what answer can i give

𝜗ৎ on halloween night, he doesn't let you answer the door for trick or treaters. "I'll handle it," he says firmly. you're not sure if he's protecting you from the outside world or protecting the outside world from catching too much of a glimpse into your life together. either way, you stay in the sitting room while he distributes candy with that charming smile he uses for strangers.

𝜗ৎ after the trick or treaters stop coming, he locks the door and turns off the porch light. "now the night is ours," he says. the way he looks at you in your costume makes heat pool in your belly. there's something predatory in his gaze, something that reminds you that you're alone in this big house with him and no one will be knocking anymore.

𝜗ৎ he likes playing games on halloween. hiding and seek through the darkened mansion, but when he finds you, the "prize" is him pinning you against the nearest wall or bending you over the nearest surface. "caught you," he'll murmur against your neck. "now you're mine." as if you weren't already his every other day of the year.

𝜗ৎ sometimes he tells you ghost stories by the fire. his voice takes on that hypnotic quality, weaving tales of restless spirits and dark things in the woods. his hand rests possessively on your thigh the whole time. when you shiver, you're not sure if it's from the stories or from his touch. "scared?" he asks, but he's smiling. he likes you frightened, likes being the one you turn to for comfort.

𝜗ৎ he has a thing for vampire aesthetics on halloween. if your costume involves it, he'll tilt your head to the side and drag his teeth down your throat without breaking skin. "I could mark you," he whispers. "leave my bite on your neck for everyone to see. would you like that? everyone knowing you belong to someone?" sometimes he does bite, hard enough to bruise, hard enough that you wear his mark for days.

𝜗ৎ henry makes special halloween treats. candied apples, pumpkin tarts, spiced cider. he presents them beautifully, everything arranged with precision. but there's something possessive about the way he feeds you pieces by hand. "open," he instructs, placing a bite of tart on your tongue. watching you chew and swallow. "good girl. another."

𝜗ৎ the woods are more active on halloween night. you can hear things moving out there, see shadows that shouldn't exist. henry keeps you far from the windows facing the forest. "not tonight," he says when you drift too close to looking out. "tonight the things in those woods are bolder. but don't worry, darling. nothing gets past me. nothing touches what's mine."

𝜗ৎ there's something about halloween that makes him more intense. more possessive. like the dark energy of the night feeds something in him. he takes you multiple times that night, in different rooms, still partially in costume. "my dark bride," he growls. "my creature. mine to claim on this unholy night."

𝜗ৎ the next morning, november first, everything goes back to normal routines. but he keeps one thing from your costume. a ribbon, a piece of lace, something small. you find it later in his study, tucked away in a drawer with other small treasures. tokens of you, collected and kept like precious artifacts.

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