#arranged marriage tw

[greywoodrpg]

𝕣𝕦𝕓𝕪 𝕕𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥

she appears as though she was born thirty-five years ago but is actually two hundred and nineteen, is a vampire, lives in acacia heights as the owner of celestials boutique, and is an advisor in sanguine liguria. she looks an awful lot like suki waterhouse. 

 "The story of a girl: You exited the womb and entered a war."

tw: sexism, arranged marriage, adultery, difficult pregnancy, abandonment

Born in 1806 during the height of the Napoleonic Wars, Ruby was born Duchess of Baden. Tensions were high amongst the Gottinberg family, torn between sides, but the Duchy always came first. Whatever would preserve power was the priority, and any sign of weakness was quickly stamped out. Ruby understood her role clearly in her family, she was to wed, forge a powerful alliance, of course, produce an heir. She paid close attention to her studies, particularly languages, and ensured she would excel in any future monarchy her parents thrusted her into. Obedience, however, did not mean that Ruby was entirely pleased with her situation. She was far more interested in what was happening on the frontlines and understanding the complex politics at play. She was savvy, but a woman’s voice was not respected and she didn’t dare share any of her more daring opinions out loud.  Her wedding was a dramatic, luxurious affair, as she had always predicted. Her husband was a Duke and thankfully, Gabriel was not cruel. He was dismissive, had many mistresses, and kept a close eye on her, but Ruby had also predicted that in her future. When you were observant and clever, royalty was cyclical. Ruby did all that she could to protect her image from Gabriel’s affairs and as she spent more time at their castle, she surrounded herself with thoughtful ladies in waiting, one of whom she took a very strong liking to. Anne was the smartest person Ruby had ever come across and it seemed as though they could talk for hours endlessly. Her passion for Anne grew quickly, although Ruby didn’t fully understand that what she felt was love. She always expected that ‘love’ was a falsehood, having never witnessed it growing up in the Duchy. Her affair with Anne was covert, and they never once spoke of fleeing the castle to be together. They both silently accepted their place in the world, and Anne seemed to respect Ruby’s love of the small amount of power she wielded in a world where women were looked down upon. Eventually, however, the time came where Ruby was required to produce an heir. Gabriel was gentle, but she couldn’t help feeling as though she were cheating on her lover. Pregnancy was not easy on Ruby and childbirth was far worse. Medicine wasn’t advanced, and with the amount of blood she lost, there was no chance of survival. The only person she requested by her side was Anne, and her family was locked behind a heavy door. The explanation came quickly, and to this day, Ruby doesn’t entirely remember the hushed conversation the pair had, but the end result was the same. Anne was a vampire and she bit and changed Ruby to save her life. The bond between Ruby and her sire was strong. She still deeply loved Anne, and Anne was patient with her as she taught her the ways of vampirism. Eventually, her maker abandoned her, and Ruby found that she liked the independence to do as she wished. The undead life suited her need for power. Throughout the years, Ruby collected memorabilia from all over Europe, souvenirs from some of her prolific victims and simply beautiful things that she loved. She was never one to deny herself of anything after she gathered the power to simply take it. Ah, how the roles reversed from when she was a human Duchess, bound to rules she despised. Ruby views immortality as a gift and has spent many, many years basking in it. But she’s aware that things in her life are missing. She liked having purpose, knowing what her destiny would be, and she frequently wondered what became of the child that she was forced to leave behind.  When she heard murmurs of Greywood, a town filled with people like her where hiding was no longer required, she immediately moved there, hoping to fill some of the holes in her heart.

“what power did she attain when settling in greywood?”

Ruby has the ability to dream walk and manipulate people’s dreams. Characters with magic can fight this off, however, if they choose to and have more will than she does.

penned by... ali

#town rp #mature rp #oc rp #supernatural rp #horror rp #literate rp #taken #vampire #suki waterhouse fc #sexism tw #arranged marriage tw #difficult pregnancy tw #adultery tw #abandonment tw

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Leila Beaulieu Species: Mare Occupation: Owner of The Party Thrifter Age: 224 Years Old (Looks about 28) Played By: Bee Face Claim: Alisha Wainwright

"I don’t see why I can’t be both scary and good. I’ve declared myself frightfully delightful and delightfully frightful, and I won’t be taking any further questions on the matter."

TW: Arranged marriage

Leila remembers dreams- vaguely remembers the feeling of dreaming. Those light, fluffy things that danced on the edge of the waking and sleeping world. The memories have grown a bit fuzzy at the edges, but she remembers her mother promising her that the sandman would come and give her sweet dreams if she was very good and went to sleep right away— a sweet sentiment. Over 200 years later, the simple mortal existence she once had has begun to feel like a dream itself. Something sweet, but seen through a fog.

Once upon a time, there was a girl full of dreams. She lived with her family at the edge of nowhere, on an orchard in King’s County, Nova Scotia. Her bedroom- the second door to the left at the top of the stairs- was littered with books and journals full of the dreams that filled her days and nights. They were her treasures. Her secrets. The worlds that she escaped into when the monotony of life on the orchard grew all too stifling and loneliness clung to her bones. Growing so far away from town made her an easy target for other children’s unkindness. She was the strange girl who would spin ridiculous stories and was scolded more often than not by teachers for being lost in thought. And so, as she grew, she kept to herself. And the dreams and stories she kept to herself grew with her. They grew and grew and grew…

They grew into a feast fit for a mare.

The nightmares started in her twenties. Other girls she knew were getting married, settling down, and staying put in the same place they had lived their entire lives with no intention of leaving. Other girls were falling into bed with their lovers. Leila was falling into bed with some monstrous thing. It stole the dreams right out of her head. It whispered cruel words in her ear, promising she’d always be alone. Alone, alone, alone… Always an outsider. Easily forgotten at best, scorned and mocked at worst. It lurked in the shadows of her room and the dark corners of her mind. It feasted on her dreams and left only dread.

Her parents had been the ones who arranged the engagement. Mr. Ralph Gauthier was not the future Leila had once dreamed of. He was old. He was dour. He was brutish. But he was interested when no one else was, and he had money at a time when her family needed it. Leila was not asked her opinion on Mr. Gauthier, and, as far as her parents were concerned, it kept her from suffering the embarrassment of being labeled an Old Maid, and spared her family the expense of a mouth to feed. No one seemed to notice or care that in the weeks leading up to her wedding, Leila seemed to become a shadow of her former self.

Perhaps it was out of some little bit of mercy that the mare did it. Maybe they tasted her dreams and knew what Leila wanted. Or maybe it was just that the feast was just too good to pass up. The night before her wedding, the mare that killed her had one final feast. It was the worst nightmare Leila ever had. With her dreams, they stole her breath and heartbeat. The next morning, Leila was dead.

A clock struck midnight, and Leila woke in her wedding gown, lying in state in her family’s parlor.

There was a strange ringing in her ears, and a growing emptiness clawing from deep within her. She stepped out into the night, walking the moonlit path toward town. She didn’t know why, but her feet seemed to guide her toward the inn where drink-sodden and travel-weary slumberers filled bed after bed. The woman found herself stumbling from bedside to bedside, dream to dream, leaving nightmares in her wake. Dreams were things that now had substance. They were little worlds in people’s minds that filled up the emptiness she was left with. By morning she was gone, the sun and fear for what she’d become chasing her as far as she could into the woods.

Weeks, months, and years passed. Moons rose and set. Leila found refuge in the dreams of others, stealing away the simple sweetness for her own survival. She moved about place to place, finding those she deemed a worthy feast and leaving them to their nightmares. But the dreams didn’t give her purpose. They didn’t give her the life she had once dreamed of. She was still alone, just as the mare had promised her in those nightmares of another life.

Wicked’s Rest was originally supposed to be a stop-between. She’d had no intention of staying longer than a night or two at most before leaving. But then there was them. Her dreamer. She hadn’t cared about a dreamer in so, so long, but there was something about this one that called out to her. Maybe they reminded her of someone she was- or wished she had been- so very long ago. Their dreams were laced with something dark… That knowledge alone startled her. Thought of this person and their dreams followed her like a daydream. Plagued her like a nightmare- her! The giver of nightmares! She tried to ignore it, tried to ignore them, but no matter what she did, she always found her way back into their dreams.

The once dreamer, now giver of nightmares, has decided to help. She doesn’t exactly know how yet… but she has to. If not for them, then for herself. For the girl she had once been before she became something of shadows and fear.

Maybe, just maybe, helping them might grant her a little rest.

Character Facts:

Personality: Curious, independent, warm, impulsive, fanciful, indulgent

Leila has changed her names over the years, but prefers to stick with the same initials. It’s a little safer to socialize in the daylight if she doesn’t always have the same name and face stretching over the decades. Things would look weird if that happened… It’s been so long now, though. She’s gone back to her original name. Leila Estelle Beaulieu.

She has a box of strange little trinkets she’s collected over the years. Most people would probably define the things inside as trash. Extremely old spoons, a watch that died at least a hundred years ago, ticket stubs from the first production of a play or a musical, some very dead flowers- but she can tell you the story behind any one of them. 

If you need a good outfit or a good disguise, go to Leila. She’s got a trunk full of clothing from just about every decade she’s lived in (-save the 80s. She didn’t like the 80s…), all in pristine condition. She will play dress up with you for hours. She looks pretty good for a dead girl.

The level of nightmare depends on the person. Some little bit of humanity that clings to her insists that if she’s going to steal dreams and give nightmares, then the worst nightmares should be reserved for the worst people she encounters. Everyone needs a nightmare now and then, and she still does take dreams from average people. But sometimes, she likes to serve a little supernatural justice and scare the ever living shit out of people who simply deserve it. 

She has gone pretty much everywhere and anywhere she could in North and South America the last two hundred years. But she still has places she wants to see. Specifically: She wants to go abroad. She has a book called 1001 Places To See Before You Die and even though she is already dead, she does want to go to every single one of them. 

She is an eternal disaster pansexual. She has fallen for many a person over the years, but it’s very rare she acts on it, simply because her existence is so complicated. That, and it’s very rare that she finds someone who sees her as something lovable. After all, who loves nightmares?

#bio #taken #taken mare #taken undead #mare #undead #alisha wainwright #lucid #arranged marriage tw

[one-abuse-survivor]

Hey there, I just came here to vent a bit.

So basically, I'll just recap what's going on at home. I won't specify my age, but I am between 11 to 15 years old. My mom and dad had an arranged marriage (it's reasonably normal from what I know where I live) and have always had marital problems. My dad is also a smoker, a habit which my mom /detests/, and he also smokes substances such as weed pretty often. My mom is a little bit unstable emotionally, she's never been diagnosed with anything, but she tends to have extreme mood swings. I can remember them fighting even when I was way younger, 4 or 5 years old maybe, but I don't remember anything from before that age range, other than small flashbacks.

