rocky learning about last names is one of the most stressful days of grace's life on the way to erid.
it starts with them watching a movie, maybe the devil wears prada, and a little way through the movie rocky asks why miranda has two names. is it because she's more important?
grace, already anticipating a long conversation, says no, all humans have two names. everyone's just scared of miranda because her two names are really well known.
"grace have another name and not tell rocky?!" rocky asks, incensed. "what names mean, question? why two?"
"well," grace explains, "your first name is the name your parents give you at birth. usually people call you by your first name, especially if you're close. except in... some situations, i guess," he says, remembering stratt's vat. nobody had called him ryland there, but he still felt pretty close to all of them.
"and second name?" rocky prompts.
"right - last names correlate to your family. when you're born, you take your family name so that people know who you're related to. it also helps differentiate between two people with the same first name."
"so what grace last name, question?" rocky asks. grace blanches a little.
"uhh... grace is my last name, rock," he says, sheepishly.
"what?!" rocky yells. grace winces. "grace not tell rocky grace first name? grace not close with rocky? grace hate rocky?"
"no!" grace protests. "of course i don't hate you! don't say that!" maybe it's stupid, but grace does actually feel a little hurt by the insinuation.
"then why not tell rocky?!"
grace sighs. "i don't know, rock. i mean - when i met you i barely knew up from down, much less what my name meant to me. and i kept getting these memories and everyone kept calling me grace, and i just, i haven't been called ryland in so long it doesn't really feel like my name anymore."
rocky ruminates on this for a moment. then: "...ryland is grace first name, question?"
"yeah."
"rocky like grace better." grace deflates with relief. "yeah, me too, buddy."
"but," rocky says, "rocky want last name too now."
huh. okay, then.
"i guess i could figure that out," grace agrees. "we could give you movie rocky's last name? you wanna be rocky balboa?"
"mm, no," rocky says.
"okay, well we could go region based, i guess. where'd you grow up? i can make up something fitting, or i can look something up on my computer, i'm sure there's places on earth that are similar to places on erid -"
"no," rocky interrupts. "want grace."
"...huh?"
"rocky want grace last name."
grace is suddenly feeling very, very flushed. "you what??"
"last name is family name, question?"
"well, yeah, but -"
"and rocky grace family now. so rocky want grace family name!"
...well, when he says it like THAT, it's so much more innocent. grace... well, he agrees, because what else is he gonna say? that rocky should know that that that's as good as a marriage proposal?
no, that takes too much cultural context, and a longer conversation than he wants to have right now. easier to just let rocky have it. it's not like there'll be any consequences to bite him in the ass, right?
synopsis : harry discovers your secret and helps you gain some confidence while also discovering his own boldness.
warnings : mentions of blood , drinking blood
notes : just to clarify, pale does not mean light skin only in this fic !! the word in context is meant be portrayed as your skin tone just without blood.
Over the months, Harry carefully analysed your every move like a secret, obsessive hobby. Could he have simply asked you what had troubled you? Of course, he could, but he had a feeling you would let yourself wallow in your stress by yourself, a feeling he had experience with.
He noted your weariness during the day and the nearly unnoticeable shake of your fingers as you drank your regular “cranberry juice” every dinner. “It’s good for the immune system.” you’d always say when Ron questioned why you drank the tangy liquid so frequently. Your answer sounded almost rehearsed to the trained ears of Harry Potter, who knew the timbre of your voice when you usually chattered about things that interested you.
One night, he strolled the grounds, rubbing the bandages wrapped around his bleeding hand. The consequences of disobeying Umbridge left bloody splotches seeping through the white. His own issues were put behind him when he saw you sitting next to the lake.
Your skin was paled, as though all the warmth in you had chilled. Your eyes seemed brighter under the moonlight and the way your hair contrasted with your skin seemed supernatural.
“Y/N?’ Harry called out. Your hair whipped in the wind as you turned towards him. You, in all your horrific glory, were fully on display to the single person that you wished would never catch you.
Harry’s hand reached out for yours and he felt the cold jolt his system but still held on. His eyebrows cinched closer together, asking the question unspoken. “Summer before fourth year, remember when I couldn’t go to the World Cup with you and the Weasleys?” Harry nodded. “I couldn’t go with you because… because a vampire attacked me. My parents fought back so he didn’t kill me and I just became this. I became a monster. I’ve tried hiding it with charms and potions, changing my teeth and making my skin look normal but it wears off and there’s no cure.” You turned to the moonlight, your eyes glowing from the tears rather than the golden-red halo around your pupils. “I wish he just finished me off that night.”
