#she carries an ornate dagger with her at all times

[morsmortish]

[replying to your last text] beth i discovered what my problem is with bartybella: bella doesn't have a defined personality in my head.

so share... share your deepest thoughts... convert me...

oh irene dearest…bella is one of my fav characters at the moment…let me ramble….

she’s the eldest child of the house of black, but she’s never been the favourite. they all wanted sons, or well-behaved, subservient daughters. bella is none of those. she does not quite know how to play the game, like cissy, not does she want to run away, like andromeda. she loves her family, but she has never properly been loved back.

the key part of bella’s character that is vital to understanding bartybella is her innate desire to be desired. she has never been favoured by anyone- her parents prefer narcissa, who prefers andy, who prefers ted. at best, she’s the second favourite, the backup option, no matter how much she tries. she’s somewhat alienated from her family, who tend to deal with secrecy and underhand tactics and Complex Evil Schemes more than outwardly exhibited ‘wickedness’. their weapon of choice is poison, whereas bella’s will always be a knife. she does not move subtly, and her victims will always be brutalised and bloody when she’s done. she always tried to act in the best interest of the family, but even just The Way She Is is too much of an incongruity for them, she’s too volatile, dangerous, unmanageable. they never fully accept her, and this is her worst nightmare. she wants more than anything for them to want her. she endlessly chases after the idea of being important to someone, whether that is her family, yes, or even tom. (i wrote a post on how this trait works in terms of bartybella here.)

aside from her crippling, all-consuming need for validation, bella has a lot going on that makes her so interesting. she is More Than A Little Batshit, and she is not afraid to show it. she’s maniacal, she’s mad, she monstrous. she loves blood and violence and death and gore. like the rosiers, she collects animals from her back garden to experiment on- not in the name of science, but in order to take them apart limb by limb, for fun. she loves knives and other sharp, shiny, dangerous things. her canines are just a bit too pointed. she grows her nails out to resemble talons. she’ll do anything to feel powerful. she’ll do anything to feel important.

she’s also hot as shit. we’re talking pointy heels, leather, short short dresses, silver rings, eyeliner, lots and lots of black…to quote myself, she’s the ultimate goth girlfriend.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Below you will find the character profile for my One Piece OC (one of them, anyway. I have at least five, but I'll be working the most closely with this one for now).

So, here we go. Only been working on this shit for like...three days. Okay, technically over ten years since I used to write her ages ago when I was on fanfiction.net, but I've redone a lot of things.

I'm already in the process of working on a novel-length Mihawk x AFAB!OC fanfic, so here's the overly extensive character sheet for my OC because I always put way too much effort into character development.

The character history practically devolves into a mini fanfic itself around the middle by total accident, but whatever.

The fanfic(s) will toe the line between Live Action and Manga canon. We'll just call it AU and leave it at that.

Karimi Lionne

Associated fanfics: Hearing Problems (coming soon to an Unknowable Horror near you) and Any Way The Wind Blows (eventually, bear with me)

Age: 24

Occupation: Pirate; Mercenary

Abilities:

Kiku Kiku no Mi: A Paramecia type devil fruit that grants the user the ability to hear...well, everything, all the time. Within a certain range she, can hear the thoughts of people around her. The range varies with her focus; standard, it's anyone within a range of about fifty feet in any direction. She can close that circle down to either listen to one person's thoughts, or expand it to search a city or town for a particular person. Activated (which she hasn't yet), it allows the user the ability to plant thoughts in others' heads, and potentially control their thoughts.

She considers the ability more of a curse than a blessing since she has never managed to hone it quite well enough to shut it off entirely, and can often be found sitting at a dock or on a beach with her feet in the salt water, just to get some peace and quiet in her own head.

Blades: Karimi carries a pair of daggers with ornately carved ivory handles, the head of a lioness carved into the top of each hilt, in sheaths at either side of her belt. They belonged to her grandmother, who raised her from age four to age fourteen, and also taught her most of what she knows in combat. She also keeps a handful of throwing knives in a holster belted to her right calf, a couple inches below her knee.

Her fighting style relies primarily on agility, evasion, and accuracy rather than raw strength due to her relatively small stature of 5'2".

Haki: Not a master by any means at all. Learned from Red-Haired Shanks during her brief stint working with his crew, used largely to assist in suppressing her devil fruit abilities and making them more manageable. Not really proficient enough to use it for any other application.

Music: Karimi was taught to play guitar, fiddle, and piano by her grandmother, but she hasn't touched an instrument since her grandmother died, so she doesn't know how much of the ability she has retained. Karimi also learned several sea shanties from her, and often hums or quietly sings them to herself while out to sea.

Appearance:

Faceclaim: Jane Fonda c. 1960s, facial structure, skin and hair edited via Faceapp

Long, dark green hair, in wild curls that she can't do much of anything with except tie back in a bun or stuff under a hat. Sharp emerald green eyes. Fair-skinned with a handful of freckles.

The Resting Bitch Face is strong with this one.

Slender, petite, 5'2" tall.

Tends toward wearing long-sleeved shirts/dresses to cover the scars on her arms. Almost always wears her grandmother's hat, an old and tattered brown leather tricorne with a patch on the front left brim and a few more in the back.

Personality:

Confident, toeing the line of outright arrogance at times. Humor that ranges from dryly sarcastic to quite silly, depending on who she's around. Guarded. Brooding. Cynical. Empathetic. Gentle. Uses sarcasm as a coping mechanism. Not easily offended. Prominent issues with self-harm and PTSD.

Backstory (prior to beginning of fic)

Karimi has next to no knowledge of her origins. She knows her mother died shortly after giving birth to her, that she was born on her father's ship, and that she got her hands on a devil fruit the crew had found and ate it when she was three or four years old, not knowing what it was. Shortly thereafter she was taken to live with her grandmother on a remote island village called Conch Cove, somewhere on the Grand Line.

Her grandmother, Helena Lionne, had been a pirate captain shortly before Gol D. Roger came around and into his earlyyears of piracy, but Karimi didn't know much about her history. Helena was a powerful haki user, and was able to use the power to dampen Karimi's devil fruit abilities, largely for the sake of the girl's own comfort and sanity. Helena trained her to fight in order to defend herself in the event that she ever left the island, as well as survivalist training. She wasn't shy about telling Karimi that the world could be a dangerous place, particularly for a woman on her own, amd wanted to ensure that her granddaughter had everything she needed to safely make her way in the world.

Karimi found out more about her grandmother a week after her fourteenth birthday.

She discovered that her grandmother had been captain of the Siren Pirates. She discovered her grandmother possessed the abilities of the Mizu Mizu no Mi (logia type, water). She discovered that her bounty was in the billions...and still very much active.

The Marine Admiral who showed up to the island, Admiral Jackson "Volcano" Vesper, brought a large crew with him, with no intention of taking Helena alive. His moniker stemmed not only from his explosive temper, but also from his own devil fruit abilities—the predecessor to Fire Fist Ace, he possessed the power of the Mera Mera no Mi (logia type, fire). He also possessed an intense desire for revenge on the woman that had killed his father.

He didn't bother revealing how he managed to track her down—he simply went in guns blazing. The battle between him and Helena, between his crew and what remained of hers, waged for nearly two entire days, leaving several Marines and villagers dead and the town in total ruin. Karimi stayed hidden the entire time as her grandmother had asked her to, but with Helena's haki focused on defending herself and her allies, Karimi could hear everything with her devil fruit abilities.

She could hear the moment when Admiral Vesper's first mate got the drop on her grandmother, pinned her to the ground with the butt of his rifle, which he had coated in a layer of sea stone, instantly sapping her strength and her devil fruit powers.

Karimi could hear Vesper's thoughts, his intentions to humiliate her, kill her, and return to Marineford with her head.

And Karimi emerged from hiding and managed to toss a throwing a knife into the back of his leg.

She was captured almost immediately. Her physical resemblance to her grandmother in the woman's younger years was noted immediately by Vesper, and he knew in that instant that he had won.

And Karimi knew it too, with the man's bowie knife to her throat.

He agreed to let Karimi go in exchange for Helena's life, and Helena gave in without a second thought when she saw the bowie knife start to cut into her granddaughters neck.

He took the remainder of Helena's old crew as prisoners—the only four other villagers on the island left alive, but not before slitting Helena's throat and sawing her head from her neck with his bowie knife, while Karimi was held captive and forced to watch.

Then he and his men left her there on the remote island, in a ruined village with nothing but the corpses of friends and neighbors and the woman who raised her to keep her company.

She doesn't remember much of the following two weeks. She knows she was able to make a spear out of a throwing knife and a shovel handle to catch fish for food in the shallows around the island. That she had a fresh source of water in the form of a pond. She knows she was nearly through building a raft out of the rubble that was left of the town when another marine ship arrived at the island, captained this time by Vice Admiral Garp the Fist. She was understandably beyond wary of Marines, and she fought tooth and nail, kicking and screaming, when they took her back to their ship.

They took her throwing knives and her grandmother's daggers, and she was forced to stay in the brig because she made very clear that she would gladly gut any marine who came near her. She was still treated with kindness and provided full meals given her situation, and as she bided her time and got her strength back she formed a plan of escape.

She was able to use her devil fruit powers effectively in her escape—by listening around and finding the easiest target. This came in the form of a fifteen year old cadet who would check on her and talk to her during his downtime. He thought she was pretty and couldn't believe she had managed to keep herself alive for two and a half weeks after what she had been through, admired her sheer strength of will. It was incredibly easy to sweet-talk him into getting her weapons back to her, playing on his sympathies by telling him that they were all she had left of her grandmother.

She hid them once she had them, and did a little more sweet-talking...until he agreed to steal the keys and get her out of the cell. Once she was out, she wasted no time in knocking him out, stealing his uniform, stuffing her hair under the hat, and discreetly stealing enough rations to last herself a week and slipping away on a dinghy.

She had no idea where she was or how she was going to get anywhere, but she wasn't exactly of sound mind after the trauma she had endured. Her only thoughts at the time were that she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the Marines as possible.

She was picked up by a merchant vessel after a few days, and they took pity on her story and allowed her to remain on board the ship, assisting in cooking and cleaning in exchange for room and board and safe passage to their next stop. They were bound for Loguetown in the East Blue, and that suited her just fine.

Loguetown was a large city right outside the only passage onto the Grand Line, and it gave her plenty of options for work. She worked odd jobs that provided her with room and board, saving up money over the course of the following two years.

She was working in a tavern and staying at the attached inn when the Red-Hair pirates made port in Loguetown, and she knew she had her ticket back onto the seas, with only one goal in mind—to find her father, and tell him what had become of her grandmother.

Her memories of him were too vague for her to give any decent description, but she wasn't telling anyone her reasons anyway. She waited for her shift to end before approaching Shanks himself and asking, confidently, to join his crew.

That got a tremendous laugh out of the crew at large, but only a little bit of a chuckle from Shanks himself.

"And why would a little slip of a thing like yourself want sail around with a bunch of old men?"

"That's not really important." She sat down at the neighboring table at this. "But what I can provide your crew is."

"And what might that be, love?"

"I've trained with daggers and throwing knives since I was four years old. I also possess the abilities of the Kiku Kiku no Mi."

Yasopp, sitting between Shanks and his first mate Benn Beckman with bis feet propped up on the table, snorted at that, grinning. "So what, it improved your hearing?"

Karimi leveled her eyes with his. "Immensely," she daid. She gave a small smile...and began narrating his thoughts out loud. "'The hell is this girl's deal? Does she have any idea who she's even talking to right now? She can't even be much older than my—Wait. What the hell? What the hell is she—'" His feet slipped off the table, his mouth falling open as he registered what was happening. "'Holy shit, is she in my head? Is—'"

"Okay, you made your point, cut it out!" he half-shouted, staring at her in alarm.

No one was laughing anymore—and she knew she had their full attention now.

"That," Shanks said lightly, the amusement gone from his eyes and replaced with caution—but also intrigue, "is a very dangerous ability for someone as young as yourself to possess."

"I've had it since I was four. I've learned to manage it."

That was, of course, only half true—she could deal with it, yes, but she couldn't fully control it.

After a long, silent moment, in which members of his crew exchanged glances and Shanks quietly studied her, he leaned back in his chair, nodding to himself.

"Let's give you a real test," he said, leaning his arm over the back of his chair. "See how well you can put your abilities to use." Karimi lifted her eyebrows, waiting. "I want you to sneak into the Marine base here in Loguetown. Find where they keep the treasure and money they've confiscated from pirates and thieves they've arrested...and walk out with as much as you can carry." He lifted his bottle of rum from the table. "Undetected."

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?" Shanks glanced across the table at Benn when he spoke up.

"That's been gone for years, but go on."

Benn gave a growl of annoyance at his captain. "She's a kid. You're talking about sending a kid into a damned Marine base to steal from them. That's a suicide mission."

"The girl wants a chance to prove herself," he said simply, shrugging a shoulder. He looked back at her. "That's my offer, love. We're setting out no later than noon tomorrow. You bring your haul to the ship, you can come with us."

Karimi nodded, and stood from her chair. "Then I will see you all no later than noon tomorrow."

A few hours later, when the tavern closed for the night and the crew returned to the ship, they were met with the sight of Karimi, wearing a Marine uniform and sitting on a sizable burlap sack right in the middle of the deck. She stood from it and kicked it over, spilling gold bricks, jewels, and piles of Berry notes and coins across the deck.

Sneaking into the base had honestly been a piece of cake—she found a half-drunk Marine a couple years older than her at another tavern, did a little sweet-talking and got him back to her inn room. Suggested some rather kinky activities that would involve him stripping down and being tied to the bed and he jumped on it. Once he was securely tied, she gathered her few belongings, put on his uniform, put a do-not-disturb sign on the door, and slipped out the window.

It had taken longer to find and get into the rooms where they kept any seized contraband, but it had been as simple as keeping her head down and listening. Hiding and ducking down empty halls when she heard anyone drawing too close. The entire ordeal had taken just under three hours.

After a long stretch of silence, it was Benn Beckman that voiced what everyone was thinking.

"Holy shit."

Shanks grinned over at him. "Suicide mission, aye?"

She was officially welcomed aboard the ship at this, as promised, but there was some deal of commotion when she told them her name.

Particularly her surname.

She learned very quickly that both Shanks and his first mate were familiar with her father—and that Benn utterly despised him. To the point that he, however briefly, threatened to throw Karimi off the ship himself against his captain's will if necessary. The brief altercation ended in Benn storming off to the gun deck on his own, leaving Karimi wondering if she had made the right choice of crew.

Shanks was far more personable.

He told her about her father—Lyon D. Rollo.

He described her father as having been like "the annoying little brother he never wanted." Told her about their time spent as deckhands aboard the Oro Jackson. About his devil fruit abilities that had caused absolutely nothing but trouble for years because they were incredibly difficult to master without massive repercussions: the Kaze Kaze no Mi (logia type: wind).

Told her how they met Benn not long after Roger's execution after setting out on their own—Benn and his younger sister, Sedna, who he had looked after on his own since he was around sixteen and she was six, when their parents had been killed by raiding pirates.

Who Karimi's father had apparently fallen inmediately head over heels for. Said he refused to leave town without her, and did exactly as he set out to. Benn had refused to leave her side, and came with them despite his hatred of pirates at the time.

It was a year later that Shanks and her father had gone their separate ways. It had always been the plan, as they were both too stubborn to accept being anything but captains. Once they gathered enough of their own crew members and got their own ships, they parted as friends. Benn stayed with Shanks, and Sedna remained with Lyon.

It wasn't long after that they recieved word that Sedna had been killed during a firefight with the Marines.

"He never mentioned a child," said Shanks, shaking his head and looking at Karimi like he was looking at a ghost as he leaned forward against the railing around the bow. "I imagine he couldn't have been much older than seventeen." He shook his head a little, still in disbelief. "I don't think I need devil fruit abilities to know what you're doing here."

Karimi nodded shortly. "Do you know where—?"

"No, unfortunately."

No one knew where Lyon was—it had been five years since Shanks actually last saw him, and he and his entire crew seemed to have just vanished into thin air around a year ago, despite still holding active bounties.

Karimi didn't tell him anything else, not why she was looking for him—only that she was, and that she had no intention of remaining with the Red Hair crew for the long term. Just long enough to get a bit of money together and purchase her own ship, something small like a sloop that she could handle by herself.

She ended up sailing with the Red Hair Pirates for around two years, give or take few months. Shanks became something of a mentor to her over that period of time, taking time to train her in Busoshoku Haki, the same type of Haki that her grandmother had used to repress Karimi's Devil Fruit abilities, so Karimi could use it herself when she wished to. It wasn't fool-proof, but it at least helped lessen the mental load.

Once on her own, Karimi ultimately began working as a mercenary; taking on jobs with various pirate crews that required stealth or a subtle touch, avoiding Marines as much as possible, and attempting to gather any information she could about her father, but to no avail on the latter front—it really seemed like he and his crew had just vanished into thin air. His bounty was still active, along with those of his first mate and officers, but no one had heard hide nor hair of them in literaly years.

Nothing much changed for her until Karimi took a job from the Buggy Pirates a few years later, at twenty-four years old. Buggy was searching for a map of the Grand Line, and he needed someone to steal it for him, since he and his crew more or less stood out like sore thumbs and couldn't very discreetly sneak into the naval base in Shells Town where it was being kept. She was reluctant to accept—she usually avoided jobs that had anything at all to do with the Marines, but Buggy made an offer she couldn't refuse.

He claimed to have information about her father that he would gladly trade for the map.

She kept her ship anchored next to Buggy's overnight to set to preparing, planning to make way for Shells Town first thing the following morning...but news came down the grapevine that night that the map had been stolen during a break-in by another pirate crew into the Marine base.

In his rage that his plans were foiled after spending months gathering information, Buggy laid the blame on the hired hand—that she had left immediately, she could have beaten the other crew to the base and gotten the map first. He ultimately sunk her sloop, nearly with her on it before she managed to gather her most valuable items and get herself onto Buggy's ship, where he informed her she would be working for him until her debt at failing to get him the map was paid off—now she was going to have to steal it from the pirates that had taken it.

Karimi had little choice but to agree—being a devil fruit user, it would be far too risky for her to steal a dinghy and take her chances with thr open oceans.

They found the crew on a schooner and took them prisoner easily enough, given that there were only three of them. Karimi recognized one of them from a description Shanks had mentioned during her time with the Red Hair Pirates of the boy he had lost his arm to a sea monster saving (a story that she had honestly thought had to be an exaggeration), who claimed to be their captain and insisted he was going to be king of the pirates...while the other two claimed they weren't even a crew.

Whatever the case, Karimi knew they were her ticket out of servitude to the Buggy Pirates, and mutinied against them the second that the odds shifted in favor of Luffy, Zoro, and Nami.

Luffy was more than happy to welcome her aboard their tiny ship, especially on learning that she knew Shanks. She didn't tell them of her devil fruit abilities, still keeping them suppressed with Haki, a mistake she would regret in the next island they made port at due largely to their schooner springing a leak. They lucked out on landing in a town with a shipyard, but none of them really had a Berry to spare between them to actually purchase a new ship—the vast majority of the money that Karimi had saved herself had sunk to the bottom of the ocean with her own ship amd most of her worldly possessions.

On meeting and quickly befriending Usopp at the shipyard and learning the owner of the place was his "best friend," they had something of a plan, if a bit of a ridiculous one—Luffy was convinced that if he just talked to Kaya and explained their situation, she would just give him a ship and they could be off and on their way.

Both Karimi and Zoro recognized the butler Klahador, but couldn't quite put their finger on why. This was Karimi's mistake—she didn't think enough of it to release her haki and just listen in on his thoughts. It wasn't until everything later fell apart in Kaya's mansion that she did release her haki and quickly learn he was Captain Kuro, a cutthroat captain who had been believed dead for years, that he had been poisoning Kaya for years, and that he planned to murder Kaya and take over the estate himself that night.

She also learned while her abilities were active that Nami had every intention of stealing the Grand Line map and taking it to the pirate crew she was serving against her will. By this point Karimi had developed a soft spot for all three members of the Strawhat Crew (even if two of them still claimed not to be a crew), but she decided not to confront Nami about it—yet.

Kaya was more than happy to gift them a ship after they helped defeat Kuro and freed her from his suppression. She offered Karimi one as well, but she declined, stating that she would prefer to purchase one herself once she had the means to do so—but that she would happily return to Syrup Village and purchase one from Kaya's family's shipyard. In truth, she was honestly enjoying her time with the ragtag little crew, and wanted to stick around with them just a bit longer to see how far Luffy's ambitions could take them.

Usopp joined them at this point as the crew's sharpshooter. They were intercepted not far from Syrup Village by a Marine ship, and Karimi recognized Vice Admiral Garp almost immediately—as did Luffy, to her and the others' astonishment on finding our that Garp was his grandfather. Luffy was able to use his devil fruit abilities to deflect a cannonball thrown at their ship by Garp, and damage Garp's ship enough for them to slip away into a dense fog and lose their pursuers.

They happened by pure luck upon the restaurant ship Baratie, where our story begins in earnest, following Luffy's idiocy at trying to pass off a very expensive bill with an I.O.U. and getting stuck washing dishes in the kitchen to pay it off.

Relationships

Helena Lionne (OC): Grandmother, deceased. A powerful pirate captain in her heyday, Helena disappeared from the seas without a word one day and no one really knew where she had gone. Helena raised Karimi from age four to fourteen, when she was tragically murdered by a revenge-crazed marine admiral whose father Helena had killed years earlier when she was still pirating. Karimi looked up to her immensely and loved her to death, and thinking about her still hurts.

Lyon D. Rollo (OC): A active pirate captain on the grand line, though no one has heard hide nor hair of him or his crew (the Hurricane Pirates) in years. She's been trying to find him for the past ten years, to tell him what happened to her grandmother/his mother, since Karimi was the only witness left alive and no one else would be able to tell him exactly what happened. It doesn't help that she last saw him at four years old, and remembers next to nothing about him. He's actually the one who gave her the hat—he took it when he left home at thirteen to become a pirate himself, and left it with her when he took her to her grandmother. (A/N, if and when I ever get to working on Any Way The Wind Blows, it will be about his history.)

Red-Haired Shanks: Working with the Red-Hair pirates for two years led to her becoming fairly close with Shanks. He had known her father over two decades and became quite protective of her as a direct result, with her looking at him almost as a father figure as well as a mentor.

Benn Beckman: The first mate of Red-Haired Shanks, Karimi learned from Shanks that her mother had been Benn's younger sister, Sedna, and that Benn absolutely despised her father and blamed him for his younger sibling's untimely death. As a result, Benn spent a while both wary and untrusting of Karimi and treating her with indifference that bordered on hostility; but he eventually let it go, accepting that she was capable (and, in his own words, "a hell of a lot smarter than Lyon D. Dipshit"),

The Marines: Karimi positively despises Marines, with the sole exception of Garp since has come to recognize that she wouldn't be alive if not for him, though good luck getting her to admit it.

Luffy: For her short spell traveling with Luffy and his "crew," she bonded with Luffy pretty quickly, coming to see him like a goofy little brother. He absolutely reveled in hearing stories about her time on the ocean, especially any that involved her time on Shanks's crew. She's quick to scold him for his naivety and questionable decisions, but it's mostly out of care; his ambition is definitely infectious, and she wants to see him achieve everything he's set out to do.

Nami: As the only other girl on the Going Merry, Karimi did her best to get close to Nami, especially on learning about her tragic situation with the Arlong Pirates via her devil fruit abilities, but Nami makes herself intentionally distant.

