#was listening to ghost riders in the sky

[browniefox]

You’re in a strange courtyard. You do not recognize it, but it feels oddly familiar.

You look down and see you’re reflection. You’re wearing a golden dress. A crown lies upon your head. The gold is all glowing, and you give a twirl, splashing in the liquid at your feet. It’s only then you realize your reflection is coming from a pool of blood. You look behind you.

There is a hare sitting on top of a dead child. It, too, is golden, with shiny fur and bright purple eyes. The longer you stare, however, the less sure you are it’s really a hare. It’s eyes are sharp, hold intelligence. It takes a few hops forwards, and you realize the shiny fur is actually dull, that there is blood all over its mouth, that it looks like a dead and rotting creature that somehow still moves.

Your father showed you Monty Python and the Holy Grail when you were young. Any dirty jokes went over your head, but you liked some of other comedy bits. You can remember the part where the knights need to get past a terrible beast that looks like a cute little white rabbit. You laughed so much at the cartoonish blood and action, and you dad had laughed along. The sight before you reminds you of that, but something about this feels oddly more real. Why does a laugh still build in your throat?

(You once laughed at a horror movie in the same way, as blood gushed from a poor dumb victim of the murderer. Your date had slowly pulled his arm off your shoulders, and a few days later he broke up with you. After that you watched horror movies alone.)

You stare at each other for a minute before the hare takes off, fast fast fast into the woods. You do not hesitate to chase after it.

Through the trees and shadows, the rabbit flees and you chase, panting and gasping but refusing to let it out of sight. Your hands are full of your golden dress skirts, which despite your best efforts are becoming dirty and torn. The hare leads you to a large meadow, and you can see glints of fur through the long grasses. You’re getting slower and it is only getting faster.

That is when you feel the ground shaking beneath you. You turn around just in time to throw yourself out of the way of a beast.

At first you think it’s a giant black bear, but closer inspection shows that there is something inside the bear fur and skin, something with long black and white tendrils that almost puppeteer the bear skin around. Atop the not-bear sits a figure, riding the huge monsterous thing. A white mask with purple tear marks adorns her face. She does not look at you, too focused on chasing after the golden hare, hands tight on a set of reigns.

After her is a other impossibly large bear, this one with two heads that bite at each other. Two riders are on this one, both with golden bear masks to match their mount.

Many more beasts ride on, a hunting party. All their mounts are monsters of animals that are made too big, given too many fangs and claws, look stitched together or dying or already dead. Chickens and rabbits and foxes and bears. But they all run swiftly, faster than your legs can carry you. You also realize that every rider wears a mask, and that they are all children, their innocent youth hidden behind the terrifying masks they put on.

Bringing up the rear of the hunting party is an adult man, who comes to a sudden halt right before you. His mount has three heads. The rabbit and bear heads are surprisingly docile. The middle fox head, though, looks older and far more scarred and snaps at you, just barely too far to actually catch you in it’s large and sharp teeth. The mask worn by this rider is an almost childish white bear mask. You can see his hands and the edges of his face, though, and that he is a rotted corpse of a human, a surprising reversal of the children riders.

“Well?” he says.

“What?” You do not know what he wants from you.

“Will you take up your mask and join the hunting party?”

They are hunting a hare. It should remind you of a silly old cartoon, or maybe the Aesop fable; it feels very far from that.

“I am not a hunter,” you say.

“And yet you chase our quarry,” the man replies.

“I will be a hare,” you tell him. He studies your face. You can see, just barely, purple eyes looking at you from behind the mask.

“You will not keep up,” he tells you, “At best, you will for a while. And then he will bite your leg and leave you to be trampled by the rest. Or you will fall behind, and if you are not running with him, you are chasing, you are hunting,”

“I will be a hare,” you assert again. The rider shifts his hold on his reigns, and you realize they are not leather. They are chains, shackled to his wrist and sunken into the flesh of his mount.

“Wear your mask and run then, little hare; the hunt does not cease. Lead or chase; the choice will be made for you.”

He spurs his mount on. The fox head yowls and spits but its legs run again to catch up with the rest.

You look down and there’s a mask in your hands. You cannot tell whether it is a hare, like the hunted, or a rabbit, like many of those forced to hunted.

Red blood splashes at your heels; the pool from the dead child’s body had still grown, and it reaches you again.

You jolt awake from the dream, heart pounding in your chest.

You try to fall back asleep and ignore the mask that you know sits in your bag at the foot of your bed.

[okaydiscount]

yeehaw pardner

alt vers under cut :)

idk why theres a weird outline around them >:( .... its probably the brush i used for inking actually... eh.

[flamingredanon]

"Not all timelines lead to how we would want them to play out kid. And hell, some can lead us to bringing out the worse in us. But where ever your path leads, you gotta see it through to the end, no matter how painful some can be. And whatever you do, NEVER force an option that isn't meant to be there, or you'll end up void bound like me and whatever options you didn't choose going south, basically no one winning."

[thissoundsdifferent]

Ghost Riders in the Sky - Cover by Judy Collins

Original by Stan Jones / Burl Ives (1948/1949)

Disclaimer: I do not have any association with the cover artists nor the original artists. None of this work is my own. Please leave likes and comments on the videos and support the original creators.

[novaursa]

I love your writing! Could you please do one where Targaryen reader (it can be Rhaenyra's sister) is taking Gwayne for the first time to meet her dragon and takes him for a ride. Thanks

The Wild Heart

- Summary: You introduce Gwayne to your dragon, Grey Ghost.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: The reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra and bonded to the dragon Grey Ghost. I've broken my own rule about 1000 words here, but since you guys like Gwayne so much, I've decided to expand this a bit more. Enjoy.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

You stand on the edge of the ridge, the sea breeze tangling itself in your silver-blonde hair, lifting strands into the crisp, salt-filled air. Below, the waters of Blackwater Bay shimmer like molten silver, catching the light of the setting sun. Behind you, the Red Keep is barely visible, a hulking shadow against the vast sky. But it's not the castle that holds your attention today—it’s the man beside you, Gwayne Hightower, and the dragon that waits in the distance, somewhere between the clouds and the sea, hidden in the wilderness just beyond the Dragonpit.

He stands close, his expression serious, but you can feel the underlying excitement radiating from him. Gwayne has heard the tales, the whispered stories of your dragon, Grey Ghost—wild, elusive, temperamental. Unlike the dragons housed in the Dragonpit, Grey Ghost has never truly been tamed. He lingers along the coast and cliffs, only returning when he chooses. Not a single rider before you had ever claimed him, not until you.

You glance at Gwayne, studying his face as the wind picks up. His strong jaw is set in a determined line, and his eyes, a bright shade of blue, seem darker in the fading light. He’s dressed in his Hightower armor, though you both know he’s not here for battle. The armor is more a shield for his nerves, a thin veil of control in the face of what’s to come.

"Are you ready?" you ask, your voice quiet but firm, just loud enough to be heard over the gusts of wind.

Gwayne turns to you, and for a moment, a flicker of something—perhaps doubt, or wonder—passes across his face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a faint, teasing smile. "As ready as a man can be to meet his future wife's dragon," he replies, the words tinged with amusement, though there’s a touch of nervousness there too.

You smile at that, a small curl of your lips. "Grey Ghost isn’t like the others in the pit. He won’t simply obey because I will it. He’s… unpredictable." You let the words hang in the air for a moment, hoping to prepare him for what’s coming. "But he’ll listen to me. Trust that."

Gwayne nods, though you can sense the weight of his uncertainty. He’s seen dragons before, of course. As a member of House Hightower, he’s familiar with their majesty and their danger. But this is different. This is your dragon, your bond. And Grey Ghost is no mere dragon of the pit. He is wild fire made flesh, with wings of smoke and ash.

You take a step forward, motioning for him to follow as you descend the rocky path that leads to the clearing below. Your boots crunch against the stones, the sea below crashing against the cliffs. Gwayne is right behind you, silent now, his presence a steady warmth at your back. Together, you approach the place where you know Grey Ghost waits.

As you round a bend in the path, the clearing opens up before you, vast and wild, with tall grasses swaying in the breeze. And there, at the far end, resting in the shadow of a massive stone outcrop, lies Grey Ghost.

Even from this distance, the size of him is breathtaking. His scales, a smoky grey that gleam faintly in the dying light, seem to blend with the rocks around him, making him appear almost ethereal, as though he’s part of the landscape itself. His wings are folded close to his body, but you know their full span would darken the sky if he chose to spread them wide.

Gwayne inhales sharply, and you feel his awe as though it were your own.

"Gods," he murmurs, almost under his breath, as he gazes upon the beast.

You step closer, your heart quickening with the familiar pull of your bond. Grey Ghost stirs, his massive head lifting as he senses your approach. His eyes, burning like molten gold, lock onto yours. There’s recognition there, an unspoken understanding, but also a warning—a reminder of his wild nature.

You stop a few feet from him and extend a hand, palm up, in a gesture of peace. "Come forth." You speak in the High Valyrian tongue, your voice steady, commanding.

Grey Ghost watches you for a moment longer, then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he rises to his feet. His wings unfurl slightly, the leather-like membranes rustling in the wind as he stretches his neck toward you. There’s a rumble deep in his throat, a sound that vibrates through the ground beneath your feet. But he does as you bid, moving forward with a grace that belies his size.

Gwayne stands frozen at your side, his breath caught in his throat, though his hand instinctively moves to the hilt of his sword—a gesture of protection more than aggression. You place a calming hand on his arm, shaking your head gently.

"He won’t harm you," you whisper, though you’re not entirely sure if you’re saying it to reassure him or yourself. "Not if I’m here."

With slow, deliberate movements, you step closer to Grey Ghost, your fingers brushing against the rough texture of his scales. He is warm beneath your touch, like the heat of a roaring fire contained within his massive frame. Grey Ghost’s eyes never leave you, and for a moment, there’s a connection, a silent exchange of trust and respect.

Turning back to Gwayne, you gesture for him to come closer. "It’s alright," you say softly. "He knows me. And now, he must know you."

Gwayne hesitates, his hand still hovering near his sword, but after a brief moment of consideration, he takes a step forward. His gaze never leaves Grey Ghost’s hulking form, his caution palpable. Slowly, almost reverently, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against the dragon’s side, just as yours had moments before.

The air between the three of you seems to still, the wind dying down as though the world itself is holding its breath. Grey Ghost rumbles again, a low, deep sound that resonates through the ground, but he doesn’t move. He allows the touch. 

Gwayne exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he keeps his hand on the dragon’s scales. "He’s… magnificent," Gwayne says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve never seen anything like him."

You smile softly, feeling a swell of pride for both your dragon and for the man standing beside you. "He is," you agree, your voice filled with warmth. "And now, he knows you. We are bonded, all three of us."

Gwayne turns to you then, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away—the cliffs, the sea, even the dragon. It’s just the two of you, standing on the precipice of something new, something shared.

"I never thought…" he begins, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words. "I never thought I could be part of something like this. With you, and with him."

You step closer to him, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining. "You are," you say softly, your voice full of certainty. "We’re a family now, Gwayne. You, me, and Grey Ghost. Nothing will come between us."

The wind whips around you as you stand before Grey Ghost, the great dragon looming like a mountain of muscle and smoke. His golden eyes, burning with an otherworldly light, follow your movements as you step back, placing yourself beside Gwayne. The sun has set below the horizon now, leaving the world bathed in twilight, and the only sounds are the crashing of the waves far below the cliffs and the steady, rhythmic breathing of the dragon.

Gwayne stands beside you, his hand still resting on the dragon’s rough scales. His expression, a mixture of awe and anticipation, is hard to miss. He’s faced battle, seen the dangers of war, but this—this is something entirely different. You can sense the excitement beneath his calm demeanor, the way his hand trembles ever so slightly as he brushes his fingers against Grey Ghost's side.

"You’ve never flown before," you say quietly, watching him as his eyes trace the dragon's form.

He turns his gaze to you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. "No. Never." His tone is light, but there’s a seriousness beneath it, a readiness that makes your pulse quicken.

Grey Ghost shifts his weight, the massive bulk of his body rumbling like distant thunder as he crouches low, the leathery membranes of his wings unfolding slightly. He is waiting, waiting for your command, and though you feel his wildness, his untamed spirit, you know that in this moment, he will listen to you.

You take Gwayne’s hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. "Do you trust me?" you ask, though you already know his answer.

He doesn’t hesitate. "Always," he replies, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours.

You squeeze his hand gently, then release it as you step toward Grey Ghost. With practiced ease, you place one hand on the dragon's flank, the other gripping the harness that’s fastened around his neck and shoulders. You swing yourself up onto his back, settling into the familiar place between his powerful wings. The leather beneath you is warm, and you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your legs.

You look down at Gwayne, who is still standing at the dragon’s side, his expression now unreadable.

"Come," you say, holding out your hand to him. "You won’t fall. I promise."

For a moment, he hesitates, glancing from you to Grey Ghost’s immense, heaving body. But then, with a nod of determination, he steps forward, gripping the harness as you had shown him. With a bit of effort, he hoists himself up behind you, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist as he settles into place.

You can feel the tension in his body, the uncertainty of being so high above the ground, but there is also trust—trust in you, trust in the dragon.

You glance back at him, offering a reassuring smile. "Hold on tightly. The first flight is always… exhilarating."

Before he can respond, you lean forward and place your hands against Grey Ghost’s neck. "Fly!" you command in High Valyrian.

With a roar that shakes the ground beneath you, Grey Ghost unfurls his wings, the massive span of them catching the wind in a sudden, powerful gust. The muscles beneath you ripple as the dragon gathers his strength, and then, with a single, mighty leap, you are airborne.

The world falls away beneath you, the cliffs and sea nothing but distant shapes as Grey Ghost ascends, his wings beating with a rhythm that you can feel deep in your chest. The wind tears at your hair and clothes, the rush of air so loud it drowns out all other sound, but you don’t mind. This—this is freedom, the sky opening up before you, endless and vast.

Behind you, Gwayne holds on tightly, his arms firm around your waist. You can feel his heart pounding against your back, the thrill of the flight coursing through him as it does through you. The dragon rises higher, soaring above the clouds, and for a moment, you are suspended in the sky, weightless and free.

Grey Ghost lets out a triumphant roar, a sound that echoes across the sky, and you laugh, the exhilaration of the moment filling you with joy. You glance back at Gwayne, his face flushed from the wind, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Are you alright?" you shout over the wind, your voice barely carrying in the rushing air.

He grins, a wide, genuine smile that lights up his entire face. "This is incredible!" he calls back, his voice filled with awe and exhilaration. "I never imagined…"

His words trail off as Grey Ghost dips suddenly, his wings folding slightly as he begins a rapid descent, plummeting toward the sea below. You feel Gwayne’s grip tighten around you, his breath catching in his throat, but you don’t panic. You know Grey Ghost, know his every move, and this—this is part of the ride.

At the last moment, just before you reach the surface of the water, Grey Ghost flares his wings, catching the air and leveling out. The sea stretches out beneath you, the waves glistening in the moonlight, so close you can almost touch them. The dragon skims the surface, his claws barely grazing the water, sending up sprays of mist as you fly.

You laugh again, the sound of it lost to the wind, and Gwayne’s laughter soon joins yours. His tension is gone now, replaced by the sheer thrill of the flight. He leans into the movement, trusting you, trusting the dragon, and for a moment, it feels like the three of you are one—a single being soaring through the sky, untethered and wild.

After what feels like an eternity—and yet, not nearly long enough—Grey Ghost begins to climb again, his powerful wings lifting you up, up, up, until you are soaring high above the sea once more. The land is a distant memory now, the world below nothing but a blur of blue and grey.

