whole time after they left the church. So he couldn't have packed up her room. Could it be that he had ordered Kas to do it? She glanced at Kas and noticed how his back had gone tense and stiff, and he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles threatened to burst through the gloves she'd given him. Next to her, Henry was looking bored again. Had she been mistaken? Could it be that Kas was the thoughtful one and not Henry?

Christabel's cheerful mood was quite gone by the time they returned to Creel House. Henry tossed the cravat aside, heedless of the precious ruby pin, and swept up the stair two steps at a time without looking back. Christabel sighed, watching him go. He must have been tired. And truth be told, so was she. A good night's sleep, and tomorrow they could start afresh.

In her room, Christabel unpinned her hair, letting the golden locks down over her shoulders. She then reached behind her, undoing the velvet-covered buttons that ran all the way down her back from neck to hip, and wriggled out of the dress. As she moved to her corset, however, she found the strings were twisted in an unmovable knot. She struggled with it, straining to look over her shoulder and feeling about the strings with her fingers, but it was no use. Though Christabel had become quite adept at dressing herself in the past few months, she'd always worn her corset loosely laced. That evening was the first time she had to wear a proper evening gown in a long time, and to fit into it, she must have laced herself so tightly and tied the strings so securely that they became tangled. She would never be able to undo it without help.

For a moment, she considered going to bed in her corset. Her mother had made her do so when she'd first started wearing corsets, in an attempt to "improve" her figure, and the thought of those stiff frames around her ribs made her shudder. Her sleep was bad enough without her unable to draw a deep breath. With a sigh, she threw her dressing gown over her chemise and went into the corridor.

Henry's bedroom door was closed, and her knock went unanswered. He must be in the attic then.

Her feet were shaky as she went up the cramped staircase leading up to the attic. After that memorable first day, she had never been back there and had no desire to. If it hadn't been for the predicament of the corset, she wouldn't have risked it.

The door to the stairs was open, but the attic door was locked, and she knocked on it with trepidation. No answer. She knocked again, certain Henry was there—she could hear thudding and clanking as he moved about inside. After her third knock, there was a muffled curse, followed by a heavy clang of a lid coming down, and the door was flung open by Henry, in a pair of black rubber gloves that reached to his elbows, holding a glass jar in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other.

"What?!" he snarled.

His angry look almost made Christabel retreat. "I'm sorry to bother you," she said apologetically. "Such a silly thing, but I can't unlace my corset, and I'm wondering if you could—"

She opened her dressing gown. It had been a while since Henry last saw her in her chemise, and she thought if only he would look at her, really look, then perhaps some of that anger would leave his face. But he didn't look. He exploded at her.

"Your corset?!" he shouted. "You interrupted me in the middle of a delicate, difficult experiment, to ask me to unlace your corset?! Do I look like a lady's maid to you? I told you to stop wearing those blasted things!"

He slammed the door in her face.

Something inside Christabel shattered. She went back to her room and leaned against the door, fighting the tears rising to her eyes, stinging, blurring. It wasn't the first time Henry had shouted at her or talked to her as though to a child, but after the evening they just had, when she had been having such tender thoughts about him... It was worse than a slap to the face. It was a knife to the heart. Now she knew she had been wrong about his thoughtfulness with her things. Henry would never have done something like that. He had no regard for her. She had simply tricked herself into thinking it would be better between them, but in truth, she was building a castle in the air, and it was crumbling, fast.

She yanked ineffectively at the corset strings, which only tightened the knot. A savage anger rose within her, anger at Henry, at her mother, at everything and everyone that had conspired to land her here, but most of all at herself. She wrapped her fingers around the strings. If she could snap them loose, then perhaps she could escape this helpless, oppressive feeling of being trapped. But for all her twisting and wrenching, the knot remained unmoved.

To hell with this. If she couldn't untie it, she would cut it off, like Alexander the Great did with the Gordian knot. Christabel dug around her drawers for a pair of scissors. Even nail scissors would do, but there were none to be found.

Without thinking, without even stopping to put her dressing gown back on, she ran downstairs and into the kitchen. She pulled a drawer clean out of the cupboard, scattering knives and forks all over the floor. There, a pair of kitchen scissors lay amongst the mess. She snatched them up and reached behind her—

"Mrs. Creel?" Kas said behind her. "What are you doing?"

Christabel whirled around. Kas was entering the kitchen, his arms laden with fresh vegetables from the hothouse, his eyes wide open. How she must have looked to him, all disheveled, with her hair down and a pair of scissors in her hand. Like a mad woman.

That's what I am, she thought bitterly. The mad wife in the attic, like the first Mrs. Rochester.

No. She shouldn't waste time wallowing in self-pity. And anyway, she wasn't locked in the attic. If anything, that epithet was more suitable for Henry. The mad husband in the attic...

"I was just trying to cut this damned thing off," she said, reaching for the knot again.

"Calm down, before you hurt yourself." Kas put the vegetables on the table. "Let me see." He gently took the scissors from her hand and examined the knot.

"Don't bother!" she hissed. "Just cut it off!"

"I can untie it. Stay still. No need to ruin a perfectly good garment."