Zoro: She butted heads a fair bit with Zoro, largely due to both of them being exceedingly sarcastic, but she doesn't hate him by any means. Quite the contrary, she admires his abilities as a fighter and passes time sparring with him on the deck. They're about evenly matched in fighting ability, as his style relies largely on strength and her own on evasion and agility.

Usopp: Usopp is always quick to pipe in with his own epic stories of his supposed adventures when Karimi mentions any of her own past ventures. Not unlike Luffy, she looks at him almost like a younger sibling, though honestly he annoys her a little more than Luffy.

[beastren]

5 Character Associations ft. Nimh, Lir, and Tenanye because I felt like it hehe

tagged by @themanwhomadeamonster TY TY

Nimh

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS:

The satisfaction in working hard to help others

Brushing your fingers through grass and dew in the early morning

The comfort brought by soft pelt bedding

Panic in seeing a loved one injured and fighting hard to reach them in time

Mild frustration that's always quick to bubble to the surface

COLOURS:

SCENTS:

Newly wet dirt

A sweet, earthy herb, like basil

Well-seasoned roasted potatoes

Campfire smoke clinging to the skin

Baby animals

OBJECTS:

A small satchel of dried berries and meat for snacking

A handy, versatile dagger

Well-stocked supply of ferrystones for ease of travel

Overflowing amounts of goblin horns and apples from her habit of picking up everything

A tiger's eye gem from her parents she carries for good luck

BODY LANGUAGE:

Lips pressed tightly into a pout

An empty, unintentional glare, that seems to pass through you

A lopsided smile that overtakes her face before she can realize

Sitting slouched, with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands

Wincing as she cleans wounds, regardless if they're her own

AESTHETICS:

SONGS:

Kingfisher - Joanna Newsom

I can hold your hand baby - the brilliant green

Arms I Know So Well - Emma Ruth Rundle

Know the Way - Grimes

After You Left - Susanne Sundfor

Lir

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS:

The peace of hearing crickets chirp on a starry summer night

Fulfillment in time spent with those you love

The joy and stress of exploring a new place for the first time

Devotion so strong it hurts

Threads starting to tear on the knee of a well-loved pair of pants

COLOURS:

SCENTS:

The smell from a vine after you've picked a berry

Cinnamon bark

Palms tinged with leather and metal from wielding equipment

Sun-dried clothes

Wet fur

OBJECTS:

A small leather-bound journal filled with light brown paper

A sewing kit gifted to him by Nimh, so she could teach him

A stock of harspud roborant to replenish his stamina

A few vials of salubrious drought to heal others

His favorite pair of simplistic boots

BODY LANGUAGE:

Arms waving at his sides to catch his balance

A smile so wide his eyes nearly close

Exhausted flopping onto the bed after a long day

Shaking rainwater off of his fur

Gentle but calloused hands using his strength to catch fallen allies

AESTHETICS:

SONGS:

Under Your Thumb - The Vaccines

Wasteland, Baby! - Hozier

Dear John - Susanne Sundfor

Man's Road - America

All I've Got To Say - The Last Unicorn OST

Tenanye

EMOTIONS/FEELINGS:

Being submerged in water so placid, it almost feels like nothing

Being so proficient at a task that you can do it on autopilot

The transition from scales to feathers on a bird's body

Possessiveness over the only person who has ever understood you

Deep grief and rage like an abyss in your chest

COLOURS:

SCENTS:

The heady smell of old blood

The subtle but sharp nothingness of the night sky

A delicate, slightly otherworldly jasmine perfume

Trampled grass

Frozen-cold mountain air that stings your nose

OBJECTS:

A bottle of spring water

A deep red, smooth polished bow, accompanied by a quiver full of explosive arrows

Leather chaps, made to match a friend

A bundle of corpse nettle

Several ornate keys and moonbeam gems, allowing access to any room on bitterblack isle

BODY LANGUAGE:

An unsettling stillness, with something brewing just beneath the surface

Quick to unsheathe her daggers, and even quicker to step into the shadows to stalk her enemy

Soothing the wounds on both her and her lover after sparring

Proud, proper posture

Long, spindly fingers flitting down a lock of dark, wavy hair

AESTHETICS:

SONGS:

Carrion Comfort - aeseaes

Out of A Black Cloud Came A Bird - Ruby Throat

Mothering Silence - Rockettothesky

Lust - Tori Amos

Black Widow - Susanne Sundfor

[we-staybhaalin]

Five Character Associations - Niralei Ericia

Tagged by @razrogue (thank you!!! ^^)

Emotions

Cautious

Passionate

Confident

Ambitious

Enigmatic

Colors

malachite green

lush crimson

cream white

warm gold

sable black

Scents

Warm and inviting cinnamon

Fresh cut flowers

An elegant perfume, heady and spicy

Oil, rich and woodsy, clinging to the fingertips

A fragrant and rich wine

Objects

A lute with a series of beautiful, shimmering flowers etched into the face

A sack of gold coin very much not in sight but still jingling with every bold step forward

A book stained with ink on the very edge of pages and on the inside, a litany of writing that seems formulaic and written and rewritten over a number of times

Ribbons in a number of different colors, all cut from cloth of different quality

A tiny pot with an impossible red, metallic looking paint in it that matches the shade on pursed lips currently whistling a random tune

Body Language

Tilt of the head, eyes focused on the face, and a lopsided smile stretched across the face

Arms raised high in the air, legs bent at an angle, and head tilted back with eyes closed in bliss

Leaning on one hand with a foot propped up on the surface she is sitting on

Arms crossed, hip cocked, head straight, and shoulders squared

Hand on her chest, voice trembling from the power within, eyes drifting close, but then snapping open as her arms spread wide and her voice carries higher and higher

Aesthetics

A kit of daggers with elaborate hilts carefully laid out across a modest and well loved dresser, each of varying size and utility

Fine gold jewelry, soft and well worn, with a few ornate gems set within the frame but nothing too gaudy

Deepest crimson, rich greens, and white but only when it is paired with an elegant Baroque-like design

The delicate plucking of a lone string instrument mixed with the vibrant buzz of pleasant chatter in a room full of people

The hum of a voice in the distance, lyrics rising over the still night and echoing through the empty streets of a sleeping city

No obligation: if you see this, do it!!!! Tag me!

[home-of-renn]

Sam loved spending time at the Addam's abode. She loved the shadows that lurk at her back and the dark gloomy clouds that perpetually linger. She loved the sound of the creaking staircase and the murder of crows that nest in the cemetery out front.

She loved Thing's stash of macabre poetry and uncle Fester's giddy sense of humour and Lurch's talent for playing the piano. She loved Morticia's grace and allure - the exact opposite of her own mother's saccharine poise.

But out of all the members of the Addams family, it's Grandmama Frump who's got a special place in the depths of Sam's inky black heart

She positively adored the batty old witch, who had a wide array of hobbies and interests. From cooking and knitting to witchcraft and candle making, she was a woman of many talents.

Sure, she had one or two screws loose, but Sam had been hanging around the Fenton's since second grade and the Addamsses don't store ghosts in soup thermoses.

Grandmama Frump kept marbles and mothballs in her pockets and was a serial collector who loved showing off. She'd once shown Sam her collection of prosthetic eyes, and when asked where, why and how, she'd replied that many of them had been gifted to her by a long-distance ex-boyfriend who'd lived in France.

She had piles and piles of books, many of which were coated in dust and at least a few centuries old. She had books on farming, sewing, child-rearing, sword fighting, fencing, herbology, sailing, tragedies and more. She had books on hexes and curses and brewing potions and poisons. Sam was particularly entranced by an ancient book bound in leather and filled with detailed drawings of plants, little creatures with pointy teeth and rhymes that could cure boils and headaches. It had been written by a young woman who'd been burned at the stake and Grandmama Frump claimed to have traded for it with a pair of good shoes and a bezoar from the stomach of a goat.

She was a fountain of knowledge, insisting upon teaching Sam how to whittle and speak in tounges. Most times Sam would find her hunched over a bubbling cauldron with fistfuls of dried herbs and an array of ornate daggers at her disposal.

She taught Sam how to wrap a broken bone, treat a rotten tooth and make a poultice to soothe blood blossom burns.

She had a tendency to lose her dentures and howl during full moons. She wore rings on every finger, each one of them carrying a different family curse.

She'd sit the whole family down by the fireplace and regal them with absurd tales and grim encounters, most typically dissolving into nonsense and rambles around halfway through.

She had a habit of slipping things into people's pockets when they weren't paying attention. From hard candies wrapped in parchment to little coloured vials filled with lethal concoctions. Sam once found a green vial the of colour jade, no bigger than the nail on her thumb, nestled into the folds of a scarf she had worn the entire afternoon and hadn't taken off once. Now she has an entire windowsill lined with odd little trinkets and colourful little bottles with corked lids and murky contents - the only pop of colour in her dark and dreary bedroom.

Tucker complained about the smell of incense and smoke, but Sam still carried around the bundle of twine and wax that was tied tight with a blood red string - a protection charm for her and her friends. She took it wherever she went and it never left her pocket, for Grandmama Frump had made her swear to never be without it.

[hollowwrites]

Blindsided

Part 10

Ominis x MC

Summary - The First Trial of the Tri Wizard Tournament signals Ominis’ departure. He watches his friends challenge before leaving to see his family.

I really don’t like writing action or anything vaguely actiony so this might not be good. Also feel like it’s super rushed. Basically I’m not happy with this at all but I can’t see how to make it better and I’m looking forward to what’s coming so…it is what it is.

Again feel free to swap Evelyn with MC or Y/N

Warnings - Kissing (I KNOW FINALLY), spiders, brief pain, all characters aged up 18+

Word Count - 2038

~

Imelda was beside herself.

If you asked her, she muttered something about how they’d massacred the quidditch field. That’s why she was moody. Not at all the fact her love has spent so little time with her as of late because of this competition. Or that he could die.

The stands had undergone a drastic change. Organisers had transfigured the colours to a rich navy blue, in keeping with the Tri Wizard theme. Large ornate curtains billowed from the tips of each of the towers meeting and bunching high up in the centre of the field.

The normal quidditch pitch itself couldn’t be seen, nor could the goal hoops. Replaced instead by what seemed to be a generic forest floor. Some trees were growing up from it, with the roots seemingly forming an entrance on the far side of the stands.

“I’m fine” Imelda said flatly, clutching Eves arm, to Ominis’ chagrin.

He had remained at Evelyns side since breakfast. Not completely unusual, but something about the way he gripped her arm or wrist, felt off.

Somewhat possessive.

That accompanied with his furrowed brow and worried look in his eyes meant something was desperately wrong.

Evelyn chalked it up to the upcoming trial. And though she too was struggling with a knot in her stomach, she took it upon herself to carry the load for the others.

She acted as though everything was fine.

Sebastian will be fine.

It was fine.

Although, If you asked Anne, she would agree. She had no doubt in Sebastian’s capabilities and had clad herself, head to toe in Sebastian themed gear.

They manoeuvred their way to the observation booth, high above the pitch. Imelda pushed past everyone to get to the front, earning a few stern words from the other onlookers. However, the moment they saw her face, angry and twisted, all fight left them, allowing her and her party, through. They settled against the railing waiting for the trial to begin.

“Ah Evelyn, long time no see!” Leander appeared out of nowhere next to them, a disgruntled Garreth behind him, shaking his head

“Leander? Good to see you. I didn’t think you cared for Sebastian?” Eve asked eyebrow raised. She locked eyes with Garreth. He was mouthing ‘Sorry’ over and over before making his way over to Anne. He lovingly scooped her up in his arms and they both began chanting their support for Sebastian, his hand never leaving hers. Not that sorry then.

“Oh well…” she saw Leanders eyes dart past her shoulder, no doubt being greeted by the openly hostile stare of Ominis “We’ve had our differences” he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. Eve smirked. She quite liked making Leander uneasy. It was all payback for his arrogance when they first met.

She suddenly felt the looming presence of Ominis get closer. He ran a hand along her lower back and hooked it around her waist.

Definitely possessive.

“Rather exciting though isn’t it?” Leander continued placing a hand on her shoulder and jostling her lightly, conveying his love of the tournament. Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted.

“Yes it’s just wonderful waiting for the possible death of our best friend” Ominis jeered, his eyes sightlessly sending daggers toward Leander. “If you don’t mind…” Ominis moved his hand from Eves waist to her shoulder, his presence becoming controlling. In a single sweep down her arm, he brushed Leander away from her and put himself between them. He nudged her closer to the railing away from Prewett and used his body as a shield. An arm extended to either side of her, pinning her against the rail. She could feel his breathe on the back of her neck as he spoke.

“Idiot” Ominis muttered

“That was rather harsh. You know he means no harm. He’s…well yes…an idiot”

“He doesn’t deserve to be here. He doesn’t even like Sebastian. He’s just using Garreth as an excuse for a better view” She watched as his knuckles turned white “and he doesn’t deserve to touch you” she could hear the grimace on his face.

“I-“

“Merlin, I think it’s starting” Imelda said shakily, somewhere beside her. Her hand shot out to Evelyn, seeking her. Their fingers intertwined, and the squeeze from Imelda was, bordering on painful.

A parade of people, walked out from the entrance beneath them. The unmistakable knot of hair that was Sebastian came into view and the surrounding viewing towers erupted into cheers. Ominis flinched into Evelyn at the assault on his ears. He sighed, prompting Eve to rub his arm comfortingly. She turned to speak in his ear.

“We’ll leave after Sebastian is done don’t worry”

~

Professor Weasley welcomed everyone to the stadium with a long and arduous speech about bringing the Wizarding World together during this time.

She introduced the champion for each school with equal grandeur, but to no one’s surprise, Sebastian’s cheer was louder than the others.

He may have let it get to his head, bowing and encouraging the crowd to make more noise. He even started the Slytherin chant from this years Crossed Wands duel, with two fingers to his mouth like a forked tongue and hissing. The towers erupted into the noise, many already hearing it from the duelling club.

They announced that due to Hogwarts hosting this year, Sebastian would be first. The ground cleared, leaving Sebastian stood alone in the centre of the faux forest floor.

An eerie silence fell upon the crowd.

Ominis could hear Sebastian tapping his wand against his leg impatiently. He chuckled under his breath.

“What’s so funny?” Evelyn asked in a hushed whisper

“Sebastian is getting bored. He’s tapping his wand on his leg like he does” he smiled, more relaxed knowing his friend is doing okay.

“You can hear that?” She leaned over the railing slightly to peer at Sebastian. She could barely make out his figure against the floor, the dark green of his uniform blending into the ground. But it did, indeed, look as though he was tapping his wand. “That’s incredible”

It was then when Ominis felt the slightest of tremors at his feet before a collective gasp engulfed the arena.

“What’s happening?” He asked

“It’s an Acromantula” Eve replied, the smile plastered across her face very clearly apparent in her voice “He’s going to be perfectly fine. We’ve fought quite a few of these”

“It seems Sebastian agrees with you” he said as he heard the distinct sound of Sebastian laughing

“Is that all you’ve got?” Sebastian murmured far in the distance.

~

As the fight began, the atmosphere of the Stadium changed completely. Many peoples fear of spiders came bubbling to the surface and the shrill screams and panicked gasps caused by the proximity of the giant beast made it easy for Ominis to know where the creature was.

He listened intently as Sebastian cast spell after spell, favouring a more fiery approach. Ominis knew from Defense Against the Dark Arts that Acromantulas’ had a distinct weakness to fire, But Sebastian had first hand experience with it.

It’s seemed as though the only person in the audience having a good time, was Evelyn. She alone cheered and hollered as the battle between man and arachnid raged on.

That was until a bloodcurdling scream came from a girl in the farthest tower.

Ominis heard Sebastian groan in pain.

“What happened?!” He gripped Eves waist desperately.

“He…he got bit” she sounded shaky for the first time “He-He’ll be okay”

The distinct crackling of fire overwhelmed the arena as Sebastian seemingly burst into flame. A thick whirlwind of white and blue flame shot out from where he stood and as it fizzled out to nothingness, Sebastian stood…alone.

The spiders great fangs still encompassed his torso, but its legs curled upwards and twitched as it lay charred and smoking on the ground.

With a grunt, Sebastian removed the fangs from his side, clutching at the gaping wound left in its wake. He sauntered, as much as a man wounded by a giant spider can, over to the spider egg, which was his prize. He hauled it high above his head and the crowd roared its approval a final time.

~

With the first trial complete, Ominis’ chest became tight with the sudden realisation…

He would be leaving her within the hour.

“Come with me” he grabbed her hand as they filtered out from the stadium

“What’s going on?” She jogged lightly behind him, trying and failing to keep up with his long strides.

“Just…” he couldn’t finish.

He was leaving soon and if he didn’t tell her, show her, how much she meant to him…He knew he would regret it. He could die at the Gaunt residence happily knowing he had claimed her as his own.

They settled behind one of the corners of the stands. The roar of the crowds above them seemed so far away.

“What’s going on with you today? First, you’re grabbing me, then you’re laughing. Then you snap at Leander, then you’re happy again…” She spat becoming annoyed at the rollercoaster of his behaviour “You’re acting really-“

“I’m going to kiss you” he stopped abruptly, pulling her hand behind him, his own settling on her waist.

“…What?” All fight left her

“I want to kiss you but I need to know you want this too”

“I…I do yes…I-”

His lips trapped hers immediately. No thought behind it. As the initial surge of emotions subsided and he was left with just her beneath him, he pulled back his assault somewhat, breaking off, momentarily to gauge her reaction.

There was none.

She seized him instead this time. Her full lips gliding across his slowly and softly. Fingers gripped at clothes with desperation. His arm hooked around the small of her back, pulling her closer against his chest. His free hand cupped her jaw and neck, a comforting thumb stroking across her cheekbone.

He didn’t know if she tried to speak, or breathe, or if it really was an invitation, but her lips parted and a tiny gasp escaped her.

It…did something to him.

A low growl reverberated up from his chest. She could feel it in her own with how close they were pressed against one another. His tongue darted forwards like a man craving water, lapping at the parting of her lips hungrily

Later, he might regret that the first time he tasted her was around the back of the Quidditch pitch. But right now, he just wanted more.

He pressed her softly against the viewing towers causing another small breathe to leave her. His hand lowered to encircle her waist, fingers digging into flesh beneath cloth.

Eventually, he came back to his senses. He had places he needed to be and as much as he wanted that to be here…it wasn’t.

He pulled back, nose nuzzling along the length of hers, breathing her in. Nudging his forehead against her, he remained in the sound of her thundering heartbeat. He stayed there for a moment.

“I’ve wanted to do that for too long” he whispered. The words leaving physical marks against her dampened lips, the tingle of each breath cooling against them. He felt her cheeks puff out into a smile, a grin.

“Me too” her hands snaked around his neck. Fingertips toying with the small hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Truly?” He removed himself from her only briefly, immediately missing the warmth and assault of her on his senses. “I…had hoped you felt this way. But I never dreamed you actually did”

“Why now? Just so I can replicate the moment in the future.” She laughed breathlessly. He felt her laugh vibrate through her under his hands. He pulled away, reluctantly

“Sebastian could’ve died. Puts things into perspective” he lied.

He knew this was probably a mistake. But if things ended badly at the Gaunt residence, he could die knowing he had kissed his love.

Actually, the more he thought about it, this was incredibly selfish. If he died, what would that leave for her? She’d have mourned the death of a friend. But now? He would plague her thoughts of ‘What If’s’ and ‘Why’s’

It would now, be much harder to leave her.

~

Please let me know what you guys think I’m so so so unsure about this chapter 🫣

Masterlist

[the-rebel-archivist]

WIP... Whenever

@askweisswolf tagged me last Wednesday and it's taken till Sunday to finally post!

Some BG3 Menzoberranzan backstory work for today that I've been chipping away at for a while

She was the wrong shape. Her height hadn’t changed and yet she felt smaller somehow. Her limbs seemed the wrong size, gawkily carrying the awkwardness of late adolescence. She covered her mouth with her hand and bit down on her index finger to keep a scream contained. Her cheeks were too round. The hand was wet. A warm-wet, tacky wet that she didn’t want to look at. It tasted like a copper piece. There had been a knife in it, once. Years ago? Or five minutes ago? It all blurred together now. There it was, on the ornately carved cavern stone of the floor. Buried in someone soft. Some thing soft. Something leaking. She picked it up and cleaned it off on the rag she remembered then that she’d brought for this purpose. Inhale. Exhale. Keep it steady. Don’t lose your head. Don’t let the buzzing win, don’t let the ground turn dark. But she had, hadn’t she. She hadn’t heard the footsteps behind her and she hadn’t seen the arm closing in around her from behind. The vicious dagger pressed against her chest shone with reflected bioluminescence from the mushroom lamp on the ceiling. If she forgot everything else about the situation, she would never forget that. “Never get lost in a kill, Xar’Miryn, or you’ll be next,” came the voice of her matron. “Your lack of awareness will have consequences.” “Yes matron,” she whispered hoarsely, her heart pumping madly. The thing’s heart had done that too, before. And then it pumped out onto the floor. “I won’t forget next time.” “No, you won’t,” she agreed, and Lythrana froze at the ice in her tone. The dagger slicing through shirt and skin was cold too. Or perhaps it only was in comparison to what seeped out under its blade.  She didn’t scream. The matron would have done worse if she had.

tagging @sidestepping @themoralsupport and anyone who feels like sharing

[dvarapala]

❛ when we meet again, you can give it back to me. ❜

(insert we are theme song here) // @memoriescut

maybe those who have been puppets will always be fated to recognize each other down to the bone. to recognize something in each other that neither will want to speak of aloud.

two hybrids. two animals, circling around each other. two people, battered and bruised and bloody and broken, getting their strings tangled up. testing each other over and over and over and over again. because how could they not do what their puppeteers have asked of them?

it's a tale as old as time, isn't it?

a sweet tooth with a propensity for daggers - who has carved out a place for herself in a world she doesn't quite belong to - and a girl who belongs so very deeply to this world and it's (wretched) people, carrying with her a name that's just as sweet as she is sour, wielding a revolver and shooting candy jacket pellets.

udyati knows nothing of guns. but even she can see this handgun's ornate design.

it feels heavy in her hand. she feels clumsy. rooted to the spot.

she looks at pudding, then, and gently places the gun back in the brunette's (waiting?) hands.

"you're much too kind, pudding." to udyati, it feels like she just passed a test. by the skin of her teeth. "but i can't take this." part of her wants to reach for her rings - for her daggers - if only so she's got something to hold, but she doesn't.

not yet.

"besides," udyati continues, "out of the two of us, it's you who looks much cooler when you hold it." out of the two of them, pudding's the one who knows how to use it, too, and udyati is not too keen on finding out how good a shot pudding really is.

instead, the dark haired girl wiggles her fingers. "i prefer using my hands. i'm good with them."

it takes much too long for her to realize that she accidentally said something that can be taken as an innuendo.

"oh gosh, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean... i just meant---kalari. i do kalari. it's this thing. martial arts. i've been training since i was a kid---" udyati cuts herself off as her cheeks warm up. she mutters one last quiet but sincere 'sorry'.

"---but that's not at all the point... have you seen a little girl around? about yay-high? mischievous eyes. dark hair. a quick little grin on her face, always? that's my kid sister, jami. she's got that adventurous spirit, you know. and i looked away for three seconds and off she went."