You turn your head slightly, glancing back at Gwayne, who is still grinning, his eyes alight with excitement. "This is only the beginning," you say, your voice soft, though you know he can hear you over the wind.

He meets your gaze, his expression suddenly serious, though the joy still lingers in his eyes. "I’ll follow you anywhere," he says, his voice steady, filled with quiet resolve. "Wherever you go—whether it’s the skies or the earth—I’ll be with you."

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you are overwhelmed by the depth of his devotion. You reach back, placing your hand over his where it rests at your waist, your fingers intertwining with his.

"And I’ll always have you by my side," you whisper, though the wind carries your words away.

Grey Ghost lets out a soft rumble, a sound that vibrates through both of you, as though he, too, understands the significance of this moment. Together, the three of you fly on, the stars beginning to twinkle above, as the night stretches out endlessly before you.

[fangirltothefullest]

I have no excuse for this other than I thought it would be hot to sketch Remus as a cowboy. >w> I blame Ghost Riders in the Sky because I was listening to it while drawing this. Open it in a new tab to see it bigger!

[naffeclipse]

Have you considered writing a cowboy DCA au? Or a vampire AU?

I have ideas for both! I mention my Vampire AU in my Laundry List of AUs Post, but I haven't talked about a Cowboy AU yet!

For my cowboy AU, Y/N owns a prairie house and a small patch of land out in the wild west. You work hard and make do even though you're falling behind on payments and falling deeper into debt and danger of the bank taking your property back. It's a tough life. You know that.

Nothing exciting happens around here until one day you see a figure riding in from the distance. An animatronic on a horse. You're a bit weary of strangers, especially out here, where cattle rustlers and outlaws are aplenty, so you greet the rider with a shotgun. He's all smiles and hand waves, his sun rays partly hidden underneath his hat. There's a shiny pistol in the holster on his belt and a rifle hanging off his back. A large bag is strapped to the saddle. He's careful to not reach for something he shouldn't, and you let him dismount to talk to you, lowering your weapon.

He reassures you he means no trouble and that he just needs shelter for the night, if you don't mind. He's more than willing to offer a helping hand in exchange. He's a talker, sweet and charming, and you're not in a position to refuse extra farm help. You put him to work. He does it all without complaint which you appreciate.

There's a moment when you take a break from the back-breaking work to lie down in the field, staring up at the sky. Your eyes end up closing. You feel a gentle shadow over you. When you look up, Sun is there, casting blissfully cool shade and asking if it's alright for him to stand here. You tell him it's just fine. You ask him if there's any worry of him overheating. He says no, but thank you kindly for the concern.

Later, when you check in the barn, you notice that the large bag that was on his horse is now gone.

You don't want any trouble.

At sundown, when you call for him to come inside, you're greeted with a different animatronic, still smiling and soothing and promising that it's the same cowboy, please put the shotgun down. You've never met an animatronic like him. Sun. Moon. You let him come inside.

You spend a quiet night with the cowboy. He helps you clean up your dishes even though he had no part in the mess-making. There's little talk of where he came from or where he's going, but he mentions lying low for a while. You don't want to know. You don't ask. He asks if he might touch the guitar you have there in the corner. You tell him that's fine. You haven't played it in a long time. He serenades the night with plucked chords and twaining strings, and somehow, you fall asleep listening to the gentle strums and wake up the next morning in your bed.

Sun greets you all cheerful. You don't know what to feel about having another around to talk to... but you're adjusting. He asks for another day's work for another night's lodging. You agree. He smiles so big you're afraid he'll burst.

You get a visit from a fellow farmer (Sun makes himself scarce on the rare chance a visitor comes) who talks about the news, the gangs rolling through the valley, the cattle missing, and a distant bank just recently robbed. You shake your head.

Later, in the barn, you're shifting hay on the hayloft when you step back and expect to find solid flooring but there's nothing but air and you're falling—then caught in solid arms. Sun exclaims how you have to be careful! You would have gotten hurt. You wish he would put you down already, holding you like this turns you all red and embarrassed. Even when he sets you on your feet, Sun insists he finishes with the hay up top. Your pride is awfully stung but the ghost of his arms around you chases you outside and it's only there that you can finally think clearly after all the excitement.

When night falls, Moon helps you deal with a fox in the chicken pen but in chasing off the fiend, something snaps along his arm when he hops a fence and you know that ugly sound means something's broken. Wires spark in the dark. You rush to his side faster than you've ever run. You gingerly hold his arm and guide him back home to fix the damage done even though you're only a support to his injury, and he, thankfully, can tend to himself. He says he's learned how to take care of little problems like these since he's been running by himself for a while. You almost ask what he did before he came here but you don't dare. You told yourself you didn't want trouble. Getting attached will do nothing but stir up your feelings. There will be no one else to blame if your heart gets broken.

He picks at the guitar strings to test his repair and sings a little song that you swear you won't fall asleep to but, again, you wake up in your bed when you know you didn't tuck yourself in. Sun is already outside, getting a jumpstart on the day's chores.

The cowboy stays another night, then another, and then a few weeks have flown by. You get a visitor from the bank asking for payment or else they're taking your land and everything on it. You chase off the man, spitting mad, but you're still in troubled waters. You're going to lose all you have. Sun witnesses the encounter from a distance but you don't speak of it all day. Then, Sun finds you when the sun burns red across the sky.

He talks softly to you and before you know it, he's leading you by the hand and spinning you in a little dance you've never danced before. Sun leads, and you follow because he's the last light you have, and when he dips you low, you rise with the Moon in the near darkness, dancing and dancing on dirt. You've never held a hand that felt so right with his arms twirling you around and around—you almost forget you're going to lose it all.

Besides the crackle of the fire in your hearth that night, Moon coaxes you to talk about the money you owe and your pride almost bites your tongue off but you do it anyway. Moon asks when the bank man is going to come again. You tell him in the morning but you don't want charity. You don't need it. You owe enough debts as it is. He gives you a grin that is too mischievous for his own good.

That night, you lean against his shoulder when he plays a gentle song, a ballad about lovers falling and magnolias blooming. You wake up in your bed but it's still dark out and Moon is gone. You get up to find him but he's already at the door, holding a large bag—the one that was missing from his saddle. He tells you to pay the bank when they come and get a receipt. You ask him what in blue blazes he's doing with a bag full of money but he shoves it in your hands. Morning spills across the land. Then it's Sun winking at you. The bank is coming. He tells you he needs to go now, but he promises to come back for you.

You tell him you can't owe him like this—you'll never be able to repay it. Sun promises that you won't owe him anything, he'll get the money back.

You can hardly be angry before he's on his horse and taking off into the distance. You curse yourself out for being a fool and having a heart that wants to stick roots into anything that lingers longer for a day and for having this bag of money that isn't yours and for letting that cowboy dance and serenade you, but when the bank sends another man to collect, you pay it all. You get that receipt. The man accepts the payment and goes on his merry way, back to the bank that can no longer hound you. All of your debts are erased, thanks to the cowboy.

You don't know where he was hiding the money. You remember the news of a distant bank that was robbed.

It's only a few days later that you learn from a fellow farmer that the man carrying back your money to the bank was ambushed. An animatronic outlaw caught him alone. He stole the entire bag of cash. The farmer laughs when he says the bank man was madder than a wet hen. He also remarks that he's surprised they didn't come after you for more money, but you had a receipt. They can't touch you.

After the farmer leaves, you sit in a daze and then curse the cowboy out again. You still owe him.

You didn't want trouble, yet here you are, all twitterpated and waiting for when he comes down from the horizon.

[moonchildstyles]

lily of the valley

oleander final part: y/n never pictured that her night would end like this.

wordcount: 16.2k+

cw: lots of talk ab blood and the consumption of blood! some descriptions of people who have passed away, but thats really it!

—————

(Y/N) stood behind the apothecary counter, chin resting in her palm with her eyes gazing out the window. The rain had returned last night, bringing with it a lingering fog and cloudy sky. Barely anyone was out and about, leaving (Y/N) feeling as if she were the only soul left in the village. The same way she had felt since leaving the castle and ghosting through the world without anyone the wiser to what she had learned that night. 

The last week had been one of wandering thoughts and conflicting dreams. More than once, she had woken in a cold sweat, a flashing nightmare of Harry hovering over her, his mouth full of sharp teeth and blood. She would wake with her heart in her throat and lungs tight, but the only thing that could calm her was the thought of Harry himself comforting her. She would replay a fantasy of him coaxing her down from her fright, those concerned eyes and gentle touch helping draw her in.

Soon enough, as the days packed on, those nightmares were few and far between, leaving (Y/N) with only questions and intrigue replacing her initial fear. Distance and time from him allowed the memories of his care to rise to the surface; his promise of never bringing her any harm and the actions to back it up were at the forefront of her mind. 

He had said they would see one another soon, after enough time had passed to allow her to wrap her head around it all. (Y/N) was beginning to itch for that time to come sooner rather than later. 

As if someone had been listening into her thoughts, a familiar bone white horse emerged through the fog, looking more phantom than animal. The rider had long dark hair and pale features. It was Harry's footman—Mitchell.

He was the one that hadn't learned his self-control yet. (Y/N) stiffened at the thought.

The horse was guided right to the apothecary where Mitchell hopped off the stead and tied the reins to the latch outside of the shop. (Y/N) didn't know how to keep her eyes away now that she knew what he was. 

The similarities to Harry only increased as she looked at him through a different lens. They were both impossibly graceful, lacking any flaw. Mitchell moved with a restrained strength, as if he were holding back with every movement causing him to look almost mechanical. She wondered if Harry was always holding back in the same way, but had mastered the art of blending in. 

There was no hesitancy this time when he came in. Stepping over the floorboards, he still lacked any real show of presence as nothing creaked under him or rattled around his weight. His sharp eyes landed on her immediately. 

"Ms. (Y/N)," he greeted with a nod, his voice low and clipped. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a familiar, opulent envelope. The last time she had seen one of these was when her father had thrown the piece into the furnace, effectively banning her from going to Harry's home. "From Harry," he murmured, passing off the piece. He took great care in ensuring their skin didn't brush. 

"Thank you," she answered, a small smile on her lips, "Mitchell." 

This time, she didn't wait for the footman to leave before she was breaking the wax seal and opening the flap to the letter. Inside was a simple letter, written out in curling letters on elaborate stationary. 

My dearest, (Y/N), 

       I hope I am not asking for too much to see you again so soon. I know we had agreed on coming together so I may offer answers to any and all questions you have, but if you would prefer to no longer see one another, I understand. If that is the case, tell Mitchell as much and I will no longer contact you if that will make you the most comfortable.

       If you are still open to seeing me again, I would like to invite you back to my home. I will arrange for the carriage to ferry you up here, and we will spend the evening discussing whatever you please. If you'll have me. 

       I hope to hear from you again soon. 

      Yours,

      Harry xx

Just as she finished skimming her eyes over the text, she saw Mitchell out of the corner of her eye attempting to flee just as silently as he had before. 

"Wait," she said, stopping him in his tracks before he could push open the door. 

He moved stiffly to face her, his dark eyes clear. "Yes?" 

"Hold on," she floundered, searching the counter for the steel pen and inkwell she had stored under the podium. "If I put my response on here, could you take it back to him, please?" 

Mitchell gave a single nod of agreement. 

This letter had been exactly what she was hoping she would see today. The small correspondence sparked those dimming memories of Harry she had been treasuring every night before bed. She could hear the words in his voice, see his pinched features and worried brow. 

The only problem she found within the lines was his choice of location. She didn't have the confidence to stage another sneak out in the middle of the night, not trusting herself to keep silent and away from prying eyes so soon after the last time. While she had done a well enough job, no one having approached her about anything they could have seen that night, she didn't trust that she could do it as well this next time when she had more nerves working against her. 

He would have to come to her. 

With her writing nowhere near as glamorous as his, she wrote out: 

      I would love to see you again. I can't go back to your home so soon, I'm sorry. Come to me this time. 

      I will leave my window open tonight and tomorrow. I will be on the lookout for you, and I will let you in through the shop door when I see you're here. 

Her letters looked like sloppy black slashes against his own curling script, but (Y/N) couldn't think much about her handwriting before she was folding up the page and replacing it in the gilded envelope. 

"Thank you," she said, handing the correspondence back to Mitchell. 

She expected him to stay in line with his persona, silently taking the page before he would ghost through the shop and disappear in the night. However, when he lingered after removing the letter from her grasp, she flicked her gaze up to find him looking at her with intensity in his earnest eyes. 

"Thank you," he insisted, unwavering in his eye contact. 

(Y/N) didn't have to ask where his gratitude was coming from. He knew that she was now aware of his condition, but there hadn't been even a single whisper of such through the village. 

"Of course," she offered, a quiet smile on her lips. "Hopefully, I will see you again sometime soon." 

For the first time she had seen, the stoic mask Harry's footman always seemed to carry showed its first crack. The very corner of his lips turned upwards in a smile. 

"I am sure we will." 

With that, he took the now altered letter and placed it for safekeeping in his jacket pocket. He left the apothecary as if he were but a phantom passing through. The only trace of his presence was the bone white horse (Y/N) could barely spot disappearing through the fog.

—————

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) pulled in a resigning sigh.

Harry wasn't coming. 

The sun had gone down hours ago, inducing both her father's bedtime and the rest of the village's. Even the pub wasn't garnering the kind of crowd that usually haunted those halls. This was the perfect night for him to visit. No one would even notice him and she could easily sneak him upstairs with the cover of the night and her father's heavy sleeping. 

She had diligently waited just as her response said, with her window cracked open to allow any noise to filter through and her eyes periodically scanning the space. Nothing more than a few bugs fluttering through her herb garden and the bright eyes of a familiar cat could be seen in the dark. 

If he was coming tonight, he would have already been here. (Y/N) sunk heavier into her thin mattress at the thought. 

Another hour—that's what he had left. Then, she would close her window and go to bed. She will try again tomorrow.

Just as her plan came together, she could hear her name being whispered in the night. Much closer than that of a bug skittering through her garden and too vivid to be a dream. 

Her eyes shot open only to see her window shadowed by Harry's broad form. He was lacking a jacket and waistcoat, only clad in fitted black trousers and a billowing top in a matching hue. This late at night, his eyes and hair seemed to be of a coordinating shade, leaving his skin especially pale in comparison. 

"Harry?!" she gasped, startling on her bed, "Wh—How did you—" 

He looked over his shoulder in a quick whip of his head before he turned to her once more. 

"I will explain in a moment, but I think I see one of your neighbours," he murmured, gesturing to her window with a nod of his chin. "May I please come in?" 

(Y/N) scrambled at the thought of one of her neighbours catching Harry perched on the sloping roof of her home, right where her window was open. "Yes, yes," she rushed out, keeping her voice low as she moved towards her window, "Just—Come in before anyone sees you." 

Curling her fingers under the pane, (Y/N) slid it open just enough for him to slip through. Taking a step back, she watched as he fluidly climbed through her window, not even a hair out of place. He landed on her floor without a single sound, turning back to shut the window after him. 

She hadn't realized just how heavy her heart was beating until the vacuum of her bedroom was restored. She settled some though she kept her eyes fixed on the broad of Harry's shoulders. 

"How did you get up there?" she breathed out, trying to picture how he would have made it to the ledge so soundlessly despite her open window. 

Harry's answer came in the form of a sly look shot over his shoulder. 

Oh. 

"Right," she sounded. Another part of his whole existence that she had no idea about. More questions were added to her ongoing mental list.

Harry looked out of place in her tiny bedroom. He was broad and space-filling. He had a presence here among the mishmash of stuff that made up her home, though it was far from suffocating. Standing with his back to her window, his form appearing that much longer with the help of the single flame of candle light casting shadows around him. He looked around her room, a tiny smile sitting on his lips. 