My mother also used to hit me, and again, physically punishing children is also sort of normal here.

Anyways, since the pandemic started, things have been getting... Heated, to say the least. It's been a slow descent of my dad getting worse and worse with his smoking. My mom doesn't like that, but now they fight more openly in front of me.

To be quite frank, I hate my parents. My mom comes running to me for comfort, and is always venting to me.

For example, around a week ago, on Saturday night, my mom fought with my dad, it was 8 pm, and her and I were getting ready to go downstairs in our apartment complex, for a walk or for me to spend time with some friends if they were downstairs. She was fighting with my dad while I was changing my clothes, and as soon as I came out of my room, she started yelling at me. After we left our house, she was yelling at me the whole elevator ride. She said I had the *my dad's last name* blood. She said some pretty hurtful things, but I can't remember it, it was all a blur. After we reached the ground floor, she started taking rounds around the apartment, and I sneaked into the staircase of the block I live in. I climbed to the second or third floor, and cried. I just cried. It hurt, and everything piled on top of each other and I hated everything so so much. Throughout this i was on this discord server of people I had met via a manga, and they were the ones who helped me actually realise how fucked up my family situation is. I kept texting. Now, near these staircases had a window halfway covered with railings, and the window was pretty long and wide, i realised i could fit through it. It even had a ledge large enough to stand on. At that moment, i genuinely wanted to hurl myself off the building. I wasn't actually going to do it, but god, it was so so tempting. My mom called, and asked why she hadn't seen me walk around the apartment. I lied and said I was walking in a certain area of the building. The minute my phone started ringing, I ran down the stairs and used some shortcuts to get to that area, and i walked a bit further. My eyes were free and puffy, i hoped no one would notice and i played some music and walked. She later went up to our horse and called me up asking if I could come get some diesel for our car. Ten minutes later she comes down and we go to our car. She tries to make small talk with me and we get to the topic of my dad. She just went on and on venting about him, saying stuff like

"At this exact turn, your father hit me last year on our anniversary night."

It went on for twenty minutes, we got to the petrol bunk and then got me ice cream.

They also never respect my personal boundaries, I am uncomfortable with hugging and kissing them, but they continuously pull me in for a tight hug and pepper my face with kisses. I hate it, and they don't seem to understand that I am very uncomfortable with it.

I get that this ask is getting rather long, but to save some space, here is a Google docs link of everything I've vented in that discord server, which is the closest thing to a safe space I have.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1bTiYdI5k_E-6HZwoR8V3rXMWBAcGPGLKg2JrLsMvHI4/edit?usp=sharing

Also, I have reached out to my school counselor, and we have weekly sessions, but I am scared that it won't end up okay, so I came here for some advice. What would you suggest I do?

Thanks for listening,

Rin.

Hey there, Rin. I'm sorry I took so long to reply! Hope you see this anyway. And please, let me know if you want me to delete this ask at any point for privacy reasons, especially because of the Google doc (and the fact you've updated it since you sent this ask). I've not read all of it, but I skimmed it, and I'm really sorry you've had to go through so much.

Your parents sound horrible, and I know you've said that hitting your children is commonplace where you live (so much so that even teachers normalise it), but I really hope you know that just because something is socially acceptable it doesn't mean it isn't abusive. I really hope you know what you're going through is emotional, physical, and verbal abuse, as well as control. You never deserved to be hit, or yelled at, or belittled, or touched when you don't want to be touched, or used as an emotional punching bag for your parents' problems. You don't deserve any of this 😔

Your ask actually reminded me a lot of how I felt when I was around 14-15, and I just really want you to know you aren't alone in your trauma and your pain, and you deserve to be taken seriously. And I also want you to know things can get better. Life won't always feel like this.

The advice I can give you right now is limited, because you're still really young and cutting out your parents/putting physical distance between you and them isn't possible at the moment. But I would definitely recommend continuing to document the things they do to you if it's safe for you to do so, and reaching out to trusted adults who can help you gain safety, like teachers and counselors. There's also the option of reaching out to your friends' parents if they're good people, or to your extended family, especially if there's anyone in it who's known for being the "black sheep" or who you know will share your beliefs that you shouldn't, you know, abuse your children.

I also want you to know that it's not your responsibility to fix your parents, or to put in the effort to make them not abusive. None of this is your fault. You don't have control over their actions or decisions; and their abuse is their decision, and not something you've caused. Please try to remember this if they make you feel like it's your fault they're yelling at you, hitting you or mistreating you in any other way.

Other than that, my advice is to just hold on. I know adulthood is still years away, and I know the idea of leaving behind a situation like this can feel extremely overwhelming, and the idea of being okay afterwards completely unfathomable. But I just want you to know you don't have to have it all figured out right now. Right now, it's enough if you just survive. Another year, another month, another day, another hour. By whatever means: whether that's venting to people you can trust or holding on to books and shows you like or anything else. Right now, surviving is enough. And, one day, you'll be able to handle the rest.

You're welcome for listening! Feel free to let me know how you're doing. Sending all my support your way ❤️

#Ask #Vent #Rin anon #Abuse #Abuse tw #physical abuse tw #Child abuse tw #Domestic violence #Arranged marriage tw #Emotional abuse tw #Abusive mother tw #Verbal abuse tw #Suicidal urge #Suicidal tw #Abusive father tw #Abusive husband tw #Abusive wife tw #Further tw for the Google doc: #Gaslighting tw #Suicide tw #Guilt tripping tw #Abuse apologism tw #Body shaming #substance abuse

[brassclaws-of-oddworld]

“On this day, a new pack is established that will flourish under the blessings of our Overlord.  Mates bound together, brought to one another by fate and by will of the Matchmakers.  Truly blessed to be chosen for bringing in a new generation to strengthen our leader’s region!”

((I’m happy that I didn’t give up on these two drawings because jfc, they were a pain!))

((The first drawing not only shows a pre-feral Steele, but also features a character that is only mentioned in the Operation: K.O. arc, Gloria/Bon-Hwa (Rocko and Steele’s former mate).  The second drawing shows that Kyung with her assigned mates, Drogon and Dio.

One of the things I was most excited about with these is the idea of contrasting body language and expressions.  With the first one, it’s genuinely very happy!  Rocko, Steele and Gloria loved each other deeply and I wanted to have it really shine through in how they’re positioned.  Meanwhile, you have the second one where all three Jimseomis are really trying to look happy, but not doing well at it.  I feel like it speaks for itself with their facial expressions, but I’ll also leave a hint-- The imbalance of distance, and the way their holding each others paws.))

((Time for some lore about the often hinted Northwest region of Jimseo.  These Mate-Binding Ceremonies are essentially their weddings.  The concept of husband and wife (or husbands and wives), are obsolete and not really used because once a fertile female Jimseomi is bound to her mates, the groups are sent off to an isolated city of some sorts where the Jimseomi eggs are mass produced before being sent off to other places.  Similar to how Industrialists have Mudokon Queens enslaved to mass produce labor eggs... But under much more inhumane living conditions.  But that’s a whole other thing for later.))

#((ooc)) #[Mun's Art] #[Musings] #[The Loverboys] #[Kyung] #oddworld fan species #oddworld #oddworld ocs #oddtumblr #arranged marriage tw #((I feel like this tw still applies)) #[TL; Operation: K.O.]

[ofcommonrooms]

" angels would damn themselves for me "

( renée rapp, 19, cis woman, she&her ) hey, is that NARCISSA BLACK wandering the halls without a companion? the FIFTH YEAR is getting bold. and here I thought the SLYTHERIN was always more confident, intelligent, & protective. but then they are also known to be conceited, self-centered, & aloof, so maybe that makes sense. these hard times are enough to change anybody, I suppose. and did you hear people are saying they’re in THE KNIGHTS? rumors fly when people are cooped up.  here, I’ll show you — NARCISSA always reminded me of the glimmer of sun reflecting off a mirror, black patent stilettos, powder on the end of a brush, earl grey tea, vanilla beans, pressed flowers, a music box with a squeaky hinge charmed to be perfect, the scent of an old book, French music, Latin books, tulle skirts, starry nights, satin dresses, pressed flowers, a silver dagger hidden a garter belt and I’ve heard THAT VAPID PERSONALITY SHE WEARS SO WELL IS A FACADE. let’s hope the PUREBLOOD doesn’t get attacked by the beast. or let’s at least hope that rumor doesn’t get back to them before they do.

------ graphic credit | @sorberts [ HERE ]

CONTENT WARNING(S) FOR THIS SECTION: SNAKES

full name ;; narcissa irma black

age ;; 19

house ;; slytherin

boggart ;; narcissa would love to say that it was something almighty and selfless, but her boggart takes the shape of herself, in absolutely deplorable conditions. ratty hair, dirt on her nose, clothing in pieces. she's worked her entire life to cling to her family's fortune - nothing scared her more than losing it.

patronus ;; on the exceedingly rare occasion that she produces a Patronus, it takes the form of a snake.

favorite spell ;; Petrificus Totalus - a relatively consequence free way of getting the last word. Just petrify them! However, she's also a fan of passing notes in class using Aparecium.

amortentia ;; a field of daffodils, the air of the Amalfi Coast and Lucius' cologne 'the pasta her nanny made when she was a child.'

wand ;; 

—- wood ; elm wood | Elm wands prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity. Of all wand woods, elm, in my experience, produces the fewest accidents, the least foolish errors, and the most elegant charms and spells; these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced magic in the right hands (which makes it highly desirable to those who espouse the pure blood philosophy).

—- core ; phoenix tail feather | This is one of the rarest core types. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn hair or dragon heartstring cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike.

—- length ; 10 inches

playlist ;; [ HERE ]

pinboard ;; [ HERE ]

Content Warnings for this Section: PARENTAL CONFLICT / ARRANGED MARRIAGE / SEXISM

It was cold the day Narcissa Irma Black was brought into the world. It seemed prophetic, almost, noting the icy heart the girl would grow to have. She came out quietly, without too many cries and even as the Healers washed her off gently she was soft. Soft in her appearance - surprising blonde hair which was a stark difference to that of her sisters and parents and cheeks that held a blush of their own and would for the years to come. Soft in her expression - equal parts afraid and curious at once. Soft in her noises - small baby coos passed her plump pink lips as the last of the blood was wiped off of her body. Upon the announcement that Druella Black had given birth to another girl, Cygnus chose to turn the other way, storming towards his office rather than in to meet his daughter. Yet Druella held Narcissa Black in her arms, staring at her with a plan sparkling behind her eyes. She could barely even open her own eyes by the time her mother was planning the future her little girl would have. Because power, overt and strong like that which Cygnus so desperately wanted, was important. But an understated power - the kind that came with being underestimated while simultaneously being placed on a pedestal - that was what the dark-haired woman saw when she looked into the soft eyes of her daughter. 