[vorasaad]

Chapter 1 - Red Sands

On the twenty second of the Crimson moon, 1451, the old, worn sandstone floor of the Vorian throne room was dyed a deep red. The king, Kanja Vorasaad lies dead on his throne, his throat slit.

There was no sign of a struggle, no forced entry into the throne room, and the guards were nowhere to be found. Whoever killed him must have been someone he trusted deeply, and had some amount of control over the palace. The king, being a widower had no one to take his place. His heir, Hessa was only 16, his other daughter, Sunalia was only 13. They were both too young to rule Voriaad, so the responsibility fell to the King's royal advisor, and now regent, Haziyaan.

He was a shrewd man, skilled in manipulation, deceit, and all things cowardly. His untrustworthy nature was very well hidden, especially to the king. Haziyaan's counsel had provided the late king with not only victory in battle but domestic prosperity. In many ways, Haziyaan was the brains to Kanja's brawn, and the two worked alongside each other, treating each other as equals, and as friends.

The façade was excellent, and no one saw his betrayal coming, all except for the king's firstborn daughter, Hessa. She was never that bright, taking after her father in that regard, but was perceptive where it really counted. For weeks she spied on Haziyaan. His behavior had changed recently, very subtly. Lately, he seemed on edge, stressed, and quick to anger. Normally, he seemed relaxed, patient, and understanding. Hessa had made a routine of spying on Haziyaan, she knew his schedule, the routes he'd take, and the places he'd stop. On the day of the king's murder, Hessa noticed that Haziyaan was nowhere he'd usually be found. Hessa assumed he was doing something inappropriate for a man of his position, or maybe had some embarrassing secret. Little did she know the horrible truth of her father's fate. Hessa, thinking of Haziyaan's closeness to the king, went to her father to ask of Haziyaan's whereabouts. First she checked her father's bedroom, then the garden where he liked to spend his free time. Lastly, she looked in the throne room, where she had discovered a gruesome scene.

Her father sat in his throne, dead, blood pooling on the floor and staining it red. Hessa recoiled in horror and let out a piercing shriek heard across the whole palace. After a few moments of stunned silence, Hessa approached her father's body, still slightly warm. Hessa wept, holding her father, begging him to wake up. Through her tears she noticed something else about her father. In his lap sat an ornate dagger, made of gold and covered in jewels. This weapon was never meant for fighting, or even killing. The dagger was purely ornamental, nothing an assassin would carry. Hessa recognized the weapon, it was a gift from her father. The realization dawned on her, Haziyaan was the killer. His strange behavior, his absence today, Hessa's own dagger planted at the scene.

"This is perfect…" a low voice said from the corner of the room. Hessa jolted back, startled. From the shadows emerged Haziyaan, with a still and expressionless face. "I noticed you following me. You're an observant little pest, one that will hinder Voriaad's future." Haziyaan said. Hessa's face shifted from fear to fury. She grabbed the dagger, drenched in her father's blood. Her heart began to race, and she could feel something was different. She felt a huge rush of adrenaline wash over her, and before she could even think, she lunged at Haziyaan will all her might. He dodged the fatal attack, and Hessa fell onto the floor. Dazed and confused, she got up, and staggered towards Haziyaan. Then, in the distance footsteps were heard. "HELP ME!" Haziyaan cried out with a sinister smile, and seconds later, two guards stormed into the room. All they saw was Hessa, standing by her father, covered in his blood, holding her dagger.

The scene was damning. There was no explanation that could possibly save her, the setup was undoubtedly more believable than the truth. She dropped the dagger in stunned panic as the guards surrounded Hessa.

"Princess Hessa, you are under arrest for patricide." one guard said.

The other hesitated before saying "Princess… How could you do this?"

Hessa, knowing she could never talk her way out of this, bolted out of the room pushing the guards to the ground. She ran through the halls, and out of the palace, sobbing all the way. She ran and ran, eventually running so far she had exited the city and began wandering the road. Eventually, as the adrenaline faded, her fatigue set in. Her legs failed, and she collapsed to the ground, then, everything went dark.

When she next awoke, she was lying on her stomach, hanging over the back of a horse. Startled and disoriented, she fell off the horse and onto her back, into a puddle of mud. After a moment of staring into the cloudless sky, the head of a woman entered Hessa's view. She was tall, slender, with long white hair. Her face was stern, with a stoic expression.

"Well, well. Looks like my mystery passenger is awake." she said, looking down at Hessa's pathetic state.

Hessa scooted backward, quickly. "Who the hell are you?" She barked.

Hessa's defensive body language and attitude was apparent to the woman, she stepped back as to keep her distance. "Are you okay? I found you unconscious by the road" she said.

A long silence ensued before the woman spoke again.

"Something happened to you, am I right? I won't expect you to trust me, but I mean you no harm." Hessa responded with more silence before the woman reached for a water container made from animal hide. "You thirsty?" Without hesitation Hessa grabbed the water and guzzled it savagely. "When I saw you passed out, covered in blood, I thought I could help you, but you don't have any wounds. Who's blood is that?" the woman asked.

Hessa stood silently, looking down at her feet. The scenario kept playing out in her mind, she couldn't think of anything else. "It's not something I want to talk about." she said as she turned her back to the woman. Now facing away from the woman, tears welled up in Hessa's eyes, rolling down her cheeks.

"Then tell me something else." the woman said. "I'm Saya, I'm from a big city called Fujikyong, in Hebilao. What's your name?"

Hessa, knowing she's a fugitive, came up with a fake name on the spot. She lifted her head, and looked into Saya's eyes. "My name's Haana." She said.

"See, now that's a start." Saya replied "So what brings you to the middle of nowhere?" said Saya.

Hessa replied "Family… I guess… I just wanna get away from it all."

Saya paused and looked at Hessa, suspiciously. After a short silence, she spoke again. "Come with me to Galaansira" Saya said.

Hessa was taken aback by the sudden invitation. "You want me to go with you?" she said.

"I can tell you don't have anywhere else to be, but if you'd like you can stay here on the side of the road." Saya said with a dismissive shrug.

Knowing she could not return home, she agreed. "I'll go with you, but I still don't trust you." Hessa said. She got on the horse and the two made their way to Galaansira.

As the two carried on, the sun began to descend behind the horizon. Saya turned off the road, then brought the horse to a stop, before getting off. "You ever go camping, Haana?" she asked.

"I've slept behind a tavern once. Couldn't remember the way home." she answered.

"You're very well dressed for a delinquent." Saya said, while going through her supplies. She set down some firewood, and a few steel skewers. "I'm gonna get something to eat, stay here."

Alone with her thoughts, Hessa's mind turned to her father. The image was seared into her brain. Haziyaan must have been planning this for some time, to pull it off with such perfection. Hessa sat on the ground, her forehead pressed up against her knees. She thought of her sister, Sunalia. I hope she doesn't believe Haziyaan… I don't want to her end up hating me…" she thought to herself. After a few pensive moments, she heard multiple footsteps approaching. She froze before forcing out a shaky "Saya…? That you?" Suddenly, a spark, then a flame from a torch illuminated the figures. They were 2 soldiers, presumably on the search for Hessa. The two men examined Hessa, then drew their swords. "Princess, you're under arrest. Please don't make this difficult." one said.

Before anything else could happen, Saya returned, holding two dead snakes. "Who are these guys, Haana?" she asked.

"Haana? It seems this girl isn't who you think she is. This is Hessa Vorasaad, princess of Voriaad. She's wanted for the murder of her father." the other soldier said.

"It's not true! I didn't do it!" Hessa exclaimed. "Protect me Saya, and I'll tell you the truth, everything! Please…" Hessa pleaded.

Saya already made up her mind before Hessa even asked. There was no way she could bring herself to betray this helpless girl. Saya didn't know exactly what happened but she knew that Hessa didn't know who she could trust, Saya had to be on her side. "Stay behind me." Saya said. She placed her hand on her sword, ready to draw.

"Don't kill them! They're just doing their jobs!" Hessa said.

"You're lucky this girl is showing mercy, I could cut you down with ease." said Saya, looking into the soldier's eyes with a confident face.

"If you protect her, we'll be forced to take you in, or take you out." the soldier said.

"I would hope so." Saya said with a smile.

Saya unsheathed her sword. It was a slender blade, as long as Hessa was tall. It had one edge and a slight curve. The handle was straight, with red leather wrapped around it in an intricate pattern. Hessa had read about weapons from Hebilao but this was her first time seeing one. One soldier dashed at Saya, raising his sword to the moon and swinging it down towards Her. In the blink of an eye, Saya raised her sword in front of her face, and held it perfectly still. As the soldier's blade clashed against hers, there was a flash of light, and the soldier's sword bounced off of Saya's blade, out of his hand, and high into the air.

"How'd you do that!? That was amazing!" Hessa exclaimed.

Saya ignored her and kept fighting. She closed the distance on the soldier and delivered a punch with all her strength straight to his face. The soldier was instantly knocked out. The other soldier, seeing the blade deflected knew that a sword would be useless here, so he sheathed it and reached to his back for his spear. When Saya saw the spear her expression changed. She looked unsure, worried almost. The soldier pointed it at Saya, keeping his distance. He thrusted the spear and Saya deflected the blow, but with far less power this time. The deflection seemed to be less effective on a sharp concentrated point of impact, like a spearhead. The soldier made a mental note of this and kept up his assault. Saya was just barely hanging on, and with her weakness exposed, the soldier kept thrusting. Eventually, one of the strikes connected, and the soldier's spearhead dug into Saya's shoulder. Saya let out shriek, and the pain caused her to drop her sword to the ground. The soldier took his spear out and prepared to deliver the finishing blow, but then, out of nowhere, something changed.

Just like when she lunged at Haziyaan, Hessa jumped towards the soldier with tremendous force. Her heart was racing, and she felt her power grow. Before the soldier could kill Saya, Hessa delivered a devastating punch to the soldier's stomach, sending him flying backwards. As the dust cleared, Saya saw Hessa. Her hair was glowing with a fiery orange and red color, flowing around her head as if she was underwater. The warm light covered the area, revealing through the dust, the soldier on the ground. He staggered to his feet and ran at Hessa spear in hand, letting out a scream of desperation. Hessa stood unmoving, and at the last moment dodged out of the way of the spearhead. She grabbed the handle, ripped it from the soldier's hands, and snapped it in half over her knee. Then, before the soldier knew what hit him, Hessa delivered a flurry of punches to the soldier's torso. The soldier went flying, and then landed, unmoving. Saya ran over to him and checked his pulse. "Did I…?" Hessa asked weakly. Her heart began to race even faster, panicked that she might have actually killed one of her own loyal soldiers.

"He's just unconscious, don't worry. We have to get out of here quickly though." The two got on the horse, leaving the firewood, skewers and snakes, next to the incapacitated soldiers.

Next Chapter ↓

[ladysunbite]

01. what sexuality does your muse identify as, or most closely with? 04. what non-sexual act of foreplay most turns them on?

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 + 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 || open

01. what sexuality does your muse identify as, or most closely with?

Bisexial would be a correct modern term. Essentially, a need to survive in a hostile world made Orianna adopt a “research” approach to every field of her life. As for a vampiric regard to gender, it begs a separate hc. By now it would be sufficient to say that she identifies as a female, but with a high degree of social freedom, compared to the medival-esque setting, thanks to her high yet not responsibility-heavy status ( compared to Anna Henrietta or Vivienne de Tabris, for instance ). 

04. what non-sexual act of foreplay most turns them on?

The red line, be that pun forgiven, is that in everything Orianna is or does or desires, there are two, often warrying, sides to her. Mainly, it’s due to her upbringing on the precipice of two extremely different cultures - vampiric and human ( with a grain of elven, as Beauclair boasts some elegant architectural ancestry and the general air of hedonism ).

Her natural, vampiric side, longs for the outlet of her base instincts, and is prone to the nostalgia of her mayhem-filled, responsibility-free days of youth. But as with everything nostalgic, that memory has acquired a golden sheen. Invite the sun-eyed to raid a village and bask in the blood and guts of the victims, and she would wrinkle her nose, contemptuously. However “killing out of necessity”, a cloak and dagger variety is a perfect stage for her pent-up, bestial urges. Murder some foes together, compliment graceful ways of slaying, do not shiver at the sight of her claws and her stained mouth, and take the responsibility of covering the tracks and burying the bodies - it’s the best kind of a spontaneous first date in her books.  Her humanized side prefers pleasures of a higher sort - art, and especially, music. Orianna has a lovely singing voice, but lacks the occasion to exhibit it to the full. She never sings at her own soirees, due to the risk of being carried away and hypnotising the hapless audience. Or something worse. In a nutshell, such a display could attract the pestering attention of a witcher or a sorceress, and the sun-eyed values her comfort. If you have coaxed her to sing together, you can count it as a sort of courting. In between exists the realm, which takes from both sides. Orianna is a highly sensual creature; not in terms of a sexual drive, but in her overactive senses ( a natural perk of vampirism, combined with a hc that she lost her sight for a time during her youth ). She can be baited with certain smells, a harmony of colours in a landscape / painting, an ornate glass of sweet blood wine. And a physical touch, naturally. It is as much a lure to her, as the other 4 senses are. Anna Henrietta mentions that her presence inspires a certain eerie anxiety that prompts the other party to depart with all possible haste. And as a result, the sun-eyed is somewhat starved in that department. It’s worth mentioning that Orianna finds her hair being brushed rather titillating ( or her teeth being touched ). But it’s an activity reserved to intimate of partners.

Sculpture Credit: Le vampire / La chauve-souris (1903) by Agathon Leonard

[imagine-always-and-forever]

In Plain Sight – Part 11

A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Word length: 2066

Warnings: typical violence and stuff you’d see in the show (oh and swearing)

Request: Hello! I just found your blog and I’m living it! Can you do a Klaus story where the reader has twins with him but he didn’t know (maybe one of his siblings helped them hid or something?) But that they are older then Hope by like a year so when their Aunt comes for a firstborn and funds Hope is not it she goes after the reader who Klaus was in fact in love with? If not its cool no pressure :) (requested by @poemfreak306 )

Summary: Klaus learns about past

Taglist @burningmusicmachine @sophiasotherdaughter @thatweirdoleigh @quaint-and-curious-being @hoeofnjadaka @slowlybeautifulprinces @angel34jolly-blog @princess-of-the-fandoms @skeletoresinthebasement @sollyemad-blog @chfyu @britt-mf @happy-sunny-flowers @aomi-nabi @teenwolfbitches28 @sw-eat-ing @elle88531 @selena8712 @itsalaurelhell @cuddlyklaus @kathrynisadogperson @poemfreak306 @cuddlyklaus @kathrynisadogperson @youngestxhearts @angelsfallingdown @itskindofafairything @nobody7102 @theroyalbrownbarbie @fangirlbitch02 @fandomrulesall-blog @katykat71114 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @mschellehitt @loki-is-loved @queenofkings121 @thegingerthatwaited @littlemissslytherinprincess @youngestxhearts @roxytheimmortal @pisicakawritesshitatfour @abitchforbarnes @nonvoglioperderti00 @melaniin-monroe @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @exyqueenkvnday @queenofkings121-blog @itsyaboi-uhhh-skinnypenis @avengers-fixation @crackhead1-800 @feelinrosier @jana-jaeynneee @romyislief @tired-meg @duskrosee @sagittarianwolf @megatron07 @fandomrulesall-blog @geekofmanyforms @creative-diaries @snowblazeblack

(if you want to be tagged in the next parts, let me know! And if I’ve forgotten you on the tag list, let me know that as well!)

Author’s note: This part is quite heavily focused on Klaus. It gives you an inside look at Klaus in City Beneath The Sea. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and what your thoughts are so far! As silly as it sounds, it really helps my motivation and interest in continuing to write it.

Your body was paralyzed by magic. You had no choice but to watch, trapped inside your own body, as Elijah and Rebekah chose Freya over their brother. Elijah carried Klaus into a room behind a metal gate, placing him in an ornate coffin. Rebekah’s magic floated you behind them, placing you on the floor directly in front of Klaus’s coffin, a soft pillow placed under your head as you stared up at the ceiling, eyes burning from the inability to blink.

They left quickly with no mention of their plans.

Completely unable to move, to do a single thing to free yourself so that you could pull the dagger from Klaus and save your children, you wished you could at least wipe away the tears of fear and frustration that fell from your eyes.

How could they? How could they do this to you? To Klaus? You knew Freya wasn’t trustworthy. She’d poisoned them against the both of you. And for what? They would lose. The twins and Hope would be lost.

Meanwhile

A voice was in his head. It was telling him about the bonds of family, something he was painfully all to aware of and reminded of constantly. The voice described the bonds of family and its treacherous ways, the burden of it, something Klaus struggled with every day. Family was a blessing and a curse but he had to believe, found himself utterly incapable of not believing, the blessing of family held stronger than anything.

Klaus gasped awake, the brightness of day hitting his eyes almost painfully. He breathed in cool air, the smell of the forest and magic mixing in the taste. His body felt fine, but he didn’t understand. His eyes focused to see Dahlia standing some feet away from him, staring. He looked around, taking in the sights of a small village in what looked to be around the time of his own birth.

“And thus, Niklaus, you find yourself here with me,” a woman with brown hair and sharp eyes said, and Klaus realised it was her voice that had been in his head.

“Dahlia,” he guessed.

She smiled at his recognition and stepped forward. Klaus tried to push himself up and gasped as he shifted. Looking down, he saw a puncture wound in his chest, still bleeding.

“What have you done to me?” he demanded, a prickle of fear running down his spine. He stood, ignoring pain easily after so many years of practice. He looked around, not recognising their surroundings. “Where are my children? Where is Y/N?” he demanded, trying to sound more threatening than afraid.

Dahlia said nothing. He rushed at her, planning to rip her apart once and for all, but he was face with the brick wall of the building in front of him. She’d disappeared. He spun, only to find her staring calmly at him from the opposite side, almost leaning against the brick wall he’d been slumped against moments ago. She seemed amused, waiting for him to figure it out.

“Get out of my head,” he warned her, fear rising as he realised he was completely at her mercy. He didn’t have time for this. He had to find his family. He had to save them.

“I’m not in your head,” she replied simply.

Confusion momentarily blanked his mind as he tried to figure out what that meant.

“You’re in mine,” Dahlia explained and Klaus only felt more fear.

He didn’t know how to get out of this. He didn’t know how to kill her while trapped in her head like a prisoner. He swallowed, for once completely unsure of his next move.

“And seeing as you lay daggered by your own beloved brother, you have no choice but to listen,” she smiled, cruel amusement over his circumstances lighting up her face.

Her words washed over him, unlocking the memory. His own brother. Elijah had betrayed him by taking his children and choosing Hayley over him. Then he had betrayed him again, choosing Freya over him and plunging a dagger into his heart. His worst fear had come true.

The image of Y/N screaming out a warning as the sharp blade pierced his skin rang in his ears. His breath caught as he remembered her body falling to the ground, her scream of pain ripping from her lungs as she tried to reach him.

“I have a proposition for you,” Dahlia informed him, bringing his attention back to her. “Come along,” she smiled and walked into the village, no doubts in her mind that he would follow.

Klaus thought about his options, but the truth was there weren’t any. He was trapped in here. Completely unable to do anything about it, all he could do was play along. His jaw clenched with anger. He’d rip her to pieces the second he was free, but for now he would follow. He would let her play out whatever this all was for and wait for her to slip up. He’d wait for his opportunity for freedom and then he’d take it. And she would pay.

He followed her, standing at the edge of the village, looking out at sights old but familiar. The people in the village had no idea they were there, allowing them to play voyeur to their lives. They wore clothing he had been born into, cured meats the way he had been taught as a boy, hauled water in buckets the same way he and Elijah used to for so many years, and over all just worked to survive.

It was a reminder of a time in his life where things had been simpler, but he had been weaker. He had suffered more here than ever again in his life. He felt a wave of anger at being forced to relive memories he wished he could forget.

“I have no use for demented dreamscapes,” he bit out, his eyes landing on two young girls running towards them. His jaw clenched as once again, memories flooded into him. Images of running around and playing with siblings when they were children pulled at his heart. It hurt more to remember the good moments in his childhood. They never lasted. They were never enough.

“Niklaus, listen,” Dahlia asked, her voice having a strange sort of plea in it.

Klaus unclenched his jaw and forced himself to focus, using his heightened hearing to pick up on the slightest sounds, as far as they could hear.

The sound that came to his ears was not new. He knew that sound, had feared it as a boy. He swallowed as he realised what was about to happen to the peaceful village in front of him. The screams of the Viking’s victims hadn’t reached the people in town yet, but it would. Their attackers were moving quickly.

With brutal strength and no mercy, the Vikings slaughtered without care, without hesitation. Klaus refused to allow the memories of his father to overwhelm him. He refused to think about his once desperate desire to prove himself to be one of them. He had wanted this once. He had wanted to join the fighting, to live out one of the stories he had heard his father share of his days before they had come to their new land.

Klaus was pulled from the sounds of a doomed village as two young women ran past them. The blonde woman grabbed his attention, eyes widening as he felt a familiar pull to her. He knew this woman. He found himself walking over to them, vaguely aware of Dahlia following him.

The women hid behind a cart full of hay. The dark haired woman turned panicked eyes on the blonde, who looked close to falling apart.

“The Vikings came while you were in the garden,” the blonde said, looking around in fear as the Vikings found themselves in town. Bodies were already piling up and the screams of those still alive were quickly beginning to be silenced. “I’m scared, Dahlia,” the blonde said.

Klaus’s eyes widened. Of course. This dreamscape was not a dream at all. Dahlia was showing him memories, her memories. The blonde was his mother. He watched in quiet fascination as the young Dahlia reached out to his mother, holding her face with unshaking hands and certainty in her voice as she told her not to worry.

“I’ll protect us, Esther,” she promised his mother.

There were no doubts in her voice or on his mother’s face. He was shocked to see the bond between them, one that he shared with his own siblings. It seemed to be in the family. But he knew his family and he knew there was more to the story. He moved closer, unable to help himself.

“But come what may, we must remain together. Always and forever. Promise?”

Always and forever. The words hit Klaus like a slap in the face. Was their family eternally doomed to this sibling vow? Was it some sort of cruel joke? Some manipulation from Dahlai to gain his sympathy?

“I promise,” his mother swore, the genuine belief at her words showing in her face.

It was impossible. His mother did not know the meaning. And considering that he was sure he knew how this story ended, he also knew he was right.

He watched, disgust and hurt waging in her own heart as the sisters clung together. His siblings and he had made that same vow and look what happened. Betrayed. Always betrayed.

A Viking found the sisters and grabbed onto his mother, pulling them apart as they had just started to hum a soothing lullaby to each other. They screamed for each other, his mother desperately calling out for Dahlia’s help as Dahlia herself was overcome with panic as her sister was ripped away.

Klaus was surprised to see his mother so helpless. She was never strong enough in general, he knew that. She had proved it over and over when she let Mikael’s cruelty continue. But he knew his mother was not helpless. He wondered why she wasn’t fighting back, why neither of them protected themselves and each other with their magic.

“No!” Dahlia’s scream ripped through the air, seemed to rip through the earth itself. Her hand lifted, palm out, her face contorted with unbridled fear and anger.

Klaus watched the Viking that had grabbed his mother fly back, falling to the floor, dead. So Dahlia was the practising witch amongst them. As his mother dropped to the ground and Dahlia rushed forward to her side, more Vikings came running to the scene. They threw a bag over their heads and bound their hands. The sisters screamed, trying to fight their attackers off to no avail.