"Do you mind if I look around?" His voice was so pleasant and unrushed, it almost made (Y/N) forget the gravity of their meetup. 

Nonetheless, confined to her spot before the end of her bed, she nodded her head. 

She watched as Harry took in her space the same way she had taken in his: with curious awe. All of her small trinkets, childhood journals, gardening momentos, and memories of her mother were plotted about her room for him to graze his eyes over. His hands were twined behind his back as he wordlessly stepped through the space, eyes lighting up as he looked over the small shelf her father had nailed into the wall when she had finally received her own bedroom. There was a twitch to Harry's lips when he saw the various lengths of twine she had laying over her rickety bedside table; she always forgot she had one waiting before she had pulled another to tie her hair back. 

Her room was nothing at all like his castle. While he lived in rich color, exquisite luxury, and vast amounts of space, she had the opposite. Everything was muted in her room, leave for the dried flowers and tiny splashes here and there amongst her things. Harry could cross the width of her room in three strides with the length being met within four. It was far from the standards he likely had. Despite the obvious differences, (Y/N) could see the shatters of green appearing in his eyes the longer he made himself at home in her room, his features softening and bones relaxing.

She hoped that meant he liked what he found. 

Just when she thought he was planning on spending all night dissecting any and everything he could find in her bedroom, Harry finally turned on his heel, hands still clasped behind his back, to face her with a gentle smile. 

"Thank you for agreeing to see me again," he told her, voice a low rumble, "Have you had time to think?" 

Sitting on the end of her bed, she gave him a small nod. Her bottom lip fit between the blunt ends of her teeth, worrying the sensitive skin. "I have a lot of questions." 

"I figured you would. I am an open book, (Y/N)," he affirmed, coming to stand just before her, "Anything you want to know, I will answer to the best of my ability." 

(Y/N) could feel his eyes on her as she shuffled back on her bed, folding her legs underneath her with her nightgown falling around her form. "You can sit with me if you'd like" she offered, eyeing the empty space on her mattress for him. 

Her heart bubbled in her chest at the realization that she was asking a man to her bed. She had been so occupied on learning her answers and ensuring no one saw them together in the dead of night, that she had completely forgotten the fact that she was alone in her bedroom with Harry. When she had come up with this plan, she hadn't given much thought to the fact that she was supposed to be worried about her reputation (or her safety, if she was considering the non-human aspects of him). The racing of her heartbeat increased that much more when he cautiously took up her offer and crawled onto the bed in front of her. In the back of her mind, she wondered just how terribly her bed stacked up against the velvet covered monstrosities he had in his own home. 

"Thank you," he said, settling himself amongst the folds of her quilt. His observing gaze settled on her with rounded corners to his eyes. "How are you?" he asked, sincerity in his voice, "Have you been well since the last time we met?" 

"I am well, yes," she answered, dropping her eyes to her lap where her hands fumbled with one another, "Just thinking and trying to figure everything out. And yourself?" 

"I've been okay," he answered earnestly, "But, much better now. I'm glad to hear you've been alright; I have been worried I frightened you or been too much that last night." 

(Y/N) canted her head. "I wouldn't say frightened, no, but I've been overwhelmed." She swallowed. "Confused." 

"I understand; I felt the same way once, too," he sympathized, his tone tender, "What has troubled you the most?" 

Peeking at him through her lashes, she swallowed around her suddenly dry throat. 

"The—um—the bodies," she whispered, a pinch appearing by her brows, "You said that you haven't been the one doing... that recently, but you had in the past. What did you mean?" 

Just as troubling as it was for her to ask that question, it appeared Harry had the same issue answering it. 

"I..." he started, cutting himself off before he could get very far with his mouth settling into a grim line. "There was a time right after I had... become what I am now, that I was not myself. I was confused, scared, and unable to think rationally. All I knew was that I was hungry. The food I could find made me terribly ill, and no amount of water, or wine, or anything could quench my thirst. I could only have that." 

While (Y/N) felt as if she already had the answer she was asking for, she couldn't help but to pose her question anyway. 

"What do you mean, that?" 

Harry dropped his gaze from hers when he answered. "Blood."

Her fingers were a nervous bundle in her lap before her body stilled like the dead at his answer. The memory of the corpse she had found, bloodless and pale like snow, reentered her mind. 

"Y-You drink it?" 

"Yes." 

Her heart hammered against her ribs, though the feeling made her think only of the blood rushing through her veins. 

She must have sat there silent for too long, she realized when Harry piped up, feeling the need to mend the shock he had given her. 

"It's not something I want to do, (Y/N)," he started, choosing his words carefully, "It is the only way I can continue living, but please believe me when I say that I have not committed those kinds of atrocities in almost one hundred years. The second I learned that I could survive off of animals, that's what I started doing. I haven't done anything like what has been happening since." 

As uncomfortable as she felt, thinking about Harry drinking any kind of blood or taking any kind of life, she could live with the fact that he was choosing animals over those of her village. She had to eat too, and while she would have loved to keep every animal alive and frolicking around, she had to do what she had to do as well. She couldn't judge him too harshly. 

"But, Mitchell. He doesn't know yet?" she asked, thinking back to the man with the long hair and ghostly demeanor.

Harry sighed, the same kind of sigh her father used to give when her sister was too stubborn for her own good. "He does know, but it is a hard transition. He wants to change, but he cannot always contain himself should an easy opportunity present itself. I am trying to teach him how to work past those urges, but it is taking longer than either of us would like." He dropped his head then. "I am sorry for what you have seen and what he has done when he is not able to think. I live with the guilt just as much as he does, but we are getting better everyday. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive both him and I."

(Y/N) pursed her lips. "I don't like it, but I can understand," she offered on a delicate breath. Truthfully, Mitchell sounded like a child: impulsive and taking steps forward before taking just the same amount back. "We all do things we are not proud of. I hope he can learn from this soon, and give these families peace." 

"He will," Harry cemented, "I am going to make sure of it." 

A beat of silence sat between them as she rifled through her head to decide on her next question. "Pardon me if this is inconsiderate to ask," she prefaced, "But, is your... condition the reason both you and Mitchell are so... pale?" 

A genuine grin stretched across Harry's lips at her words. His laughter was a quiet huff from between his lips. "I would think so, yes," he told her, likely grateful for the easier line of questioning, "Every other vampyr I have met, we all tend to be on the paler side, lacking that life in our skin." 

It was an odd thing, hearing him talk about all of the others he had met. She couldn't help but to wonder if Harry really was the first she had ever encountered without even realizing. "Is that why you are cold, as well?" 

"Am I?" he asked, tipping his head to the side with a crease between his brows, "I suppose I've never really noticed. Though, the few times you have allowed me to touch you, you are so pleasantly warm I should have figured as much." 

"You think I'm warm?" she asked, feeling a small sense of pride hit her chest. It was entirely silly to feel flattered over a comment about the temperature of her skin, but she couldn't help herself. She was a simple girl, at the end of the day. 

"Very much so," Harry affirmed, dimples pressing into his cheeks as she smiled at her, "You are like the sun to me." 

Now she definitely couldn't bite back her smile, dropping her head to watch her fumbling hands pluck at the seams of her nightgown. "The sun?" 

"The very one," Harry teased, "Though I haven't felt the sun since I changed, I imagine the rays feeling like your touch." 

"You haven't felt the sun?" (Y/N) blanched, a set of questions hitting her that she hadn't even considered, "But I've seen you outside?" 

Harry gave her a pointed look, "Only on cloudy days. I learned the hard way a long time ago, but I now burn under the sunlight. It's a rather frightening experience, if I'm honest." 

"You burn?" (Y/N) pressed, suddenly scanning her eyes down his form as if she could pick out any marks or scars upon his skin. 

"As if I have touched fire," Harry grimly detailed, "But, I am lucky enough that because of what I am, my skin mends itself. I can't remember the last time I have had any kind of injury without an instant recovery or even fallen ill." 

A new lens fell over (Y/N)'s gaze as she looked at him. Harry was always strong in her eyes, both physically and in the way carried himself so regally despite the swirling rumor mill. Now, though, the descriptor had an entirely new meaning. No wonder he was so flawless—there was nothing in this world that could even blemish him. 

He was the perfect predator—and protector.

"You don't remember anything about the night you changed?" (Y/N) asked, mimicking the language he had been using himself. 

He didn't even blink at her shift in conversation, instead furrowing his brow and canting his head as he threw his memory back. 

"Not really," he mused, pursing his lips, "There are fuzzy bits and pieces I can recall, but nothing I can be sure of. Most of my life before is just as muddy, but I can remember a few things." 

"So you don't know how you became this?" She couldn't imagine going to bed one way and waking up another, not a single idea as to what happened only knowing that she was not the same. No wonder Mitchell was struggling; how do you cope with something so overwhelmingly monumental? 

"I don't know my story, but I do know how vampyrs can be made." He flicked his gaze to her as if to gauge her reaction, scanning for any minute change in expression. When he didn't see anything more than a curious blink, he cautiously continued. "There are three different things that can happen when we bite"—(Y/N) tried her best not to blanch at the blunt word—"someone. One is the kind that we use solely when we are eating, of course. That kind usually includes the end of a life." His own tone grew solemn at this example, that guilt he spoke of resurfacing, though (Y/N) appreciated his honesty. "We can make another vampyr in a similar way, though before the end, we have to have the control to stop. I do not know how it happens exactly, but there is something that changes humans and makes them like me. It can take time, but it can happen." 

"Have you ever... made someone?" 

Harry shook his head. "I've never considered making someone like that—it's too risky in my eyes." 

(Y/N) slowly nodded her head, taking in all of the information she was learning. It was hard to think she was only in her bedroom, and not in some fantasy world that had violently merged with her own. "You said there's a third kind of... bite?" 

"There is one more," he told her, sounding somewhat hesitant as he started, "It is called a Blood Bond. It is usually something that is shared between people that are intending to devote themselves to one another." 

"How do they do that?" (Y/N) was intrigued now. This whole thing—being a vampyr—sounded so solitary, she didn't even think that there could be something like this within their culture. A union.

"They have to bite one another," Harry answered vaguely, "and share blood. Usually at the neck." 

"And, it's like a marriage?" she pressed, trying to merge the concept with something familiar. Nonetheless, it was hard to picture her sister's wedding ending with she and her husband snapping at each other's throats.

"Something like that," Harry shrugged, "A bit more binding, though." 

A troubling thought struck (Y/N) then. "Have you ever...?" 

Harry all but blanched at her words. He shook his head immediately. "No, never. Mitchell is the only person I've ever kept in my life for longer than a month." 

While she hated the thought of Harry being alone, solitary in his castle overlooking the village, there was a selfish part of her that keened at the thought that he had never devoted himself to anyone. 

"How long have you known Mitchell?" (Y/N) rolled on. She wanted to get a picture of Harry's existence, even if she didn't completely understand the details yet. 

A small smile plucked at the corners of his mouth then. "You really are quite curious, aren't you?" 

Sheepishly dropping her gaze from his, she lifted her own shoulders in a small shrug. "It is alright if you'd rather not answer anymore, I know I can ask a lot at times. I do not wish to bother you or anything." 

"No, no," Harry rushed, impulsively dropping his hand to land on her nightgown-covered knee, "Please, you are not bothering me. I love your curiosity. I told you: I am happy to answer anything you have for me. I want you to know me." 

Matching her gaze to his, (Y/N) couldn't deny the genuine sincerity she found swimming in his irises. Refractions of crystal green had appeared in the pitch black, giving the look of a moonlit forest. There was a warmth to his expression, giving him the illusion of life with the dimples in his cheeks and the dazzling smile on his lips. 

She couldn't imagine being anywhere, but here.

—————

"What happened after that?" 

Harry directed his gaze towards the ceiling, searching the air for the rest of the story that lay in his head. 

"Nothing too eventful, really," he mused, "I suppose that was when I started focusing on blending back in with the world. I felt comfortable in my control and wanted to stop hiding away so profusely—plus, I was beyond bored with my own company. Brooding can only fill so much time." 

(Y/N) let out a tittering laugh at his words, leaning that much closer to Harry. 

As he spoke about his life, telling her of all of the things he had seen, people he had met, and the details that made him up, the space between them had slowly dissipated until Harry was laying at her side. The longer they talked, the easier it was to grow closer and more comfortable sharing space. (Y/N) had even twisted until she was laying beside him, flat on her stomach with him on his back, hands folded over his stomach. 

This close, she could practically count the lashes lining his eyes, the faint set of freckles that dusted his skin. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what he had looked like when he was human. Did he have perpetually flushed cheeks? Were his eyes always green, or just as dark as they were now? When he was cold, did the chill show on the tip of his nose? 

She didn't allow herself long to wonder over those questions. Harry as it he was in front of her was enough—more than enough, really.

"Was that hard?" she asked, her voice a low whisper as if she was conspiring with him in the dead of night, "Trying to be human again?" 

"At times, yes," he mused, his eyes on the ceiling as he found his thoughts, "Humans, without realizing it, will pick up on the things that make me different and avoid me out of survival—even when I mean no harm. It is hard to feel normal when that happens." 

Laying her cheek down on her pillow, admiring him as her head sunk into the down, a frown plucked at her lips. She could imagine him after trips down to the village, shopping and trying to socialize, though it was no secret the townspeople would rather him stay away. More and more she learned, the less Harry was a creature of the night with blood-stained teeth, and more a lonely soul adjusting to something he never asked for. 

"I don't avoid you," she said, a quiet attempt to make him feel less alone. 

She had the perfect view of the smile that stretched over his lips at her words, dimples and all. The bed dipped as he manueavered on her small bed, laying on his side to face her with his own cheek pressed to the same pillow. Her breath caught in her lungs. She'd only been this close to him once before, when he had traced his nose over the column of her throat just when she had seen his lack of reflection. 

This time, she had nothing else to focus on. He was her everything right then, everything around him blurring out of focus. 

"I know you don't," he responded to something she barely remembered saying, "And I feel so lucky every time I remember that. You are one of the few, (Y/N), that hasn't run the other way. But those other times were never like this." 

Blinking with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She loved the sound of her name in his voice. "Like us?" 

"Yes, like us," he said, a rewarding smile on his lips for her, "While it concerns me that you seem to lack any real survival instincts, I am grateful that you are not scared of me." His eyes glazed over her features, taking everything about her in as she held onto each word. "I have been drawn to you for longer than I have been able to admit to myself. Every minute we spend together means something that I cannot fully express." 

"Drawn to me?" she peeped, her blood bubbling under her skin. 

Harry looked sheepish now, the way he flicked his eyes to her before letting them fall. She wondered, if he was the same as her, if there would be a flush to his cheeks, and a pounding in his chest. "You've intrigued me for a very long time, before we even started speaking in passing. I have made excuses to come down to the village, shopping with you when I didn't really need anything. Even though you didn't mean it, you made me feel less alone." 

Tentatively, (Y/N) reached out a hand, her fingers holding a small tremor before she placed her palm on his chest. The chill of his skin could be felt through his shirt, leaving goosebumps on her arm. The slight cold was worth it when she saw Harry all but melt at her touch. She really must feel that warm to him. 

"I have always been very interested in you, too," she murmured, unable to meet his gaze should that give away the exact feelings she was trying to say, "I never understood why anyone would try to gossip or say anything about you. I guess they aren't too far off, though—those rumors." 

Peeking through her lashes, (Y/N) held a smile on her lips as she hoped her tease would land. When Harry huffed out a breath of laughter, his hand landing on her own on his chest, holding her fingers snug, her own grin grew three sizes.

"I suppose not," he smiled, pulsing his hand around hers. 