And that was exactly what Narcissa Black became. Molding herself into the strict and unbending expectations her mother had for her. She sat there while her hair was curled and allowed her outfits to be chosen for her. She curtsied and nodded as was deemed necessary and as her mother had predicted, the pedestal she built for her youngest daughter seemed as high as she'd hoped it would be. The problem with being held up so high is that there is a very long way to fall, and while the Pureblood society practically idolized the gorgeous girl, many were waiting for her to crumble. But there were many conversations between Druella and her prodigal daughter. Conversations where she continued drilling into her how good she was. How she was perfect and beautiful and that the world wasn't going to be ready for the powerhouse she could be beneath curled eyelashes and pretty pink polished nails.

As she entered Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat exclaimed "SLYTHERIN" before being placed on her head. And she knew, of course she knew that's where she'd be. Everyone in Hogwarts knew that's where she'd be. What they didn't know, what nobody knew, was the monster of a girl she hid behind her demure facade. The girl inside knew how much she was worth and she knew that if she used her strengths as well as her mother had taught her to she would be unstoppable. And her mother had taught her well. So well, in fact, that Cygnus Black himself stood impressed before his daughter at times, listening as she spoke clearly and concisely, reaching points with a kind of precision that was hard to find even in skilled politicians and socialites. Being the youngest daughter brought no extra praise from the man, but having the skills he would have valued in a son did earn at least a bit of his respect. So she tried and tried and kept trying. Her sisters, Bellatrix and Andromeda, were the two most important things in her life and the reason she tried so hard. It was the only way she could think of to protect the two of them, because if she met every standard Druella tried pushing on her, perhaps that would keep her from pushing those impossible pressures onto Narcissa's sisters. And maybe she wasn't strong in a lot of ways but she'd always been strong in that way, not only meeting but exceeding the dreams Druella had for her. 

It came as a surprise to no one when it was announced she would be marrying Lucius Malfoy. Since birth they'd known, honestly. The two beautiful well-mannered Purebloods whose children would be beautiful - why wouldn't they end up together? Why would she be able to make her own decisions when she never had before? But Narcissa had always given her all to the things she was told to do, following the rules she was given without a second thought. She never stopped to think of the impact it may have on her future, because of her mother told her to do it she would do it. So she abandoned the ideas of the fairytales she'd hidden beneath her floorboard as a child. Abandoned the idea that she might be the princess who gets her prince one day. After all, she told herself every morning as she slid her lip gloss on, she was already a princess. At least that's what everyone told her she was. 

O N E ;; In evenings of utmost desperation, Narcissa sometimes delves into her collection of Muggle fairytales. She hides them in a box beneath a blanket beneath a hex that hides it from sight, beneath her floorboards. She wasn't sure growing up whether she would ever have a happy ending, so filling that void with imaginary tales of Cinderella and Rapunzel made that an easier truth to swallow.

T W O ;; Narcissa can speak 6 different languages, and understand 10. Growing up, Druella instructed her that men don't like smart women, society will always underestimate you, let them, stand idly by in rooms where conversations are being held and listen, because they won't see you as enough of a threat or concern to hold their tongues. So, while she may consciously fail an answer or two in History of Magic, she has spent her entire life learning languages to eavesdrop on conversations that important people assumed her too daft to digest.

T H R E E ;; When things start to become harrowing, Narcissa studies Healing in secret. I've always imagined that the Malfoy Manor becomes somewhat of a safe house for the side of the Purebloods, and have a vivid image of one of the Knights of Walpurgis lying injured on one of their kitchen counters as Narcissa Heals them, due to her steadfast loyalty to her friends, and streak of protectiveness.

F O U R ;; Narcissa is incredibly skilled at Occlumency, and has been practicing since she was a First Year. While she's not as good at Legilimency, she's starting to study that. This HC is based off of the fact that on multiple occasions it's implied that her mind was unable to be breached by Voldemort.

F I V E ;; Narcissa has been a ballet dancer since she was young - another obligation Druella pushed her into (it's distinguished, Narcissa, it's impressive, it's something that wealthy families pride themselves on), but this was one that Narcissa dearly loved. After a particularly impressive recital, Druella gifted her a music box with a ballerina in it that's charmed to dance independently whenever the box is opened, and "sleeps" whenever the box is shut.

LUCIUS ;; The pair has been 'betrothed' since childhood. A match made in heaven for the couple's parents, surely. Growing up, the visual of her parents' marriage was loveless at best, so Narcissa braced herself for a future just the same. However, Narcissa nursed a schoolgirl crush on the boy as a child, unsure if it was genuine, or manifested out of wishful thinking. As time has gone by, Narcissa can confidently say - not due to any desperation to actually love the man she was set to marry - she'd fallen hard. Until Draco is born, he's the most important person in her life.

BELLATRIX & ANDROMEDA ;; Dynamics tbd !

BEST FRIEND ;; A close confidant, someone to paint her nails with in their dorm and gossip about other people until late into the night. She's very guarded, and likely wouldn't bare all of her qualms to this person, but she still feels closer to them than most.

PROTECTORS ;; I always imagine that some of the other Knights of Walpurgis are somewhat protective of Narcissa? When you earn her loyalty, it's truly undying, so if there are any Knights who want to be a little guard dog, please know you will also be receiving Very Mean Chihuahua Narcissa who's ready to pounce on anyone who wrongs you, as well (though sometimes that's exactly what gets her in these situations where she needs a little backup)

ARCH NEMESIS ;; Okay, maybe that's a little dramatic, but the pair bickers nonstop - this person probably bests Narcissa in just about every subject and might just hold that over her head, which causes Narcissa to steam because she's 'so much smarter than any of these stupid people even realize' - drama and pettiness ensures

#petrifyintro #( intro | narcissa ) #( narcissa | you're like snow. beautiful but cold. ) #snake tw #sexism tw #parental issues tw #arranged marriage tw

[xdilararslanx]

[cis woman, she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [DILARA ARSLAN]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [CEMRE BAYSEL]. You must be the [TWENTY-FIVE] year old [SMOOTHIE BARISTA AT TUTTIE FRUITTIE]. Word is you’re [OPTIMISTIC] but can also be a bit [NAIVE] and your favorite song is [BIGGER PERSON BY LAURA SPENCER SMITH]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [AURORA BAY TOWERS]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

Dilara was the youngest of four in the Arslan family; her two brothers and one sister.

There were different expectations from each of them growing up, somehow none of them being on the same level as the other.

The oldest, he was meant to take over the family business, the second was to be the next in command and her sister was meant to build relationships with other families.

As for her? She was the one in the dark, the one who constantly had a romance book in her hand and dreamed about the day someone would love her the way Noah loved Allie.

At least, her mindset was only shaded like that for so long. When she turned sixteen, the eldest brother died. Of course, the cause was something she was never allowed to understand but it put her father into overdrive. He was pushing up the wedding her sister was being connected too.

One night her sister came into her room and told her to pack her bags, the two of them were leaving and nothing was going to stop them so she packed her stuff and followed her sister to America.

She finished school there. She spent a few years jumping from job to job until her passion came to light.

She applied for Aurora Bay College. She was recently accepted for the Fall semester so she dragged her sister to this little beach town and is excited to see where the future goes.

connections ;

anything from the age of sixteen to now since she did live in other places for a while (pretty open to where)

and just give me all your babies for her to love down here since she's new (:

#aurorabay.intro #death tw #arranged marriage tw

[cerikartal]

✦ BAHAR SAHIN, FEMALE, SHE/HER ✦ CEREN KARTAL the TWENTY-SIX year old has been in Hidehill for NINE YEARS and was an ADJACENT COLLEAGUE to Jade Parker, the missing  first murder victim. Whispers on the streets are that the KINDERGARTEN TEACHER AT HIDE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL who lives in HIDE SQUARE. She is said to be BUBBLY and SELF-DOUBTING  but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves. { SIE, 28, CST, SHE/HER. }

MINI BIOGRAPHY

she was born in Ankara, Turkey into a big family where she was a middle child with two older siblings and three younger siblings. she often helped her mom and her older siblings take care of the three younger ones, which is how she learned she has a caregiver’s heart and natural maternal instinct. she’ll care about you even if she met you five seconds ago.

their father was always working and rarely ever home so she learned everything about life from her mother. it was ingrained in her that a woman’s place is in the home — running the household, caring for the children, and making sure a meal was ready whenever father came home. from a early age, she knew one day she’d like to get married and have a big family. 

being a middle child, she sort of felt like Jan from The Brady Bunch as she felt she mainly went unseen and unnoticed and struggled to find her own way of belonging in her own family. she was often the mediator among her siblings, especially the younger ones. she often felt like a ‘secondary mother’ to her younger siblings as she often helped them with homework, made sure they got ready for school in the morning, etc. 

it was when she was a teenager that she saw her father’s anger for the first time against her mother and realized the marriage she idolized was not perfect. it was also around this time that her father wanted to arrange a marriage with her and his friend’s son. this son was a spoiled kid who acted like an entitled asshole because he had everything handed to him.  there were a ton of red flags that told her she’d be in an abusive marriage just like her parents.

she is a dutiful daughter, who didn’t want to face her father’s wrath, so she would go through with the wedding but she spent many nights leading up to the wedding crying in secret with her mother and older sisters. on the night before the wedding, her mother came and told her to pack their bags. she refused to see the same cycle happen to her daughter so they both boarded a plane for the States and never looked back. her mother’s parting gift was signed divorce papers.

they ended up in Hidehill, Nashville, TN and Ceri worked as a server at the late night slice while she got her GED and also while she was going to university to get her teaching certificate. she applied for citizenship as soon as she could and hasn’t talked to her family since she got on that plane roughly nine years ago. sadly, her mother was involved in a fatal car accident two years ago on the highway and now Ceri is left to navigate the rest of her life on her own.

she got a position as one of the kindergarten teachers shortly after graduation and has been teaching for nearly four years now. she loves children and her students call her Miss K and she loves being the one who helps build the foundational blocks for them to succeed in school. 