Dahlia seemed to have no concerns for her own safety. She screamed for her sister, desperately trying to free herself to help her. Klaus once again saw the bond that had kept his siblings and himself alive and together for all these years.

Elijah’s betrayal twisted his heart again. He pushed away his pain and the sympathy Dahlia was obviously trying to build in him. His face fell blank before he pulled himself together. He would not lose sight of his plans. He might have to play along but he didn’t have to make it easy.

“Let me guess,” he said, still watching his mother and a young Dahlia being dragged off, “the Vikings slaughtered the entire village?”

“Esther and I were the only ones to survive,” Dahlia said, and Klaus looked away, too aware of having his home ripped from him. “We promised to stay together,” Dahlia explained and it was too much for Klaus.

“Yes. Always and forever. A familiar promise. But then, you knew that,” he said in a quick breath, wanting to move past it all before the pain from the lies of that vow swallowed him. “I suppose you think that makes us kindreds,” he guessed, puzzling out her game.

She would not win his sympathy.

“Not exactly,” Dahlia said, surprising him. He turned to look at her, a frown on his face. “What I mean to show you is that we can be allies.”

Klaus felt suspicion prickle his skin, but the game was still being played. And he had no way out yet. He’d have to keep playing in order to save Y/N and his children.

“Come, Niklaus,” Dahlai ordered, walking away.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Kicking and screaming because my OCs won’t leave me alone make them stop please

GODDAMMIT

Here’s Helena Lionne

Name: Helena “The Siren” Lionne

Associated fanfic: Hearing Problems

Age: 66 at time of death

Appearance:

(Face claims. Younger, Jane Fonda; older, Charlize Theron, both edited for hair type)

Thick unruly dark blonde hair and honey brown eyes. Slim figure, petite, around 5’4” height. Freckles. Sly smirk. Has kept herself in good shape and could pass for at least ten years younger than her true age prior to her death.

Loose comfortable clothes, button-up shirts that she might just tie off at the waist rather than buttoning when the weather is warmer, loose shorts or long flowing skirts. Heavy leather boots. In her younger years, she was almost never seen without her brown leather tricorne hat, but that has since been passed down to her granddaughter.

A pair of ornate daggers, ivory hilts carved with lioness heads at each of their bases, passed down to her granddaughter after her death.

Personality:

Fiery, passionate, idealistic, driven, ambitious, seductive. She was never opposed to using her beauty and charisma to get her way—it was better than violence, after all; but she was ruthless when she needed to be. She didn’t always know exactly what she was doing in her younger years, but she knew where she was headed and planned to get there by any means necessary. Ultimately she achieved her goal and became one of the most feared and revered pirates in the world, and in a fairly short time, though her heyday was a little short-lived before she retired. Still, she retired from it fulfilled and happy with her lot in life, elated to have been an influence to future generations that might want to follow their dreams free of oppression and adversity.

Her time as a pirate was cut short in starting a family, and certain mistakes and regrets did weigh heavily enough on her that she didn’t want to see her sons follow in her footsteps. She calmed down significantly as she settled into motherhood, gained a great deal more patience and serenity. Still enjoyed her rum and her wine with her old crew in her downtime, still talked fondly about old times, but she kept it hidden from her children for as long as she possibly could.

Abilities/talents/powers:

Blades: Primarily daggers and throwing knives, though she’s decent with other one-handed weapons, took the time to learn to wield them to give her an advantage in combat—to be able to pick up the weapon of a fallen enemy and use it if need be. Her fighting style relies primarily on agility and evasion, however, which made daggers her best friend. Also not above delivering a cold shot to the nuts in a pinch.

Haki: Was unmatched in Armament Haki, and focused primarily on it, though she was fairly adept with Conquerer’s Haki.

Devil Fruit: Mizu Mizu no Mi (Logia type: Water). Perhaps one of the most dangerous Logia type fruits in existence, and made her nearly impossible to combat when she consumed it in her early twenties. She might not have been able to come in contact with seawater, but she gained the ability to control water of any kind, or become water at will. Keep in mind that the human body is around sixty percent water and make of that whatever you will.

Music: The first half of her moniker, “The Siren,” Helena had a strong talent for music. Her preferred instrument was a classical acoustic guitar she had carried with her for most of her life, which her second and youngest son stole when he set out to become a pirate, but she was adept in most string instruments, as well as piano, and had a singing voice that could make any man weak at the knees.

Seduction: The second half of her moniker. Beautiful from her younger years and right up to the time of her death, Henea had absolutely no hang-ups about using her womanly wiles to get her way or get herself out of trouble. No shame in using any gift she had, be it learned or innate.

Relationships/affiliations:

Monkey D. Garp: Childhood best friend, first love, eventually husband, eventually ex-husband. Really her only true love throughout the course of her life. They fell out twice in their lives, and the second time ended up being permanent. Met when they were children, after Helena ran away from an abusive Marine father and stowed away on a pirate ship, the crew of which dropped her in Foosha Village when they discovered her. She lied and said her parents were pirates, but eventually admitted the truth when it became too difficult a lie to keep up. Garp’s father was also a Marine, as well as an older brother; his father was more than a little bit of an asshole as well, a bonding point for the two youths, and they made a pact to set out together as pirates before he could be forced to enlist himself. They left when she was fifteen and he was sixteen, stealing his father’s personal sloop to do so. Their first falling out occurred a few years later, when a firefight with a Marine ship resulted in the death of Garp’s older brother, the captain aboard the ship they sunk. She didn’t see him for several years after the fact, when he was a Marine captain himself in the North Blue. She gave herself up in exchange for the safety of her crew, in no small part because she couldn’t stand the thought of facing him in battle. In the long journey from the North Blue to Marineford, their romance quickly rekindled and she became pregnant. She and Garp conspired to contact her crew, stage a firefight with them to “rescue” her that he would intentionally lose in order to ensure she be taken to safety, under the condition that she retired from piracy for them to raise their child in a safe environment.

Monkey D. Dragon: First son. Didn’t exactly have a bad relationship with his mother, but her pushing him to try to get along with his often absent father eventually drove a wedge between them.

Lyon D. Rollo (OC): Born Monkey. D. Rollo. Second son, several years younger than Dragon. Essentially looked up to his older brother as a father figure due to Garp rarely being around (it was dangerous for Garp to be there; his marriage to Helena came in complete secrecy, and his superiors discovering it could easily result in him being arrested and potentially executed for treason, but both he and Helena kept this from their children for as long as possible). He ultimately blamed Garp for driving Dragon away, grew to resent his father deeply, refused to even accept his surname and took instead a variation of his mother’s when he set out on his own. Found out from one of his mother’s old crewmates about her history as a pirate, quickly decided that sounded a lot better than living and dying on a tiny island cut off from the rest of the world. Took a few momentos from home (including his mother’s tricorne and guitar), stole a sloop, and set out on his own at around the age of thirteen. Didn’t see his mother again for perhaps a decade. Didn’t reveal his relation to her to many, but the more he learned about her history the prouder he was to be her son.

Karimi Lionne (OC): Daughter of Lyon D. Rollo, Helena’s granddaughter. Helena took the girl in when she was barely four years old, after she ate a devil fruit (Kiku Kiku no Mi, unofficial name, seems a paramecia type that grants the user the ability to hear other’s thoughts) and her father, not much older than twenty, wholly realized how unsafe it was to have her aboard his ship. Helena agreed to take her in, under the condition that her son not have any contact with her until she was an adult, to avoid Karimi having ant influence toward becoming a pirate herself. Lyon was understandably reluctant to agree, but he ultimately did—especially when his mother threatened to take out his ship herself if she ever saw his flag on the horizon before Karimi turned eighteen. Helena raised her for ten years, taught her everything she knew—daggers, throwing knives, survival skills, music, any and everything that might help Karimi survive and thrive should she ever decide to set out on her own in any capacity. In addition, Helena used Armanent Haki to keep Karimi’s devil fruit abilities locked away, largely for the safety and sanity of her granddaughter. The pair of them were thick as thieves, and Helena was the only mother figure Karimi ever knew.

Janx (OC): Lyon D. Rollo’s first mate. Met him briefly when they brought Karimi to her. Janx’s total lack of self control led him to flirt heavily with the older woman, and Helena found him incredibly amusing for it, definitely flirted back. Nothing came of it, except for the immense discomfort of her son.

Marine Admiral Jackson “Volcano” Vesper (OC): Helena’s first mate was captured and killed by Jackson Vesper’s father, a Marine captain, when Jackson himself was still a cadet. Helena in turn flew off the handle and took revenge on the man, killing him with her bare hands, decapitating him, and personally delivering his head to Marine headquarters. Took out several Marine ships amid their getaway. The younger Vesper lost both his father and several close friends that day, not to mention his own left eye and ear, leaving that side of his face grotesquely scarred for the rest of his life. The mental and emotional scars were far worse, however, and he was left bent on revenge against the woman. At some point he consumed the Mera Mera no Mi and gained dominion over fire (precursor to Fire Fist Ace). In his hunt for Helena after she disappeared from the seas, he became suspicious of a young captain called Lyon D. Rollo, who bore a remarkable resemblance to his mortal nemesis in both name and appearance. He sought out Lyon and destroyed his first ship, killing most of Lyon’s crew in the process, including his wife—but Vesper’s second in command aboard his own ship was Garp, and he put a stop to the massacre himself, knocking out Admiral Vesper and calling for ceasefire, allowing his son and what little remained of his crew to escape on a dinghy. The incident left Vesper fiercely suspicious of Garp as well. It was this suspicion that led the now Admiral to search Garp’s office while they were both stationed in Marineford years later, where he found locked away letters between Garp and Helena—as well as coordinates to an uncharted island on the Grand Line, an island so close to the calm belt and so far from anything else that it was all but unheard of for any Log Posse to attune to it. He took an unsanctioned crew with him that were too afraid of the ruthless Admiral to go against his orders, sought out Helena, and exacted his revenge at last, slaughtering the woman and everyone in the village of Conch Cove, many of whom were her old crewmates; with the sole exception of her fourteen year old granddaughter, who he left there for dead as some sick poetic justice that truly only made sense in his own twisted mind. He told the girl she should “consider it a lesson of what happens to pirate whores and filth.” Vesper and his crew (those who hadn’t perished fighting with Helena and her old crew) returned to Marineford with Helena’s head, just as the pirate once had with his father’s. All involved were quickly arrested, executed for mass murder and misuse of World Government resources. Vesper was still laughing right up to the moment his head fell from his shoulders.

[nationalharryleague]

Diplomacy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU 

Word count: 12K (I may have gotten carried away) 

Warnings: Parental Death, an American writing about monarchies she doesn’t understand 

A/N: Hi everyone! I have been working on this one for a while and it’s by far the longest thing I’ve ever written and I am so proud of it (please be nice)!! I also made a Pinterest board with all the outfits from this if you want to check it out here!! SO SO SO much love to @meetmymouth​ @bfharry​ and @hardcandy-harry​ for helping me out when I needed it and being the most wonderful people in general :) As always, thank you so so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and feedback/reblogs mean the world!!! 

****

Y/N knew from the day she could understand the concept of marriage that she would one day be married to the little prince with wild brown curls her mother always forced her to play with. She still vividly remembered the first time he told her that she was ugly and that he hated her. She was only five years old at the time.

Fortunately, she hated him just as much as he hated her. He was rude, somehow always sticky, and seemed to have no filter or manners, letting every nasty thing he could think of fall past his lips in daggers aimed at his future wife.

As they grew older, their animosity only grew, from petty to school yard quarrels to attacks on their personalities and who they were as people. Despite her pleas to her mother to be sent to a different boarding school than the one he was already attending, she was shipped off.

She studied judiciously, what was expected of every future queen, while she watched Harry meander through his schooling. He never seemed to listen in class, never studied, and seemed to only care about football and girls. She watched with jealousy and contempt as he flirted with every girl at their school, every girl except the one he knew he was to marry; while every boy in the school knew Y/N was off limits, direct orders from the crown.

It made her uncomfortable how much she disliked him. She was not a hateful person, having been trained well to treat everyone with dignity and respect, she was a princess after all. But something about Harry just got under her skin. She barely was able to control the instinctive eye roll whenever his name was mentioned and she often pretended to gag when discussing him with her friends, especially when one of them would inevitably call him ‘dreamy.’

The happiest day of her life was the day she watched him graduate, knowing she had been awarded years of peace without having to listen to his taunts or watch him flirt with everything that breathed. During those years, she flourished. She grew from a timid girl in line for power to a confident young woman preparing for the crown. She knew her country through and through, her constitution front to back, and had even begun studying Harry’s country as well. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she would have to pick up his slack in governing his kingdom eventually, she might as well be good at it.

Four more years of education at Cambridge, brought four more years of growth and being free from Harry, but the deal she had made with her mother was quickly coming to a close. As soon as she finished her education, their engagement would be made official and wedding planning would commence. While she was tempted to beg for some sort of delay or escape, she understood this was her duty. She owed this to her people, and soon to Harry’s as well; her mother was counting on her.

For the first time in too many years, she stood inside her former and future home. She remembered running through the halls of the massive palace under the ornate ceilings that now hung above her again; reality was sinking in. Through the massive wooden doors that sat in front of her, she knew her fate awaited; a fate named Harry. With a deep breath she steeled herself and smoothed the blush pink lace skirt of her dress, preparing to see the face that had haunted her for so long.

The first thing she noticed was the playful smirk that she associated so closely with his taunts from when they were children. It was the smirk that made her stomach drop; she could only imagine the nasty things that could come past those lips now. He had years to practice.

He stood confidently next to her mother, who had a bright and triumphant grin on her face. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored forest green suit, decorated with his coat of arms pin on the lapel. She wished for the vibrance of his green eyes to lessen but the tone of his suit only made them more intense than she had remembered.

“Harry,” she breathed, as diplomatically and with as much confidence as she could muster. “It’s good to see you,” she lied, reaching her hand out for him to kiss in the antiquated custom that always made her deeply uncomfortable. He delicately grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his blushed lips, the kiss lingering longer than what could have been considered friendly. His snake-like eyes locked with hers, still containing the mischievous glint she had nightmares about. She couldn’t help but notice the hysterically hopeful smile on her mother’s face as she watched them interact.

“It’s always a pleasure, your highness,” he hummed. He must have remembered how uncomfortable that title made her. She was honestly impressed at how he managed to lie and antagonize her in the first sentence he had said to her in over six years.

“Please call me Y/N,” she instructed as politely as possible.

“As you wish,” he said with a conniving smirk on his face. She had been with him no more than two minutes and she already wanted to run for her life. But this wasn’t about her, her country would need a leader soon, and unfortunately, that had to be her.

Her mother rushed over excitedly between the two, breaking the contemptuous silence that had built between them. “Oh children, it’s so nice to see you two back together again. I remember when you used to play when you were little. Always teasing, like you had the biggest crushes on each other.” ‘Teasing’ is a nice way to refer to torture, Y/N thought to herself, never daring to verbalize a thought like that.

“We did always have fun didn’t we, Y/N?” Harry asked her, a thin glaze of politeness coating his malice.

“Oh yes, we did. I still have a scar on my thigh from when you pushed me off the monkey bars.” Her tone was tight lipped and curt, her politeness beginning to give way to the verbal lashing she was dreaming of giving him.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She knew he was a dirty good for nothing flirt, but in front of her mother? If her mother hadn't gently grasped both of their hands, she would have stomped out of the room. Her mother’s gentle touch brought her mind back to what this was all about once again.

“Harry is going to be staying with us from now on,” her mother interjected, clearly sensing the animosity between them. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! Harry, I believe you have something for Y/N, correct?”

“Of course.” He flashed his charming smiles at her poor mother, “How could I have forgotten about that?”

She watched him intently as he reached for the pocket inside his suit jacket, pulling out a small indigo colored velvet box. He opened the box with delicate hands to reveal one of the most gorgeous engagement rings Y/N had ever seen. A deep green emerald sat inside a ring of crystal clear diamond florets, all placed meticulously with care into a gold setting, the color of the velvet intensifying the emerald stone. “It was my grandmother’s,” he spoke softly, the first time she had ever heard him speak with any emotion or genuine feeling. “Before she died, she said she wanted you to have it. She was the mastermind of this arrangement afterall,” he said with a slight chuckle. “For formality’s sake,” he began with a sigh, “will you marry me?”

No, passed through Y/N’s head, but “Yes” fell from her lips. While her heart broke for herself and any chance she had of finding true love, the smile and happy tears in her mother’s eyes reminded her why she was doing all of this. She needs me to do this, Y/N thought to herself, my country is going to need a leader.

Their engagement was announced later that day by royal decree and their wedding was scheduled for the next month. There was no going back now.

The palace was in a flurry of planning and plotting for the big day. Y/N was rushed from meeting to meeting, instructed to make decisions about everything and anything she wanted for the wedding. She stared at floral arrangements until her eyes hurt and flipped through magazines looking at bridesmaid and flower girl dresses until her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Unsurprisingly to Y/N, Harry was there for almost none of it. Although, she wasn’t exactly complaining about his absence.

He only surfaced when food or his suit was involved. In one vile incident, he arrived at the cake tasting with a wad of gum in his mouth, which was not only strictly prohibited for royals because it could be perceived as being too casual, but Y/N almost called off the entire wedding when she watched him stick chewed bubble gum to the bottom of a 200 year old handcrafted dining table.

“Were you raised by wolves?” she asked through gritted teeth while scolding him and desperately trying to remove the mess.

“Nannies, actually.” She knew by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t done with whatever antagonistic taunts that were planned to fall from his lips. “I’m pretty wild in the bedroom too, wifey.”

His crude comments were meant to hurt her and make her uncomfortable. He knew from their time in school together that she was constantly watched and kept far away from the gaze of any peaking boys, shining a spotlight on the massive double standard between the pair of future rulers. She wore a cloak of inexperience and innocence given to her against her will that embarrassed her to no end, and he knew that the easiest way to pinken her cheeks was to mention sex in any way. He aimed to fluster the poor girl and he got away with it anytime he flashed his dimples in a devilish smirk.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and furry before she got up from the table and stormed out of the room, muttering “pick whatever fucking cake you want,” before flying down the hallway to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as she slid down the back of the heavy wooden door to the floor below her. She let the fabric of her once perfectly steamed dress crumple beneath her and before she let the floodgates of tears open, she looked down at the dainty silver watch that sat on her wrist. You have five minutes until your appointment with the dressmaker, she thought to herself. Three minutes to cry, two minutes to change into a new dress and fix your makeup.

For three minutes, she let all her anger, frustration, and heartbreak fall out of her in loud sobs that anyone on the other side of the door was sure to hear. For three minutes, she let herself feel every angry emotion she had ever felt towards Harry. For three minutes, she didn’t care about her country or her mother needing this wedding. For three minutes, she didn’t care about anything other than her hurt. But only for three minutes.

Then she wiped the tears away, picked herself up off the floor, dressed herself in her favorite navy blue dress, fixed her mascara, and pressed a cool cloth on her cheeks to quell their angry heat. And then she went to see the dressmaker.

The only joy Y/N got out of this whole ordeal was getting to see her dressmaker, Agnes. Agnes was a kind and quiet old woman who was one of the most talented people she had ever met. The pair would sit together for hours discussing styles, the only time her schedule allowed her to relax, and the woman was in the middle of crafting the gown of  Y/N’s dreams. It was a lace long sleeved gown with a cathedral length train. The top portion of the lace was sheer, making a strapless neckline visible, before the delicately crafted lace moved crawled up Y/N’s neck into a high collar neckline. It was reserved, but elegant and unique; “just like you,” Agnes once said.

The first time Y/N was able to try the dress on was bittersweet. The dress was stunning and it made her feel like the princess she was, but she did shed a tear thinking about how this moment was tainted with Harry. She wouldn’t be wearing this dress while walking down the aisle to marry the love of her life, she was marrying someone she would consider an enemy.

She bowed down reverently when her mother placed a veil and tiara on her head. The tiara was encrusted with diamonds and speckled with emeralds that happened to match her engagement ring. The tiara was an heirloom and every woman in her family had worn it while getting married for the last two hundred years.

Her mother wept softly before her, a proud smile on her lips. “I’m so happy I get to see you in the wedding tiara before I go, sweetheart,” she said leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know you and Harry aren’t always a perfect pair and neither were your father and I, but we made you.” The queen’s eyes flashed over her face trying to take her in, “And you turned out to be my proudest achievement and the savior of a nation.”

“Thank you, Mama.” She hadn’t called her mother by that name since she was a young girl but it just felt right at that moment. She felt like a child, needing someone to take care of her while she waited for a country to fall on her shoulders.

“I will always guide you through whatever I can,” she said tenderly. “Even when I’m not here, I will always be with you.” Y/N watched as her mother’s eyes welled with more tears, excusing herself quickly before they grew more intense.

Not more than five minutes later, she heard the obnoxious whistling that she had begun to hear in her nightmares from down the hall. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to burst through the door, not only interrupting her fitting, but seeing the dress before the wedding day.

Like all members of traditional royal families, Y/N was extremely superstitious. Her heart immediately broke as she watched his eyes look her up and down, like there was a little piece of her that thought if they did everything right and didn’t break any traditional rules, maybe they would work out. What hurt her even more was that he didn’t even try to leave. He just sat down on a chair, smacking his gum, and stared at her like he was doing nothing wrong. Her eyes were still filled with tears from the emotional moment with her mother and they continued to flow, no longer out of love, but out of anger and frustration.

“Agnes,” Y/N finally spoke, voice cracking as she tried to hold back her tears, “will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, your highness,” Agnes took delicate steps backwards like she was expecting a bomb to go off, before turning around and scurrying out of the room. Her instincts were correct, because at that moment, Y/N exploded.

“What did I ever do to you Harry?” she questioned angrily. “Why are you so determined to absolutely ruin my life? It’s bad enough that I am having an arranged marriage, not even one that I have the tiniest bit of say in.” She watched Harry’s eyes grow wide, like he had never expected her to stand up to him. “I have spent my entire life being watched and guarded, and avoided by every man I’ve ever gotten close to because I was already claimed by someone who wanted nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice like this at someone; she wasn’t sure if she ever had before. “You can’t even pretend that you like me or that we won't be miserable for our entire lives.”

“Y/N, I don’t want this either,” he spoke after a moment of silence, the quiet only broken by Y/N’s heaving breath. “Why can’t you just calm down?”

“Why can’t I calm down?” she repeated. “Maybe because my country is looking to me to become it’s queen. I can’t give myself to my people when I am worrying about you and your incompetence. You may not become king in your country for another 30 years; you have time to learn and grow into a ruler because you’re in my monarchy and you get to learn here first. You’re playing king with my people. Millions of people rely on us the second I am crowned and you act like your irresponsibility doesn’t have far reaching consequences.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he spat back at her, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed in front of himself as he sat back in the chair. “I can’t believe I have to marry you and into this family.”

Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut. She was stuck with this man for the rest of her life and here he was, disrespecting her, her people, and her family. “Get out,” she said under her breath. When he didn’t move from his seat, she began to yell once again, “Get out! I mean it!” She dropped her voice once again, and spoke more seriously than she ever had before. “I have never hated anymore more than I hate you, Harry. I am doing all of this because I love my country and my people, but I want you to know, I will never be happy because of you.”

For a moment, through her tears, it looked like he had been hurt because of her words, but he was gone from the room before she could confirm it.

She fell to her knees on the dress platform, surrounded by the piles of pure white fabric. She was a perfectly dressed ball of furry and sobs, angry at the world and her predicament. Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she felt the tiara as it began to slip off her head, falling into her lap.