Gazing at him, (Y/N) could nearly count the amount of green shatters floating to the surface of the pools of black. Everything about him was clear and steady, unwavering. "Thank you for coming tonight," she started, "My initial reaction was overwhelming, and I apologize for that. I would never want you to think that I felt the same way as the others or that you frightened me enough to never see you again." 

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he insisted, ducking his head until he was directly before her, the tip of his nose just barely missing her own, "I am sorry that I didn't assure you enough that you were safe with me and had nothing to worry about. I was planning on telling you myself, I was only waiting until I knew how to say it without using the wrong words." 

"I think you've done alright," she smiled. If she blinked, would their lashes tangle together, or would she need to be just a bit closer for that? 

"You have such a power over me, (Y/N)," Harry told her earnestly, his eyes swimming in devotion with his tone tinted in worship. 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) wondered if anyone had ever felt like she did in her bed right then. Did her mother ever feel this way for her father? Did her blood ever burn for him the way (Y/N)'s seemingly did for Harry? Did her sister ever feel her lungs squeeze and heart batter her ribs when looking at her husband? Did Mr. and Mrs. Wayfield feel their skin crawl with the need to join one another? 

Or was (Y/N) the first? 

Had everyone felt this way before, or had she invented the idea of falling in love right then? 

It was impulsive, reputation-ruining, and entirely unladylike the way she surged forward and pressed her lips to his. If Harry had any inhibitions, he didn't show them with the way he reciprocated the contact in a heartbeat. Molding his lips to hers, he led her through the kiss. It was far from refined, (Y/N)'s lips clumsy and off centered but Harry didn't mind correcting her until his hand was holding her cheek steady and he was pushing and pulling with her moving in tandem.

Drawing away, (Y/N) pulled in a gasp. Her hand on his chest clenched the shirt covering his chest, nails raking along the planes of his muscles. Harry didn't offer her much of a reprieve before he was diving back in, the chill of his mouth feeling nonexistent with the heat that began coursing through her veins. 

While she hadn't noticed it, Harry must have with the way he pulled away, allowing her suddenly aching lungs to take something in. He offered a smattering of kisses along her cheeks instead, affection pouring over every inch he could reach. 

"I adore you, darling," he murmured, his voice dripping like the nectar from a flower deep into the marrow of her bones. "I will never get enough of you." 

(Y/N) could only smile, a dreamy expression as she dipped her head back. A pleasant chill crept up her spine when Harry distributed his kisses down the column and over her thrumming pulse. 

She could stay here forever. Never moving, never changing. Right here with Harry was her home. 

"I wish I could stay," Harry murmured, responding to words she hadn't realized she said aloud, "But the sun will rise soon, and I believe you still need to sleep." 

Drawing away, Harry righted her head with his hand on her cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing her cheekbone. She wasn't sure if it was just her eyes or if it was truly there, but she swore there was color to his cheeks, a flush to his lips. 

"I don't need to sleep," she countered, ready to dive back in. 

Harry barely sated her with a single kiss pressed to her pout. "Yes you do," he insisted, "You are caring for your garden tomorrow, right? You need rest for that or you will be exhausted before you can finish." 

For a moment, she hated that he knew anything about her and her routine. She didn't care for the sage or the rosemary or whatever she was meant to be pruning in the morning. She cared for who was in her bed. 

"Don't look like that," he said, unable to keep himself from laying another kiss on her lips, "We will see each other again soon, I promise. I don't think I can wait very long, either." 

"You can't stay any longer?" she asked, slowly releasing her hold on his shirt. From where she could see out her window, the sun was still down with the sky dark, but she figured Harry would know his limits and timings much better than she. 

Glancing out the glass himself, she could see the gears turning in his head. "I can stay a little while longer. Until you fall asleep, yes?" 

That was more than she could have wished for, truly. To fall asleep in his arms was the stuff of dreams. 

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you." 

Harry responded only by bundling her to his chest. While there was no heartbeat to compare to her own, nothing to beat in rhythm against her ribs, (Y/N) had never felt more comforted. 

Sleep didn't take long, even when she had fought her tired eyes. 

—————

(Y/N) shyly peeked through her lashes as she descended the narrow aisle between the church pews. For the third service in a row, her eyes met that of a dark figure seated in the last row. Harry flicked his gaze to hers for a heartbeat before he looked away, a conspiratorial smile on his mouth. She felt her skin warm as she followed her father out the church doors, rolling her lips between her teeth. 

Ever since he had climbed through her window the first time weeks prior, Harry had been more involved in the village than ever. He had told her between breathless kisses in the quiet of her bedroom that he wanted to see more, that he could barely keep himself away—she was on his mind constantly. With going to his estate in the night wasn't always a smart option for her and her bedroom wasn't exactly easy to hide away in, he was going to find another way to see her. Since then, whenever the sun was shaded enough, he was ghosting among the village with a tendency to haunt the apothecary or anywhere else (Y/N) might have been. (She could only imagine the stack of lavender and tobacco bundles he had laying around his home with the amount of times he came in to shop with her). He had even started showing up for Sunday morning service for another chance to see her, despite neither of them particularly caring for the sermons. 

Their moments were made up of subtlety with stolen glances and conspiratorial smiles, near silent conversations when no one was listening or the quiet confirmation that they were thinking of one another. They shared more secrets than she was sure anyone would even know what to do with. 

She was the only one who knew the real him amongst the chatter, and she was the only person in the world who knew what it was like to kiss her. And, no one had any idea. 

No one had seen the way he slipped scraps of notes into her hand when she passed off his herbs. No one else noticed the way they gravitated towards one another during the after church gathering at the pub. No one knew that he slipped in through her window most nights or how a letter on exquisite stationery would appear when he couldn't. 

No one knew (Y/N) was in love.

So caught up in her head, she didn't even register the chilly air filtering around her as she descended the church steps being her father. She had followed mindlessly even when he stopped to make conversation with another parishioner, not noticing his pause until she tripped right into his back.

Turning around, her father steadied her with a gentle hand and concerned eyes. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking over the bridge of her nose that had smacked right into his spine.

"Yes, sorry," she rushed out with a shake of her head, "I wasn't paying attention." 

His worry seemingly settled in permanent lines across his face. "Are you sure? You're not growing ill, are you? You've been off in your head these last few days." 

Unconsciously, her eyes trailed over his shoulder and towards the fringes of the group where Harry stood by himself. She could just barely see the amused curl to his lips. He had definitely seen her misstep.

"No, " she answered, blinking back into the conversation though now she had her own efforts focussing on keeping her features in line. "I'm just tired."

—————

"Harry," (Y/N) murmured against his mouth, "My father..." 

Drawing away from her kiss-puffed mouth, Harry sighed. "I know. I am trying, but you have to understand my struggle, darling." 

She couldn't help the plume of laughter that fanned from her lips at his words. He practically beamed at the sound, his deep green eyes glimmering in the low light of a single lamp. 

(Y/N) loved the way he smiled when they were alone. It was a wonder thinking that there was time before she had even known he had dimples. 

"I'm sorry," she told him, settling into the down pillow under her head. Harry hovered above her with a delicate hand roaming over her cheek, his other propping him up from where he laid at her side. She barely noticed the chill when they were like this, huddled under her quilt with the heat of their breath and curious hands. "I wish we didn't have to worry." 

"Come to me tomorrow," he offered in an instant, a bit breathless as he dropped his hand to boldly skate down her side, "We can be alone then." 

His palm settled over her waist with a pulse, fingers tightening just when he mentioned alone. Shifting in her bedding, he didn't hesitate to pull her closer to him. 

From the heat in his refracted gaze and the exceptional curiosity of his hands tonight, (Y/N) had a blushing idea of what he wanted to be alone for. While it wasn't the first time in the last weeks that there had been the passing possibility of allowing him to push her nightgown up or pull apart her corset, this was the first time Harry had given such a hint to his own intentions. 

For fear of assuming too much, (Y/N) slid her eyes down the slope of his neck. "I don't know." 

Creases appeared between his brows as he gazed down at her. "What are you unsure about, darling?" 

Avoiding his eyes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. "I—We—" she stumbled, tongue lazing around her mouth while she searched for the right words, "I want to be alone with you too, but... We're not married." 

She didn't match his eyes for fear that she had misread the situations and every other before this that she had sworn Harry was worked up on her account. For all she knew, he wanted nothing more than to speak at full volume and have more than a squeaky bed to sit upon.

Ducking his head into her line of sight, he forced her to meet his gaze. "I would never want to do something that you do not want as well, (Y/N). If you would prefer we do nothing more until we begin publicly courting and doing things in order, then that is what we will do." His hand on her side softened. "This is already more than enough for me—I can wait." 

Despite his kind words, (Y/N) didn't feel any of her stress alleviate. She had already known Harry would never rush her into anything thatch was not ready for, just as much as she knew that she did not feel any real inclination to wait until they were betrothed. But, neither of those truths made her decision any easier, not when there was more than just her own wants and desires to take into account. 

"I know, and I want to, really," she said, reaching out to play with the loose fabric of his top, "I just—It's... I don't want you to see or think of me any differently afterwards. I know it is not proper to want anything outside of marriage—I do not want anything to change if I were to... indulge." 

She hoped he understood what she was trying to tell him, specifically the kind of pressures that were placed on her for the simple fact that she was a woman in society. There were enough stories she had heard of women who had taken what they wanted, or fell in love with another and expressed that love, and were later shamed for doing exactly that—oftentimes by their own partners or people she trusted in her life. She didn't want to be cast aside in case he found that he no longer wanted her afterwards, after seeing how willing she was to be with someone that wasn't her husband.

Harry's features twisted with a frown touching his lips and his eyes saddening. "Have I ever made you feel as if my feelings would change should you spend the night with me? If I have, I want you to know—" 

"No, it's not that," (Y/N) rushed out, already feeling guilty, "You've never made me feel anything like that. It's just that... I suppose I've made myself feel this way. I just don't want you to change your mind about me." 

For all she knew, Harry would have sex with her and learn that he was only attracted to her for the fact that he wanted to be with someone after such a long time. It was not his fault she had these doubts, but they were ones that lived in her head.

Harry didn't shy away from her as she spoke. He only listened, patiently waiting for her to finish her thoughts. 

"I will just have to prove it to you then, that I have no doubts about you or anything I feel for you." His words were solid, unyielding. There was no room for argument. "In the meantime," he contented, his tone decidedly softer as he shuffled closer to her, "Would it be enough to tell you that I adore you? That I care for you more than I have for anyone or anything before?" 

(Y/N) suddenly felt shy under his attention. He had murmured as much to her in the heat of the moment before, but never so clearly and earnestly before.

"Harry," she started, settling her palm against his chest as if to contain him. 

"It is true," he smiled, unwavering in the way he spoke ,"You are like no one I have ever known before, and I could spend my entire existence only wishing to learn you. I know we are not married, or even engaged, but I hope it is enough to know that I do love you." 

Refractions of green sparkled in his eyes, brightening his gaze in a way she swore only happened when they were alone. Her heart bubbled and beat heavily in her chest. She could n longer contain the budding grin fighting to pluck at her lips. 

"You truly mean that?" she whispered, selfishly asking if only to hear it again. 

Dimples were thumbed into his cheeks. "Of course, I do. I've come to believe that the reason I was kept alive for so long was so that I might get to meet you." 

Looking up at him with his words ringing in her ears, Harry was like the moon to her. Never had she heard devotion like that. Even in her most romantic of daydreams, she never could have imagined that harry would say something like that to her, his eyes fixed to hers and his touch an anchor. Her chest practically ached as she processed. 

Her hand on his chest curled until she was fisting his top between her fingers. "I love you, too," she peeped out, the sound of her heartbeat sticking in her ears. 

Harry didn't hesitate before he was sealing his lips to hers once more. It was a hurried, excited kiss, leaving their mouths just a bit off center and his nose mushed against her cheek, but (Y/N) couldn't help but to smile into the contact. 

When he pulled away, (Y/N) could have sworn there was a flush of color to his skin. "If not for how badly I want to do this the right way, I would be proposing right now, (Y/N)." 

"You don't have to," she murmured, surging forward and pressing another kiss to his lips, "This is enough for me." While there was still undue shame she was going to undoubtedly feel tied to any decision she made, she didn't want that to come before what she wanted when it came to Harry. "If you were still offering," she started, dropping her eyes to follow the line of his nose and the pillow of his lips, "I would like to see you tomorrow. At your home." 

"Really?" he asked, his voice an octave deeper than she remembered. 

She nodded, a soft smile on her features. 

"Only if you are sure, my love," he murmured, "The door is always open for you."

(Y/N) could only answer him with a kiss.

—————

Pacing around her bedroom, (Y/N) counted, the numbers climbing in her head. Her simple white dress flourished around her ankles with every step, though she took care to avoid the creaky floorboards. 

When she reached two hundred, she took in a deep breath and strained her ears to listen to the rest of the house. All she heard was the sound of her father's snoring, just as she had when she had started readying herself. 

Releasing that breath, she took quiet steps to her slightly ajar window. She had run over this plan enough times in her head for her brain to go quiet as she finally put it all in place. Repeating her steps from the first time she had snuck out, (Y/N) made it out of her home in one piece before starting towards the long winding route leading to Harry's home. 

It wasn't long before a familiar black carriage and bone white horses hit her line of sight. A broad grin took over her features as she pace doubled to reach the coach. 

"Hello, Mitchell," she chirped, catching the familiar head of dark hair and pale features sitting in the coach box. 

"Hello, Ms. (Y/N)," he smiled at her, formality still hitting his tone despite (Y/N) assuring him more than once that he didn't need to offer her any, "He's been eagerly waiting for you." 

"I have been, too," she confessed through her grin, rounding the carriage with less grace than she figured she ought to have. Before she even had a chance to knock on the door or surprise him, Harry was practically jumping out of the box. 

"(Y/N)," he practically sighed, wrapping her in his arms the second his feet landed on the solid ground. 

Her own arms around his neck, she all but melted into his hold. Harry held her snug to his chest, his face buried in her hair. "I've missed you so, darling. I feel as if it has been years since I've held you." 

"You were in my room just last night, Harry," (Y/N) laughed. As if she hadn't been feeling the same way today, though it was much more fun to tease him.

"Exactly," he countered, stiffening his hold on her to lift her feet from the ground. (Y/N) squealed a laugh in his ear as she clung to him. "It has been much too long since I've held you."

She could offer no argument to him as she wrapped her limbs around Harry, allowing him to carry her into the carriage effortlessly. (Y/N) felt breathless by the time he had her settled on the bench beside him, wrapped in velvet and warmth despite his chilled skin. 

As she caught her breath, the horses started off in the direction of the castle, a rhythmic thumping starting with their hooves against the path. Harry looked down at her with amusement on his features. 

"Have you truly not missed me, darling?" he asked, his voice a soft song filling the space between them. His hand was just as gentle as he removed hair from her face, giving him a full view of her eyes. 

"I have," she smiled, shaking her head, "But, Mitchell..." 

Harry waved her off. "He doesn't listen, believe me. He only wishes to see me happy." 

"Are you? Happy, I mean?" 

Dipping his head down until he could press his lips to hers, (Y/N) received her answer in a murmur: "Undoubtedly, so."

—————

"If you're ready, I have somewhere I'd like to show you." 

Looking at Harry from over the rim of her wine glass, (Y/N) brightened. "What is it?" she asked after swallowing her gulp, the center of her lips tinted a berry red. 

"Let me show you," Harry countered, standing from his place at the dining table before offering her a hand. 

(Y/N) placed her palm in his without a second thought, fluidly following after him. 