#hidehillintro #abuse tw #car accident tw #arranged marriage tw #just in case

[konigsblog]

more arranged marriage between reader and farmer!könig, please? 🌝❤️

tw: arranged marriage au, rape/non-con, forced impregnation and breeding. dead dove: do not eat. 18+ tell me if i missed anything. 🔞

your parents knew it was harsh to arrange a marriage with the farmer of the village, although, they cared more about his money and wealth and status around the village, how you'd be viewed as his pretty, little wife, respected and admired by those around you.

that's what they want you to believe — that it's for your own sake — but, a part of you is aware that they're doing this for könig's money, as he pays them to keep you by his side. for könig, this is everything he's wanted, whilst you avoid him like the plague and dismiss every attempt when he tries having sex with you.

farmer-könig spends ages on the field, harvesting the fruits and vegetables whilst you hide inside, ignoring your arranged husband. könig attempts to please you, to make you happy, but eventually, he's left without a choice but to take the old-fashioned route and have his way with you regardless...

he'd drug you, get you intoxicated enough where your mind is easily shaped and you're a pliant plaything for him to use for an hour or so, his obedient wife waiting on him, to be torn apart and pierced with his hung, musky cock. the smell of his sweat and musk was a scent you were all too familiar with, smelling it on him after he'd arrived home from the farm, sweat running down his forehead. you could smell it against his neck as he lowered himself onto you, his weight holding you down and the scent of alcohol coming from your breath.

his large and calloused hands began moving as he wasted no time at getting what he pleased and yearned for. könig's fingers ran up your back, unclasping your bra and removing it to see what he craved, the essence of your sweet arousal leaving könig insatiable and hungry. he couldn't wait any longer, as he gripped your breast firmly and began to suckle at your hardened nub, your nipple perky, hardening as he rolled his tongue around it. you mewled and moaned drunkenly, cunt leaving your panties wet, huffing and puffing with confusion, and your drunkenness leaving you exhausted and weak.

his other hand began to sink into your panties, and into your sopping wet hole. he could already feel how slick you were, along with how tight you were — he almost felt guilty for doing this, knowing you'd be aching and in agony the entire time — but, his dick weeped and twitched inside his boxers as he rolled his bulge against your clothed cunt. his lips popped off from your nipple, your eyes wide as the cold air against your sore nipple, causing goosebumps to spread along your body, and the wet sounds of your pleasure audible as he thrusted his calloused, thick fingers inside your cunt.

his fingers began to pull your panties down, revealing that glossy cunt that he longed for — that he dreamed and fantasised about. the slickness looked delicious to könig, who couldn't help but free his large cock from his boxers, springing out and hitting his lower, muscular abdomen as he began to push inside, one hand gripping his base and the other spreading your slit open for easy access. your folds latched onto him almost instantly, eyes wide with shock at the ache and pleasure between your thighs, the force of his meaty girth leaving tears rolling down your cheeks.

your chest rose and fell quickly, back arched at the throbbing sensation of his thick dick pushing deep inside of you. könig couldn't control himself as he felt himself grow and drool inside of you, tip leaking with pearly, milky beads of arousal, your eyes glistening with tears at the painful stretch and uneasiness. something was nagging you that this wasn't what you wanted, that something was wrong — yet, you ignored these messages and signals running through you, his hands on your wrist restraining you as he fucked himself hard into your hole, thrusts becoming merciless and sore, the tip nuzzling against your cervix.

tears ran down your face at the sight of your cunny swollen and stuffed with his hot, bulbous cock, heaving and looking around dizzily, feeling the sudden sensation of his tip spurting into you, weeping hot loads of his milky arousal into your pussy, with the hopes of impregnating you.

it's not as if you could stay away from him whilst pregnant; you would need guidance, support... everything was working the way he wanted it to go, and poor you, left defenceless, with his potent seed filling your cunt ‘til a bulge formed in your stomach. :(

#orla speaks #arranged marriage au #tw: rape #tw: non con #tw: forced breeding #tw: forced impregnation #tw: forced pregnancy #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #tw: dark content #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x you #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig mwii #konig smut #könig smut #könig x y/n #konig cod #konig call of duty

[greywoodrpg]

𝕖𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕨𝕪 𝕛𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕘

appears as though she was born thirty-seven years ago but is actually sixty, she is a faerie who lives in mystic grove as a caretaker of the butterfly house & botanical gardens at lachelle historic house museum, and is in no fantasy. she looks an awful lot like gemma chan.

“Have courage, dear heart, for there is nothing to be afraid of and never has been.”

tw: dysfunctional family, arranged marriage

She was born in peace times, when prosperity was high, and decades of bloodshed were seemingly over. The Monarch Kingdom celebrated for years over the birth of Eilonwy, first pure child of the king and queen of the Spring Lands, eyes as black as night and wings dappled with the fiery orange that told everyone what dynasty she came from. From that moment on, she was raised with poise and decorum, sent to inherit what hundreds before her had built as rightful queen. It seemed nothing would hinder her further ascent to greatness but, there was one thing Eilonwy hadn't banked on - another child born. Her certainly wasn't planned, taking many by surprise but, now their was a male heir, something her father had always wanted. Eilonwy was so quickly sidelined when he came along she barely had time to adjust, the young crown princess suddenly just a princess. Everything that had been promised to her was taken away the older she grew, and instead given to her brother.

Resentment grew in her, darkening her heart, causing her to reject him and often take off on her own. Eilonwy became somewhat ignored by the parents and people who had once adored her, and found her happiness in other places, travelling the fae realms and finding friends in the folk and creatures that lived there.

A long life slowly passed her by until the rot came. Pollution, many claimed, leaking in from the human realm where natural life was nearly all but destroyed. It ate at flowers and trees, drove fae and their kin to madness as it corrupted their wings and caused them to fall of. The Spring Lands were not the first to witness this yet, were the first kingdom to really feel it's affects on such a large scale - when her family realised that it wasn't going away and simply spreading, they questioned what they could do to save themselves.

Eilonwy was the key. A neighbouring kingdom, far enough to allow the butterfly fae to live and escape the destruction the pollution was causing. There was a catch, of course, for the place where they were to move was an old enemy, and the raven king wasn't so keen to have past enemies amongst his people. The peace offering made was Eilonwy's hand in marriage, to be his wife. It wasn't what she wanted but, the woman knew duty came first, always had. Thus, the two strangers were wed.

Her husband was not unkind, didn't seem that way, probably just as scared as she felt. It was him that suggested a honeymoon period in the human realm, a place Eilonwy had always been to afraid to go alone to. The pair spent it in a tranquil forest with a nearby pool, a blissful first night of marriage.

And when she awoke the next morning, she was alone, and unable to return to the fae realm. What Eilonwy didn't know was that fae blood feuds were not so easily solved by marriage, and that the grudge was still heavily bared. Now alone, Eilonwy had to fend for herself in the human world, and eventually found Greywood on her travels somewhere safe, holing up in the public gardens for many years.

“what power did she attain when settling in greywood?”

Eilonwy had always been blessed with a gifted voice, however since entering the world of humans it seems to allow her to talk to all creatures of the land.

penned by... mina

#supernatural rp #town rp #oc rp #literate rp #mature rp #horror rp #gemma chan fc #faerie #taken #dysfunctional family tw #arranged marriage tw

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1272

CW: arranged marriage, betrayal.

The human cried, an endless stream of tears soaking into their pillow. "H-How could they?" they sobbed, "How could they do that?!"

It had been barely half an hour since Human's parents had told them of a secret they'd been hiding for years. The human had only now found out that their soul had been sold to a demon before they were even born.

They couldn't fathom it. How could their parents do such a thing to them? To condemn them so shamelessly... And all for what? A bunch of riches and gold that made them feel special? Pathetic.

Human had always known something was wrong; the disconnect their parents had toward them. They should've run while they still had the chance. They should have--

"H-Hey! Hey! It's okay!" a familiar voice echoed from the shadows, its owner's mere presence enough to soothe the human's cries. The creature emerged from the darkest corner of the room and floated over. "Everything will be alright."

"You don't know that..." Human sniffled, burying their face in the bedsheets.

"I... do, actually," the monster said, gaining their friend's attention. "I... wasn't supposed to tell you, but the demon that owns your soul... is actually my dad."

"W-What...?" The human sat up, confused. A hint of betrayal crossed their features. "Was all of this fake then? A-All the years we've spent growing up together in secret?"

"N-No! No! I promise you're still my friend!" the monster hurried to explain themself. "I just... My dad is really old, so he went about things his own way, and uh...

"And when I was born - a year before you - he wanted to ensure that I'd have a, uhm... a bride..." Monster was muttering awkwardly now, unsure how to make this sound reasonable. "And I may have gone against his orders and met you earlier than I was meant to..."

Human took a moment to process everything. "So... your dad is some ancient, powerful demon..."

"Yes."

"And he wanted my soul... so he could make me marry you?"

The monster hunched over themself nervously. "Y-Yes..."

"Okay."

"I-I know you don't want-- Huh?" Monster cut themself off, surprised.

The human smiled at them. "This is... still a lot, but at least I get to marry my best friend instead of... being doomed to eternal servitude or something."

"So you're... fine with this?" the monster asked just to be sure and received a nod. "Alright... So, platonic marriage?"

Human grinned and held out their hand as if to make a deal. "Platonic marriage."

#writeblr #writing #writing prompt #short prompt #monster fucker #terato #human x monster #demon x human #smuwfy #some messed up writing for you #tw: arranged marriage #tw: betrayal

[emjiroki]

Back to arranged marriage! Gojo

As much as he might be overly confident and unfairly handsome, he's completely out of his element on your wedding night. Even though he was in his twenties, he had yet to be with anyone the way he was going to be with you now. The vow to "stay pure until your marriage" didn't really mean much to him but it's the fact that he had made a promise to you that made him stick to it.

So when the wedding night comes and he's got you spread out under him on the bed, the sight of your naked body sending fire burning through his veins, he's unsure of himself for probably the first time in his life. And you know the moment he casts his ethereal blue eyes to you in an almost pleading manner, so you shift your legs up around his waist and lay a soft hand against his cheek.

"Just take it slow".

He nods with a deep breath, positioning himself before popping the head past your entrance. It's a snug fit that nearly sends all of the air rushing from his lungs as you dig your nails into his shoulders, whining and squirming as his hands held your hips.

You gave a quiet shriek as he tore through your virgin wall, his hips stilling as you adjust to the intrusion and he kisses away the tears leaking down your cheeks. But he can't help but feel... prideful? Victorious? Triumphant? All of those wrapped into one as your blood stains his cock. You're his. Only his. No one would ever be with you like this, feel connecting to you like this. That was a high he could ride for the rest of his life. Along with the high of feeling your tight cunt fully squeeze around him for the first time.