He worked at the knot for a while, carefully, methodically unraveling the strings one bit at a time. He said nothing, but the calmness radiating from him enveloped her like a warm wave, easing her anger and despair. Her breathing and heartbeats slowed.

As her mind was taken off the cursed strings, she became aware of him, of his presence behind her, of his hands pulling at her so steadily yet gently, of his scent, like the scent on his coat, a combination of the salty ocean spray, the fresh, earthy smell of the hothouse garden, and the warm smokiness of a wood fire. He smelled like how she imagined the island would smell, with none of the dustiness and decay of the house. 

"It's a tough one, this knot," he said. "Maybe I should cut it off after all. Do you mind—"

"No!" she said quickly. "No, you were right. It'd be a pain to mend. Try it again. I think I can feel it loosening already."

Kas bent over the knot again, and she found herself wishing it would not untie. She wished it would take a long, long time, so they could keep standing like this, close but not quite touching, his hands steadying her, his breath softly teasing the hair on the back of her neck...

"Kas?"

"Yes, Mrs. Creel?"

"It was you, wasn't it? You packed up my things in New York and sent them here."

It took him a moment to answer. "Yes. I got the address from Mr. Creel."

"How did you get in?" She and her mother had taken their maids to Tuxedo Park, leaving only an elderly butler behind in their townhouse.

"I—I broke in," said Kas. "It was wrong of me, that's why I didn't tell you. I only thought that you would like your own things, since you didn't bring much with you. I should've asked first. I'm so sorry."

Christabel tried to feel angry, but she could only think how wrong she'd been. Wrong about her mother, wrong about Henry. And wrong about Kas as well.

"It's all right," she said. "You were looking out for me. If I'd been thinking more clearly, I would've gone myself." But she hadn't, because she thought Henry would take care of everything. What a fool she'd been. And then, because the thought of marriage had been on her mind all night, she asked, "Do you ever think about getting married?"

He laughed quietly, though more amused and self-deprecating than bitter. "What woman would have a ghoul like me?"

"Nonsense," she said. "Any woman would be lucky to have you." Kas didn't say anything, and Christabel thought perhaps this was not the most proper topic of conversation to have with her husband's servant. Then again, it was not proper to have him unlace her corset either. Tonight, she was ready to throw propriety out the window. "If you meet someone that will marry you," she continued, "will you leave us?"

Kas stepped closer, close enough that his breath tickled her ear. "I'm not going to leave you," he said. "You can be sure of that."

Before she could answer, the pressure on her ribs finally lifted.

"Here we go!" Kas said triumphantly.

As Christabel took a grateful, deep gulp of air, he moved his hand between the fastenings, slowly loosening them. His fingers brushed her back through her chemise, and she shivered a little. It was different than when Henry touched her, a shiver born not from fear and disgust, but from some stirring deep within her. She'd felt it when he kissed her hand, and now it set her blood pounding pleasantly in her ears, her heart, and elsewhere. Even after the corset was completely loose, Kas remained where he was, his hand slowly moving up, toward the lace edging around the neckline of her chemise, where her shoulder blades and the nape of her neck lay bare. Time hung suspended between them while she stood, not daring to even draw a breath, waiting for—for what? She did not know, did not want to imagine. If she did, she would either flee from him or do something much, much more foolish, and she didn't want to do either.

The tip of Kas's finger grazed her skin. His touch was electric. She gave an involuntary gasp, and Kas moved away as though he, too, had been shocked.

Christabel turned back, and he took another step from her, avoiding her eyes.

"There, you're free now," he mumbled and went back to the vegetables.

The irony of that statement made Christabel want to cry.

***

Up in her room, she discarded the corset to one side. Henry was right about one thing—corsets were a nuisance, and now that her social life had dwindled to the point of non-existence, there was no need to submit herself to such torture. She was trapped enough in this house without having to confine her own body as well.

The scrape of the corset across her back reminded her of Kas's feather-light touch, and her blood flamed again at the memory. Seemingly by their own volition, her feet took her to the window. She opened the curtains a crack, peering down at the lighthouse. It was dark, but she thought she could spy movements inside. Was he there, looking up at her?

Emboldened by the thought, she pulled the curtains wider. It had become her habit to leave the curtains open at night, when she slept, but she only did so once she had finished undressing, put on her nightgown, and blown out her candle. Now, she left the curtains wide open as she looked down across the backyard. A pool of shadow gathered at the lighthouse's window. For a moment, she wondered what her mother would say if she knew, what would happen if Henry walked in and saw her. The thought only made her furious with herself. Was it not enough that she was trapped, body and soul, here in this house, this marriage, this life? Must she trap her own mind as well? She lifted her chin in defiance, and, remaining by the window, where anyone looking up could see her clearly she slowly, deliberately pulled the straps of her chemise down over her arms, first the left, then the right. It seemed to her that the shadow, like herself, was holding its breath, watching, waiting.

The moment the chemise slipped off her shoulders, she turned from the window, put out her candle, and climbed into bed. She found his handkerchief under her pillow, where she had been keeping it—his scent still lingered faintly amongst the cotton folds. Lifting it to her nose to inhale that comforting blend of earth, fire, and sea, she slipped between the covers and, finally, gave free rein to her imagination.

Chapter 10