Her new gown flourished with every step she took with her hand cradled in the crook of his elbow, the white ensemble having been waiting for her when they arrived at the estate. Though it wasn't as grand as the red one that now hung delicately in the wardrobe, it was no less luxurious. 

The fabric was a satiny cream, gliding over her fingertips when she first touched it. The neckline cut straight across her décolletage with the sleeves being nothing more than swathes of material that draped over her arms, leaving the boned corset to keep the bodice upright. The skirt wasn't full like her last garment, leaving the shape slim and sleek around her form. Harry had practically mooned at her when she descended the stairs after dressing, his eyes never leaving her for long. 

With the way the fabric gleamed and shimmered, (Y/N) felt as if she fit in with the moonlight when Harry led her outside. At her side, he blended in with the dark night aside from his pale features, acting as the heavens around the bright moon. 

The ground under their steps was dewy, appearing as if drops of starlight had landed on earth with the reflection of the sky on the droplets. Looking ahead, through the draping wisteria and dark purple blooms, was the greenhouse. The building was in much better shape than the last she had seen, now with a complete roof and frosted glass on every wall. 

"You finished it!" she bubbled, eager to see if he'd had the chance to fill it with any exotic blooms just yet. 

"I did," he smiled, his profile illuminated by the full moon, "I wanted to make sure I could take you here the next time you came." 

Approaching the door, Harry pushed it open for her to enter first. 

Inside, (Y/N) felt that same wondrous glee she did when he had shown her the ballroom for the first time. This small space put her entire apothecary to shame. 

The space was warm and humid, condensation trapped along the windows. Strung along the roof were familiar bundles of all of the herbs Harry had come by to pick up over the last month or so whenever he wanted an excuse to see her, the air tinted with the matching lavender and tobacco fragrances. The greenhouse itself had shelf after shelf, stretching tables, and hanging pots full of different plants. There were still plenty of places to grow, more room to put more and more flowers and herbs, but there was already enough filling that space that (Y/N) couldn't help the joyous gasp she let out. 

Harry allowed her to wander through, looking over every leaf and every shrub, fawning over the blooms, and finding things she had no name for. When she wasn't so lost in her daydreams, romanticizing everything, (Y/N)'s hobby was her plants. She doted on them like pets, and took care of them every chance she could. Being in a place like this, with Harry, in a gorgeous dress, was exactly what her dreams were made of.

Coming up to an unfamiliar plant, (Y/N) gazed at it with wide eyes. The open leaves resembled that of an open jaw, with spines on the very edge of the leaves acting as teeth. It was colored a bright, smooth green, not a single blemish altering the perfection. Curiosity took over as she reached out, attempting to touch the spines to see if they were as sharp as they looked. She jumped back with a yelp when the leaves snapped together upon contact, acting just like the gnashing jaw she had compared them to. 

In an instant, Harry was at her side, cradling her back to him with her hand clasped in his. 

"It didn't get you, did it?" he asked with a concerned furrow to his brow. He cradled her hand in his palm, the pad of his thumb brushing over her fingertips as if he could heal any wound with a touch. 

"No, I am alright," she answered, canting her head as her eyes stayed locked on the biting plant, watching as it reopened its jaws for the next victim, "Does it always do that?" 

Bundling her hand in his own, Harry followed her this time as she approached the trap once more. "Only when it is trying to eat," he shared, watching her with the same fascination she offered to the plant. 

"It eats? What do you mean?" 

"It is called a Venus Fly Trap," Harry explained, "Unlike the others, it eats meat—bugs and the like. When it thinks it's caught any prey, it'll snap closed and take its meal." 

(Y/N) had never heard of a predator plant—had never even imagined something like this could exist. "You feed it?" 

"It does rather well for itself, I choose not to interfere too much."

She tried to picture something that looked so flimsy, a pair of leaves that mechanically moved together, could trap a living being. "Has it ever bitten you before?" 

"Once," Harry admitted, "It was more startling than anything. That is when Mitchell shared that we would most likely benefit from leaving it alone." 

Without much thought, she reached out once more as if to test the theory that the trap was nothing more than a scare. Harry quickly had her hands bundled in his own, twirling her away from the exotic bloom. He shook his head when his eyes met hers, a lopsided smile on his lips. 

"I have said it before, but it always surprises me how much you lack any sense of survival," he laughed, pulling her hands to his chilled chest, "Though I said it did not hurt, does not mean you should try it out yourself." 

"Sorry," she answered, a sheepish smile on her lips, "I just wanted to try for myself." 

"Don't," he teased, bringing her hands to his lips where he gave her a soft smattering of kisses along the fingertips.

A soft laugh plumed from (Y/N)'s lips as she watched him, wiggling her hands out of his to cradle his cheeks in her palms. "This place is wonderful, Harry. I had no idea you wanted to make something like this." 

He leaned into the warmth of her touch. "I made it for you." 

(Y/N) felt her features soften; her eyes rounded out, cheeks softened around the width of her smile, every muscle she hadn't even realized she was tensing now going lax. "Did you really?" she crooned, following the refractions of light that danced over his features from the moonlight streaming through. 

"Of course, I did," he smiled, "I'd do anything for you."

It was a moment like this that she wondered if she could really handle being engaged for a whole two years the way her sister was. She had spent so many years dreaming up someone like Harry, she wasn't sure if she could wait that much longer to have him be hers in every real way. All she could do was hold him tighter.

Harry's smile widened as he gazed down at her. "I wish I knew what was going on in your head." 

"Just you," (Y/N) answered, "Always you." 

Turning his head in between her hands, Harry pressed his lips not puckered kisses against the palms of her hands. She could feel him smiling against her skin. 

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, my love, but I am forever grateful." He pulled her hands from his cheeks only to hold them against his chest once more. His features, though still swimming in adoration, settled into something more somber then. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something out here." 

"Oh?" (Y/N) sounded. 

For the first time since they met, (Y/N) saw a small amount of uncertainty leak into his gaze. "I know we have talked some about our future," he started, gaze traveling over her features to capture any and every reaction, "And, I have been thinking about something that I wanted to share with you." 

"Okay," she nodded, trying not to betray her own nerves on her face, "Something good, I hope." 

A faint dimple was pushed into Harry's cheek as he stretched his smile that much more. "I hope so, as well." Within a breath, he was entirely serious once more. "You know that I wish to marry you, right? Outside of just our talks in your bedroom, I have meant every word I have said about sharing my life with you." 

"I do," she smiled, hoping to lessen his worry, "And I feel the same. I wish we could be married tomorrow, even." 

Small traces of relief had his features loosening up, the cut of his jaw rounding and his brows relaxing. "I do as well, but I want to do that the right way, with a real wedding and everything else you could want. Though, I feel that the both of us are rather impatient." (Y/N) let out a small fan of laughter at his truth. "Because of that, I have been thinking and found some old correspondence with a friend that gave me an idea." He paused before continued, as if gathering his words. "Do you remember the Blood Bond I told you about?" 

(Y/N) gave a silent nod. She could recall the short details he had shared with her and the way her mind had traced back to the binding more than once in her daydreams. 

"I know it is a lot to ask of you, as neither of us really understand what a Blood Bond truly entails outside of theory, but I have wondered if... If you might be willing to complete a Blood Bond with me." He rolled his lips between his teeth wrestling with both his nervousness at presenting the idea as well as his hope for her answer. "I found letters from an old friend, someone who knew someone else who had completed the bond with another, and it sounded promising. There weren't many details, but they sounded happy." 

"Were they—" (Y/N) floundered over her question, unable to find the right terms, "Were they both like you? Or was one of them like me?" 

His mouth formed a grim line. "Both were like me. I can't find anything on any couple like us, unfortunately. I suppose we might be the first," Harry posited, the very corner of his mouth turning upwards. 

While (Y/N) was more than warm to the idea of bonding with Harry—marrying him in the way they could without having the follow the steps of courting and engagement while also easing her father into the idea—she was unsure. The lack of details that even Harry knew tickled a part of her mind she had trouble ignoring. 

"Would it...If we did, would it make me like you?" While she loved Harry for who he was, and understood his story, there was little desire in her to completely forgo her own life in favor of a still heart (and the blood thing was still very much not something she had interest in). 

"I do not think so, but, again, I can't be sure." It appeared as if it pained him to give her so little detail. "But, I would never offer this if I did not think it would be a good option for us, darling. Selfishly, even if we can't share this with anyone, I don't know if I can wait much longer before I know I am yours and you are mine."

He peeked at her through his lashes, reflections of green glimmering in the pale moonlight. (Y/N) understood what he meant. While this would be another secret between them, something she couldn't even share with her father, it was enough to look at him and know that Harry was hers and she was his. It was enough to know that there was a place they belonged: at each other's sides. 

Pinching her bottom lip between her teeth she asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore than I can imagine a regular bite does," he offered, giving a small shrug of his shoulders, "But, I can't be sure. I would do everything I could to make it as painless as possible, darling." 

There was a part of (Y/N) that stayed wary, and urged her to do the same. It poked holes in the logic and filled everything with doubt. There was no easy way to be the first, there was no safe way. There was so much unknown about what could happen should she bare her neck for him and allow Harry to bind them together in whatever way the Blood Bond would do. There was even a chance that she could drop dead immediately after, leaving the rest of her life—including Harry—behind. 

There was no way to be sure that nothing terrible would happen, but the rest of her wasn't certain if that really mattered. She had no way of knowing that Harry was telling the truth when he revealed his nature to her, or if she could be sure that she was truly safe around him. She had no way of knowing that she was doing the right thing by continuing to invite him to her and to fall in love with him on the way. But she did each of those things anyway, because she had felt in her bones that it was right. She had felt that she could trust Harry with everything—every fall down the rabbit hole of love, every time they were alone with her neck at his teeth, everything that her instincts told her was okay because she trusted him. 

That trust in him piped up, flicking (Y/N)'s gaze to match his as he patiently waited for her answer. "Okay." 

Harry perked up at the word. "Okay?" 

The beginnings of an ecstatic grin bubbled over her features. "I want to bond with you. We'll learn all of this together. I don't want to go another day without being yours." 

In the middle of the greenhouse, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest before lifting her off of her feet. (Y/N) giggled, looping her own arms around his neck and clinging to him as he spun her around. Her dress twirled around them, enclosing Harry in lily white fabric as if he were the center of a moonlit bloom. 

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over, his face burrowed in her neck with his nose skimming the column. 

(Y/N) could only smile, her eyes shuttering closed. She buried her hands in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. This is the kind of joy she pictured when she finally found her one and she agreed to spend her life with him—another assurance that she was doing the right thing. Something so wrong or hasty wouldn't feel so good. 

Positing her down on the edge of a sparsely populated table, Harry stood between her legs as he settled his hands on her thighs over her silken dress. He had a bubbling smile on his face as he looked up at her, his eyes almost entirely green with only his pupil and a few slivers of the familiar coal remaining. 

"I will write to my friend, and see if he has any more answers. Then, when you're ready, we can—" 

A furrow pinched (Y/N) brow as she spoke, "We're not doing it tonight?" 

Harry paused to consider her question. "I thought... I don't want to push you or make you feel as if we have to do this tonight. I figured you would like more time." 

While Harry was erring on the side of caution—once again being the more responsible of the two compared to her impulsiveness—she didn't want to do the same. She had no fear of the Venus Fly Trap despite almost being caught in its clutches, and she had no fear of Harry and the unknown. 

"I don't need any more time," (Y/N) cemented, reaching to settle her hands on his shoulders with her fingertips digging into the luxe velvet, "I trust you, and I don't want to wait anymore. I waited my whole life to find someone like you—I practically dreamt you up. I don't need time to be sure." 

As she spoke, Harry had his eyes fixed on her, watching her mouth wrap around every word and the devotion of which she hoped he felt. His own lips had fallen open in a small gape, eyes glimmering as if he were looking at the sun. HIs hands on her thighs pulsed, tightening his grip as if he could drift away at any moment. 

He didn't have to say it for (Y/N) to know that he loved her. That he knew what it was like to wait and hope there was someone there at the end who understood. 

Reaching to cradle her cheeks in his palms, he brought her in for a slow kiss, his lips slotted between hers with his nose brushing against her own. There was an urgency behind it that she had never felt from him before. 

"I love you," he murmured. 

The delicate curl of her lips had him pulling away just enough to drag his kisses over her cheek. "I love you, too." 

"I'm not certain in what I'm doing, (Y/N), so I need you to tell me if I am hurting you. I do not want this to be ruined because of me, so please stop me if you feel the need." His lips never lifted from her skin as he spoke, his words being painted across in sweeps of his breath and skims of his nose. 

"I trust you," she reiterated, dipping her head back as he descended lower towards her throat, "I love you." 

"I love you, too," he responded simply, before pulling away, "But you must promise me. If there's even a moment where you are no longer sure, do whatever you need to do to make me stop." 

His jaw was set and eyes hard as he spoke, determination settling on his features. "I promise," she said, her hands still firm on his shoulders, "If anything changes, I will tell you." 

A small curl lifted his lips as he took her vow, features softening. "I will tell you before I bite, is that okay?" 

"Please," she responded, relaxing into his arms as he wrapped them around her middle with his hands spanning the planes of her back. As much as she did trust him, the fact that his teeth would be biting into her neck in a few moments was most likely going to be her least favorite part of their bonding. 

When Harry dipped his head down, the chill of his touch grazing her throat, (Y/N) expected to feel the scrape of his teeth, the point of something predatory catching on her skin. Instead, she felt the soft press of his lips and the drag of his nose over the column. He worked slowly, familiarly, kissing his way along until he stopped. He paused on the side of her throat, just under where her pulse thrummed. 

"I'm going to bite here, alright?" he murmured, "Just long enough to forge the bond, darling." 

She clenched her hands on his shoulders. "Okay." 

Against her throat, she could feel his lips moving though there was no sound. She wanted to ask what he was saying, but before she had a chance that searing slice she had been waiting for finally struck. 

The feeling took her breath away, her hands tightening on his shoulders. It didn't hurt like a cut from a knife or a stab from a needle, no—Harry's bite burned. It was a bubbling burn, as if something inside her was melting all within the span of a second. The searing brought tears to her eyes, stealing her breath before she had a chance to understand. 

Just as quickly as the burning started, it was gone. In its place was something pleasantly cool, like a breeze on a warm day. Her vision cleared with her breath restored. She was hyper aware of Harry's shoulders under her hands, the warmth of his velvet jacket and the welcome chill from his skin. She clung to him, conscious of every stretch of fabric on her skin and every anchoring touch he gave her. It was overwhelming, verging on euphoric, urging her to shutter her eyes and absorb every second. 

The moment could have lasted anywhere from two hours long to two seconds, (Y/N) had no way of telling by the time Harry pulled away. He kept his grip on her firm, his arms barred around her back as she came back down to the greenhouse. 

With a fluttering blink of her lashes, (Y/N) saw Harry for what he was, for the very first time.

He looked at her with eyes darker than she had ever seen before, no semblance of any green she was accustomed to. She could clearly see a flush on his cheeks, appearing more human than she had ever realized he wasn't. The most jarring part: the blood dripping down his chin. It was a stark rub against his skin, staining his lips and coating his teeth.

That was her blood rolling down his lips.

For the first time since meeting him, she felt that fear she had lacked. It was nothing more than a zip up her spine, but it was there. If he were any other person, any other version of him in the years past, this would be the last thing she saw before she would be laid to rest on the forest floor with her throat ripped out. 

As much as she was startled at the sight, the feel of her blood dripping down her neck, she also saw the way he was looking at her. Within the depths of his dark eyes, he was seeing her and tasting her and knowing her for the first time. There was no way that she had been the only one to feel that overwhelming euphoria, not when he looked at her like that. 