Your confession felt like another weight had sat on your chest; the weight was lifted almost immediately when Harry pulled you towards him, the warm scents of his freshly laundered shirt and wood enveloped you as his embrace pulled you into a new, more comfortable trance. “I understand why you didn’t tell me but I would never leave you. You’re my best friend, Y/N. I promise I’m not scared. You’ve been trying to control all this by yourself so please, let me help you now.”
Your tears flowed more freely now that you had the assurance that Harry wasn’t going to run away from you; he was here to stay.
The two of you spent the night whispering about your bloody situation. “So, the cranberry juice?” You chuckled and dipped your fingers into the lake, racing to trace the ripples that formed. “Yeah, I couldn’t lie about it being pomegranate juice since I’ve already said I hate pomegranates, but it’s actually cow blood. I haven’t tried human blood before. I thought about it loads of times, but I get afraid that I can’t control myself once I start.”
Harry’s impulsive nature struck as he gave his wild suggestion, ‘I’ve got a pretty fresh wound that I haven't put in murtlap essence yet. Why not drink some of my blood?” If your body had any warmth, you would be burning from the bold yet casual tone in which he delivered his idea.
Unbeknownst to you, Harry’s every nerve prickled with nervousness. What if he was too bold? What if you shot down his idea? What if you didn’t feel as close to him as he does to you?
His last reflection was a new flavour in the soupy mess his thoughts were becoming by the second.
Before he could fully analyse every memory he had with you appearing at the forefront of his mind and how it made him feel, he was thrown off balance by your answer. “I could try.”
Harry saw your hesitation in your pursed lips as if the action would hold off your vampirism entirely. He took the initiative and unwrapped his bandage, bringing his still-bleeding hand close to your lips.
The smell of human blood was enticing and your eyes shifted to a deeper shade of red before you took the leap and drank the small drops of blood that seeped out steadily from the cuts. The metallic taste from Harry’s blood left sweet notes on your palette rather than the rusty cow’s blood you drank. In that moment, you could have drained the boy of all the blood in his body but you regained the restraint you had built over the months and let go of his hand. Harry couldn’t help but smile, “You see, I knew you could do it.” You smiled in return, your pearlescent fangs charming Harry the longer he took in your grin of pride.
The longer you sat there, enjoying each other’s company, the stronger Harry’s confidence was becoming. His boldness had already been a success once, there was a chance that maybe another stroke of impulsiveness would lead to something he didn’t realise he’d been waiting for.
“Y/N?” Harry asked. You hummed in response. “How do you feel about a date?”
synopsis : harry’s best friend likes their drinks on the metallic side, but he hasn’t a clue about them being a vampire, nor the fact that they love him. | inner angst
warnings : mentions of blood
notes : first fic !! hello everyone, sorry if this is messy + still figuring out a format i like. thank you for reading !
It was another Saturday morning of lying to everyone you knew and cared for. The sharp and unusually shiny fangs pierced through your comfortable life as a reminder that one small needle could render the whole comfortable haystack dangerous as anxiously wait for the moment the needle would decide to show itself and draw blood.
Blood.
You inhaled sharply, trying to remove all thoughts of the newly delectable liquid as you drank the almost-transparent potion to temporarily shape your bloodless skin and pointed fangs back to your old self.
Your vampirism wasn’t terribly new. During the summer before your fourth year, a vampire had lurched from the depths of a nearby forest and turned you into one of his kind. The pain of the change was unbearable, yet you couldn’t fathom the pain of losing the life you had built, so you and your family had kept your undead-ness a secret from all, except the headmaster who meticulously crafted accommodations for you.
That didn’t matter to you; you didn’t care about the metallic “cranberry juice” you drank every dinner, you worried constantly about what Harry would say.
Harry Potter was your best friend and the pair of you knew everything about each other. It was all the most cliché story: two best friends with one pining for the other while keeping a dark secret. A compelling tale it was, but when it was your reality, it felt more like a nightmare than an entertainment fantasy read.