Y/N picked up the tiara, using gentle reverent hands, examining it closely. The tiara represented the monarchy and every female ruler in her family that had come before her. It shined and dazzled in the bright lights of the room, its crystal clear and emerald stones reflecting multi colored light onto the crisp white of the dress below her. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered quietly to the tiara like it could answer, tears still silently rolling down her face.

***

They didn’t speak again for almost a week. They communicated solely through their royal secretaries, sending the poor men back and forth with angry messages, almost gossiping about what was happening with each member of the pair when they returned to the sender. Y/N hated Harry, Harry hated Y/N; the same sentiment sent back and forth over and over. The two were driving fast towards a brick wall, and the brick wall was their wedding.

When she woke up one morning about a week before their nuptials, there was a small envelope sitting on the ground like it had been slid underneath her bedroom door. We have to talk, was all it read. It was not lost on her that the stationary had a small olive branch illustrated onto the page.

Later that afternoon, they met in the garden. It felt like a neutral place to talk, the palace obviously being her territory. She had worn a casual flowing white dress, like she was raising a white flag; and she carefully walked with a mug of black coffee, a peace offering of sorts, careful not to get any of the dark liquid on the fabric of her dress.

She found him along a bed of purple Hyacinths, their sweet perfume enveloping them both, sitting on the soft ground dressed in the most casual clothes she had ever seen him in. He was wearing a simple lilac button up and a pair of jeans. He seemed more approachable this way, without the tailoring and the coat of arms that always sat on his lapel. The golden highlights in his curls came out in the sun and his tanned skin seemed to glow. He held a rose colored leather bound notebook in his hands.

“Hi,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her screaming the last time they spoke. “I brought you a coffee. The nice ladies in the kitchen say you take it black.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave her a friendly but unenthusiastic smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, as she handed him the hot mug.

“Can I sit?”

“I’m not in charge of you,” he mumbled into the cup taking a sip. It wasn’t until she noticed how his eyebrow shot up and how his eyes had a playful gleam in them, that her offence washed away. “Of course, you can sit down.”

“What’s the book for?” she asked gently once she settled on the ground a safe distance away from him. She decided a few grass stains were worth being on speaking terms with the man she was supposed to marry.

“Um, it’s actually for you.” He reached over and placed the book in her hands. She ran her hands over her initials that had been embossed onto the leather cover. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while,” he said quietly, “I remember you used to write a lot when we were in school together. I thought you would like it.” She felt a confusing mixture of thankfulness for the book, guilt for her outburst, and all the frustration that she still held towards him.

“Thank you, Harry. That was really thoughtful of you.”

A silence hung among them, neither of them sure of the next steps this conversation had to take.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, finally breaking the tension between the pair.

“Yes, please,” she answered just as quickly as he had asked.

“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your fitting like that. I didn’t know all the traditions meant so much to you and I never meant to make you so upset.” She had never heard Harry apologize before, to anyone else, and definitely not to her.

Before that moment, she had always thought of him as an impenetrable force, wondering if there even was a soul or a conscience in his body. But here he was, vulnerability and all, offering an olive branch and an apology.

“Thank you,” she said cautiously, wading into the almost friendly waters she had never been in with him. “I’m sorry for screaming at you like that. I said some very hurtful things to you.”

“So have I.”

“I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I shouldn’t have said I did. But, I don’t necessarily like you either, Harry,” she said, deciding now was the time they needed to open the line of communication. One of them would eventually combust if they continued on with their hatred like this. “You have tortured me since we were little kids and it’s going to take me some time for me to get over that.” She watched as he nodded his head along with her words, seeming to listen intently.

“I feel like that is also something I should apologize for. No offence, but I didn’t want to get married to you either- still don’t, but I was much more of a dick about it then,” he let out a light laugh, flashing one of his famous dimples before releasing a sigh. “I took out not having control of my life out on you and I’m sorry.” She never thought she would receive validation for all the hurt he put her through for so long.

“Listen, we are getting married as part of a diplomatic partnership,” she began, “I feel like we should at least act diplomatic towards each other.”

“Does that mean that we have to be friends?”

“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”

“I think I can do that, wifey.”

***

The next week passed in a surprisingly civil blur for them both. Y/N was still in the throws of getting ready for a wedding and Harry was off doing whatever Harry usually did. She didn’t expect him to be doing much but she was just glad he was out of her hair. But when they did run into each other, usually at some sort of meeting surrounding the menu, they had a new found respect for the other.

The pair hadn’t been fighting which was nice for a change, even though it did raise some eyebrows in both of their staff. At her final dress fitting two days before the wedding Agnes had asked her if she was ready to be a married woman. “Absolutely not,” Y/N had laughed, “but it’s my responsibility to my people and my country. I have lived the most privileged life imaginable up until this point, it’s time for me to begin my duties.”

“You’re a good girl, your highness. You’re going to make a great queen when the time comes. Even with a husband you may have to wrangle sometimes.” She ended her compliments with a giggle as she zipped Y/N into the dress, and she felt her heart warm. Agnes placed the final touches of the veil and tiara on top of her head, giving her a nod of permission to finally look at herself in the mirror.

The dress fit her like a glove. The delicate lace ran the expanse of the dress, starting at the very back of her immensely long train and crawling its way all the way to Y/N’s throat, and the fitted top half gave way to a full ball gown skirt. Y/N’s eyes followed the intricate lace patterns down her arm, eyes eventually landing on her hand and the ring that sat upon it. For the first time since it had begun to sit on her ring finger, she didn’t want to throw it across the room in frustration. It really was gorgeous and the tiny inkling of respect she had for Harry now made it much less painful to look at.

Staring at the mirror, she noticed the blurring of her vision and the wetness on her cheeks.

“I really am getting married, aren’t I?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yes you are, your highness.” Agnes looked up at her through her thick lensed glasses with a proud smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you out of this contraption so you can go rest up for the big day.” Anges’ skilled hands freed Y/N from the beautiful layers of fabric and tulle and sent her on her way back to her bedroom.

Y/N was finally almost asleep in the early hours of the morning when she heard a gentle and almost timid knock on her door. She could have ignored it, rolled back over and let her dreams take her, but for some reason it felt important for her to get out of  bed and answer the door. Her bare feet hit the cold wood floors and she tip-toed her way to the door.

When she grabbed the knob to open it, she heard a familiar voice say “don’t open the door! I don’t think I’m supposed to see you,” in a hurried and hushed tone.  

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion and had an apprehensive, almost nervous quality she had never heard from him before.

“Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He said it so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if her ear wasn’t pressed up against the doorway. The sentiment brought a smile to her lips and she wasn’t completely sure why. She was quiet for a moment, deciding if she wanted to turn him away or not when she heard him sarcastically ask, “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him with a tired chuckle. “But we can talk,” she assured him. “I’m going to sit down, okay? My legs are tired from my heels all day.” She kneeled down and leaned herself up against the hard wooden door.

She had been in this same position only a few weeks before, angry at the world and wanting to kill the man on the other side of it; but here she was, speaking to him willingly, even joking with him. She listened close as his own body rested against the floor and leaned on the opposite side, mirroring her own position.

“Those heels really hurt, don’t they?” he asked, voice still hushed. If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even said she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, they are like little death traps for your feet and legs.” He let out a small laugh on the other side and her lips pulled into a smile that she hadn’t given them permission for.

“How many pairs do you have? You always match your dress to your shoes so you must have a ton.”

She was gradually learning that he was much more observant than she had originally thought. He apparently wasn’t the dumb boy that she remembered from school anymore.

“Too many,” she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m wearing my favorites tomorrow.”

“And which ones are those?”

“They’re white, obviously; they have to match,” she smiled. “They have a green gem at the toes. They match the tiara I’ll be wearing.” She stopped for a moment before continuing on. “And your grandmother’s ring.” She played with the gold band that sat on her ring finger, still somehow dazzling in the very limited light of her dark room. “Thank you, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome. She wanted you to have it.”

“Did she really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently on the other side of the door. She imagined him nodding along with his words to emphasize his point, as he often did while speaking. “She kept tabs on you while we were growing up. She was always talking about how smart you seemed and that you would be a good queen one day. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you more than me growing up.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up with the information. She was flattered by his grandmother’s opinion of her, but her heart also ached for Harry.

“I’m sure that's not true.”

“I think it was. I was always screwing up in one way or another; always creating messes that her and my parents had to clean up.” He paused for a moment and she heard him let out a long sigh. “Always running around with other girls and making the one I was supposed to marry feel like shit.”

She wished she could see his face. She wished that she could get a read on his emotions. But there was, literally and figuratively, a wall between them.

“Y/N,” she heard his voice squeak out through a voice crack, “I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”

“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”

Saying those four words, lifted a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying off her shoulders. This moment felt like an absolution, a time to wipe their long and complicated slate clean. There was no better time for them to start anew than the night before they began the next chapter of their lives. But this chapter would be together, as a pair and a team.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry too, Harry. I know this all had to happen so fast so I could take the throne, but I know you thought you had more time. I thought I did too.”

“What do you mean? Why did it have to happen so fast?” he asked.

First, Y/N was confused. There was a very obvious answer. Then her heart began to break for him. He wasn’t ready at all for what was coming. No one must have told him.

“Harry,” she said softly, “Do you know about my mother?”

“What do you mean?” From the tone in his voice, she knew he genuinely didn’t know.

“My mom-” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat that always appeared when she began to talk about this, “My mom is dying, Harry.” She heard a soft gasp through the door before she went on. “She’s been sick for a while, but things are getting really bad. Her doctors think she only has a couple weeks left.”

She listened to his breathing stop, like his mouth was hung open searching for something to say. He was quiet for a few moments before he landed on what seemed like the only thing he had said over and over these last few weeks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you if you need to talk about all of this.”

His offer was not lost on her. The idea of Harry being someone she could confide in was a new one, but one that she would consider.

“It’s okay.” She choked out, wiping a few stray tears that had found their way out, off her cheeks. “I have had enough time to come to terms with it. But in our archaic constitution,” she said with a biting distaste in her voice, “a woman cannot become the sovereign of the country if she isn't married. That’s why this all had to happen so fast.”

“I see.”

The pair were quiet, both curled up on opposite sides of the wall; simultaneously experiencing a unique type of loneliness that only the other could understand. In less than 12 hours, they would be married, linked by an oath that neither of them had signed up for, in circumstances with responsibilities that neither of them were ready to handle.

“Harry,” she peeped, breaking a silence that hung heavy over them both, “you should go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”  

She listened through the door to the rustling of him getting up off the floor beside her. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“So will I. I’ll see you at the altar, wifey.”

She let out a strangled laugh at the nickname he had adopted for her, her throat still tight from crying. She listened to his foot falls until they disappeared down the hallway before she mustered the strength to drag herself back to bed. Her staff was on strict orders from the wedding planner to have her woken up at 8 to begin getting ready and she wanted to get some rest before the sun came up.

And like clockwork, her curtains were thrown wide open at 8 am, sunlight blinding her as she woke up. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to her rude awakening, but soon she could make out the bustling room around her. Hair stylists, makeup artists, bridesmaids, flower girls, her mother, and some lady with an ear piece and a clip board fluttered about her bedroom with an excited chatter. Taking in the chaotic scene, it really hit her. Holy shit, I’m getting married today, she thought.

Her stomach twisted and turned in knots as the gaggle of women fawned over her, instructing her to stay still and “stop shaking” as they applied layers of makeup and fussed with her hair. Her hair was pulled into a delicately crafted low bun and her eyes were painted with neutral tones and a little bit of shimmer. Diamond and emerald earrings were threaded through her ear lobes and her fingernails were inspected to see if they needed any touch ups. Her shaky body was zipped into her dress and her feet slipped into her heels while her cathedral length veil was pinned meticulously into her hair. She was only missing one last thing.

“Your tiara, your highness,” her mother joked through the happy and proud tears welling up in her eyes. The tiara was the one last thing she needed before she was sent on her way to the cathedral. She bent down slightly, her mother delicately crowing her; when she rose, she couldn't help but grab onto her mother and hold her tight. It was hard for her not to think about the next time she would be crowned, a time when her mother wouldn’t be there to offer the guidance or support Y/N needed.

“I love you, Mama,” was all she said. It was the only reason all of this was happening. She loved her mother too much to let her down.

“I love you more, my princess,” her mother said gently, before turning away and scurrying off to do something else. Y/N tried to ignore the wince on her face when she moved too fast and the slight wheeze she made when she was speaking.

Surveying the scene around her, Y/N felt like she was about to die. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, her palms were slick with sweat, her breathing was labored, and her chest felt tight. She had never been so overwhelmed with anxiety before. She had known today was coming her entire life, but the fact that it really was here was too much for her brain to wrap itself around.

It was like she had blacked out from fear, an hour of her life completely unaccounted for. She didn’t remember the last minute checks and touches to her hair and makeup. She didn’t remember her mother delicately resting her veil over her face. She didn’t remember getting in the car bringing her to the cathedral. She didn’t remember someone shoving a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t remember the music starting up or walking down the aisle of the giant imposing and ornate cathedral.

She was only brought back to reality when she reached the imposing altar and Harry delicately took her hand into his. His green eyes were painted with concern when he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip under her sheer veil, swiping his thumb up and down her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It was the first time he had ever touched her voluntarily; it was a gentle and tender touch, full of care.  She gripped back tight onto his hand, holding on for dear life as she thought over everything that was about to happen.

They were instructed to stand forward, watching the officiant as he droned on about love and duty to one’s country and spouse, but their hands stayed clasped tight onto each other, like they were being thrown into a stormy and unpredictable sea and the other’s hand was their only life line. And in a way, they were.

When they were told to turn towards each other to begin their vows, their eyes locked and she began to really look at him for the first time. She watched his plush lips closely as he recited the words fed to him from the officiant, although she didn’t hear a single word of them. Her eyes traced his strong cheekbones and landed on his adorable button nose before returning back to his eyes. She noticed the slight blue bags that sat under them, signaling he had just as much trouble sleeping as she did.

His eyes brought her a calm that she hadn’t felt in years, silently telling her that she wasn’t alone in all of this, his warm hands still holding on to hers punctuating that sentiment. There wasn’t anyone else in the massive cathedral but the pair of them anymore, just two scared kids trying to make it through the demands weighing on their shoulders together.

Shaky hands exchanged rings, her heart stopping for a moment when the ring caught and didn’t slide onto his finger gracefully. But her heart regained it’s rhythm when she heard a light chuckle coming from the man across from her, a gentle smile that was just big enough to flash a dimple at her, signaling that it would be okay.

She recited her vows without much thought, letting ‘I do,’ slip past her lips while still entranced by Harry’s intense yet comforting gaze. She watched his strong hands disconnect from hers as he lifted the lace trimming on the veil covering her face, dark lashes flickering down to her glossed lips. She let her eyes fall closed as he leaned in towards her and rested a hand on her cheek, prompted by the officiant and clapping coming from the pews, bracing herself for a feeling of disgust she hoped wouldn’t come.

He carefully connected their lips softly with a sweetness that felt gentle, tender, and caring. But there was more to the kiss than a softness, there was a respect there as well. His hand felt secure and protective on her cheek, and he pulled away with a smile after a short time, sure not to overwhelm her. The feeling of disgust in her belly that she was waiting for never came; if she didn’t know better she would say she felt an excited flutter.

They stood on the altar for a moment and just stared at each other, excited and relief filled smiles creeping into their lips, his dimples prominent. “Shall we, wifey?” Harry beamed with a sigh, extending a hand to lead her back down the aisle, now as a married woman.

“We shall, husband,” she giggled back, cheeks still a fiery red from their contact. Calling him her husband felt foreign, but not unwelcome.

Harry held her hand tight, keeping her in the moment by the warm contact. He held her hand down the aisle and all the way back to the palace, all throughout the signing of their marriage license, and all throughout the many, many photos taken of the two and their wedding party. She found comfort in his warm touch, continuing to ground her through the chaos that unfolded around them. Even when they had briefly disconnected from each other, he was always close by, only a call of his name away.

She was shocked by how careful he was around her giant dress, taking calculated steps to avoid dirtying the crisp white fabric. He was playing the role of a dutiful husband, and was seeming to enjoy it.

They spent the next hours just following orders from wedding planners, shuffled around from place to place, constantly surrounded by people. All she wanted was a moment to speak to him alone, but it seemed far out of reach.

That moment finally came in the middle of a dance floor, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they danced. They swayed together slowly, a gentle rock to the delicate sound of strings. “Thank you for staying by me all day, Harry,” she said quietly, hoping that no one could hear them over the music.

“No need to thank me, wifey,” he said with a chuckle, his lips grazing against her ear as he spoke. She chuckled like always at the name and shook her head.

“I mean it. I don’t think I would have been able to get through all of this,” she said looking out at the crowd watching them and the giant ornately decorated ballroom they were in the center of, “if you hadn’t been by my side.”

“I quite like it, actually. I could get used to standing with you.” He said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, while her heart just about stopped.

She wasn’t able to answer before the music slowed to a stop and they were pulled apart by their mothers and dragged off to speak to “very important” people. He seemed just as disappointed as she was when they were separated.

When they finally found each other again, Y/N had changed. She had abandoned her massive conservative skirt of tulle and lace for a creamy silk gown that she could actually move in. It was a simple a-line v-neck dress with cap sleeves, but the back held a deep V that ended at the small of her back coupled with a loosely tied bow.

The cool breeze on her back made her feel sexy. She knew she was pushing the boundaries on what was appropriate for a princess and she loved it.

“My darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, taking her hand and spinning her so he could fully take in the new dress, mindful of her tiara and trying his best not to knock it off. Her cheeks burned at his flattery, something he could surely feel when he pulled her close and pressed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

“You’re just saying that,” she said bashfully staring down at the floor, deflecting the compliment easily.

“Wifey,” he singsonged the teasing nickname that had evolved into a term of endearment. He lifted her chin to look up at him and he looked down at her with the most honest expression she had ever seen him wear. “You look beautiful. You have all day.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She spoke quietly, barely audible, unsure what to make of her husband’s compliments. He leaned in to her, layed a tender kiss on her forehead, and dragged her across the room to the dance floor.

They stayed on the dancefloor most of the night, almost always touching in some sort of way, while dancing and celebrating with their friends and family.

And Y/N was happy; a genuine type of happiness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal. She was now married to a man she knew virtually nothing about, who had been a sworn enemy of hers only a few days ago, and had only begun enjoying his company last night. But happiness isn’t linear, she thought to herself.

Their night had passed in a joyous and opulent blur that went late into the night; full of food, dancing, and a swimming pool's worth of champagne.

Eventually both of them were led, by dutiful staff as they were both quite drunk and couldn’t exactly be trusted to make it on their own, to their new bedroom, or bedrooms depending on who you asked. They were led into the massive room consisting of two separate suites connected by a dressing room of sorts in a cloud of giggles, finding themselves in a fit of laughter after passing a portrait in the hall of some distant ancestor who had an amusing mustache.

“Thank you for leading us back,” she said, trying to gain a sober composure to the men who had flanked them on their way back, “you can go now.” The men shared a look between themselves that seemed to say ‘someone should be watching them,’ but followed the princess’ orders anyway.

“I just can’t understand how he got it to curl like that,” Harry cackled, beginning to wheeze from his hysterics and slightly stumbling as he was doubled over.

“Maybe it was natural like your curls,” she suggested, through her giggling hiccups that she let return when their staff left the room. “I quite like your curls, ya know? I like it when you let them grow a bit.”

They were still holding hands, despite being alone in their new found privacy, no longer needing the support from the other to shield them from the pressure of looking eyes.

“Then I’ll have to grow them out a bit,” he said, a smile still beaming at her with droopy drunk eyes. He tugged on her hand softly, bringing her body into his and setting his hand on the exposed skin of the small of her back. His hands were warm and soft and in the moment, she never wanted his hand to move from that spot again. “I can’t refuse the princess’ orders.” His voice had dropped low, not to a whisper but to a soft and lazy volume that made her feel safe.

Their faces were close and she could smell his strong vanilla and sandalwood cologne coming off him that she wanted to envelop herself in. He looked back down at her with a face that was loving, but she attributed it to the alcohol in his system. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with adoration for this man who she had spent so much of her life violently hating. Admiring and adoring him was much easier on her soul than harboring the hatred that had eaten at her for so long.

“I have another order,” she spoke quietly, letting the words tumble from her lips without her usually logical brain’s permission, “I want you to kiss me. For real this time.”

His lips were on hers as soon as the words left her own. It was sloppy and sweet, but with a passion behind it that Y/N felt in her bones. Their lips moved in a drunken rhythm, with Harry’s aimless wandering hands sliding up and down the silk of her dress before resting on her waist and pulling her impossibly closer to him. Her hands found and twirled the few of Harry’s curls that remained after they had cut his hair shorter than usual for the ceremony at the base of his neck and sunk her fingers into it, pulling him further into the kiss by his hair.

It was not long before their tongues found each other and the kiss deepened into a desperate dance of gasping for breath and soft moans into each other’s mouths. Harry’s mouth left hers and began to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down her neck while fiddling with the bow at the back of her gown that would release it from her frame.

Feeling him fuss with the bow made her pounding heart shift from one of excitement, to one of panic. This was too soon, she didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know his favorite color or any of his hobbies. She didn’t know how he liked his tea, or if he drank it at all. She didn’t even know his middle name.

Her fuzzy mind couldn’t deny how much she didn’t know about him or the anxiety that made her want to pull away from the man and run.

“Harry,” she breathed, voicing the apprehension and anxiety that had begun to rise in her chest, “please stop.” She had squeaked out the words, a mix of embarrassment and panic taking over her slightly slurred words.

His hands froze, pulling himself back quickly from her, a mix of worry and guilt on his face. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought…” he let his words drop off, his own fuzzy mind not sure of what to say either.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes became glassy.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but the kiss on the altar that morning was the first time she had ever had another pair of lips on her own. Her entire life she had been shielded from men with any interest in her, her affection already spoken for and claimed. No man had ever held her hand romantically, or danced with her, or kissed her with the passion Harry just had.

Harry had lived a life with freedom that she had never been granted. She remembered all the times she had watched him interact with various girlfriends at school, and remembered the shame she had felt when he had ended up on the cover of tabloids after he was photographed naked and kissing a  random woman on a yacht. Every article had ended with the same line that she still knew by heart. 

“The prince is arranged to marry Princess Y/N when she comes of age in an effort to unify their countries.” 

They had lived very different lives, with very different freedoms up until this point. It was sexist and archaic and unfair, but she couldn’t deny the impacts it had on her while she was around Harry. Even though she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel something real for him and she believed that he felt the same; she didn’t fully trust him like that yet. She couldn’t.

“I’ve never done any of this before, Harry. This morning was my first kiss.” Her cheeks burned in a mixture of embarrassment and shame as she spoke the words. “I like you a lot, but today has been nerve wracking and scary enough. I just can’t add another new thing into the mix, especially that. It’s just all too much. I’m sorry.”

Her sheltered and delicate heart couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘sex’.

As he listened to her explanation, his features softened. They were no longer fearful that he made a mistake or crossed a boundary, but they moved into a soft and caring smile.

“Y/N, my darling,” he began in a soft and sweet voice, “come here.” He beckoned her with open arms to rest up against his chest again. She had curled her arms in front of herself, holding them close to her body, as she walked into his arms and let herself be enveloped by them while resting her head on his chest. “You are my wife now, but I think we both understand that we are not exactly in this position by choice. I would never ask you to do something you are uncomfortable with and I am sorry that I crossed a boundary.”