In a distracted movement, he wiped his sleeve over his chin, intending to clear some of the crimson though most of it only smeared over his skin.

He was breathless as he spoke, "Ar—You're... (Y/N)." 

Tears filled his eyes as he clung to her. 

Though her hand shook, (Y/N) still reached to place her palm on his cheek. She couldn't avoid the blood on his skin, but she didn't have the mind to care as she attempted to comfort him. 

"I'm here," she whispered, hooking her ankle around the back of his leg, "You did it." 

His hands on her back curled until his fingertips were denting her shoulder blades by how tightly he held her. He shook his head as if to clear whatever was going on inside. "We—It's—Your turn." 

In that second, she remembered the small detail she had willfully forgotten. For the Bond to go both ways, she would have to also take his own blood. The prospect of him biting into her didn't seem so bad anymore compared to this. 

Her eyes dropped to his neck, floundering suddenly. "I—But, I can't... I'm not like you, I can't... bite." 

The fact seemed to hit Harry as well, though his brain was still clearly flooded with whatever it was he was experiencing with his end of the bond forged. He blinked to clear his eyes as he dropped his gaze to her neck. 

"I think—I can take care of it," he offered on a stilted tongue. 

(Y/N) didn't have any time to question before he was bringing his arm around to his lips, pushing his sleeve out of the way until his pale wrist was on display. The same way he had sunk his teeth into her neck, he now did to his own arm, opening up a gash with decidedly darker and thicker blood than she had ever seen before. 

She understood what he was doing for her—taking out the work so she could close her end of the bond by taking in his blood—but she still felt repulsed at the prospect of tasting any of the ichor oozing from his arm. She wasn't like him. She couldn't see any way she could enjoy the taste or the feeling of drinking his blood. 

All it took was one glance into his shimmering eyes, the same ones that had pleaded to her to not be scared of him, that prosed over his devotion to her, that had her shakily taking his arm in her grasp. 

"Wh-What do I do?" 

"Jus' drink, darling," he swallowed, "Quickly. Before it heals." 

For the sole fact that she wasn't sure if she could stomach seeing Harry bite into himself once more, she closed her eyes and brought his wrist to her lips. The second the blood filled her mouth, she wanted nothing more than to retch over and spit it out. It was metallic and heavy, coating her mouth in a way she couldn't compare anything to. 

The first gulp was the hardest—the most troubling. Just as soon as she swore her throat was closing, urging her to gag and be rid of everything she was taking down, something changed.

Similar in the way that there was an overwhelming stillness when Harry had bitten her, she was now left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. Before she had been contently in her skin, aware of every motion and touch. This time, she was conscious of everything that wasn't entirely her. 

She swore she could feel her own wrist warming, her own thoughts picturing her bent over Harry's arm, the feel of her dress under her palm. 

These were Harry's thoughts and feelings she was experiencing. She was no longer just her in that moment. 

The Bond was there, allowing her a peek into who it was that was at her side. 

Including the immense amount of love he was feeling just then. 

She had never been aware of a missing piece in her, never been aware that there could be more of her somewhere, until then. This is what Harry had been feeling when he bit her, when he looked at her with tears in his eyes and clung to her as if she were the only one to give him breath, to make him whole. 

Pulling his arm from her mouth, she didn't think twice of the blood staining her lips or coating her chin before she was throwing herself at him. Looping her arms around his neck, she clung to him with tears leaking down her eyes. 

That was the Bond she could feel pulsing through her system. Harry was now a part of her just as much as she was his. 

There was no doubt their clothing was ruined, blood staining the material that they had no chance of removing, with the ends of (Y/N)'s hair caught in the crossfire, but she couldn't find it in herself to care for more than anything but Harry. 

"I love you," she whispered, her voice brittle under the lump in her throat and the tears glazing her eyes. "We did it." 

"We did," Harry sighed, the smile on his face apparent in his tone, "I love you so much, darling."

(Y/N) could only close her eyes, melting into his hold with the greenhouse falling away around them. She clung to him tighter. 

"I've got you, darling," he murmured into her hair, his voice a soothing balm to her wired nerve endings. 

Relaxing into the moment, a quiet smile etched its way onto her lips. 

This was going to be the rest of her life. 

—————

"Harry, be quiet," (Y/N) giggled into his mouth. 

"Why?" he countered, only pulling away just far enough to speak, "It's just us here, remember?" 

Drawing him back to her lips with her hands on his cheeks, (Y/N) could barely keep the smile off of her face long enough to kiss him back. She sunk further into the luxe mattress under her back with every earnest press of his lips to hers, the first swipe of his tongue darting out to run along the seam of her lips.

After stumbling their way out of the greenhouse and through the gardens, Harry had led her to his bedroom with a kind of giddiness she had never seen in him before. Despite the blood on his face, he was almost child-like in his wonder with the way he looked at her. 

His bedroom was just as laden in luxury as the rest of the castle, though it was clear that there was someone actually inhabiting the space. She could see stamps of his presence everywhere; in the stationery on his desk to the unkempt bedding as if he couldn't be bothered to remake his bed everyday despite having nothing but time to fill. A pile of lavender bundles and chamomile blooms were stacked on his bedside, familiar twine holding the herbs together. 

When he offered her the bathroom to clean off, (Y/N) didn't hesitate, wanting to clean herself from the crust that was forming on her chin and the bits of blood that had dried in her hair. By the time she finished, there was a nightgown waiting for her and an invitation on familiar stationery to join Harry in his room when she was ready. 

Under different circumstances, she would have taken her time, luxuriated in the thick towels and scented lotion. There were different creams and oils that she didn't recognize, the kind she would have loved to take her time and learn. But there was someone waiting for her—someone that was as close to her husband as he could be without sending her down the aisle in a white dress. 

She didn't want to leave him waiting. 

(Though, she did notice that the bite he had given to her neck was healed almost completely. The wound that had bled enough to fill his mouth was now reduced to a pair of pin pricks on the side of her neck, just barely visible if someone was looking. She was going to have to ask at some point if that was the effect of the bond mending her skin).

That was how she found herself with Harry hovering above her, damp hair tossed across his pillow and her hands cradling his cheeks.

"I can feel you right here," he murmured to her in wonder, his hand on his chest where his unbeating heart sat. 

Sprinkling her own kisses along his cheek, she smiled against his skin. "I can feel you in my heart, too," she whispered against his skin.

Drawing away, (Y/N) tried to chase him for another kiss before failing and sinking back into her pillow with a breathy laugh. Harry's smile widened at the sound. His gaze slipped over her with enough depth that she could have sworn his hands followed the trail, goosebumps erupting on her skin. 

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," (Y/N) said, stealing the same line he said to her more than once. 

Matching her gaze once more, he looked at her with gleaming green shards in his eyes. "Just you. Always you." 

Creases appeared by her eyes from just how far her smile stretched. She knew that line just as well. "Of course it is," she teased, petting the pad of her thumb along the height of his cheek bone, 

"I mean it, my love" he smiled, sweeping a hand across her forehead to pull any stray hairs out of the way, "I have never felt before the way I do right now. Because of you." 

(Y/N)'s heart surged at his words. She knew exactly what he was feeling. Through something she was beginning to understand as their bond, she felt the ardent truth in Harry's words as much as she could hear it. There wasn't enough vocabulary available to tell him what it meant to her to feel and hear his love. 

Selfishly, she resorted to tugging him down for a kiss instead, hoping he understood just as well. 

He smiled into the kiss, a good sign, just before he settled in with her. 

With her legs spread wide for his hips to sit between, she couldn't help but to cling to him. There was no other way she could tell him how much she loved him, how deeply excited she was to spend the rest of the unknown with him. The feeling brought her back to the night before, when he had invited her here in the first place—when he had told her he loved her. 

Despite the chill of his touch, she had never felt so warm when recalling the memory. 

Her hands on his cheeks slid down from his face, following the line of his neck to his shoulders. The neck of his loosely buttoned shirt gave way under her touch, allowing more of his cold skin to sit on display for her to graze her fingers over. 

With their mouths slotted together, (Y/N) grazed one hand up the column of his throat unsure of if it was her own warmth being reflected back or if he was feeling the same way as she and something had awoken in his body. Without thinking, she dragged her nails lightly down his skin, entranced by the new skin she had never touched and barely seen before. 

Harry let out a low moan into her mouth, the sound rumbling against her own chest. Through the bond, she felt that touch of euphoria she was only familiar with through the bite in the greenhouse. Her stomach tightened at the thought. 

Pulling away from her mouth, he dragged his kisses down the line of her jaw. "What was that for, darling?" he asked, his voice a deep grumble compared to the dulcet tones he typically served her. 

"Did you like it?" she countered, a sheepish tone to her voice. She hadn't meant anything by it, really. 

It was the smile she felt against her skin that had her relaxing. "I did," he answered, dragging his lips down the slope of her neck, "Is that what you wanted?" 

"I always want to make you happy," she simply chirped back. 

Drawing away, Harry hovered over her with a slight curl to his lips and only a sliver of green showing around his dark pupils. "Your job is terribly easy then," he smiled, "As I can't help but feel anything but completely ecstatic around you." 

(Y/N) could only shake her head, suddenly feeling bashful under his gaze. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her with her face buried in his neck. She could feel the plume of laughter he let out as much as she could hear it. 

Pressing his weight into her as he reciprocated her hold, he wrapped his arms around her middle in a snug hug. The length of his body was pressed against hers, including the hard to ignore ridge nudging between her legs. While it wasn't the first time she had felt as much between the sheets in her bedroom, it still took her breath away. 

Harry undoubtedly felt her reaction, causing him to pull away just enough to look down at her. "What's wrong, love?" 

She floundered over her words, unsure of how exactly to phrase what she had caused her gasp and the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. "You—I mean... You're—" 

Pursing his lips, Harry held back his smile. "I know, darling," he smiled, "Don't worry, alright? We've done enough tonight, I don't think we need to add anymore new experiences like we had planned." 

"But—" She unceremoniously dropped her gaze between them as if she could get a peek at what was prodding at her core. "I don't want to... You're not hurting, are you?" 

He couldn't help the laugh that fell from his mouth then. "No, I am not hurting," he smiled, squeezing her to him one last time before relinquishing his hold. 

Meandering out from between her legs, he moved to lay beside her. (Y/N) rolled with him, unwilling to let him go very far before he settled at her side, sharing the same pillow despite the vast amount of negative space available. 

"You don't want me to...?" (Y/N) trailed off, unsure of what exactly she was asking. She knew Harry had asked her over, hoping to take advantage of the time alone without having to worry about the creaks of her own home. Despite the turns that night had taken, she didn't want him to believe she was no longer willing, even if she was a bit exhausted. 

Harry's smile was tender on his lips, adoring just as his eyes were. He took one of her hands that had been clasped behind his neck and brought her palm to his mouth. Pressing his lips to the back in a smattering of kisses, he trailed that line up to her wrist and along her arm until she could no longer contain her giggling. The bright smile he gave in response had to match that of her own. 

"Not tonight, my love," he crooned, "I know we had talked about how we wanted to spend this night by ourselves, but I know my outlook on the night has changed some." His gaze dropped to the pinprick marks on her neck, his features brightening that much more at the sight. "I don't feel any rush to do more. We have all the time in the world to learn each other in that way. I'd rather tonight be about you and I and learning the bond we now have." 

Through that bond, she could feel his sincerity. There was no rush in him, nothing clamoring to take her virginity just to have it. It was more important to him to know his wife—his beloved, his bonded. Through his eyes, she saw the stretch of time they had together and the many nights they could fill between the sheets. There was no rush to be had when he had her for the rest of their lives. 

"You're sure?" she asked, shuffling closer to him over the velvet duvet, "I don't want to disappoint you." 

"How could you disappoint me, my love?" he asked through a dazzling smile, dimples denting his cheeks and perfect teeth on display. He brushed his hand over her cheek, fingertips grazing the fan of her lashes and the height of her cheekbone as if she were the most delicate of flowers in his garden. "You're here," he said in awe, "In my bed, brave enough to bond with me, and looking at me with stars in your eyes. How could I ever be disappointed with you?"

Heart thumping in her chest, (Y/N) looked at him and saw the life he had envisioned.

There were so many nights they were going to spend just like this, laden in velvet and kisses, chilling touches and warm gazes. They had all the time in the world, there was no reason not to savor these quiet moments with him.

All she could do was pull him in for a kiss.

—————

The following morning, (Y/N) was exhausted as she traipsed around the apothecary, though she felt as if she were floating off her feet. She took care to restock each and every cubby, straightening the displays and ensuring only the best of the best were placed out for customers. Her father was manning the register as she did so, leaving her to sit in her rose petal thoughts and appreciate the stiff muscles of her neck and bruises from her early morning climb back into her bedroom.

It was all reminders of the best night of her life, she decided. Her wedding night—even if it wasn't in the traditional sense. 

There was a new piece that now lived inside her, a remnant of Harry's soul that now replaced the piece she had given him last night. It felt easier to breathe, now knowing that he was on the other side. 

More than once since starting her day, her father had asked what had made her so chipper. She had only replied that she had slept well, or simply woke up in a good mood. She couldn't wait for the day that she could tell him that it was Harry that had her heart so full and eyes so bright.

The bell above the door jingled, alerting that a customer was coming in, though that wasn't what had (Y/N) perking up in her spot. There was a fumbling in her chest, as if her heart knew something she didn't.

Looking over her shoulder, her lungs squeezed when she saw who had walked through the door.

Armed with a draping bouquet of wisteria and the tiny bell-shaped blooms of lily of the valley, was Harry. He was dressed immaculately as ever, though she could see a color in his cheeks and his eyes almost glimmering with the amount of green shards that had surfaced. From the corner of her eye, she saw her father stiffen at his presence, though Harry gave her a passing glance with a lopsided smile before even acknowledging his presence.

"Mr. Styles," her father gruffly greeted him, "How can we help you today?" 

"Actually, sir," Harry started, a pleasant voice to match his expression though (Y/N) could see amusement swimming in the depths, "I was hoping I could have a chance to speak with your daughter." 

"She's busy at the moment, but I can help you with anything you need." Her father's voice now held an edge to it.

"Unfortunately," Harry said, skipping his gaze back to her where she stood with her hands knotted behind her back, "I don't think you can help me with this, sir. I was looking to ask for her permission to officially begin courting her—if she is interested, anyway" 

(Y/N) had no hope of wiping the smile from her face, but she did everything she could to keep herself from launching into her husband. Instead, before her father could make any objection of any kind, she piped up with, "I am definitely interested, Mr. Styles. You have all the permission in the world." 

Though she was sure that if she spared her father a glance he would be just as angry as the night he had thrown her invitation into the furnace, but she couldn't draw her eyes from Harry. 

She couldn't wait to marry him. For the second time, technically.

—————

lily of the valley, though delicate, can stop the heart when consumed

ahhhhh that is the end of my little Halloween/fall story! now my break will be starting and ill be back with more writing after the new year!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas for anythign at all!

[anatay004]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ɢʀᴇʏ | ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ)

After heated arguments and tensions, feelings are finally revealed, but things can only go downhill when certain words aren’t chosen correctly and misinterpretations happen.

Part 5:

warnings: Targaryen incest.

Note: I just wanted to clarify that in this piece of fiction Jacaerys is not a minor. Despite the confusion with his age throughout the show, in this story he is over 18 and so is the reader. The reader is supposed to be a little older, actually, since she’s Rhaenyra’s true sister.

Also, thanks @thesithdiaries for the help!

ꜱʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ.

ᴀ ᴄʜᴀɪʀ.

ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ.

YOU WERE NOWHERE to be found.