You and Harry were sitting together at the top of the Astronomy Tower as you listened to him rant about Umbridge with snide asides about how he was leading a secret club right under her nose. You tried to pay attention but the mix of thoughts between the ticking clock until your bloody dinner, the sound of Harry’s heart beating faster with his excited lecture on the DA lessons he had planned out, and of course, the plague that caught you before the rogue vampire, losing yourself in the green eyes that you’ve caught yourself in the maze of for the past three years.
Perhaps your lack of focus was stronger than normal because, for the first time, Harry noticed your eyes look hazy as your mind crawled around to make a complex web of wandering thoughts.
“Y/N ? Are you alright ?” Your head snapped back into position with unusual speed that Harry couldn’t help but notice. “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong, Harry. You can continue, I’m listening, promise.” You pushed your pinkie to hook with his as if this gesture was the epitome of trust before bringing your hand back.
Harry stared before continuing, yet decided to keep a closer eye on your strange behaviour.
You did your best to stay as normal as you possibly could, worrying that if you stepped a toe out of your ordinary routine you’d risk exposing yourself and losing everyone, including the boy you fell in love with.
synopsis: it’s a knights duty to look after the princess even if all they knew was how much the despised one another.
warnings: mentions of lewdness but in passing, no smut
note: omg it took me forever to find the time to write this but i was kicking my feet over knight!ginny omgggg i hope you guys enjoy !! happy women’s month & day and i love you lesbians !!!
A guard and her beautiful princess.
Ginevra Weasley meticulously crafted her life and battled her way through the rigorous knighthood training which was already difficult enough to enter a world where the women work hard in kitchens, brothels, and, of course, at home to please others. Ginny fought to escape, to work for something else. To work for the pleasure that fighting brought her, work for the pleasures that nobility brought to her lifestyle.
The one downside to being a knight was having to be at your beck and call.
You were the princess of Evythia. Kind, sweet, and charming to all who knew you, that is of course, except Ginny Weasley.
You had the girl flogged on the first day the two of you met for nearly trampling you with her steed and the kingdom has since established that the princess and the kingdom’s most valued knight were at war with each other. The hardened gazes, the trembling hands of fury, the stiff stances when the two were forced next to each other. The days could not bring you together with their passings as time could not heal all wounds.
When the sun turned to the into moon and the pale sky darkened as the kingdom reached another midnight, Ginny Weasley was home, if one could consider home being between your legs. The single time she enjoyed pleasuring someone else rather than herself.
How could two people who seemed to utterly despise one another because of every inconvenience turn lovers?
The story begins at midnight, the midnight.
Ginny was not on guard duty and those days were special. She was enveloped by the chills of night and the goosebumps across her arms could not match the prickling nerves as she ruminated about anything and everything, and more specifically, who she really was.
Ginevra Weasley had come to terms that she was a lesbian on one of these midnight walks of hers and it gave her both everything and nothing. Everything in the way she felt at peace with finally discovering an inch of the mystery that is identity; nothing in the way she felt lost in the archaic world.
“Maybe I’ll find love… somehow.” She thought, hoping for a miracle to land at her feet that she would find someone who could be fearless for her, to love another woman, even if it was behind closed doors.
When Ginny asked for a miracle, she didn’t expect the worst luck imaginable to fall in her lap at the given opportunity. She clutched her shoulder from the impact, quickly making way to apologise before she saw the face behind the encounter, your face.
“Oh, it’s you.” she spat, causing your face to scrunch in distaste. “So, the beloved knight loses her manners off duty, who could’ve imagined it.” You rolled your eyes, showing off your clear disdain for the knight. Ginny scoffed, “Oh please, a princess who couldn’t even do much as say a simple ‘thank you’ is going to lecture me on manners? But of course, I suppose the princess is too lost in her ego to care about the rest of us. I would’ve thought she’d thin her lips and humble herself, but what should I know?”
There it was, the condescending attitude you despised so much. “You act like you know me, but you don’t! Do you understand how infuriating it is to constantly be held to a high standard and then here you are making me feel like it’s not enough to wear the tightest corsets to please an audience of thousands and bend backwards to try and find solutions for everyone when I can’t even figure out anything for myself!”
Ginny was taken aback by your outburst but her own stubbornness urged her to fight back. “Oh please, I’m sure it’s so difficult being born a princess where you could have everything you want and the entire kingdom bends to your will. I had to fight for my place, something you’ll never know.”