“Thank you,” she peeped before he continued on.

“Also, I heard that part when you said you liked me a lot,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, making her cheeks inexplicably hotter. “And I like you a lot too.”

The pair stood in that hold long enough for them to lose track of time, just resting against each other in silence, listening to the other’s breathing. The silence that enveloped them was comforting, but Harry eventually spoke again, inexplicably soft and gentle in tone.

“Y/N, I really want to try to make us work.”

“So do I, Harry.”

The pair stood together in their stillness and peaceful quiet, until she let out a small yawn.

Harry released her from his grasp and began walking around the room, opening wardrobes and dressers searching for something. He breathed a small triumphant noise when he opened a drawer, spinning around with a light pink and baby blue nightgown in his hands.

“Do you need any help getting out of your dress? Would I be allowed to help?” His face was so thoughtful, carefully navigating the boundaries she had made him aware of but not set in stone yet.

She took the nightgown from his hands and slipped it over her head, the silk dress beneath it. “I just need help untying the bow.” Her voice was still low, a quiet and delicate murmur.

His hands carefully untied the bow, turning around for modesty’s sake, only turning back around when he heard the silk hit the floor.

She had begun carefully removing the bobby pins that still held her bun together, causing them both to giggle when her hair was finally released into a giant poof of curls and hair spray.

She looked so sweet to him. This was the first time he had seen her relaxed like this, no longer in a fancy dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. She looked like a real person to him, not a princess who would soon become queen.

He moved gingerly towards the door of her room, but not before pressing one more soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”

“Can’t wait, my husband,” she called from under the covers, watching him close the door behind him.

***

The two were sitting on a hot beach, baking in the sun when the call came.

It was day four of their honeymoon and a week after their wedding, spending their time alone together on a small island in the sun neither of them could remember the name to. It was a paradise straight out of a movie, and she swore nothing could ruin it.

They spent their days learning each other well, often joking that they should make up trivia quizzes for each other to see who knew the other best. She had learned that Harry’s eyes lit up like a child when he saw any type of animal, especially the small lizards that would run across the deck hanging off the back of their small beach house. It was also a surprise when she found out he loved to cook, whipping up a meal that could rival some of the chefs at the palace for dinner one night.

But her favorite thing she had learned about him by far, was how he sang in the shower. He had a low and melodic voice that he didn’t know traveled into the house from the outdoor shower. She would sit by the window closest to him, often pretending to write in the pink notebook he had given her in the garden, close her eyes and appreciate the man’s voice. She swore if he wasn’t a prince, he would be a singer.

In the time since their nuptials, the pair had become lovers. Always attached at the hip and sneaking kisses; they were blissfully and unstoppably becoming increasingly obsessed with the other. The word ‘love’ often played at Y/N’s lips, seeming to always be only a drink away from letting it slip out towards him.

Every day, they would walk down a short path from their house to a pristine white sand beach, picnic basket in hand, and sit. Sometimes they would sit in silence, just staring at the clear blue ocean, and other times they would talk about everything and anything that came to mind, or they would read silently next to each other. But they were always holding onto each other; sometimes it was a hand placed gently on the other’s thigh, or fingers intertwined between them.

The shrill ring of Y/N’s phone broke their fantasy while sitting on the beach on the fourth afternoon. Her heart dropped as soon as she heard it, knowing that the palace had agreed not to bother them unless the worst case scenario was happening.

She closed her eyes and braced herself, tears already threatening to breach her eyes, as she answered the phone with shaky hands. “Hello?” she choked out.

“Your highness, you need to come home.” She immediately recognized the panicked voice of her mother’s secretary on the other end. “It’s happening.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to remain as composed as possible. “We’re leaving now.”

Harry’s face held a furrowed brow and concerned eyes as she spoke. He immediately began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her palm like he had done on their wedding day, but today, it did nothing to soothe her pain and anxiety.

She hung up the phone before letting out a heart wrenching cry. “We have to go home,” she sobbed. “She is dying.”

The entire journey home was silent after Y/N had composed herself on the beach.

She sat emotionless, staring straight ahead, flinching away every time Harry moved to touch her. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, but her voice brought no tone with it. She had become a shell of herself, losing the warmth behind her eyes that had begun to appear after the wedding.

She felt empty, like she had lost the ability to think, while simultaneously feeling so overwhelmed, by thoughts of her future as queen and the loss of her mother. She had become blank, inside and outside, the happiness she had begun to build for herself with Harry, melting away and leaving the hollowness of grief and dread.

It took them about twelve hours to reach the palace from the time she hung up the phone, but it wasn’t fast enough. The second she stepped out of the car, she saw the guards outside the palace dressed in their black uniforms that were reserved only for the passing of the sovereign. She closed her eyes silently, as if when she opened them up again their uniforms would turn back to their usual blue and maroon; but they didn’t, their clothing still black as night.

Her heels clicked the pavement, maintaining her immaculate posture and steely blank expression as she entered the palace, the loving man she had been excited to have a life with trailing mournfully behind her. She watched as if she was out of her body when she passed people, all now dressed in black, in the hall. They all acted the same.

First, they would give her the saddest look, silently extending their sympathies to the daughter who just lost her mother, and then bowing their heads in respect to the now reigning queen.

“I need to see my mother,” was all she said, before being led into her bedroom.

She hadn’t remembered when her father had died, too young to understand. All she could wrap her head around was that her Daddy had an accident and wasn’t coming home. But she remembered her mother’s cries, loud and earth shattering sobs that traveled up and down the hallways of the palace for all to hear.

She looked like she was just sleeping; arms peacefully crossed over her chest and eyes shut gently. But she was cold when Y/N reached for her hand. She tenderly brought her mothers hand to her lips, and pressed a final kiss to her hand, before walking blankly out of the room.

Her mother was gone. And the country fell onto her shoulders.

She heard Harry saying something as he followed close behind her. While she heard him, she didn’t process a thing he said. She stalked towards their bedroom which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace, locked in her daze. He trailed close behind her the entire way, trying to say anything that could break through to her, and stood dutifully outside the door of her side of the bedroom for an unknown amount of time after she had shut it in his face.

***

She didn’t speak, or show emotion, or allow anyone at all to touch her for three days. Only nodding or shaking her head in response to the rapid firing of questions she was asked about planning her mother’s funeral.  Harry only saw glimpses of his wife, or the shell of Y/N that she had become, usually while she shut the door to her bedroom between them.

He left his door open all day everyday.

When he awoke the morning of the funeral and found her bedroom door open, his heart jumped. He slowly walked inside to find her in a room full of black dresses. Dresses had been laid carefully over every surface for her to choose from; the dress she would wear to her mother’s funeral and her first public appearance as queen.

“Good morning,” was all he said, quiet and careful.

The person that looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognize. The light was gone from her eyes, and she wasn’t the woman he was head over heels in love with anymore. She looked like her, but emanated sadness and anxiety like nothing he had ever seen before. Dark blue bags held under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was tied behind her head in a messy unkempt ponytail, and she was dressed in a giant and ill fitting nightgown, shoulders bent down in a fashion that made her look small. The only feature of the put together, confident, and commanding woman he was married to that remained was the bright emerald ring that sat on her ring finger.

“I can’t decide what to wear,” she said without expression, but the tears started to fall down her face before she could finish the sentence. Harry moved quickly across the room to her when he saw her knees began to shake, catching her just in time as they gave out and she fell into his arms, settling them both onto the soft carpeted ground. That was when her heaving sobs began. It was a bone rattling cry that consumed her wholly and her exhausted and hurting brain could only put together two thoughts: she missed her mom, and she didn’t want to take on all this responsibility alone.

She sobbed into his shirt, holding onto the soft and worn fabric of his t-shirt for dear life, and he held her close to his body, slowly rubbing her back and letting all of the emotion fall out of her. She cried for a long time, giving herself a pounding headache, and when the tears finally began to slow she connected her tearful ones with Harry’s ever vibrant green eyes and mumbled, “I just thought I had more time with her. And I thought we had more time to just be us.”

“I know you did, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reveled in being able to touch her again, as his heart broke a little every time she would pull away from his touch.

“I’m not ready, Harry. I can’t do this all alone. It’s too much.” She spoke softly, shaking her head from side to side, still choking back sobs as she tried to regain her composure.

“You’re not doing anything on your own. The second we were married, your problems and responsibilities became mine too,” he assured her. He moved to grab her left hand in his own and showed her the rings that sat on their hands. “Remember these?” he breathed with a light chuckle. “You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”

He watched as she processed the realization that he was there to lighten the load. It was like a lightbulb had gone off for her, slowly nodding along with what he said. She let her eyes fall to the dresses that surrounded her, but he gently took her chin and directed her eyes back to his. “Y/N, we are a team. I am always here for you and I always will be.”

He took a deep long breath before continuing on, “I love you.”

She didn’t think when she pressed her lips to him, she just did, desperate to be close to him again. A coldness had swallowed her for days, and his words brought back the smallest feeling of warmth, a glimpse of hope she had been desperate to find.

She had known the passing of her mother was coming for years, her illness getting progressively worse over time. She had always believed it would bring more pressure, weighing down on her heavier than ever before. But looking at their rings and the man before her, she was hit by the fact that she never had to carry the weight of the country all by herself. She had Harry the whole time. He was her partner; in life and in power.

“I love you, too,” she said after breaking the kiss, salty from all her tears. She was quiet and her voice was still shaking and unsteady from her sobs, but he was there, holding her and keeping her safe.

He held her hand, slotting their fingers together as he picked them both up off the ground and helped her pick a dress. It was a black blazer dress that fell below her knees with three crystal buttons going down the left side. Harry carefully helped her into the dress, his warm and respectful hands sliding up her bare skin as he pulled it up over her shoulders. He then sat her on her bed, and began to carefully brush out her hair, doing his best to work through knots without hurting the girl who was already hurting enough. And he held one of her hands gently while she sat at her vanity and did her makeup with her free one. He refused to leave her side.

Harry stayed firmly planted by her side throughout the entire day, not daring to leave her while she needed him. He knew that photos of him holding her hand tight during the funeral would make the press, and the photos of him wiping away her tears as they left would make the front page, but he didn’t care. She might be the queen, but she was also his Y/N.

***

Their fingers were always locked together, Harry’s thumb passing back and forth over the back of her hand in the steady rhythm he always used when she was stressed. He was there whenever she needed him, gently taking hold, to remind her that he was there and they were a team.

He cradled her hand as she crushed his, gritting through the most excruciating pain she had ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but Harry’s hand was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was screaming and crying in the small crowded room, feeling like a science experiment as all the doctors looked on at her pain.

But it all stopped when she heard the smallest little cry.

Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”

Exhausted and elated tears flowed freely from her eyes that were locked on the slimy little baby a nurse was burredly placing on her chest. She was so small, delicate and breakable, with strong lungs that screamed out to announce her entrance into the world. And when her eyes opened for the first time, they revealed the same bright sea glass green tone that matched her father, the green she had been falling in love with and swimming around in for years.

This baby was so much more than just a little girl, not only to them, but to their countries. She would forge a kingdom united in the future, a product of peace and partnership. She was a symbol of unity and a future of kindness between their countries. She was the future.

But for right now, the tiny baby was just theirs.

She felt him press a proud kiss to her head before she connected their lips together in a tear filled kiss before they both looked back to their new pride and joy who was still screaming for all the attention.

“She’s beautiful, darling,” he whispered quietly though tears next to her, hand still grasped tightly onto hers. “You did such a good job.”

“Literally couldn’t have done it without you,” she chuckled, still staring down, entranced by the little girl who looked like her daddy.

The pair stayed with their baby, quiet and just being, long after the doctors and nurses left the room. They learned she liked to scream and sleep, about as much as you could learn about someone only hours old. But she didn’t have a name. They had been debating for the last nine months over what the little princess would be called.

“I think she should be named after your mother,” Harry would say.

“But I think she should be named after your grandmother,” She would reply.

Their roundabout banter never left the pair, only changed; from malicious and teasing, to one of loving partnership.

“So neither?” he quipped with a small smirk while holding the little girl tight to his chest.

“I guess we have to compromise; diplomatically,” she said with a giggle, alluding to how they got to this position in the first place.

“I feel like a loving marriage and a new baby is pretty good for diplomatic relations.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Please send feedback and reblog if you enjoyed it! 

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch. 1

It's finally here fellas. 

Mandatory warnings: blood, gore, medical stuff and procedures (like...a lot), all the canon typical good and bloody stuff, past abuse and alcoholism, eventual nsfw, strong language.

----

Gold, red and white. With black outlines. A delicate floral pattern carefully embroidered, firm but not rough underfoot. Covering the better part of the room's dark, ancient looking floorboards. 

Memorizing every minute detail of the carpet she was standing on was probably better than to dare meet the piercing golden gaze of the castle's matriarch. At least Nicole hoped as much.

Lady Dimitrescu was sitting in front of her, the size of her chair making it look more akin to a throne, and took a long drag of her cigarette. Her eyes fixated on the girl in front of her, almost as if she could measure her worth by glance alone. And in all honesty, she probably could. After a long, drawn out exhale of smoke, the Lady finally spoke. 

"You do seem to have an...interesting set of skills that could prove itself useful. That is, assuming you're being truthful." 

Nicole's eyes went wide, shock thankfully hidden by her long fringe. She had no documents on her, no way of proving anything about her past. Trying to remember the whereabouts of at least her passport only brought forth a vague memory of drunkenly stumbling in a hotel room that made her cringe internally.

She was about to stammer an excuse, a convincing one she hoped, when a small chorus of giggles came from beyond the closed door. The sound proved to be more interesting than her existence, as the Lady turned her gaze towards the door and waited. Waited for three other women, all in long black robes, to enter the room. 

The redhead and brunette seemed to be bickering amongst themselves, while the blonde made a beeline for her mother and passed her a sealed envelope. 

"Oh thank you. I will take a look in a moment." 

"Who's that?" The redhead, Daniela she deducted, finally took her attention off her sister long enough to notice the room’s other occupant. 

"Our newest maid, dears. I was just thinking about what task to give her." 

Daniela's eyes gave her a once over and Nicole gulped slightly. "Oh, mother! Have her clean the library!" 

"There's already a maid assigned to that," the eldest, Bela, pointed out. 

"I have a better idea." Cassandra finally spoke up, before her mother had a chance to intervene in her daughters' back and forth. 

The brunette leaned down slightly, close to her mother's ear and whispered something that Nicole could never dream of deciphering. But if the smile that soon followed on red painted lips was of any indication, the middle daughter's idea was brilliant. Or dreadful, depending on your perspective. 

"Very well. But you'll supervise her, you know that part of the castle is off limits for the staff." 

"Gladly," was Cassandra's response, voice full of mirth. 

"Just one thing," Lady Dimitrescu said, opening a drawer from the desk next to her and pulling out a key. "The key to your chambers. For after you've completed your duties."

Nicole took the key with a slight bow and a thank you, my Lady, and unceremoniously shoved it in her pocket, hoping it wouldn't fall throughout the day. 

Well that seemed to have gone well, as far as interviews for a job at a castle full of horrors go. Though she really had hoped not to deal with the daughters so soon, let alone be stuck following the family sadist down long corridors to who knows where, only stopping to ask another maid for cleaning supplies along the way.

Beautiful hallways, ornate with priceless paintings, gave way to more barren ones, where the wallpaper had peeled ever so slightly in places and the floor, now stone, had an occasional red stain that whoever was in charge of cleaning this part of the castle did not bother with. They walked until reaching a set of heavy double doors. Despite the slight state of disrepair of the hallway leading up to them, the doors looked extremely well kept. Not a speck of rust on the metal frame nor the lock. The wood looked sturdy and polished, if not for a few almost imperceptible scratches. And the Dimitrescu crest, cut through the middle so half of it was on each door, the flower petals shiny in the low light and beautifully detailed. 

Cassandra rummaged through a hidden pocket for a couple of seconds and pulled out an old fashioned key. With a grin, she wasted no time in unlocking the doors and pushing one of them open, enough for the two of them to pass through. Then, just as quickly, the doors were locked again with a click. 

The pair descended on a precariously slippery set of stairs, Nicole praying that she wouldn't drop the bucket of water she was now carrying, until they were deep within the bowels of the castle.

She was sure they were headed towards the cells, just slightly out of view across a short dark corridor, but then Cassandra took a sudden right turn. She looked downright giddy. Like a little girl on her way to get her favorite ice cream, walking ahead with a spring in her step. Except her steps turned into menacing echoes, encompassing them in an almost suffocating manner. 

At the end of the hallway, Cassandra threw open a smaller set of doors, doing a dramatic spin in the center of the room.

"Welcome to my little… work room. It's quite lovely, but unfortunately a pain to keep clean." The sadness in her expression was nothing more than a poorly concealed act. An act that she didn't care much for keeping up, as she went into a fit of giggles right after finishing her sentence. 

Said room was decently sized, a long desk running across one of the walls, while the opposite one had a wide variety of weapons in varying degrees of dirtiness. On another wall various devices that looked very much for torture and very much well used were hanging from hooks or long nails. And finally-...oh.

Oh.

On the far side of the room, two autopsy tables were lined, head end against the wall, their metal surface glistening slightly under the blood -both old and new- splattered on them. 

And Nicole was supposed to clean this bloody mess. 

"I want every tool in this room sparkling clean, including the tables," the brunette said with a wicked smile.

"Of course, my lady." With a slight bow of her head, Nicole started with the weapons. 

A sword, a dagger, a very old looking scythe, another sword but this one made to be welded with two hands and countless more. All with various amounts of blood dried on them. Blood that was surprisingly easy to clean off, aside from a couple more rusty blades. Whatever cleaning products they used, it was clearly very effective at cleaning gory messes. Shocker.

After finishing that portion of the room, Nicole moved to the adjacent wall, where the torture devices were hanging. She started wiping a vaguely human shaped metal frame when she heard light shuffling. It took a decent amount of self control to stay focused on the task at hand and not flinch when Cassandra was suddenly behind her, leaning down next to her ear. She was so close that her brunette hair was lightly brushing against Nicole's cheek, in an annoyingly ticklish manner. So close that Nicole got a faint whiff of roses from the perfume most likely applied earlier that day. It would have been nice if it weren't drowned out by a familiar metallic scent. To the brunette's defense though, it was hard to tell whether the blood scent was from her or from the room itself. 

After a few eternally long seconds of just hovering there, Cassandra finally spoke.

"This is one of my favorites." She caressed the metal surface the same way one would a puppy’s head. "We strap men to this, cut their wrists open and let them bleed out." The sentence was finished with a sinister cackle. 

It would have crept Nicole out too, if it weren't for the one thought that immediately jumped to the forefront of her mind. That's so ineffective. She weighed her options, with Cassandra still hovering over her shoulder in a position that couldn't have been comfortable given their height difference, and spoke tentatively. 

"Wouldn't the femoral artery be more efficient…?" 

The other girl froze for a second, narrowing her eyes and then scoffed, finally raising back up. 

"Who wants efficiency? The point is to prolong their suffering." 

She then dramatically plopped down in a chair, occupying herself with sharpening the curved blade of a sickle. She threw the occasional pointed look at Nicole each time she moved from one device to another to see if it would get a reaction out of her. It didn’t.

The devices were clean and it was time for the autopsy tables. Muscle memory kicked in and the metal surface was expertly wiped, blood and bits of flesh cleaned from every nook and cranny. After that she bent down to pull out the drainage tanks in which blood and bodily fluids accumulated. A piece of advice from what felt like an eternity ago screamed in her mind. When in doubt, hold your breath! And she did. Being used to the smell of decay did not mean being immune to it, and gagging in front of your new employee was quite the bad first impression. Luckily, it wasn't nearly as bad as she expected. Aside from some old stagnant blood, the tanks were otherwise clean. She washed both in the sink nearby and put them back in place with a content smile, hidden by the fact that her back was towards the other girl. When she turned around, Cassandra was scowling, sickle abandoned in her lap in favour of angrily drumming her gloved fingers on the desk's surface. A cold shiver ran down Nicole's spine, sure that she was about to get impaled by that very sickle in the next few seconds. When the brunette rose to her feet, she made peace with the fact that that was how she was going to die. In the humid basement of a medieval castle, on the first day of her job there. But Cassandra didn't approach her. Instead she paced around the room, scrutinizing eyes going over each and every instrument and, finally, on the now reflective surface of the tables. Her golden gaze then zeroed in on Nicole and, with a hint of a growl in her voice, said: 

"Alright. We're done here. Follow." 

Without sparing her another look, she unceremoniously threw open the doors and started walking down the corridor they had previously traversed. Nicole almost had to do a light jog to keep up with Cassandra's long strides, the glee in her posture now completely gone and replaced by frustration.

After exiting the dungeons and getting back to the more populated areas of the castle, Cassandra called out for the first maid that crossed their path. 

"You. Show this one to her quarters," she ordered and took off before the girl even had a chance to finish her yes, my lady.

Nicole and the other girl stood there for a couple seconds, until Cassandra's form dissipated into a swarm of insects and disappeared around a corner. Then the air seemed to be lighter, the threat of death no longer looming over their heads but reduced to a whispered reminder at the back of their minds. 

The pair strolled in silence down hallways that Nicole tried to commit to memory, until they reached a set of doors, modest, yet as elegant as the rest of the castle. Beyond them was a large room, with sofas and coffee tables for the staff to gather around with the central space left open. The large windows, occupying the better part of the wall to their left, sported beautifully intricate patterns of tinted glass, held together by heavy iron frames. Nicole mentally scoffed, realizing that she was looking at over glorified window bars and followed the other maid inside. 

"Do you have the key to your room?" 

Nicole pulled the key from her pants' pocket, pants that were now stained and dirty. Could've at least let me change, sheesh. The other girl took one look at the number engraved on the key and motioned for Nicole to follow her down one of the two corridors that opened up on the far side of the room. 

It almost reminded her of the hotels she and her family stayed at during her childhood. Dark hallways with doors on each side, the occasional person scurrying to their room and the big communal area. Except this looked far older and, in a weird way, cozier. 

Nicole came close to crashing into the other maid when she abruptly stopped and opened one of the doors, revealing a small room equipped with the necessary furniture for one person. 

"Well, look on the bright side: you get your own room." The other girl hummed, handing her the key. "I should get you your uniform. Size?" 

"Uh..an S please." 

In the five minutes it took the other maid to return, Nicole had time to take in her new home. She also noticed that someone had already placed her duffle bag near the bed. A sigh of relief left her lips at the small consolation that at least the few belongings she brought with her were here. Including her phone. 

"Huh. I thought they'd take it-" she had a better look at the screen. "Ah. No service. Of course." 

Not that she needed service for anything. The whole point of being there was to be as far as possible from anyone, but being able to check the news would've been nice. 

"Here you go!" She was snapped out of her thoughts by the maid’s way too cheerful tone. 

Nicole rushed to help with the stack of clothing and, once they were safely on the bed, the other girl spoke.

"There's seven uniforms, one for each day. Laundry is done on Mondays. Two pairs of flats and…" She trailed off pointing at a small wooden basket she had brought with the clothes. "Some toiletries and essentials. There's a perfume and broche with the family crest in there that I advise you make use of. The Lady likes her staff at a certain standard." 

Nicole nodded along and sat on the bed, finally letting exhaustion settle into her bones. The last few weeks had been a blurry hell. Everything from running away, to traveling, to coming to the village and finally the castle. She felt ready to curl up under a blanket and sleep for two weeks. But alas, she couldn’t afford the luxury of such rest. She almost forgot that she wasn’t alone in the room, until its other occupant spoke up.