After the heated argument with Jacaerys, the sun eventually settled over the bleak castle, but you were merely a ghost amongst the walls. Your handmaiden was growing anxious, she searched for you inside your chamber, she searched for you in the corridors, she searched for you in the darkest corners of the building, but there was no sight of you.

So, when her throat finally clogged with guilt, she hurried to inform Rhaenyra.

"Are you certain she's not here?" Rhaenyra questioned, her voice strangled with a hint of sheer shock and guilt altogether.

Your handmaiden nodded. "I am, your grace. I searched for her everywhere."

After hearing the news from Rhaenyra, Jacaerys was swift to deliver the command to search for you, he wanted every guard in the castle to explore the island even if the looming sky over their heads was threatening to pour down.

But then, as the night stole over the day and the clouds finally tore, Daemon broke to him the news. "Her dragon is not in the dragonpit."

His heart stopped.

"There's a fucking storm on the way," Jacaerys shouted, but his voice was muffled by the sheer blasts that ripped through the sky. "It's not safe, she is going to get hurt if she's still flying."

"We need to get inside, Jace," Daemon pushed forward, dropping a hand onto his shoulder to beckon him inside. "I'm sure she's alright, she's a fine rider, and you know it."

Jacacerys shrugged his touch away. "I'm going to look for her, Vermax is faster."

"Jace, listen to me – "

"– I will not lose her." Jacaerys declared, a hint of finality wrapped around his words as he spoke. His heart was hammering against his chest, he was on the brink of faltering at that moment – he was fucking scared.

What if you were hurt?

What if you never came back?

The questions burrowed deep beneath his chest until there was a hollow that ricocheted his fear. God, was he an idiot for making you run away.

He hated himself for mishandling his feelings. For not tethering what his heart felt to you, for not being able to act on them to dissipate the ridiculous hatred you both shared.

God, was he stupid.

But as the thoughts pestered his head and he made to walk towards the dragonpit, an enormous shadow fell upon him and he stopped when the deafening cry of your dragon roared in his eardrums. He exhaled a clouded breath as relief washed over him at the sight of your dragon landing and you on the sidesaddle.

"It's the princess!" The guards shouted as you began to climb down the dragon.

Jacaerys ran towards you, but the moment his figure stumbled into your line of vision, your dragon slithered and made to growl at him.

"It's okay, Baelor," You shouted amidst pouring rain, stretching your arm out to reach for your dragon's face to place a gentle touch. "He's rotten, he'll only make you sick if you eat him."

In another situation, Jacaerys would've felt indignant – even offended, but given the circumstances, he shut his mouth tight as he unbuttoned his coat to hold it over your head.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He demanded, trailing behind your frame as you made your way toward the castle with heavy steps. "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"Good!" You shouted, trying to brush away the rain from your eyes with the back of your hand. "I'm sure that would have made you the happiest man alive!"

"Stop that – "

" – Why? I'm sure Baela would have taken my place without a heartbeat – " You spat, but the words froze on the tip of your tongue when he latched his hand onto your wrist and turned you around to face him. He was drenched, his hair was plastered over his forehead, and bits of rain clung onto his eyelashes stubbornly, but you still detected the hue that blazed his irises.

He shook his head. "She could never."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "Admit it."

A wry laugh escaped his mouth. "I could never fucking replace you. Can you not see?"

A chill kissed down your spine, you tried to coherent an answer, but the searing look in his eyes quenched down and soften. "What?"

"Please, tell me you're not fucking blind." He breathed out, a hint of pled echoed in his words as you watched with utter confusion.

"I – "

" – Get inside the fucking castle! Do you both want to die from a disease? Figure your shit inside." Daemon interjected, and just like that, the tension dissipated and you rushed inside the castle without a word.

And he watched with saddened eyes.

__________________________

"Do know how worried I was?"

After drying and changing into a clean nightgown, you leaned back in one of your room's chairs, rubbing your temples in distress. Rhaenyra was berating you, explaining the wrong behind your impulsive actions, but you did not care a bit about her lecture.

Instead, you shut your eyes. "Can we continue with this lesson tomorrow, please?"

After throwing you a look, Rhaenyra eventually nodded and closed the distance between you and her with a kiss on your head. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

You stifled a smile. "I've been told."

"We'll talk in the morning, you look rather terrible. You should rest well, sister." Rhaenyra teased, dismissing the blank expression on your face before wishing you a goodnight's sleep.

After dismissing your handmaiden and offering her an apology for the distress you had caused her, you were left alone in your chamber. You were exhausted, the drowsiness in your head made it hard for you to wallow in peace, and yet – you thought about him.

The feelings that retaliated in the pit of your stomach were hard to elucidate.

You hated him for making you feel like shit. For toying with your demure, for shooting words to kill and cornering you out of the castle.

God, did you hate him.

And yet, after tasting the tang of freedom, you turned Baelor back to Dragonstone.

Because while you could one-up Jacaerys and get under his skin, you could still make him come back to you. And, belatedly, you realized he could do the same exact thing to you.

But why?

You reeled over the question for an hour and fumbled with the strands of your hair, braiding and undoing it for the sake of keeping yourself busy. You wouldn't elucidate the matter, you ran around the same enigma without a hint of relief as you held back a breath.

What did Jacaerys mean?

When did he say you couldn't be that blind?

And he couldn't replace you?

But yet he called you a whore.

"This is stupid." You eventually whispered, pinching the bridge of your nose before deciding to climb back to your feet. Hugging your arms, you walked out of your chamber and fugitively made to walk down a few stairs as the coldness seeped into your skin.

When you were finally outside his chamber, you hesitantly raised your arm and knocked, only to falter on your spot when the door parted. Jacaerys looked terrible, the moonlit corridor uncovered the dark circles under his eyes, his nose was puffy, and his face marred with evident sickness that made worry surge through you.

"What happened to you?" You whispered, stepping inside to slide an arm behind his back and steady his body. He leaned tiredly against you, dropping an arm behind your neck as you maneuvered him back to his bed.

"I think it was the rain and the cold." He mumbled, but his voice was a rough timbre that caught you off guard. You eased him down onto his pillow, watching as his body collapsed almost immediately at the faint gesture.

"I'm going to call a healer," You rushed, trying to stifle the panic that was slipping out your mouth, but he reached for your hand to stop you.

"Please, don't," He hoarsely mumbled, tracing patterns over your hand with the pad of his thumb as he watched you with feverish eyes.

"Jace," You breathed out, unable to hide the panic that was breaking through your face. His gaze softened, however, as the nickname subconsciously ripped past your lips.

"You've never called me that before." He sluggishly pointed out.

You blinked, belatedly realizing he was right. "I-I'm sure I have done it before."

He shook his head. "I would have remembered. The bitter name sounds dulcet in the sound of your voice, like honey and summer altogether. I could never forget that."

You tried to convince yourself he was mumbling incoherences, that he was under the influence of a searing fever that was making him speak. So, you tried to ignore the faint heat that burned your cheeks. "You're speaking nonsense."

"I swear I am not," He swiftly replied, looking back at you with pure-lit irises that made you hold back your breath. "I swear I love the sound of your voice, when it wraps around vowels and turns them mellifluent, it makes me hopeful."

"I – "

" – Why can't you see it?" He questioned, his eyebrows knitted in utter confusion as you tilted your head. "I live in the shadow of your vagueness, picking up the bits of warmth you leave behind with every step you take. And yet, you dare not to look my way."

You swallowed.

He wasn't speaking nonsense.

He was throwing confessions.

"You never mentioned this before," You argued, climbing onto the bed. He looked up tiredly, trying to coherent an answer as you leaned closer to place the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're burning..."

"I'll go away in a minute," He whispered and leaned into your palm when it slide down to curve against his warm cheek. "Just stay."

You inhaled softly, brushing his skin with the pad of your fingers. He seemed so vulnerable, so different from the person you encountered just a few hours ago. His usual nonchalant facade shattered before you – he seemed kind and loving, and for a second, you believed it.

"You're so deceiving." You admitted.

He almost chuckled. "You're the one to talk."

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words clogged in your throat when he fisted a piece of your nightgown and tugged it to make you lean closer. Your breath stilled, his face was merely an inch from touching your skin.

He only looked back at you, ignoring the evident surprise that flitted across your face when he eventually shifted his head so that his lips could brush against yours. The kiss was fleeting, but it captured the warmth of denial, the clashing of two feelings, and the heat of desire that you so often tried to quench down.

"Don't ever leave," He suddenly pled, searching for your gaze when the kiss broke and you instinctively leaned back. "I'm begging you.”

Caught off guard, you whispered. "I won't."

"I apologize for the things I said about you earlier. They were horrible and untrue, and I  – " He paused, swallowing hard as your eyebrows knitted together in thought. " – Sometimes, I don't know how to handle the feelings I have for you. They're deceiving and I don't know how to control them, I really fucking don't."

The air rushed out of your lungs.

After years and years of troubling encounters and unknowing feelings, you finally realized what years of hatred failed to make you look.

He had feelings for you.

And so did you.

"I – "

"– Tomorrow you'll be my wife, anyway." He sluggishly whispered, blearily blinking in fatigue as he leaned down. "We will have all the time in the world to figure it out. Just you and I."

You smiled and draped the sheets over his body without a word. It was peculiar, the feeling that grew on your chest as he lulled himself to sleep, talking about you and him in lucid whispers. You wondered, how long had he felt that way?

But then, as you held his hand, something wounding unconsciously slipped out of his mouth. It was low, but it had strained your ears and you stilled at his sudden words. "A whore for a wife, such a silly thought I had. But can you blame me? All my life I've seen men surround you like dogs, and I've never seen you once complain about it. How could I not?"

Suddenly, as if his touch had suddenly torched your skin, you flinched away. He was half-asleep, but his words were lucid and complete, and you tried to swallow the knot that clogged your throat.

I'm so fucking stupid, you thought.

Wiping the tear that had raced down your face, you climbed back to your feet and furiously walked out the door without another word.

He could never love you.

Not like you wanted, anyway.

So, you called a healer and then made your way to your chamber with disappointment again.

[cursecuelebre]

Devotional Playlist to Allfather Odin

This is going to be interesting playlist there is going to folk music but there is going to be some country. I don’t know why but everytime I listen to Johnny Cash I hear Odin. Though yes some may have Christian ideals, I think recognizing past that it’s a nice piece that resonates with Odin. This is obliviously still growing but I will put down some songs and see if it inspires you or thinks about the Allfather.

1. Unshaken - Red Dead Redemption (D’Angelo) but the version I like is by Geek Music. It’s very natury song that is very wise that reminds me of Odin, a particular line says “The pines they often whispered, they whisper what no tongue can tell, He who drinks from the deep water, May he know the depths of the well.” That just tells me that it’s a Odin’s song.

2. Man in Black by Johnny Cash, it’s a song about humility and recognition of how bad parts of society that are often ignored. Johnny Cash sings about wearing black to show he respects and a silent conversation about proverty, injustice, unwanted tragedies throughout the country and the world to have empathy and compassion to those who didn’t had it in the first place. I think Odin appears to those who have suffered a lot and who are lost in life, doesn’t come to those like a god but someone who understands what they’re going through. Man in black, wearing black is something that blends in that I am one of you not above you, Odin walks among us in his cloak with the hood up appearing as one of us as a wanderer and a old wise man.

3. Othan by Heilung, a experimental neopagan folk song that recites stanzas from the Havamal and it’s basically old wise words of Odin “the Pslams of the ancient Norse” this particular song describes his knowledge on spells of specific things.

4. Seidr by Munknorr, He is the God of Seidr and magic in general that he teaches mankind quite fitting it’s also a neopagan folk song.

5. Traust by Heilung, a enchantment song that tells of a woman binding her enemies with chants (a popular use of magic in old Norse witchcraft along with seidr) to drive them away. Again magic and Odin is very much partnered together for obvious reasons.

6. Ghost riders in the sky by Johnny Cash, another country song but the premise reminds me of the wild hunt which said he leads along with Holda.

7. Helreið Oðins (Odin’s ride to Hel) by Einar Selvik, specifically talks about Odin’s journey to Hel and speaking with the Seer who grants him a prophecy about his son Baldr. It also implies Odin is somewhat of a psychopomp a spirit or deity that guides souls to the underworld and back.

8. Alfadhirhaiti by Heilung, a collection of names that relate to Odin and references his sacred animals like Hugnin and Munin as well as his wolves Geri and Freki very much like a war chant which again Odin is a god of war.

9. Munknorr - Odin, a very meditative song and I recommend during meditations channeling Odin or invoking him.

Ps I did not realize I had put 9 songs I’m taking that as a sign lol.

[topguncortez]

Sorry to bother you, but I seen you reposted a prompt list and I was just wondering you could do “ hey, i got you some water. drink it all, you’ll feel better. “ whenever you have time 😊

Heat | Nick "Goose" Bradshaw x Female! Reader

warnings: heat sickness, passing out, vomiting, Goose being a cutie pie note: I am so soft for this man. He just screams "I don't care if you puke on me, I still love you." so send in Goosey thoughts:)

You and heat never got along.

It was another hot day in Lemoore. And hot days in Lemoore meant that the temperatures were reaching nearly 100 plus degrees. Your commander had given his usual morning safety briefing to remind everyone to drink plenty of water, use the arm dunking stations when needed, and to take breaks inside out of the unforgiving sun.

You were supposed to have a simple day, flight plans and maintenance in the morning and a hop with Maverick and Goose in the afternoon. You spent most of your morning inside the hangar, feeling the cool air on your body. In fact, you actually got kind of cold sitting in your office and looking over flight plans. Your water bottle sat on your desk, half drank, as you fueled your body with coffee instead to get through looking at maintenance documents all morning.

"Jesus, Great Balls of Fire, it's hot," Goose said as you, Maverick and himself walked out to your jets. You could see the heat waves on the horizon, "Think it ever gets too hot to melt the wheels?"

"Don't know," You shrugged, "Probably can cook an egg on the canopy though," You pointed to the top of your jet.

"Ha!" Goose said, "Loser has to cook an egg on their canopy. . . and eat it."

Maverick laughed at his back seater, "Goose, are you 30 or 15?"

"You're not supposed to ask a gentleman their age, Pete, it's rude."

Now it was your turn to laugh as you listened to the two pilots bicker like an old married couple. You had known Maverick and Goose since you first arrived in Lemoore about two years ago. You'd be fooling yourself if you said you didn't have a crush on the mustached RIO. He was good-looking, funny, and knew how to have a fun time.

You sat in your cockpit already sweating. It somehow felt hotter as you got ready for your hop. You could feel the sweat dripping down your neck as you waited for take-off.

"Is it just me or is it hotter up here than on the ground?" You heard Goose over comms and looked over to see him, giving you a wave.

"It's not just you, Mother Goose," You answered back, "Alright, tower this is ghost rider 1, ready for take off."

"Ghost rider 1, you are clear for take off."

You gave Goose and Maverick a thumbs up, before taking off towards the sky. Goose always loved watching you fly. If he could sit on the ground and watch you all day, he would. But it was even more of a fight to see you up close and in the air with you. Maverick noticed his RIO being unusually quiet, and knew that his eyes were trained on the skies ahead.

"Oh you are in deep," Maverick chuckled.

"I am no-"

"Tower this is Ghost Rider 2, permission for take off?" Maverick cut off his back seater and fixed the mask on his face.

--- --- ---

You had never been so happy to have your feet back on the ground. Being up in the sky just made the heat worse, and you knew that you had sweat stains in your flight suit. You were about ready to punch out the canopy if it didn't open quickly.

Goose had felt the heat too, and not just from the sun. The dog fight had been intense. You were one of the best pilots in the sky, and Maverick. . . well he was Maverick. You flew fast, and moved with precision. You and Maverick went back and forth between having missile lock on one another. Until you finally "shot" Maverick down by doing a pristine cobra move, and locked in.