Satoru barely recognized his own voice as he wreathed and panted and cried out for you, drool running from his lips as he fucked into you. God he was trying to go slow, he really was, but when you were sucking him in like that and practically milking his cock it was impossible. He'd never felt anything as incredible as you cumming around his sensitive dick before and it was more than enough to drag a strangled moan from his chest as he pumped you full, thick spurts of virgin cum filling your insides to the brim. Before you know it he's got you on top of him, your nipple in his mouth as he thrusts his still leaking cock up against your sensitive pussy as he whines.

"Can we go again? Please?"

#i need this out of my brain before bed #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #tw arranged marriage #arranged marriage gojo #em talks 👄 #late night ramblings 🌙 #tw loss of virginity

[the-grimm-writer]

Arranged marriage au with Shoto. He’s quiet, barely even having a conversation with you since you first met a few months ago. And he always has a cold, stoic look on his face that makes you believe that he hates you. You would understand if he did, you weren’t exactly thrilled about the arrangement yourself. 

tw: noncon, forced marriage, breeding kink, shoto really needs to learn how to communicate lmao. fem reader. everyone is 18+!

The marriage itself was beautiful, everything that money could buy. He didn’t touch you like a part of you was expecting him to, or even make you sleep in bed with him. He let you go wherever you want, sleep wherever, and he never asked for anything in return. He offered you everything, luxurious clothes, only the top of the line, sports cars, jewelry. 

But none of that made you happy. 

It felt like you were more roommates and for months you had no idea that he was only trying to make you comfortable. After all, he never wanted to be like his father. But the longer he waited, the more he watched you begin to drift away instead of moving closer to him the way he wants you to, he feels himself starting to crack. 

He didn’t want to be in a loveless marriage, he wasn’t an abusive husband. So why were you seeking comfort in another man’s arms. You were laughing and hugging him, a bright smile that he’d never seen from you before. 

It made jealousy bubble up inside him, made him want to act like the way most of his family would and burn him alive, and fuck you in front of him.

But Shoto was a good man, and he could think of thousands of ways to punish you without being like his father.

You're surprised to see him sitting on the comforter. “Who was that?” 

“Who is who?” You asked confused, about to walk past when he sets down his drink and grabs your wrist. 

“The man that was talking to my wife.” 

Your eyes go wide. “Oh. He’s a childhood friend of mine. He’s nothing to be worried about.” 

“I’m worried about any man that thinks he can talk to my wife.” He stood up. “I tried doing this the best way I thought. But I understand now that I didn’t think it through very well.” 

Sniffling, you looked up at him. “No, you’re not a good husband, Shoto. I didn’t even know you liked me until now.” 

“You’re right.” He stands up, looking down at you. “A good husband provides for his wife. Loves her, spoils her.” He looked down at you and you shivered. “Makes her scream with pleasure, gives her a family.” 

You’re backed up into a wall, and he corners you. His hand reaches out, his thumb running down your lips. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs softly. “But I’ve been avoiding my husbandly duties for far too long.” 

“Shoto no -” You try to speak up but he cuts you off the moment he takes off his belt. 

“(Y/n),” he said your name so lovingly, in a way that you always wanted to hear. “I think we’re overdo for our honeymoon.”

-

He holds onto you gently, licking your tears away and gently thrusting into you, nearly collapsing from how good it feels to finally be inside you. 

His moans are soft, but he’s still significantly more vocal than he usually is. He rubs your clit gently, making you wine with pleasure. Every time it sends him closer to the edge. 

Shoto thinks about how good of a mother you’ll be. How gorgeous you’ll look with your tummy round and breasts full. It’s in his nature to be rough, but the first night of lovemaking he focuses all on you. Making sure every thrust gives you a burst of pleasure, hearing you mewl and not know if you’re begging him for one more time to cum.

It’s a miracle that he held himself back for so long, that he never saw the way your eyes almost roll to the back of your head and your body trembles every time he makes you orgasm. The look of shock as he fills you up, your tummy warm with his seed. 

Poor you. You thought that having a loveless marriage was bad. 

Now he wants this. Every single day. 

#sorry i haven't been very active lately so have this ehe #grimm thirsts #yandere shoto #yandere todoroki #yandere shoto todoroki #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #tw noncon #tw arranged marriage #tw breeding kink

[diejager]

If you might be taking requests at all, I was wondering if you'd be up for the idea of a fic with sleazy König or Ghost in an arranged marriage to the reader. Reader isn't quite happy with the marriage, but they are. It could be dark or cute, but I'd love to read a fic about an arranged marriage where reader is completely against it meanwhile their new husband is not. They've been hoping to marry reader for a while and now that they have, reader is all theirs in more ways than one. Scares off any men reader tries to date on the side and is hell bent on showing their lovely spouse that this marriage is perfect and that they truly do belong together.

Sleazy husband!König Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, sleazy!König, arranged marriage, age difference/gap, scent kink, crusty balls, hairy König, tell me if I missed any.

König was a family friend, someone you’d seen a few times in your life, but had heard of many, many times that he was a commodity in your life, a subject you became familiar with without actually knowing the man. You’d caught glimpses of the giant when you accompanied your father to the military base for a quick visit, how he towered over you as a child and even more so now that you were an adult in your early 20s. You thought him an acquaintance, a trusted friend of your father, but you’d never thought of him in any other light. You saw him as someone dedicated to his duty, prideful and hungry for power and money, unbeatable and strong with his broad shoulders and gigantic stature. You wouldn’t have anything to do with him in your life, seeing how he barely glanced your way when you crossed path, he dutifully ignored you every time as if you were a plague.

And yet, you found yourself married to him; an arranged marriage. The colonel who avoided you and never seemed to like you had a private marriage with only your immediate family and a few men and women from the Company assisting to watch him embrace and take you home. A home you had no recollection of and were a stranger to. It wasn’t his flat, or the studio apartment you went to with your father. This big house was new and old, a newly bought house in with fresh paint and untouched furniture, in an old Austrian land with a beautiful and lush forest surrounding it. You didn’t even know the man, but you were married to him so quickly - in a month’s worth - that you were still too shell shocked to do anything about it. 

How could your mother and father agree to it so easily? To marry you off to someone you didn’t know. Then you remembered how close your father and he was, life companions that had fought battles together, bled for one another and would die to save the other. That was the reason you were promised without your consent or knowledge until it was too late. 

“Mein Herzchen,” he rasps, peering down at you, cold blues glowing under the darkness of his hood, “Come.”

König - your husband - was a man of few words, but wouldn’t stop talking if he found the right topic to touch, speaking your ears off about it. There were a lot you didn’t know about him, a mystery you didn’t dare try figuring out, but were forced to. You learned he was a dirty and immoral man, to have you marry him despite him being almost twice your age. He could’ve been your uncle, a man who’s age was near your fathers. You learned that he liked jerking himself to the sight of your open pantie drawers, an unwashed and stolen lace pressed into his face, the soft gusset pressed into his mouth and nose as he huffed and growled. You were repulsed by it, finally understanding why some of your underwearswere slightly crusty. 

You learned that he never shaved after your first night, consummating your marriage in the bed you later slept on. You were shocked to find that his chest and arms were as hairy as the tuff around his cock, wild and unruly, a messy bush crawling up his abdomen and spiraling around his chest and covering his paler tint in auburn brown. You learned that he never showered after a sweaty and stinky work out, his musk stinking up the house wherever he went and that he loved pressing you against his naked and sticky chest, smothering you in his thick smell that nearly had you gagging and choking. You couldn’t find the words to describe a man like König, as big and burly as he was hairy and smelly, he was unmoving in his resolve and liked to touch you whenever he wanted to, whether you liked it or not, his word was law.

Your husband was a sleazy man and you couldn’t do anything about it, the golden bound diamond ring on your finger was more so a chain than a wonderful promise.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #Sleazy!konig #Sleazy!könig #konig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader #dead dove do not eat #tw: dark content #dark cod #dark content #tw: dub con #tw noncon #arranged marriage #scent kink #Stinky!könig #Stinky!konig #tw: age gap #age difference

[wardenparker]

The King's Queen - chapter 1

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 8.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Illness, cancer. Summary: Javi is given some unexpected and unwelcome news from his father - meanwhile you receive the phone call that you have been waiting for for your entire life. Notes: As always, we do our best to infuse some Spanish into the dialogue when our stories call for it, but neither Keri nor I are fluent by any means. If you see an error let us know, but kindness counts!

The day began, as so many do, with a knock on the door. The palace had stirred to life hours ago, bustling staff all going about their business and, breakfast served and cleared away again, appointments kept, and meetings held. Business, as they say, booms this morning at Castel del Ocaso. The only person not yet risen, it seems, is the crowned prince.

And so his day begins with a knock. A gentle one. There is no need to jar the man into reality cruelly. His valet has a tray with his breakfast so that the kitchen could move on with their duties for the day, and an urgent message from the prince's father. Which is, if one was to ask the valet, the only reason for waking the prince at what is already a late hour. When he stirs at the opening of the windows, the valet clears his throat and sets the tray down on the broad bedside table. “There is a message this morning, your Highness.” The valet tells the bleary-eyed prince quietly. “His Majesty would like to see you in his chambers after you are dressed.”

Groaning, Javi looks over at the clock, well aware that the staff knew that he was to sleep in. It’s a rare night that he is up until the early morning hours and today had been blocked out of his schedule as a recovery day. “What is going on?”

“I only know that your father has asked for you.” Sometimes the king’s staff would impart more details or relay why his Majesty needed a particular thing or requested a particular presence, but this was not one of those times. Indicating the tray laden with croissants, marmalade, yoghurt, and fresh fruit alongside a strong cortado, the prince’s valet offers an apologetic smile. “Would you prefer to take breakfast before dressing?”

“No—” Javi sits up and groans, closing his eyes again at the throbbing in his skull. “Yes.”

The man says nothing at first, but hides a private smile as he hands the prince his coffee before going to his closet to choose clothing for the day. “Was your evening enjoyable, sire?” He asks, always preferring to have the temperature - so to speak - of the royal family each day. There had been shouting from the king’s chambers this morning.

“Too much so.” Javi is desperately grateful for the coffee and he takes a sip with a sigh before reaching for his bottle of aspirin from the bedside table. He had anticipated celebrating too hard and wanted to be prepared. “I am getting too old for all night parties.”