"Oh by the way, what's your name?" 

"Nicole," she answered, extending a hand. 

"A pleasure to meet you. Anita," the other girl shook it with a warm smile.

[useyernamesteven]

(Needed some goofy fluff to distract myself from the angst im writing so buckle up, its long. Based on that one post I cannot find so if anyone can help a homie out, much appreciated)

Raya/Namaari Accidental Marriage Proposal

Its not a far stretch to assume that the different tribes have different practices and rituals. And given the 500 year gap in communication its also easy enough to assume that the tribes don't know about each others differing customs.

For example: marriage proposals. In Tail its as cut-and-dry as asking. Talon people propose with rings and jade coin. When you propose in Spine you chop down a tree to show your commitment and strength.

The Fang propose with blades. Fang people love their knives, daggers, spears, and other pointy weapons, so if you want to ask someone to marry you, you do it with a blade.

I like to imagine it'd be because offering a blade to someone- who isn't family -is the equivalent of trusting your life to that person. I like to think the Fang value not only a person's strength and honour, but their ability to care and protect their people. So giving a blade to your chosen love is like saying, "I'm giving you this weapon because I trust you with my heart, literally and metaphorically".

But again, 500 year old divide means others have no clue what giving a knife to someone from Fang entails...

So maybe its been a few months or so after the Druun have been vanquished. Raya is still re-learning how to be a 'princess' while playing liaison between the tribes, with Sisu as her partner in crime. She likes it because she still gets to travel and she gets to see her new friends from the other tribes: Boun's business is booming, Noi has started talking, and Tong has become the new Chief of Spine.

Then there's Namaari.

Six years of playing cat-and-mouse together (or rather angry kitten and homeless puppy) can be hard to overcome. At first it was a struggle. And incredibly awkward. Namaari, too guilt ridden over what she'd done, and Raya, still angry and socially stunted, could barely hold a conversation together.

Eventually Raya, fed up with the weird awkward talk, dragged Namaari to Fang's training grounds and challenged her to a sparring match. And only when it was over, the both of them exhausted and laying on the ground, did they start talking, actually talking. About what happened with the gem, with Sisu, what they can't let go of, not yet, but what they hope they can move past one day.

It made things after easier because it was familiar ground for them, but it also opened up new paths too. Now in the months since they saved the world and having spent that time working together, Raya would like to consider Namaari a close friend.

Which is probably why she's so surprised when Namaari off-handedly mentions her birthday is next week. Namaari, who's less than thrilled about her mother's plans for a big celebration, doesn't even notice how much Raya's caught off guard. Namaari doesn't really care for her birthday, much less when her mother makes a big deal about it, but she still brushes her hair behind her ear when she asks Raya if she's going to attend.

Raya recovers, nudging Namaari saying that she's obviously going, and boasting about the amazing gift she's going to bring.

Which then leads to her dragging Sisu to Talon in search of the perfect gift (Sisu being the only 'person' she knows who can help being that she's a master gift giver... Sisu's words, not Raya's, but still). They run around Talon for ages, with Sisu practically buying everything in sight (with the Heart Palace Credit of course) but Raya can't find a single thing she thinks Namaari would actually like.

And then she spots a Fang vendor selling blades.

The woman is nice and she asks Raya if she's looking for something in particular. Raya says she wants to get a dagger for 'someone special' from Fang (not wanting to rack up the price if the woman knew who it was for, but also completely unaware to what she's just implied).

The vendor seems a little surprised but she easily walks Raya through picking out the perfect dagger for her 'someone special'. Raya ends up buying a pretty, yet functional dagger with a dragon engraved in the blade and an ornate box to keep it in. As Raya's leaving the woman gives her a pat on the shoulder and says, "All the best for the both of you and I'm sure she'll say yes," which Raya can't really make sense of so she shrugs and leaves to go find Sisu and her mountain of trinkets.

So now its the party, and when Namaari said Virana was making a big deal about it, she really meant it. People from all the tribes are attending and Sisu's brought her brothers and sisters and there's music and food and fireworks...

And Namaari stands beside her mother in a beautiful dress that makes Raya's heart thud erratically (it's totally platonic). Her and her Ba walk up to them and start making small talk before her Ba and Virana break off to chat with other dignitaries, leaving Raya and Namaari together.

Raya likes how Namaari relaxes around her when its just them, despite the room full of people. They talk and banter and tease and laugh, but more than anything Raya just likes being with Namaari. And when Namaari mentions how much she hates formal wear, how dresses don't suit her, Raya makes it a game to see how many times she can mention how beautiful Namaari looks while they're talking, just because it makes Namaari flush and do the hair thing she does when she's shy. No other heart-related reason.

Its not until much later when Raya suddenly remembers the gift she brought and she runs off to fetch it. When she returns she hands Namaari the sleek box with a smile and a sheepish "Happy Birthday dep'la".

And Namaari's blushing and smiling as she takes the box, telling Raya she didn't have to as she opens the box-

And immediately slams it shut. Her face turns bright red and she whorls on Raya with wide eyes and a panicked, hissed "whatareyoudoing?!" And poor Raya's totally thrown, so sure she'd picked out the perfect gift. "You don't like it?" But Namaari shoves the box back into her hands, with another frenzied whisper "thatsnotit!"

Well now Raya's a little miffed because "You didn't even look at it" and before Namaari can stop her she's pulling the dagger from the box and offering it back to Namaari.

Meanwhile the room goes incredibly quiet as everyone from Fang suddenly notices what's happening between the princesses. Virana nearly spits out her drink. Everyone else carries on like normal, but a few people watch their new Fang friends with curious looks, completely out of the loop.

So now Raya's essentially down on one knee without realizing it, Namaari's about to have a heart attack, everyone from Fang is on the edge of their seat, and the dragons are having a rousing drinking contest with people from Spine.

So the party is going great.

Raya (oblivious to the world save for Namaari) is giving Namaari her strongest puppy dog eyes because she'd spent so long looking for the perfect gift dep'la, and "You're pretty special Namaari, special to me, and you deserve it."

Namaari, as red faced as she is, softens at Raya's admission, smiling a little to herself before she takes the dagger from Raya with a soft "it's lovely dep'la".

And suddenly the room's loud again as people from Fang start clapping and whistling. Everyone else is lost but soon they join in as well, despite having no clue as to what they're cheering for. Namaari's back to being flustered and she grabs Raya's hand and hauls her toward Virana and Benja. Raya, finally taking in the room around them, is confused as to why people are congratulating her and Namaari.

Virana has recovered by the time the two approach and if no one knew better it might've also appeared she was trying hard not to smile. Namaari hisses something to her mother Raya doesn't hear, and she shoots her Ba a questioning look. Benja looks a little pensive but he's got a quirk in his lips that Raya knows means mischief.

Virana gently pats her daughter's shoulder before turning to address the room, excusing the four of them. They turn to leave but not before Virana calls out to the crowd, "And it goes without saying you're all invited to the wedding as well," and then ushers her horrified daughter, her baffled betrothed, and Benja out the door.

Instantly Namaari's in hysterics, asking her mother why she'd say that when Raya obviously didn't know what she was doing. Virana, quite obviously playing ignorance, asks why Namaari accepted the blade if she knew what she was doing. And poor Namaari can only gape, red faced and no come back.

Raya has finally caught on to what she's done and yeah, okay now it all makes sense. The vendor, Namaari's (gay) panic, the congratulations... she just proposed to Namaari. She just proposed to Namaari. In front of most of Kumandra. Oh toi!

Benja, still smirking to himself, ruffles Raya's hair before turning to Namaari and Virana and saying, "To be fair... Namaari did propose first."

Marriage proposals in Heart are an exchange of necklaces. So when Namaari had given Raya the Sisu pendant back when they were kids, they'd essentially gotten engaged and since Raya kept it, they've technically been engaged for the past six years.

(Too) Long story short, Raya and Namaari get engaged, get married, fall in love, and live sapphically ever after.

End.

(Okay, I'm done. Back to angst.)

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable  ( Jungkook x Oc ) Chapter 8

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!!

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

Chapter 8

“Heartbreak looks good on you...” My sister commented impishly, watching me slip the teardrop earring into my lobe, the ruby red stone glinting in the dimlight of the bedroom. 

It was a couple of weeks since my uncle had come over and today, all the important clan leaders from around the country would be heading over to pay their respects to him. As one of the oldest surviving vampires, he commanded a lot of respect and no one really wanted to be on his bad side. 

Which just made me love Jungkook all the more because I couldn’t forget how he’d literally thrown himself in between us that day. I wanted to give him  everything  in return but apparently, all i was allowed to give him was space. 

My father had visited me everyday , giving me a very cryptic, ‘ I’ll make sure the two of you get your happy ending, dearest but you need to trust me and stay away for a while. Just a while. ’. 

But it seemed so impossible, so far away and just so unlikely that I was beginning to lose hope. 

It didn’t help that I hadn’t actually seen Jungkook in these two weeks . Namjoon took his place and my only connection to him was Joowon , who told me his father was busy ...that he stayed with Hwasa most evenings . I felt jittery and nervous and even more so today because of the lavish party being hosted in the Grand Ball Room, which was easily the biggest room in the entire estate. The last time it had been opened was for my parent’s wedding a whole two centuries ago.  

For once I couldn’t hide in the daycare in sweats. My uncle apparently insisted that i be present for the party tonight. 

It only made my anxiety skyrocket. 

I was a mess when it came to formal parties with century old vampires. I had all the formal training of course, but still the etiquette lessons were long forgotten and lot of those cranky old bats had very archaic ideas about what was allowed and what wasn’t. 

I  didn’t want some entitled century old vampire pawing at my neck for a drink tonight. I really didn’t. 

But i had done my part. Put on a red dress, the backline dipping all the way down to the base of my spine , let one of the make up artists in the clan have a go at my face and even put on blood red lipstick. 

I grunted , trying to yank the small lace and leather garter up my thigh. It had a holster for a dagger, the small ornate silver one that all the women in the clan carried. The dagger was crafted with the Hwang crest on its handle and I carefully sheathed it in, patting my thigh to make sure it wouldn’t slip down my limb. 

“Don’t make fun of my misery.” I glared at her and she actually laughed. 

“Sera, you feel too much too deeply. Jungkook isn’t going anywhere. He’ll come around. “ She said gently.

I shook my head.

“I don’t want to wait though. I... I don’t know why I hate waiting but I do..”

“He looks like a kinky bastard. Tell me, did you guys try anything ...I don’t know..risky?”

Nothing riskier than getting edged in front of a whole hotel full of guests and then getting fucked in the back of a car. Oh, did I tell you he spit in my mouth? And I loved it.

“Not really.” I lied but I could feel my face heating up as I turned around, back to the mirror as i felt my ears burning.

My sister shrieked so loud I jumped, nearly knocking over the bottle of perfume on the dresser.

“Oh my God, Sera, you naughty little bint! Tell me now!!!” She screeched and i flushed.

Like hell i was telling my sister what we had done.

“It’s private!!” I hissed when she tried to yank me and she laughed. 

“You’re shy... aww that’s cute. But that’s just because you recently got un-virgined . Bet you  can’t wait for him to desecrate your special place again, huh?” She waggled her eyebrows. 

“That is the single most disgusting thing you’ve ever said.” I gagged.

She laughed again. 

“Relax. He was your first. Happens . But like I said, don’t worry about him being serious about this. I think he is. You guys had sex and dad knows that. And yet somehow he’s still walking around with his had attached to his shoulders. Do you really think father would have let him live if he didn’t have feelings for you?”

I frowned.

“That’s not fair. It was consensual. He didn’t force me into anything or tell me he had feelings ....”

She scoffed at that. 

“Please tell me you still don’t think he hasn’t got feelings for you. He went batshit-crazy when you went on that date with Yugyeom. Jimin thought he was having a stroke or something. Dude’s so gone for you it isn’t even funny.”

“ Fat lot of good that does me! ” I snapped. “ If he doesn’t acknowledge those feelings he might as well not have any. And so far he’s made it abundantly clear that he’s not going to act on them. Ever.” 

“Because he’s clearly involved in something dangerous.” She said easily, making me blink.  “I’m not supposed to be telling you this but I’m kind of sick of you moping around like the world is ending and I’m just going to trust you to be smart about it.”

“What do you mean dangerous?” I whirled around to glare at her, pulse racing. 

“I have no clue. Dad and Jungkook are working on something.  But they’ve been huddled in the administrative building for three days now and no one has seen them . So i don’t really know what it is they’re planning. But I’ve always wondered if Jungkook was hiding from something. It would explain why he’d work as a bodyguard...with his skills he could be so much more.  ”

Frustration bloomed,  this time laced with worry. I wanted to know what was going on. God, if i could only see him. A glimpse would be enough. Just to make sure he was okay. Just to hear from him that he was okay. That he was going to be safe. 

“Think he’ll be at the party?”  I asked softly, feeling a whole lot pathetic at the way my heart lurched hopefully. 

My sister gave me a very mischievous smile. 

“Maybe . Maybe not. You look ravishing by the way.  And everyone out there wants you. Literally. Don’t forget that. Don’t be easy. Make him beg a little. ” She winked. 

I frowned. 

“He won’t beg. He’ll turn the tables around and make me cry.” I shuddered.  . Which really wouldn’t be that hard . I felt like I was always on the verge of tears these days. 

The knock on the door made us both look up. 

“Who’s escorting you tonight?” My sister asked gently. 

I shrugged. 

“No one. I’m just gonna walk in there by myself because I hate all of you. ” I grabbed the small bejeweled clutch from the table and hesitated just a second. 

God , I had no strength for tonight but there was a possibility that Jungkook could be there tonight. And I wanted to see him, if for no other reason than to kick him in the teeth. 

 I slipped into the strappy peep toe heels, stumbling a little because i wasn’t used to them. 

Swearing at the sharp pain shooting up my heel and shin, I wrenched the door open. Ignoring the simpering man on the other side, i stalked right past him. 

It was going to be a long , long night 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ballroom looked ....for lack of a better word : overwhelming. 

Whoever was in charge of the decoration had clearly taken the budget, quadrupled it and then pretty much ordered one of everything. I stared at the sheer overdose of satin and gauze and felt myself shuddering. 

Red and black was the theme for the night and I half wished I’d chosen to wear something in turquoise blue just to give my eyes some sort of relief. But there was no denying that it looked especially lavish, the huge hall big enough to fit a dozen foot ball fields, the high ceiling that seemed to stretch right up to the heavens and the million candelabras and chandeliers hung all over the place. 

The carpeted floors felt soft under my foot and it was still early, only a few pople flitting about while the ushers and helpers rushed about, tweaking deatils, rechecking placement charts, placing refreshments on the table. Small bottles of blood arranged neatly on the table and I rolled my shoulders, eyes darting around to find someone familiar. 

Kim Minjae and Kim Mingyu were just entering the hall and I grimaced. God, no. But i watched as they casually posed in front of the blood red backdrop, while cameras flashed and i frowned. Were supernatural tabloids really that starved for material? 

“Sera, go on, you need to get your picture taken too!” My aunt materialized out of nowhere , dressed in a puffy red gown with ruffles and I shook my head. 

“Later... i need a drink.” I said quickly, escaping her clingy fingers and rushing away . 

As the only human in the entire damn place, I would have to walk all the way to the bar on the far corner of the ballroom to beg for a drink. 

I was half way there when a commotion at the door made me look up. My father had arrived with him a majority of his counsel and a bunch of other guests as well. I stared, my eyes zeroing in on a very familiar figure , my father’s arm wrapped around his shoulder.

Jeon Jungkook stood right next to my father dressed to the nines and with a dazzling smile in place. 

I gawked at him. 

Trying to process what it was that I was seeing. 

He was smiling. He had the audacity to smile after ignoring me for two whole weeks. 

I took a deep breath.

“You better have a pretty darn good explanation for the radio silence you treated me to the past two weeks. “ I intoned dully to myself , trying to ignore the way he looked, completely at ease in the spotlight. 

He turned a little to the left and his gaze caught mine. I watched as he smiled and shook hands with the people around him before whispering something to my father. 

I dug my heels into the floor, glaring as he extricated himself from the elite crowd and slowly began walking over. God, i wanted to kick him so bad. 

He stopped in front of me, looking expectant and my anger merely doubled in intensity. 

“Anything you wanna say, Jeon?” I snapped. 

“You’re beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Red is your color, angel. I wanna see you in it more often. “ He answered at once. 

My mind went distressingly blank for a whole thirty second. 

“ Did i fucking offer? ” I demanded , angry. “ I’m not dressing up for you. Ever. You ignored me for two entire weeks Jungkook! i didn’t know where you were...what you were doing...” 

“Sera, I’m sor -” He began but I squawked in disbelief, shoving him away hard. He stumbled, more in surprise than from the impact but he looked surprised .  

I felt myself shaking in anger. How dare he?

“Oh, no. No. You do not get to waltz back in with a simple sorry.... not after treating me like shit the past two weeks...Absolutely not.” I snarled, shoving him again but this time he didn’t budge. Ugh. 

I made to move past him but he grabbed my elbow , yanking me back till I crashed into his chest. It was humiliating , the way my body practically vibrated with pleasure from being near him. His arms around me felt like heaven and I’d spent two whole weeks in purgatory. 

“You need to stay with me Ms. Hwang. I’m your bodyguard, remember?” He whispered, lips pressing against my neck, breathing in my scent  and I glared at his arms.

“No you’re not. Namjoon is!! Where is he?” I asked angrily , but he pulled me closer, hands resting on the bare skin of my back as he hugged me tight, lips latching onto my neck, breathing deep and my knees buckled. i had missed this. So much and even if this was all i got, I wanted to savor it. Savor it even if I hated him for the way he treated me all the fucking time.  

“Missed you.” He whispered, lips wet and wanting , damp on my skin as he pressed kisses along my shoulder. I loved it but I knew he was going to leave me again and that just made me angrier. 

“You’re a liar.” I choked out. 

“No. I’ve lied about a lot of things but never about how you’ve made me feel, Sera. You set me on fire.”

I choked, anger and affection flooding my senses, confounding me because it was like being caught in an endless game of push and pull. 

I trembled, fists punching his shoulder in protest but he didn’t move. I could feel eyes on us and it made me flush. How dare he... How fucking dare he. 

“Let go of me! You said you don’t want me so let me go!” I said petulantly and he made a small noise of protest. 

“That’s not true angel...you know it’s not. I want you... Want you so damn bad , i ache with it.” He whispered the words into my skin and I bristled. 

“Fucking liar, let go of me!” i was going to cry. Actually burst into tears in the middle of the ballroom. 

He didn’t let go of me. 

Instead his fingers fluttered down my bare back, feather light and maddening , tracing a path down my bare skin and I gripped is jacket at the electric contact. 

i trembled, my thighs shaking but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I wanted him. I swallowed, shaking my head. 

There was no music and we weren’t even near the dance floor. I couldn’t imagine how we must look to the people around us. But it was hard to think of that when I could feel him all over my body, could feel his heartbeat pulse right against mine and when his arms felt like an anchor , grounding me . 

“You think I need you.” My voice shook a little, “ I really fucking don’t Jungkook and I want you to remember that. I don’t need you. I don’t need to touch you . I’m fine with you never touching me ever again. ” I lied, gripping him harder. 

My words didn’t match my actions at all and he seemed to realize it, chuckling lightly and letting me press myself closer into his warm, solid body. He kept his arms around me, waist pressed into mine and thighs hard and solid against mine.

“I know that... i need you far more than you need me.” He said sweetly, kissing my brow and stroking my hair. He slipped his fingers into the strands, running the silky length between his fingertips , his voice brimming with fondness . It hurt, the fact that I couldn’t have this all the time. 

That somehow I was only offered glimpses of this Jungkook. Little snapshots of a what our life together could be but when I tried to draw closer, he always pulled away. 

I glared at him wanting to demand more answers 

. And then my eyes fell on the small dagger sheathed into his belt. My sister’s words floated into my mind. Was Jungkook running from something? 

“Are you in danger?” I whispered, softly. “ Darling, i need to know if you’re in trouble. I need to know.” 

He trembled a little at the endearment. 

“Baby, I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry about me alright. It’s important that you stay safe. “

The words brought no comfort of any kind. 

I stared at him. 

“What is it with the people around me spewing platitudes in my face without telling me what is going on! Do you just not trust me?” I asked desperately, hurt blooming. 

Jungkook swallowed.

“i trust you with my entire life Sera. But, I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He said gently.

I rolled my eyes. 

“Please....you’re five centuries old , so can you leave the whole cliché knight in shining armor back in the dark ages and just treat me like your equal? I’m not a helpless damsel in distress Jungkook...!!” 

He nodded, reaching for me again but I pulled away, wrapping an arm around myself. He hesitated, hands stretched out to touch but hovering a few inches away . 

“you’re right. I was out of line. But to be fair your father was very firm that I had to stay away from you...no contact of any kind till tonight. “

“And what’s so special about tonight.?” I asked , upset at how little i knew about what was going on. Jungkook’s gaze softened, and he pressed a palm to my cheek, thumb tracing circles on my jaw, before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. 

“ You’ll see. “ He smiled, “ And as for the rest of it, we’ll talk about this . I promise. We will....tonight after everything ends. I need to go now. Your father’s waiting for me,” 

I clung to him, feeling abandoned all over again. 

“What are you guys upto?” I grabbed his arm but he gently pulled my fingers away. 

“I’ll come find you. “ Was all he said before moving away and I groaned in disbelief. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uh oh. I can recognize that look. On a scale of one to ten , how much trouble is Jeon Jungkook in?” Namjoon asked gently, watching me glare daggers at the man in question as he hung around near the front of the hall, surrounded by clan leaders.

 He was meeting everyone, apparently a social butterfly and i couldn’t fathom it. The last time we’d had a party he’d sneaked off to get laid with Helena. 

Speaking of who,

“She’s going to castrate him. I can feel it.” The sultry eyed vampire, sat next to me, her long nails tapping the scarlet drape of the table as she watched me, eyes heavy and hot, gaze trained on my neck.

 I’d never felt more like prey. 

“ Nice to meet you Helena.” Namjoon said casually taking the seat next to me. Great.  I was caught between two vampires that knew exactly how gone I was for Jungkook and exactly how ....not gone he was for me.  The night just kept getting better. 

“Always a pleasure daddy.” Helena said , eyes dancing with wicked mischief and Namjoon choked on his wine, spewing it all over the table. I stared at the pair in disgust. 

“Disgusting.” I snapped. “Look at him. He hasn’t looked at me in an hour. How am i supposed to believe that he wants me so much I set his skin on fire.” I demanded shrilly. 

Both of them went quiet. They looked very uncomfortable and i felt myself flush. 

I glared at them , self conscious. 

“What?! Jungkook said so himself.” I protested. 

Both of them began guffawing. 

“I’m never letting him live this down.” Namjoon chuckled and I rolled my eyes. I could feel eyes on me, everywhere. Everyone’s gaze flitted to me every few minutes. Some of the younger vampires hovered a discreet distance away but had their gazes trained on me . 

Everyone looked at me except Jungkook. There really was no justice in this god forsaken world, was there? 

Did he really think I was weak and harmless? I suddenly felt foolish . I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t powerless. 

So , so far from it in fact.

I didn’t use my abilities because of how morally ambiguous they were. My father had drilled it into my head, right from childhood, that I couldn’t use my powers without explicit permission from him and I had listened to him. 