"You think she'd teach me how to do that cobra move so slickly?" Maverick asked as the canopy pulled back, giving the aviators some fresh, but hot air.

"No clue," Goose said, taking his helmet off, "You think she'd ice me down if I asked?"

"Think with the head on your shoulders, Nicholas, not the other one," Maverick smirked, and unbuckled himself from his seat. Maverick climbed down first and took the flight gear from Goose.

"Oh I am thinking with this head," Goose said, taking his turn to climb down from the plane, "In fact, I think I'm gonna go be a gentleman and ask if she needs help with anything." Maverick gave his friend a nod, before patting his shoulder and starting on post-flight.

Goose smiled to himself, and fixed his hair a bit as he walked over to your plane. He hoped he didn't smell too bad, but you were used to being around smelly, sweaty men. He did a quick pit sniff as he walked up to you, seeing you leaning on your hand resting on the side of your plane.

"Hey, Dash, do you need anything?" Goose asked. You blinked a couple times, trying to register his voice in your head and also trying to focus your vision on something. Your back was to him and he couldn't see how pale you looked, "Dash?" He called your name again. He reached out to touch your shoulder when you doubled over and vomited all over the ground.

"Holy shit," Goose tossed his helmet on the ground and rushed to you as your legs nearly gave out, "Hey, I got you, I got you."

"Goose, I-I don't feel well," You mumbled.

"I know, c'mon, we gotta cool you down," Goose put your arm around his shoulders and wrapped one around your arm, "Alright, walk with me." You nodded and did your best to move your weak and wobbly legs, but It felt like you had no control over them.

Goose somehow managed to walk/carry you into the rec room, and sat you right down on the couch in front of the air conditioner. You were thankful that no one else was in the room to see you like this. You already got enough shit about being a female, you didn't need to get shit about this. Goose moved around the room quickly, going straight for the freezer and grabbing some icepacks and dishtowels.

"We need to get your core temp down," Goose said and You nodded.

"Do what you need too, Mother Goose," Your words were still slurred.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Goose said and unzipped your flight suit, stripping you down to your t-shirt and shorts. He lifted your arms slightly and put the icepacks under your arms pits. You let out a whine at the temperature change, but then welcomed it against your hot skin.

--- --- ---

You weren't sure when you fell asleep or maybe you even passed out, but you woke up in your dark barracks room with a box fan pointed right at you. Your head hurt as you looked around the room, spotting the door cracked open and a light coming from your common area. You tried to push yourself up from your bed but let out a groan instead. You still felt weak from your collapse earlier.

"Y/N?" You heard Goose call out to you. He was standing in the doorway to your room, you could seem him through the crack, "Can I come in?"

"Y-yeah," Your voice was raspy, probably from throwing up earlier.

Goose walked into your dark room and smiled at you, "Hey, i got you some water. drink it all, you’ll feel better," He said and handed you a glass of water. You basically drank it down in one go, the cool liquid soothing your throat.

"What happened?" You asked, setting the glass down on your bedside table.

"You got a bit over heated," Goose said and you groaned, "It's okay. We got you to the rec room, put some icepacks under your armpits. No one saw a thing if that's what you're worried about."

"Am I that transparent?" You asked nervously and Goose shook his head, "You didn't have to stay."

"I know," Goose said, "But I did to make sure you were okay. Ya know. . . you gave me quite the scare. I-I hadn't ever seen you like that."

You flushed red, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Y/N," Goose said and shifted closer to you, "Did I ever tell you about the time that I had to be stripped down to my tighty whiteys at boot camp?" You shook your head, "I passed out while standing in the chow line. My drill sergeant yelled 'ice sheet!' and I was stripped down to my tighty whiteys right then and there, and this was before I had these bad boys," Goose held his arms up and flexed his biceps. You couldn't help but laugh at him, "There it is. There's that sound I love so much."

You playfully shoved Goose, "Thank you for making me feel better about upchucking on the tarmac."

"Always," Goose said, and grabbed your hand. You glanced down between your hands and back up at Goose, who had a blush on his face. He went to pull his hand away but you squeezed it and then laced your fingers with his.

[odditiesnoctobermidnightroad]

Crooner's Beat-over Prompt-tober!!

Words from Crooner: “I tell ya’ what, there ain’t nothin’ to be had from this ‘tag-me’ game if you don’t have the right inspiration. 

That’s the reason ya’ do these ‘prompt-tober’ challenges, isn’t it? You want something to INSPIRE ya’ don’t cha? You’re gonna need some musical motivation. Thankfully, I know my way with oldies. 

Draw up the images that come to mind when you hear these swinging beats sung by the gods off swing and jazz themselves’.

Bettye Lavette - “Witchcraft in the Air”

Cab Calloway - “Nightmare”, “Minnie the Moocher”, “The Ghost of Smokey Joe”

Ray Charles - “Hit the Road Jack”

Nina Simone - ”I Put a Spell on You”, “Sinnerman”, “Pirate Jenny”

Todd Rollins - “The Boogieman”

Andy Williams - “Spooky”

Frank Sanatra - “Blue Moon”, “Witchcraft”

Sarah Vaughan - “I’m Afraid the Masquerade is Over”

Billie Holiday - “Gloomy Sunday”, “What a Little Moonlight can Do”

Ozzie Nelson - “Strange Enchantment”

Julie London - “This October”

Screamin Jay Hawkins - “Little Demon”, “Whistling Past the Graveyard”, “Alligator Wine”

Stevie Wonder - “Superstition”

Jo Stafford - “Haunted Heart”, “Old Devil Moon”

Rosemary Clooney - “The Wobblin Goblin”, “Pumpky Pumpkin”

Jelly Roll Morton - “Dead Man’s Blues”, “Creepy Feeling”

The Treniers - “One of the Bushes”, “Devil’s Mambo”

Eartha Kitt - “I Want to be Evil”, “I’d rather be Burned as a Witch”

Anita O’Day - “Bewitched, Beguiled and Bewildered”, “The Walls Keep Talkin”

Johnny Cash - “I walk the Line”, “Ghost Riders in the Sky”

Peggy Lee - “Bewitched”, “He’s a Tramp”

Bing Crosby - “Halloween”, “The Headless Horseman”

Steve Cook - “The Legend of Dogman”

Ella Fitzgerald - “Lullaby of the Leaves”

Louis Prima - “Mr. Ghost goes to Town”, “Old Black Magic”

Nat Gonella - “The Skeleton in the Closet”

LaVern Baker - “Voodoo Voodoo”

Louis Armstrong - “This Black Cat”, “Jeepers Creepers”

Glen Miller - “Swinging at the Seance”

Duke Ellington - “Haunted Nights”

Artie Shaw - “The Nightmare”

Draw em’ good, and don’t forget to sing-along along.

I swear I’m not listening…” 

[areyoudreaminof]

The Rock Against the Surf: A Gwyn Berdara Playlist

If my timing is correct, it happens to be Day 2 of @gwynweekofficial , song association! So, how about a playlist of songs for Gwyn?

Just like Nesta needed Gwyn, I think a lot of us readers needed her too. To see someone heal herself through such trauma, to see the beauty and strength in the world and to be vulnerable with herself and others in order to heal was an important experience for me. I really am looking forward to Gwyn's story progressing. Listen Here! And follow me behind the cut for a deep dive!

Pegasi-Jesca Hoop

You combed out my mane I'll wear your saddle and reins With all these stars at my feet I'll stamp and tap the spring With my rider a mount I feel like spreading my wings Take to the sky like poetry

The River-AURORA

Don't forget who you are even though you are hurt You are caught in a wire and soon it will burst You can cry, drinking your eyes Do you miss the sadness when it is gone? (Gone) And you let the river run wild (Gone) And you let the river run wild

The Siren-Nadiiife

Moonlight on my skin Rising from within Taking all my wounds Mother moon my home

Here in the water My soul evolves in wrath I am thunder I am the siren's song

Little Earthquakes-Tori Amos

We danced in graveyards with vampires till dawn We laughed in the faces of kings, never afraid to burn And I hate, and I hate And I hate, and I hate Disintegration, watching us wither Black-winged roses that safely changed their color Oh, these little earthquakes Here we go again

I can't reach you, can't reach you Give me life, give me pain Give me myself again Give me life, give me pain Give me myself again

Rocks and Water-Deb Talan

Seven times I went down Six times I walked back I don't fear the dark anymore 'Cause I've become all that

I will be rocks, I will be water I will leave this to my daughter Lift your head up in the wind When you feel yourself grow colder Wrap the night around your shoulders I will be with you even then Even when I cannot see your face anymore

O'Sister-City and Colour

What have the demons done? With a luminous light that once shined from your eyes What makes you feel so alone?

Is it the whispering ghost that you fear the most? But the blackness in your heart, it won't last forever I know it's tearing you apart but it's a song you can wither

Was it the whispering ghost that left you out in the cold? But the blackness in your heart won't last forever I know it's tearing you apart but it's a storm you can wither

Cold War-Janelle Monáe

So you think I'm alone? But being alone's the only way to be When you step outside You spend life fighting for your sanity This is a cold war You better know what you're fighting for This is a cold war Do you know what you're fighting for? If you want to be free Below the ground is the only place to be Cause in this life You spend time running from depravity

notre dame-Paris Paloma

As I tiptoe Creaking over prayers Pleading with their maker Crying with the choir

I’m not immune to the sincerity Below me, makes me feel It makes me holy But the tears I understand That I do not below No I do not belong

Bishop Briggs-White Flag

Take a hit, shoot me down, shoot me down I will never hit the ground, hit the ground Playing dead, I'll never do Gotta keep an eye on you Patience is wearing thin, paper-thin Promises broke again, what a sin But it only feeds my energy So don't expect no sympathy

Oh, won't wave my white flag, no This time I won't let go I'd rather die Than give up the fight, give up the fight

Rebel Heart-First Aid Kit

You told me once I have a rebel heart I don't know if that's true But I believe you saw something in me That lives inside you too Now all I hear is the wind There's a storm coming through

Tell me what do you do I keep trying To be someone I'd never be I keep seeing her in everyone Everyone but me But I know you truly saw me Even if just for a while Maybe that's why it hurts now To leave it all behind I don't know what it is That makes me run That makes me wanna shatter Everything that I've done

Only If For A Night-Florence + the Machine

And I heard your voice as clear as day And you told me I should concentrate It was all so strange and so surreal That a ghost should be so practical Only if for a night And the only solution was to stand and fight And my body was bruised and I was set alight But you came over me like some holy rite And although I was burning, you're the only light Only if for a night

Albatross-Foals

You burnt the lungs That your ancestors created You sat by the banks Of the river and you waited Till time rolled back And the water had abated You drank your share But you still could not be sated You said you're scared Of the clocks that keep ticking over We'll find a way For a life that's worth living over Again and again

Claim Your Ghost-Iron and Wine

Our winter keeps running us down We wake up with love hanging on Killers let go, killers let go

Some kids get a handful of rain Our hope is the desperate die wise Killers let go, killers let go

Morning falls from a tree and asks for a name Claim your ghost, know the wine for what it is

Be Sweet-Japanese Breakfast

So come and get your woman (Comе and get your woman) Pacify her rage (Pacify her rage) Take the time to undo your lies, make it up once more with feeling Recognize your mistakes and I'll let you back in Realize not too late, loved you always Make it up to me, you know it's better Make it up to me, you know it's better Be sweet to me, baby I wanna believe in you, I wanna believe in something

Ready to Start-Arcade Fire

If I was scared, I would And if I was pure, you know I would And if I was yours, but I'm not Now I'm ready to start If I was scared, I would And if I was pure, you know I would And if I was yours, but I'm not Now I'm ready to start Now I'm ready to start I would rather be wrong Than live in the shadows of your song

Taglist: @ofduskanddreams @krem-does-stuff @krem-has-a-mess @octobers-veryown @melting-houses-of-gold @velidewrites @reverie-tales @c-e-d-dreamer, @andrigyn @foundress0fnothing @vulpes-fennec @asnowfern @mossytrashcan @thelovelymadone @the-lonelybarricade @shadowriel @separatist-apologist @fieldofdaisiies @stickyelectrons @vanserrass @panicatthenightcourt @iftheshoef1tz @damedechance @headcanonheadcase @cursebrkr @wilde-knight @moonpatroclus @kataravimes-of-the-shire @sunshinebingo @filthyglamdoll @ablogofbipanic @bagelfyre @thesistersarcheron @ultadverb @iftheshoef1tz @yazthebookish, @foreverinelysian, @spell-cleavers, @aldbooks, @gwyns, @bookofmirth

[monsterkin-culture-is]

10 Fave Grim Reaper Songs 💀

I kinfirmed grim reaper the day I was making this so trust it has my heart in it! It's so hard to give a write-up for each song that isn't just "trust me bro" so please excuse the completely unprofessional commentary and just (hopefully) enjoy the music! I'm taking species requests through my ask box if you have any ideas. All song names link to Spotify.

10. Hangout at the Gallows by Father John Misty My friend sent me the link to this one a couple weeks back and my jaw dropped. I'm so in love with this song and its raw emotion.

9. Nocturnal Me by Echo & The Bunnymen. You can't tell me the lyrics here don't somewhat strike you as death related. It's a brutal, gothic number that I could absolutely see a ballroom dance being paired with.

8. (Don't Fear) The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult. It's a staple of every Grim Reaper playlist and for good reason! If you want to keep it fresh and need a good cover then I recommend Baltic House Orchestra's epic orchestral cover or this haunting atmospheric cover by Denmark + Winter

7. Shinigami Eyes by Grimes. Fun, macabre fact of the day: Shinigami are Japanese spirits that lead humans towards death or encourage them to commit suicide. Hence the song's place in this playlist! The music video for this one is a feast for the eyes to say the least - there is nothing else like it.

6. Baby I'm Dead Inside by KOPPS. Dark electronic x a bit of rock for a modern and sultry grim reaper! Grim Reaper's nightclub vibes maybe?

5. My Boy Builds Coffins by Florence & The Machine. I perceive it as a potential human x reaper song and you know I love a good ship! It has such a subtle sinister tone.

4. (Ghost) Riders in the Sky by Johnny Cash. Am I obsessed with the old country Grim Reaper? Maybe. It's an apocalyptic number that tells a story. And it's Johnny Cash. What's not to love?

3. Enter Sandman by Alessia Cara & The Warning. I might get some hate for not putting the Metallica version (I promise I love that one too) but I think Cara's version is more ethereal, lending itself to the otherworldly Grim Reaper.

2. Dead Man Walking by WAR*HALL. This song has so much power to it. It's one of my favourite songs of all time. The chains add so much to its narrative. A bit of a country rock spin on the Grim Reaper theme but I suppose that matches the scythe... If you want an amazing female cover, listen to this one by Lauren Babic made for the Remnant 2 trailer.

1. Dead Hearts by Dead Man's Bones. What a surprise, another Dead Man's Bones song at number 1! Dead Hearts is one of the less popular pieces on the album but I love it. It's a softspoken song about grief & embracing death. The way Gosling's vocal rise to the shattering glass gives me goosebumps every time.

Let me know if you like any of these songs & feel free to add your own in the notes!

[thissoundsdifferent]

Ghost Riders in the Sky - Cover by Susan Christie

Original by Stan Jones (1949)

Disclaimer: I do not have any association with the cover artists nor the original artists. None of this work is my own. Please leave likes and comments on the videos and support the original creators.

[abalonetea]

sent my mother a Russian country song to listen too. And she got eight chords in, looked at me, and goes, “this is a Johnny Cash song, this is Ghost Riders in the Sky. They’re doing a cover.” And she was right. Insane.