“Then we will simply begin celebrations earlier in the day, I expect.” The prince’s birthday is always a series of extravagances, and this year had been no exception.

“Yes.” Hissing, Javi gingerly crawls out of the bed. “I will shower first.”

“Very good, your Highness.” With a nod, the valet lays out clothes for the day and is gone again, leaving the prince to ready himself to see his father.

******

It takes Javi an hour to shower, dress and make his way to his father’s quarters, frowning slightly as he knocks on the door at the raised voices inside.

“¿Quién es esto?” The king’s deep voice grumbles from inside, obviously irritable. When the doors open a moment later to admit the new arrival, the king is fairly growling and ousts the others from the room. The last to leave is the doctor, sparing a last glance at the king before excusing him to say good morning to the prince as he retreats.

“Javier.” Gruff as he can be, the bedraggling king sighs and waves his son inside. “Come in.”

“You wished to see me?” There is a tenuous relationship between the king and his only son but Javi loves the gruffer man, even if he does not always understand him.

“I wish to speak with you.” He glances at the footman standing near the door. “Alone.” As soon as his son steps inside the door is shut securely behind him and the king smothers a deeper sigh. Standing is quite painful this morning, but since lying down and sitting are, too, he does not move yet. “I sent for the doctor last week. About the pain in my stomach.” Which no one, save extremely close family members, knows about. “He came back to me with answers this morning.”

“Sí?” Javi strides closer to his father, a worried frown creasing his brow. It is not good news if his father is asking to speak to him privately. It is rare that at least his cousin Lucas is not in attendance. Fear and dread coils in his own stomach and the breakfast he had threatens to make a reappearance.

There is no other way to do this, for a man of King Miguel’s temperament, than to do as the Americans say and rip the Band-Aid off. “Javier,” he motions for his son to come closer, not wanting to have to raise his voice and be heard by someone passing in the hall of the drafty medieval palace. “It is cancer.” Which was his worst fear. His fear as a ruler and his fear as the father of a son he is not certain is ready to take his place. “It came on quickly, and spread just as fast.” He tries to hide a wince as best he can, pressing a hand over his aching side as though the disease can hear him speak of it. Laying down may not be any less painful than standing, but it does relieve a bit of pressure, so he lies down again gingerly. “They have given me a few months at most.”

“No.” Javi shakes his head and gives a nervous chuckle. His father is king. He is invincible, always seeming so large to Javi, even now. “No, they are wrong. They have to be wrong.” He blinks, fighting the tears that would be ‘unbecoming’ a future ruler.

“It is always possible for doctors to be wrong.” He would be a fool and a liar to claim otherwise, but Miguel shakes his head. “However, the pain I feel is not a lie. And we must act as though they are correct, in case they are.” He sighs again, clearing his throat to hide pain from his face. Despite the characterization of their relationship as adversarial by the European press at points in Javier’s life, Miguel truly does want the best for his son. It is why he has done what he has done. Made the arrangements that he has made. “Thirty-five is a good age for a king, Javier. Old enough to have some sense but young enough to make the people feel the invigoration of youth.”

The age-old argument of not wanting to be king doesn’t even slip out of his mouth like it normally would. He can’t. Not when his father is lying in a bed looking much older than he had just the day before. Javi realizes how much pain the older man has been hiding from the world. “Sí.” Javi nods. “You have been a good king papá, the people will miss your guidance.”

Surprised at the lack of protest from his only child, the king pats the mattress beside him, hoping for this conversation to go smoothly. He knows Javier would not choose this life if he had the option - but there is no option. Second in line to the throne is his odious nephew Lucas and if that remained his only option, he would sooner find a way to pass the throne directly to Lucas’s new wife. Gabriela may not have royal blood but at least she has a decent mind behind that lovely face. “Steps will have to be taken, mijo. I will have to abdicate. You will have your coronation. And you will also need a queen.”

Javi frowns sadly, aware that the one woman he had wanted his for queen was now married to his cousin. “You took away my queen when you allowed Lucas to marry her.” He reminds his father bitterly. The woman who he loved had just married two years prior and Lucas was always taunting him that she will be pregnant soon.

“When I told you that you could not marry Gabriela, it was not to be cruel or obtuse.” If he had ever hoped that his son could forgive him over that refusal, apparently the hope was in vain. “A bride was selected for you long ago, mijo. So that you would not have to bear the burden of choice yourself.” He looks to his son with interest, hoping this will not begin a shouting match. “It was your mamá’s dying wish that I secure your future. And it is mine that you honour the promises we have made.”

Javi swears he chokes on air. Gasping and stuttering for a moment, eyes widening in shock. “An arranged marriage?” He huffs, swearing if it were anyone but his father it would be a joke. “No. No.” He shakes his head. “My future has been set from the day I drew breath but now my choice of a wife is taken from me?”

“Choosing a queen is more complex than choosing a wife.” There is the objection Miguel anticipated, even if he must admit to being disappointed by it. “The monarchy’s survival means more than simply whose figure you like the most in an evening gown.”

“My queen.” Javi stresses. “So it should be my choice.” He shakes his head. “I have done what you asked but I want to love the person I take as my queen.”

“How do you know you will not love the girl who has been chosen?” The pain of an arrangement is not exactly unknown to the king. After all, his own match was arranged and so was his father’s. Every crowned prince in their family has had their wife chosen from eligible candidates on their behalf - it was perhaps only that Javier’s match was chosen when he was a bit younger than most.

“How do you know I will?” Javi imagines a woman steeped in tradition and molded by pomp and ceremony. Someone who is rigid, only caring about the legacy she leaves behind. “Just because you came to love mamá doesn’t mean the woman you have chosen to be queen is right for me. Or were you only thinking of the crown?” He asks bitterly.

“I was thinking of finding you a partner.” He admits, knowing that his son’s disgust with the idea will not do well if it lasts. “Someone to help you. To stand beside you and to be your support as you find your footing as king.” The tax of sitting up is too much on an injured body and the king lays his head back down again to continue speaking. “Good breeding is done differently in America, but her family is wealthy and prominent, and the photographs I have seen make her out to be quite beautiful.” When he earns a scoff in return, Miguel sighs. “There is a contract in place, Javier. It is legally binding. And— and she has already been sent for. So there is no use fighting with me about it.”

“You arranged a marriage with an American?” The surprise and wistfulness of the statement catches him off guard, even as he shuffles closer to his ailing father. Miguel Gutierrez has never claimed to understand Javi’s affection with America or American Cinema, although they have shared an affinity for Nick Cage. He reaches out and takes his father’s hand, knowing he won’t fight his papá in his last days. “I hope you have chosen well.” He murmurs softly, wondering what this woman is like. His future queen.

“Her mother was friends with your mother at university.” His son’s affection for American pop culture was something he had attributed to his late wife’s own affection that she gained at university. He never understood it for the life of him, but it made her happy to share it with their young son, so he let it pass. “She will be here tomorrow, provided that she is able to travel quickly. The flight from New York is not too tiresome.”

“Tomorrow? So soon?” Javi shakes his head, reeling from the changes that are happening so quickly. “When— when do I have to marry her?” He asks quietly.

“Before the year is out.” The terms of the agreement with the Senator over the marriage of their children was exacting, to say the least. “Seven months is ample time to know her before you walk down the aisle, Javier. But it is more time than I have. So if you wish me to be present when you wed, it must be sooner.”

Javi closes his eyes, wanting to scream and cry and refuse his father. He cannot. He cannot let down the king, the man who has intimidated him and been his idol for his entire life. “We will be married in two months.” He decides, his voice flat. Certainly not happy about the circumstances, but he wants his father at his wedding, he will already miss his mother. “We will get to know each other later.”

Again it’s surprise that crosses the king’s expression first, but a lifetime of schooling his emotions away means it is gone in the blink of an eye. “Your mother and I tried to do what we thought would be best for you,” he tells his son, seeing the frown that forms on Javier’s lips. “This is the daughter of her most precious friend.” Knowing his penchant for the creative, and trying to provide him with a happy distraction, Miguel reaches and pats his son’s arm. “Would you like to choose the suite she will stay in until the wedding?”

The pout that he hadn’t quite ever grown out of nearly comes to the surface. Instead he just nods, not really caring where the American woman who would be his queen would stay but he knows his father is trying. “I will make sure she is afforded every comfort the palace can offer her.” He tells his father, noticing how tired the old man is. “You should rest.” He urges, covering his father’s surprisingly cold hand with his warmer one.

“Not a word to the staff, mijo.” The king warns, though he does lay back again on his pillows. “Only my private secretary knows who she truly is to you. The rest of the staff are preparing for a close friend.”

“They will figure it out when we have a royal wedding in two months.” Javi snorts, reaching out to cover his father up. “Rest.” He urges softly, his heart breaking but he can’t let the king see that. “I will make sure you are not embarrassed.”

“Javier.” It will be the last thing he says in the subject for now, but he does wish to say one last thing before his son leaves the room. “Try to keep an open mind. An arranged marriage is not the worst fate in the world.”

Instead of answering him, Javi just nods, standing quickly and swallowing. “Get some rest, papá.” He murmurs softly, “I have a guest to prepare for.”

******

There is something to be said for a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, those things cannot be said for you at the moment. Curled up in the apartment you share with your brother, watching a late-night movie with a bottle of wine and a seemingly bottomless bowl of popcorn, you know you ought to be sleeping before your father’s re-election fundraiser tomorrow but you just can’t seem to quiet your mind. Today - yesterday in Mallorca - was his birthday. Another year gone by and another year closer to the impending details of the contract that has dictated your entire life.

You wonder how he celebrated. What sort of party he had, if any. If birthday cake is the same in the Balearic Islands as it is here. The internet doesn’t really have answers to these questions and you never had the courage to ask your mother for details of her lost friend’s life. You should have. But you didn’t.

The things you know about Prince Javier are finite, and you have studied them for decades. Which should be proven by the fact that you’re up late tonight watching National Treasure for the umpteenth time. When your cell phone rings halfway through the film, you mute the television and pick it up immediately. No one calls in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency.

Private. Mallorca reads the caller ID. “Oh shit…” You murmur to yourself before sitting up straight on the couch and sliding your thumb across the screen to accept the call.

“Hello?”

Your name is spoken in a clear, Spanish accent, “Please hold for the King of the Balearic Islands, His Majesty, King Miguel.” The private secretary of the king announces him before muting the phone so she can pass it to the king.

“Uh—” Dumbstruck, you nearly spill your wine trying to set it down on the coffee table as though it were a video call or the king himself were right in front of you. He has only called you twice before - when you turned eighteen and then when you graduated college - and the last was several years ago. It sort of feels like suffocating, honestly, waiting for him to pick up the line, but you manage to breathe evenly until you hear a voice on the other end again.