Had played the role of the harmless human who just happened to have really intoxicating blood inside her veins. 

But somehow that had ended up with me being pushed out of the loop with the man I loved. Jungkook thought I was some kind of helpless damsel he needed to keep safe and it just...it irked me. 

It was laughable that he thought something could be dangerous to me. 

It was laughable because I  was  easily the most dangerous creature in this entire room. 

i pulled my phone out, texting furiously.

 I want to see you. 

 I stared at Jungkook waiting for him to see. He pulled his phone out read the screen and to my utter chagrin he slipped the phone back in without answering.

 All right, That’s it.  

I stood up slowly, Namjoon stiffening next to me. 

“Where are you going? “ He asked warily. 

“To mingle.” I said casually. “ you can stay here, daddy. I’ll be fine by myself. “

He spluttered again and Helena laughed lowly. 

“I like her. “ Her voice rang out and i smirked, making a beeline to wards the front of the room, where Jungkook stood with a few other vampires around the same age as him. They all straightened at the sight of me, lust evident in their eyes and I saw Jungkook go a little stiff when he noticed I was alone.

“Where’s Namjoon?” He said shortly. 

“With Helena.” i said with a shrug.” Evening gentlemen.” I smiled softly, parting my lips lightly, letting my tongue dart out and wet them before leaving them parted, tongue peeking out. 

Jungkook pressed in closer, arm darting to wrap around my waist but he seemed to think better of it, pulling away again. 

“Sera...” He began warningly but i cut him off. Jungkook didn’t know what he had. 

And I was too fucking beautiful to be ignored tonight. 

“Isn’t someone starting the music? What a terrible bore this party has been...” I said loudly and the men scrambled closer, almost tripping over each other. 

Pathetic really but at least they served their purpose. 

“Should we get you another drink, Sera?” One of them said. 

“Let me go find that Dj...” The tallest of the lot wandered off. 

“You’re right..are you hungry..? Where’s that waiter?” The one right next to me lifted a hand, waving the nearest uniformed helped and I smirked at Jungkook. 

“Having fun?” I asked. 

“You need to go stay with Namjoon.” He said stiffly.

“where’s the fun in that? “ I hesitated, locking my eyes with him and lightly lifting my heel up to rest on the chair right next to him. The slit in my dress fell open, exposing the entire length of my leg, especially the red lace of my garter. 

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the dagger strapped to my thigh, the red and gold stark against the milky white flesh. I rand a forefinger up from my knee to the top of the garter belt, lightly circling the tip over the sharp edge of the dagger. 

“Don’t...” He growled. I smirked.

“Don’t what?” I whispered. 

“Don’t fucking do it, baby... I’ll be really , really mad if you do. “ He was almost shaking with the effort to not grab me and i could feel it. Feel the urge to put me in my place, simmering beneath his skin but he was helpless. 

Any wrong move on me and he would have a dozen daggers in his heart within the next second. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about .” I feigned ignorance, purposefully pressing the thick of my finger into the edge of the dagger, gasping as it broke skin, tearing my flesh and drawing out my blood. 

A collective gasp ran through the crowd around us and it was quite the sight, an entire group of century old Vampires going stiff as boards,  nostrils flared pupils blown wide open as they all stared at me .

 I smiled wide, trying to inject a note of contrition into my voice. 

“Oops. That was clumsy of me. .” I giggled, holding my finger up. the blood beaded over and spilled , trickling down my wrist and I locked my gaze with Jungkook’s, bringing my arm up, licking the scarlet fluid up, tracing its path with my tongue all the way to where the dagger had nicked me before sticking the finger into my mouth with a lewd pop. 

A vampire, about three feet away from me was breathing heavily , grabbing the chair next to him and sinking into it. His fangs were out and his breathing was erratic. i watched his eyes flash red and I laughed.

“I’m sorry. “ I said sweetly and he gave me a blank smile.

“That’s alright, my lady . “ He was almost choking from the effort to stay composed. Poor thing. I let my gaze flit back to Jungkook who had a terrifyingly blank look on his face. 

“You little whore.” Jungkook whispered softly and i lurched. 

“Yours . If you want me. But if you don’t...then anyone’s really.” I shrugged unrepentant. 

“Really? You think any of the vampires here’s gonna want you after the stunt you just pulled? No one wants a needy little slut.” He said casually but I could see him shaking a little. There was a teeny tiny crack in that cocky attitude and I’d never wanted to stick my fingers in something so bad. 

I felt myself grin in anticipation. 

“It’s not about what I think, Jungkook. Its about what I  know.” 

He stared at me. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You think I’m helpless, Jungkookie.... But the truth is... I can turn every single person here into my own personal  marionette if i wanted to. “ I shrugged. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows lifted, lips parting in surprise. 

“I’m listening.” 

I moved to the table in the corner, patting the chair next to me. He took the seat next to me and I smiled. 

“Now watch....” I snapped my fingers, signaling the waiter with the glass jar of lemon soda  and vodka in his tray. 

“Can you let my father know I want to leave the party early with Jungkook here?” I asked gently. The waiter flushed, but nodded and I casually slipped my finger into the lemonade jar, dipping lightly in the fluid.

Jungkook grimaced . 

“That’s disgusting.” 

I laughed. 

“Now let’s see who gets to drink it.” I followed the waiter as he moved around stopping in front of a group of very young vampires, about four or five of them. Two girls and three guys. They all took glasses of vodka from the waiter and i sighed.

“You know what makes my blood so powerful Jungkookie? “ I said softly. “ It’s the fact that it is  sentient.” 

Jungkook went stock still still next to me, lips parting in shock.

“What?” He croaked. 

I nodded.

“My blood is sentient. It can feel and see and control. If my blood mixes with yours, it will dominate your thoughts and feelings. I will literally take over you. But it also needs my instruction. So it’ll put you in a trance..... Leave you feeling boneless and disoriented , easier to manipulate. People think its because it tastes so good and they enjoy the feeling. They don’t know what the fuck they’re opening themselves up to...by letting me inside. “ I wrapped my arms around myself. 

“I’m painted as the beautiful, kind and precious human who needs to be protected....only because I am anything  but. In this room, Jungkook....I’m probably the one capable of wrecking the most havoc.” 

“Sera...”

“Nobody knows except for my father and I because...well... just the scent of it makes people chase me down. Can you imagine what they’d do to me if they knew the true extent of my powers.” I said bitterly. I let my gaze shift back to the kids with the drinks. The drinks that were tainted with my life essence.  

I watched them take sips of their drink and felt the mild tingling in the back of my head. Like a gossamer thread forming and wrapping around me and I swallowed. It was easy to ignore and I never had any trouble ignoring it when I let my family feed from me. Because I trusted them. 

But these kids though. My body thrummed, focusing on one person. 

The girl in the red halter top. 

“See the girl with the red top and black skirt....” I swallowed. “ She slit the throat of an old woman on her way here.” 

Jungkook swore next to me. 

“I can see the woman... she’s on her knees , begging for her life. She’s really old.” 

That wasn’t all. i could feel the grip of the dagger, the push of the blade against skin, the pull as the flesh gave in, the blood spurting out onto my fingers the scent of death as she bled out. 

I felt nausea bubble and I severed the connection forcibly. The girl’s pretty face didn’t match her filthy insides. i couldn’t stay in her head. The tendrils began wrapping around my head as  the four of them took more sips. 

“When I want... i can influence their thoughts. It takes more effort but it’s possible. it’s why my father wanted to make sure you actually wanted to be with me. He thought I’d coerced you . which I can . if I want. But I didn’t. I don’t do that ever. ” I shook my head. 

Jungkook’s brows raised. 

“By coerce you mean....”

“It can be as simple as influence your decision... but if I really put in the effort, i can make people physically do what I wanted. “ 

“Physically?”

I smiled.

“Remember the boys from my college ? the ones who nearly drained me out?” 

He nodded. 

“My father didn’t have them defanged. They did it to themselves. Literally stuck their own hand into their mouth and ripped their fangs out . Because I wanted them too.” 

Jungkook looked like he’d stopped breathing. 

I swallowed.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you that if you’re trying to protect me by withholding information, its kind of unnecessary. I can take care of myself.” 

“Alright. What do you want to know?”

“Just tell me what’s going on  “ I sighed.  Jungkook gave me a piercing look. 

“Remember Joo Won’s mother?” 

“The witch you killed?”

“Her father’s out for my blood. He doesn’t know where I am as of now. Your father thinks one of his lackeys must be in attendance today so he’ll know where I am.... and  he’ll come for me. And when he does... I’m going to end it .”

I stared at him.

“ Okay. “ I swallowed. “ How dangerous is he?” 

Jungkook laughed without mirth. 

“I’m not sure if I’m coming out of this alive.” 

Blood rushed to my ears, so fast I felt momentarily lightheaded. My entire body rejected the mere idea of Jungkook getting hurt. And to hear him talk of it so lightly, it messed me up badly. The fragile hold I had on my mind snapped. 

“No.” I said angrily. 

Across the room, the girl in the red halter stumbled,  clutching her head .

  Anger and the urge to hurt clawed up inside me and I tried to get it under control. 

Fuck, I had to sever the connection fully before i did something terrible to her..

 But it wasn’t happening, 

In fact the more i tried to get away the more her conscience seemed to be wrapping around mine., 

 Distance. I had to put distance between us. 

I need to leave now,  I pushed the thought in through the connection and  i watched her as she stumbled away from her friends, hands buried in her hair.

“Sera what the fuck... “ Jungkook grabbed my arm, eyes wide and panicked and I trembled. 

I felt guilty and scared because there was a reason i didn’t do this and the reason was quite simple. This power...or whatever you wanted to call it, It was bigger than me. I couldn’t control it . 

My blood was sentient and sometimes it could control me , just as easily as it controlled others. 

“She’s just leaving... I just made her leave because I’m not .. I can’t. ...fuck...” My head swam as I tried to get my bearings. 

“ okay that’s it...we’re getting out of here.... ” Jungkook stood up, reaching for me and I blinked, disoriented and dizzy. “Come here, baby I got you...” 

I let him wrap his hand around my waist, half lifting , half dragging me out of the ballroom and into the hallway. I gripped his chest, stumbling. I wasn’t tired, just struggling to get my head on straight . 

But the scent of him calmed me. 

“I need you.” I whispered. “ I need you to be safe Jungkook. I’ve spent too long pretending to be something I’m not but with you... I’m.. You... You make me feel human. Truly human. “ 

“Fuck... hang on. I’m gonna take you to my cottage.”

I blinked

“your what?”

“My cottage. Hang on...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Jungkook opened the door to the cottage, I felt a little like myself again. But my body thrummed , my skin on fire, my fingers trembling with adrenaline. 

“you look like you need to lie down.” He said gently.

I glared at him. 

“The last thing I need is to lie down.” I snapped.

He held his hands up.

“Alright. Calm down, baby..... Why are you so upset?” He asked soothingly and I scoffed.

“ You fucked me in public and the next day  you looked like you’d been handed a death sentence, when my father suggested that you court me and then... you disappeared for two whole weeks....and now you turn up and tell me that your life is in danger. You do all this shit and I’m  not allowed to be upset? ” I said angrily.

He hesitated. 

“I merely meant it would be dangerous. I am not actively trying to die.” He said softly.

“As for the rest of it.... I’m not the same person I was a month ago Sera.... You.. You’ve managed to claw you way into my heart and the only reason I didn’t want to court you was because of what I was involved in. I told you that...the baggage I’m carrying is too much for me to even think about being with you.... That’s the only reason. “

I stared at him. 

“Are you telling me you fell for me too?”

Jungkook smirked a little.

“You were fucking me all the time without touching me. How could I not fall for that utterly shameless gaze of yours. You were your heart on your sleeve and your heart is always filled with filthy thoughts about me Sera. You make it way too obvious. “ He said teasingly. 

“I don’t want you to die.” I said petulantly. 

“That makes two of us. “ He smiled. “ What do you want, Sera?” 

“Want you.” I said automatically, too raw and upset to think too much about it.

“You have me.” He stepped closer, hands resting on my shoulder, eyes earnest and i hated how much I wanted to believe him . But heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak had taught me that it was all a lie. I didn’t have him and now ....there was a possibility I could never have him. 

“No, I don’t.” I shook my head, angry. “ Don’t lie to me. I don’t have you.” 

Jungkook made to touch me again but I shoved him away, hard.

“you’re angry. “ He said thoughtfully. “ I understand that. You have every right to be angry. And I’m sorry I can’t tell you what you want to hear right now...Not until this whole debacle ends. But Sera...look at me...”

I bit my lips staring at him.

“I’m here. Now. I’m not going anywhere. It’s just us. You and I. Don’t worry about what happens next. Don’t. Let’s not worry about any of that. I’m here and I’m telling you I’m yours. You have me now.” 

I stared at him, tilting my head as I took him in. 

He didn’t move , merely staring at me evenly.

“You know.... you aren’t the only one who hates being ignored.” I said softly. 

I felt weird. 

Different. 

None of the usual nervousness or anticipation but instead a sort of burning need to  take. To reach out and pin him down , force him to follow through on his promise that I  had him. 

“ I’ve been giving too much of myself to you, Jungkook ...for way too long. I think it’s time I get something back.” I whispered. 

His lips curled in a small, impish smile and he looked a decade younger. His eyes flashed with mischief and anticipation. He looked eager....desperate even and I wondered if this is what I looked like all the time with him. 

“And what would that be...my queen?” he whispered meekly. 

“You. “ I said simply. “ All of you. Your words... your pain...your pleasure... your moans and your very breath. I want to take all of it.” 

I could see his pupils dilating even from the distance between us. 

“Its yours, sweetheart” Jungkook  bowed his head gently, holding his arms out. “Tell me where you want me...how you want me...” 

I glanced around the room. Not the bed. Not yet. 

There was a very sturdy looking chair in front of the small table in the corner. 

“Put that in the middle of the room and sit down.” I pointed at the chair. 

He smiled.

“You want me to stay dressed?” He asked carefully and I nodded. 

“Very well.” He moved to get the chair, placing it in  front of the bed. He sat down carefully. 

“Anything else?” He asked gently.

I narrowed my eyes at him 

“Yes. Keep your mouth shut unless I ask you something.” I said with a smile. His eyes widened in surprise. But he didn’t protest. 

I took in the sight of him on the chair, dressed in his perfectly fitted tux , legs spread and hands on his knees, eyes wide and alert as he stared at me. Pretty red mouth shut obediently. 

I moved closer till I was standing right between his thighs. His hands came up to grip my waists instinctively and I glared.

“Hands’ to yourself Jungkook. You don’t just get to treat me as you fucking like and then touch me without my permission.” I snapped. 

He lowered his hands , letting them rest on his knees again.

“Do you want to touch me , baby?” I whispered pressed my palm to his face before letting my fingers trail up to his hair. it was soft and silky to the touch, the strands like fine silk. 

“Yes.” He answered simply. 

“Then you need to earn it.” I threaded my fingers' into his raven locks, gripping hard and yanking his head back . i stared, fascinated by the ivory length of his neck, the little mole there and i pressed a kiss to his skin. I let my teeth sink in , just a little and then a little bit more. When he shifted, I pulled back, licking the skin to soothe the sting.  His breath caught and he gasped, eyes widening a bit and a small, ‘ fuck’ leaving his lips. 

I pulled back , keeping my fingers in his hair , gripping lightly, before reaching down with my free hand. 

“You have such a pretty neck and it make me wonder what it feels for your kind...sinking your teeth into people and feeding from them. Too bad I don’t have fangs. But you know what I do have?” I winked . 

I brought my leg up, the front end of my shoe resting on the small empty space on the chair , right in the V if his legs. If he moved even a little, my toes would brush the straining length of his cock visible even through the black of his slacks. He was so hard I knew it must’ve hurt. 

I gripped his hair harder and tilted his head down to he could stare at my thighs, specifically the dagger in my garter. 

“I want a taste . Of you. Can I?” I asked gently staring at him, fingers fiddling with the dagger and unsheathing it. 

He nodded. 

“Words. Please.” I smiled.

“Yes...fuck yes.....please...Sera...” 

“Good boy.” I winked, bringing the dagger up to his neck. It was really sharp and I used the tip to lightly draw a small dash, an inch below his ear. I watched the blade tear through the flesh, light and delicate, the skin cleaving and scarlet liquid bubbling up. I chased the flow with my tongue, licking it into my mouth and Jungkook trembled in the chair, jerking forward.

The movement jolted my foot onto his crotch and he grunted, grabbing my ankle when I made to move it away, keeping my heeled foot on his clothed cock. I swallowed,  little out of my league but i stared at him, at the sheer intensity of the desperation in his eyes and I inhaled ....before gently bringing my toes down to press into his cock. 

He moaned, thighs trembling and I  dropped the dagger to the floor.

I slipped both my hands into his hair, holding his head in place as i bent low to capture his lips with mine, sticking my tongue inside his mouth while grinding my foot down into his cock. I licked into his mouth, chasing the warm heady taste of him, my fingers tightening in his hair for leverage and I wondered if he was wet.... If his cock was weeping precum, dribbling into his slacks .

I pulled back to stare into his eyes but he had them shut.

“Look at me.!” i demanded,”  wanna see you...” 

His eyes fluttered open, doe- like and warm and swimming with pleasure and I’d never felt more powerful in my life. I moved my foot slowly, in small controlled circles for a few seconds. 

“You wanna cum in your pants like this? Rutting on my foot like a little mutt? Or do you want to get on the bed and touch me like you wanted to...?” I whispered softly. 

Jungkook swallowed and his fingers tightened on my ankle. . 

“Wanna cum like this.” He said taking me by surprise. I raised an eyebrow. 

“Really... then what about me...?  I want to get fucked too Jungkook ..? How’re you gonna do that if you cum so fast.....” I snapped, gripping his hair harder and he groaned. 

“I... I’ll fuck you again... i promise.. I’ll fuck you hard and make you feel good... just..let me cum...please.. It fucking hurts...” The way his voice cracked a bit on the last few words made my heart jerk inside my ribs. I found myself fighting the urge to give him everything. 

I smiled instead, kissing his lips again.

“Thank God for fast refractory periods huh, my big bad vampire?” I bit his lips, tugging it between my teeth , before reaching between us and slipping the shoe off my foot. Jungkook trembled, gripping me for support when I pulled my foot away and I let him cling to me for a second, before dropping the shoe down and pressing my bare foot on his erection. I spread my toes over the head, pressing down just a little and he inhaled sharply when i circled my toe on the wet patch . 

“Go on them. Make yourself cum.” I whispered, leaning down and kissing him again. He grabbed my ankle with both hands, rutting up into the balls of my feet, hips thrusting up and I let him lick into my mouth, messy and wet as he chased his pleasure. 

I felt him stiffen underneath me, followed by a wash of dampness under my sole and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close and letting him bury his face into my neck as he trembled through the aftershocks. He gripped my waist, hands shaking as he held me and i waited, worried if I should take my foot off or not. I could feel my legs beginning to cramp and I swallowed.

“You okay?” i whispered.

“Yeah.” He grunted. “ Fuck..that was...” he laughed a little. 

“We’re not done.” I said pressing a kiss to his cheeks and stroking his hair back gently. 

He hummed, gently gripping my ankle and lifting my foot off his crotch. I brought my leg down, wincing a bit. 

“Should we get on the bed?” He whispered. 

I nodded, yelping when he stood up with me still in his arms, he carried me over to the bed, dropping me lightly. 

“Strip.” I said quickly. “ All of it. Want you naked and stretched out on this bed for me.” 

He moved quickly, stepping out of his clothes with ease and I sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing the black tie he discarded. I took off my panties, leaving my dress and the garter belt on. 

 Jungkook naked was a sight i could never tire off and I watched as he climbed into the bed, lying down in the center, legs splayed slightly and hands by his side. 

“Bring your wrists together up over your head” I said quickly and he moved his wrists up , letting me tie them to the head board with his tie as i sat straddled on his chest. I was wet, sopping wet and I felt the trail of dampness I left on his rock hard abs. 

“I’m gonna sit on your face and you’re gonna make me cum. And then , I’m gonna ride you .” I whispered. 

“Fuck.” 

“That’s the plan.”

I scooted forward, resting one knee close to either shoulder before gripping the head board with one hand and the hair on top of his head with the other. Tugging him closer, I lowered my pussy onto his mouth, groaning when i felt soft pressure of his tongue against my center, licking tentatively. 

Jungkook knew what he was doing, and he licked into me with practiced ease tongue slipping into my slit, curling against the walls, before tracing circles around my clit. He used his lips to suckled on the hardened nub , following it up with quick little licks and i slipped a hand between my legs, stuffing three fingers into my cunt to get myself off faster. 

“Oh...fuck... I want... “ I could feel myself shaking and he sped up his movement, licking my lit in quick little strokes and my orgasm hit me like a wave, drowning me in pleasure. I scooted down before losing my strength, collapsing on top of him. The orgasm having knocked me right out of my headspace. I was trembling and shaking, lethargic and completely out of it. 

”Baby...you okay?” Jungkook’s concerned voice came from above and I whimpered. 

“I’m... I’m sorry.... I’m so tired... I...” 

“Don’t worry baby .. i got you. “

I heard the sound of wood splintering and blinked, glancing up. Jungkook had tugged his hands free from the restraint, breaking the headboard in the process. 

I gawked at the scene in disbelief. 

“Did you just....?”

He grabbed the hem of my dress, ripping it up and off me quickly. 

“Fuck..... want to pound you into the fucking mattress my little princess... Such a little tiger aren’t you kitten... so fierce and hot... i loved it baby...you were so good to me ...made me feel so fucking good...” He maneuvered me onto my back and i felt myself blushing at the praise, face heating up as i gripped his shoulders. 

He grabbed the back of my thigh, spreading my legs before lining himself up against my pussy. 

“Fuck...” He slid right in , knocking the breath out of me and i clung to him, whimpering as he pounded into me, hips working so fact I was sure I was going to have trouble walking for a week after this. 

I could feel my orgasm build from the sheer intensity of the thrusts, the hard thick length of his cock pounding into my cunt till i felt swollen and bruised and tender and when it finally tore through me , i was drooling a little, eyes damp with tears and fingers numb from gripping him too hard. 

Jungkook fucked me through the orgasm and chased his own each push of his hips leaving me battered and I bit my lips to stay conscious . When he finally stilled, his cock throbbing as he came for the second time, filling my insides with the wet warmth of his cum, I felt myself shake like a leaf caught in a  storm, my entire body ice cold and trembling. A thin layer of sweat coated my body and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t recover from this for a really long time

“My pretty pretty queen....” He whispered , pressing kisses all over my face as he hugged me closer and I mewled at the warmth of him. 

“Don’t leave me .” i whispered, unable to fight the tug of sleep and exhaustion. 

“I’m right here, baby.” His voice was soothing against my ear as he held me closer. 

Maybe I could have him after all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note : okay. well. that happened.  if you don’t give me feedback this will be the last smut scene. 

jk

but please do give me feedback . i love hearing from you guys. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist. : @ladyartemesia        @veronawrites   @alpaca1612     @bonyg    @unseejuice21  @sppvjj     @ggukkieland     @tae-by-tae      @blr1004      @yoongichild    @stussyjeon  @jellybearo  @sumzysworld   @carolsummerlove@bunniechoon  @unicornbabylover @preciouschimine    @baekhyunatthehaunted-house @craztextae@nikkiordonez12 

@jiminiscricket​  @yeotan07​

@chimchimmy95bts  @jinscharms​

@danietoww04​