She waited for your wit to attack her again but when silence struck, she turned to see your reaction, which she hoped was satisfyingly gobsmacked. She was stunned to see the tears rimming your eyes, twinkling down your cheeks rapidly like shooting stars falling through the sky.
She tried to shake away her thoughts in an effort to focus on you, a concern she didn’t think she’d ever have.
You didn’t speak until Ginny’s hand fell on your shoulder, “That’s it, isn’t it… I’ve been given everything because I’m a princess but I don’t know who I am. I can’t choose anything and I cannot be anything. I– I’ve envied you for so long.” Ginny couldn’t hold her surprise. “That was abundantly clear when you had children throw their most rotten vegetables at me.” You laughed, a charming sound that the knight was unfamiliar with. A new melody to indulge in from time to time hopefully. “A lapse in judgment, I suppose, now that I think of it. It might’ve been the third, or maybe the fourth time I was nearly trampled that day, I was simply irritated by my luck. My deepest apologies to you.”
The knight didn’t expect the apology to come so easily after the years of vitriol. “That’s all it took? I’ve hated you for so long starting from that moment and all I needed to do was talk to you?” Well, of course, it was a simple solution but Ginny was never one for simplicity, thus the egregious hotheadedness. “Well, you’ve been right about me, I am quite stubborn so I don’t know about what could’ve been, but you’re the only one who had ever listened to me like this so I would think that makes you deserving of an apology… and my gratitude for your services as a knight and a shoulder tonight.”
The two of you had made an agreement to continue the charade in public to keep your nightly walks of peace private. Neither of you were caught, the advantage of knowing every inch of the castle like the back of your hand. It had been another momentous night, one the girls wouldn’t know would become so important until later. Ginny was given guard duty to watch over you and so the two of you sat on your bed, simply chattering.
“How did you know?” You asked with the sort of curiosity that Ginny recognised. The curiosity behind the questions that meant you had been trying to discover more of yourself through her experiences. “How did I know what, princess?” The name was your title, a formality, but the use of it made Ginny’s stomach churn with nerves. “How did you know you’re a lesbian? That you prefer to court women?” Ginny blanched. She had told you of her preferences recently and was relieved to know you were not judgemental of it, now here you were suspecting with that curiosity of yours that you also had the same preferences.
It felt like the clock had frozen as the knight was consumed by her own vivid thoughts. It was not abnormal of her to find you in her dreams, to find your lips pulse against her own, to find her fingers across your skin. She jolted before her thoughts became immoral, “She is the princess… you are a knight… she is a friend.” Ginny would recite the reminder like a mantra.
She turned to you and answered, “On one of my walks, I realised that I was never interested in the advances of my fellow knights looking for a rendezvous. I had always, secretly, yearned for the pretty women around me.” She watched you nod. You bit at your gums in thought, “I always felt I enjoyed a man’s company. Flirted with a few nobles and knights on occasion.” The knight felt sick hearing the princess she dreamed about frequently, dreams that edged towards a twisted lewdness, talk about the men they flirted with. “I realised I no longer wanted a man when they actually fell under my spell. I’ll admit, my charm is like a hex.” The knight choked out a laugh, hiding the fact that your narcissism was a truth for her. Over the nights of secret meetings, she had fallen for you.
“Ginevra… I wish to be brave like you for a change so I’ll get on with it.” She felt the need to laugh. A knight like her was brave on the battlefield, a true mark of courage, and here she sat, completely in fear and shaking with torrential anxiety.
“I’ve dreamt about you.” The two of you stared in shock. Ginny couldn’t even believe the words that spilt out of her mouth. Her face was a sickly shade of vermillion that made her hair seem brighter and her face more akin to a tomato. “Princess y/n, I am deeply apologetic. I would never be so crass and I let it slip out of impulse. My lady, I would never–”
Your soft hands pulled her face towards yours. The dreams Ginny had of kissing you were nothing compared to the reality of it. Your soft lips against her own so intensely that she could feel the fine lines through them so perfectly. When you gently pulled away, you laughed at the face of surprise and wonder before you. “You beat me to my confession, although I would say you were much more blunt about it than I was planning to be.”
Ginny, at a loss of words, felt the deep urge to kiss you again. The night was spent with quiet laughter, odd revelations, and many more kisses than either of you could have hoped for.