“Hello?” Miguel says your name and waits for you to acknowledge him.

“Good morning, your Majesty.” Glancing at the clock, you quickly calculate it to be half past seven in Mallorca. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”

Miguel takes a moment, composing himself after another brief flare of pain. “I hope you are doing well.” He offers. “The time has come for you to join the royal family in Mallorca. How soon can you be here if we send the jet?”

The time has come. The words seem to drown you, swallowing you up in duty and anticipation. “I will need a day to pack my things,” you tell him as politely as you can, hoping that you don’t sound as scared as you feel. The anticipation of an abrupt call like this one is why nothing in your life truly belongs to you - your apartment, your car, and all of your bills are under your father’s name so he can sell everything after you are called away to fulfill your duty. You’ll have to quit your job with no notice, but that’s a separate issue. “But one day should be sufficient.” Just one day to pack up your whole life.

“I shall have the jet sent first thing in the morning. It will be a direct flight so it should not be too long.” Miguel keeps his voice as steady as he can manage it. “My son will be informed of your impending arrival as soon as we disconnect.”

“As your Majesty sees fit.” It’s an odd thing, to speak to the man who holds an iron fist on your future, but you’ve grown up your entire life knowing that one day this would happen. To be honest you’re surprised it has taken so long.

“We will speak again soon.” Miguel promises, disconnecting the phone and then shouting for the doctor to come back into the room. The pain is worse and he needs him to manage it. There is another; more difficult conversation ahead with his son.

You exhale deeply, staring at your phone as the disconnecting line beeps and goes blank, bringing back your home screen with the background photo of the last beach that you went to with friends from college. Everyone is spread out over the blankets with picnic baskets and umbrellas while they laugh in the summer sun. It had been an amazing time – and now as you look at it you wonder if you'll ever be able to have days like that again. If your freedom, such as it ever was, has just been plucked away with one phone call. Still, despite the time, you have a call of your own to make. Opening your contacts, you select the entry for your father and stepmother's landline and hope that the ringing doesn't wake up your little sister. The preteen is a nightmare if she doesn't get enough sleep, and you don't blame her one bit.

The call is picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” The austere voice of your father comes down the line. “What is going on?” He knows you don’t call at late hours unless it is an emergency. “What do you need?”

"I need to come by the house tomorrow and pick up my trunks." Although you can feel your voice waver, you hope your father is too disoriented from being woken up to hear it. He raised you to be strong and to take on responsibility headfirst. "And I can't come to the fundraiser tomorrow." Deep breath, you remind yourself. "I've finally been summoned."

Silence fills the air between you for a good thirty seconds before the senator answers. “That is very good. It is past time.” The bedsheets rustle and he pulls the phone away from his ear to murmur to his wife. “We will draft a press release as soon as you are in Mallorca.”

"I only have one day to pack." Which means, you know yourself well enough to realize, that you'll be starting immediately. There's no way you'll be able to sleep. "So I was thinking I could drive out to Scarsdale to have breakfast with you and come home with the trunks to make sure I have enough time. Is that okay?"

Sighing, your father mentally files through his schedule. “That will be fine, I have a meeting at 9:30 though.”

"Okay. I'll be punctual." It never would have crossed your mind to be anything else. Not with the way your family operates. Scheduling is everything when your father is a senator. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I thought it was important for you to know right away."

“I appreciate the call.” Your father sighs softly and there’s another small pause. “Go on and start working on your packing list, I know you want to get organized.”

"There's a lot to do." That may be an understatement, but you're nodding as though he were standing in front of you. "I'll see you in a few hours for breakfast."

“See you then sweetheart.” The phone disconnects and your father sighs again before he climbs out of the bed. He will need to draft a press release and start working on the PR for his campaign. This announcement couldn’t come at a better time for him, and he intends to use it to his advantage. Perhaps it might even put him in the running for President.

******

It took every second of the time that you had to get things ready to leave even with your brother’s help, but in the end you drove to the private airstrip at JFK airport with an SUV full of your things and left behind an apartment that barely had a single trace of you left in it. What little you have left behind would be kept by your brother, sold, or saved for your half-sister depending on what you father saw fit.

The crew of the jet was very kind in loading your things on board and seemed to expect you to have much more, but you had kept things contained for exactly this purpose. At any point in your life you would be expected to pick up and move your entire existence across an ocean, so you had kept things contained.

The eight-hour flight would put you in Palma, Mallorca in time for dinner and you know that between not sleeping for the last two days and the jet lag, you'll desperately need to sleep on the jet. Hopefully you won't be too anxious to sleep. That would just make things that much worse.

******

“I am meeting her at the airport.” Javi isn’t shouting, but his voice has pitched up to match the same inflection as his father. Met with resistance when he announced that he would take the boat over to the private air strip to meet the woman who is to become his bride without the fan fair or pomp and circumstance that normally surrounds these affairs. “You wanted to keep people from knowing, it will be suspicious if I am in my formal royal uniform.”

"Why can you not let someone from staff fetch her and meet her properly here?" Miguel is exasperated beyond measure, having had both of his suggestions met with rejection from his son. Javier refuses to be in uniform to meet his intended and he refuses to receive the girl in the throne room. He insists on dressing down in a veritable disguise and going to the airport quietly himself. "I understand that you wish to meet her quickly and I commend that, but your position matters, Javier."

“Of course my position matters.” Javi huffs. “That is all that matters. But I am meeting her casually. I want to know what she thinks of this, of me, without any pretense or need for propriety.” He’s worried that you might be dreading this, resenting him once he had learned of the details of this arrangement. He would like to know if he is to be sentenced to a life of passive aggressive comments and resentment.

The king purses his lips, seeing from the clock on his bedside that time is running short to make this decision. "Fine." He concedes shortly. "But take enough staff with you to have her things brought to the palace separately. If you wish to have a conversation with her then you can bring her back to the palace and show her her rooms properly dressed. If not in uniform, then at least not looking like you've just come out of the pool." Clearly indicating he means that he disapproves of what his son is currently wearing, Miguel nods and sits up a little more in his bed. "Something that would be appropriate to wear at the dinner table, since you will be escorting her directly after showing her to her new home."

Javi sighs and nods. “I will even wear a sports jacket, your majesty.” He huffs sarcastically, annoyed that even meeting you is turning into an argument. He doesn’t want to be so stiff and formal all the time. Royals need to relax as well.

"Good." Glancing at the clock again, the king waves him off. "Go and change, then. You should be on your way."

Rolling his eyes again, Javi turns around and stalks out of his father’s bedchamber. Annoyed with himself and the king. Why must their relationship be so strained? Why is he so different from the man who had sired him? He wonders what this woman will think of him, already deciding he’s going to dress causally chic for the meeting.

******

The chance to wash and change and touch up your makeup on the flight after waking up from a six-hour nap was something you hadn’t expected and are grateful for. The simple but well-tailored white sundress you had chosen to make your first impression on the prince could be put on just thirty minutes before landing instead of being thrown on in the airport bathroom so that it wouldn’t wrinkle after hours on the plane. Everyone on board was so kind and so formal that you have to wonder if any of them knew who you were or if that was simply how they were trained. Either way, when you exit the jet’s cabin to come down the stairs with your travel bag in hand, there is just one person waiting for you. In a powder blue sport coat and linen shirt with perfectly tousled hair, he looks like he ought to be a model and not - you assume - palace staff. Sunglasses shield his eyes but he stands straight and watches you expectantly, suddenly making you question if you even know how to walk down stairs at all.

You are…beautiful. He expected his parents to have chosen someone with all the right characteristics and the right schooling, but the sheer force of your beauty nearly takes his breath away. His father will approve of your outfit, the white dress both prim and proper enough to be considered appropriate and yet Javi likes that you are showing some skin. The length of your arms on display and the legs both making him smile at the idea that maybe you are not as stuffy as he might have feared. “Welcome to las Islas Baleares.” He offers as you stride close. The staff rush to get your luggage and he gestures towards the boat swaying gracefully at the dock. “We have a short boat ride to the palace.”

“Muchas gracias.” As hard as you’re trying not to smile, this man that has been sent to receive you is incredibly handsome. His hair and stature remind you of the very few pictures you’ve seen of the prince, and you wonder if perhaps this man is a cousin. Some lower-level royal sent to be a one-man welcoming committee. “Everyone has been so very kind. I’m grateful to have such a personal welcome.”

He cannot tell if you are being sarcastic or not, figuring that you have recognized him. “Sí.” He simply nods his head and gestures for you to precede him. He will need to help you into the boat and then cast off the lines, preferring to operate the speeder himself.

The man’s silence is surprising but you try not to read into it too much as he walks you to a nearby ramp that leads down to a small boat dock with an elegant speeder moored at the tip. The crystal-clear ocean spreads out around you like its own kind of welcoming and you smile. “The evenings are very beautiful here.” Weather. Weather is safe small talk. “Are the days just as gorgeous?”

“Better.” Javi promises, holding out his hand when you stop next to the boat so he can assist you inside. “Not too hot, not too cold, just right.” He smirks slightly, remembering the childhood story about porridge.

“I have to admit, I won’t miss winter.” Putting your hand in his to accept help into the boat gives you a nearly electric shock that you beg your body to ignore. There is no room to be attracted to anyone but Prince Javier. It’s impossible, you remind yourself harshly.

Javi ignores how warm and soft your hands are, quickly bending down to untie the boat before jumping in beside you. Occupying himself with starting the engines and pulling away from the dock, he knows the staff will ferry your luggage over on the other tender. For now, he wants the race the boat over the waters to calm down his own rattled nerves.

His continued silence signals that the weather isn’t worth talking about, and you fall into an uneasy quiet as the boat speeds out into open water. You have about three million questions but know that you can’t ask them of just anyone. It wouldn’t be proper or ladylike to ramble on, and from the moment you stepped onto that jet at JFK you have done your utmost to be perfectly ladylike. Without knowing who knows what or what is truly expected of you beyond marrying a total stranger to produce royal heirs, you feel like the water might be in your lungs instead of under the boat. Your palms are sweaty and you twist the decorative ring on your finger nervously. At least it’s beautiful here - it would have been cruel if you had to spend the rest of your life someplace frozen when you notoriously dislike snow.

He looks back at you a few times, gauging if you like the water. Finding you looking pensive so he doesn’t speak. Not wanting to make you even more nervous if you aren’t impressed with his boating skills. Or him. Instead he throttles down as the palace comes into view, aware that everyone, even him, likes to take in the majestic site of the Balearic Islands seat of power.

When you first take in the sight of the palace standing high on the cliffside, you gasp audibly before you can stop yourself or muffle the sound. It’s truly remarkable - this medieval edifice that has survived through hundreds of years and countless occupants, and you can’t help but stare. No photograph could ever do it justice, and you’ve seen every single photograph. That is where you live now. That’s home. Unless you fuck up spectacularly and he sends you away in disgrace. Oh god. Don’t fuck up like that. “It’s…amazing,” you murmur, realizing that your escort has turned to see your reaction.

“Castel de Ocaso. The royal palace of Mallorca.” Javi announces. “Home of King Miguel Gutierrez and the crowned Prince Javier. Soon to be king along with you, his queen.” He offers before he throttles up slightly to guide the boat into the Royal docks.

“Soon to be?” You startle at that news, feeling your eyes go wide behind your sunglasses. The king had certainly failed to mention that when he called. “I—I did not think…You know who I am?”

Javi laughs for a moment but then he stops, realizing that you don’t know who he is. “Sí.” He nods, turning back around to ease the boat alongside the stone dock. “I know who you are.”

“Forgive me, I just…” It’s like your mouth has run dry and your head is spinning, except you know it’s only nerves. “I was under the impression it was not common knowledge. That only the king and Prince Javier knew.”

He hums, cutting the engine and letting the boat float up next to the dock expertly. Moving to toss the lines to the staff waiting on the pier to tie off. “Come.” He offers, stepping up off the boat and holding his hand down to you. “The king is waiting.”

“May I ask you about him?” Those innumerable questions are all bubbling to the surface as he helps you out of the boat, and you now feel even more sure that his must be a trusted family member that was sent to fetch you. “The prince, I mean?”

“What do you wish to know?” He asks, raising a brow in interest. Curious to know what questions burn in your mind about him.

“Is he a kind man?” You’ve seen official photos and been told what he likes – practically every birthday gift that you’ve ever received from King Miguel was something that Javier liked – but the question of his temperament is completely unknown to you.

“I would say so.” He offers, wanting you to open up more. “Shall we go up to the palace?”

“Thank you.” You nod politely and try to ignore the tingling in your skin at the small touch of hands. Once you’re up the stone steps built in to the cliffside, you look up at the palace again and remind yourself to smile. “Is the prince…” The curiosity is overwhelming. “Is he…shy? Outgoing? Is he a very social man?”

“Ask the questions you really want to ask.” Javi urges you, knowing that there are only a few more moments before propriety will be deemed necessary.

“It’s just…” This man is offering you just enough of a lingering lifeline that your curiosity just can’t say no to it. “It’s just that I’ve never seen photographs of him with friends o-or girlfriends.” You swallow. Hard. “Or boyfriends. And I just…I wondered if…if he…prefers women?” That might be one of the things that terrifies you most. The idea that this marriage was arranged to force him to be with a woman when he’s actually gay.

Javi chuckles. “Women.” He promises. “There is much emphasis on not causing a scandal for the crown.”

“I understand that entirely.” There was plenty of emphasis on that for you growing up as well. “Forgive me if that’s too personal. I just would never want to make him uncomfortable.” An awkward laugh passes your lips and you shrug slightly. “Hopefully just the fact of me doesn’t make him uncomfortable.”

“You care about the Prince’s comfort?” That surprises him, and it’s rather sweet. It is rare that someone cares about someone they’ve never met before, not even someone who was going to marry. You are guaranteed a crown, why would you care about the man placing it on your head?

"Of course." The idea that you wouldn't is fairly shocking to you, if you're honest. "Everyone deserves to be happy, don't they? Especially with the people closest to them. I mean...this arrangement...it's not something either of us chose. What good would it do for us to hate each other?"

“And you?” Javi turns to face you. “You would choose another without a crown? A woman?” The idea that you might be repulsed by men is one that flashes in his mind and it would be a miserably cold marriage if that were the case.

"No." The idea of having a choice is almost incomprehensible if you're honest, but you can only shake your head now. It's not as though you weren't allowed to date, it was just that no one you ever went out with was ever going to last. And if you had been found out to have slept with any of them, your father probably would have disowned you. "I mean I'm interested in men and from all the photos I've seen of the prince he's very attractive, I just...this arrangement was made on our behalf. And I would hate to think that he is dreading my arrival when I'm actually excited to finally meet him." Excited and terrified, but the terror will be kept private. This man does not need to know about your anxiety or your fear.

“Excited?” He tilts his head curiously and smirks. “Why are you excited? You are not worried? I would be.”

"Excitement and worry are two sides of the same coin." That's honest, at least, and very true. You're definitely both. "It's hard to be excited to meet the person you're supposed to spend your life with without also being at least a little worried about disappointing them. That...I guess that's why I'm so curious about him."

“No other questions?” He asks playfully. “Nothing at all?”

"I wouldn't want to be inappropriate." For all you know, you've already overstepped and offended this man or even the prince by accident by asking anything at all.

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “Of course.” He murmurs, slightly disappointed by the way you seemingly cling to propriety.

"It's just...there are personal things that I would prefer to ask him in privacy." Probably your imagination, is what it is, but when he pouts slightly you have the almost unhinged urge to hug him. "I'm so sorry. I never even asked your name and here I am asking questions about someone else entirely."

Javi had turned away, prepared to climb the stairs carved into the cliff to enter the palace but you give him the opening that he wants. Turning around, he pulls off his sunglasses and gives you a small smile. “I am Javi.”

"Oh shit." The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them and your eyes widen even more, with your entire body burning in embarrassment. Dropping down into possibly the least elegant curtsy of all time, you thankfully manage not to fall over but secretly wish you'd just topple right back over the edge of the cliff behind you. "I—I mean...I'm sorry, your Highness. I...apparently didn't recognize you." And went and made an idiot out of yourself in the process. Fucking hell...

“Obviously.” He smothers the grin and returns your curtsy with a formal bow and looks back up at you. “Now, what questions may I answer for you? Anything at all, since we are to be married.”

"How long have you known about me?" It slips out of you before you can think of anything more articulate or more interesting to ask not that you're standing face to face with him. At least you have the presence of mind to take off your own sunglasses and tuck them away in your bag.

“Two days.” Javi frowns, shaking his head slightly. “My father decided that I would learn of you the day he sent for you so I apologize that I do not know more than you are American and your name.”

"Two days?" It makes your heart sink in a way that you hadn't expected, and you can feel your shoulders roll in on themselves slightly before you push them back again. Ladies don't slouch says your father's voice in your head. "I've known about you almost my entire life."

“And you are…disappointed?” He asks softly. His entire life he had been compared to his father and been found wanting, why would the woman he was supposed to marry think any better of him?

"What? No!" When you look up again he's frowning so deeply that you have that overwhelming urge again to just wrap your arms around him and squeeze. Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately for propriety - you're frozen on the spot. "I just can't believe that your father didn't tell you. Our parents made the arrangement when I was so little that I've just...always known this would happen one day."

“My father- it’s complicated.” He sighs softly, slightly relieved that you aren’t disappointed. “I am sorry, I meant to just meet you casually, not mislead you as to who I was. It was very nice to realize you didn’t recognize me.”

"I thought you might have been your own cousin or something," you admit sheepishly, instantly wishing you hadn't said anything at all. "You have...very nice hair. I thought it might be a family trait."

“You like my hair?” Javi’s eyes widen slightly and he almost reaches up. “I like that you are wearing a dress that is not stuffy.” He admits.

"It's one of my favourites." That's why you chose it, really. To really look and feel like yourself the first time you met him. "You like it? I—I have more like it."

He nods. “It’s very nice. Perfect for an evening in Mallorca.”

"Is there anything you want to know about me?" Since he hasn't known about you for long, that means that anything about you that might have been communicated between your fathers is probably unknown to him.

“Endless questions.” Javi admits with a grin. “But the king is waiting for your arrival.” He bites his lip and decides to be honest. “My father is sick. So he will only meet with you for a few minutes.”

"I'm so sorry to hear that." The unconscious step you take toward him is like the pull of a magnet. "That's why you said soon to be king when we met, isn't it?"

“We – my father is stepping down.” Javi confesses. “And we will be married in two months’ time. I want— he needs—” Javi swallows, unable to speak the words that his father needed it to be quick. “He has few months left.”

"I see." Vivid flashes of your own mother's funeral burst in your mind but you swallow and reach out to touch his arm gently. "If two months is too long for him, just name the day." This is a commitment that you've been preparing yourself for, for your whole life. If it happens fast, then it happens fast.

“We will discuss it with him.” Javi is grateful that you understand and he covers your hand with his for a brief moment.

This time when his touch makes your skin prick, you accept it wholeheartedly. It's a giddiness in the pit of your stomach that feels a bit shallow but at the same time you can't help but be grateful for. He's incredibly attractive in person, now that you see his whole face, and you fluster a little as the two of you turn to continue walking to the palace together. "So...do you prefer to be called Javi?" You ask after a moment, remembering that he hadn't used his full name when he revealed himself to you.

“I do, Javier is too formal.” He makes a face before he frowns. “My father feels as if I am too relaxed for the throne, that I need to be more rigid, but I do not think it must be so serious all the time.”

"It's good to have someone that you can let down your guard with." That frown makes him look a bit like a sweet, discontented puppy, but at the same time you can't help hoping that you don't see it too often. "I hope that...in time...you might feel that you can be yourself with me."

“You have known about me your entire life?” He asks curiously. “And you agreed to marry a stranger?” There’s no judgement, but he finds it odd that someone so beautiful would agree to this.

"I think we must be a few years apart in age." It seems odd to tell him that you know his exact birthday and secretly always have a little cupcake that day in his honor. "You were a preteen when our parents made the contract. I was in pre-school." The slight shrug you offer says that it doesn't bother you anymore. It is simply a fact. "So I grew up knowing that one day - any day - I might get a phone call to come here and marry you."

“You have never…wanted more?” He asks, wishing that you weren’t so close to the doors. “For yourself?”

"More?" More than being royalty? That would make you about the most demanding and highest reaching person in the world, you think. Certainly it would be a rather extreme expectation. "More than what? I mean, I liked my job and all, but I tend to think I could do a lot more good here than just being an organizer for a non-profit back in New York." Or did he mean more than him? That actually makes you frown instead. "If you mean...personally? All I want is someone who loves me. And if that can't be you...well, you'll be king soon. You can make whatever decision you want."

“There— there is no divorce for the royal family.” Javi reveals, relieved, that it’s not the crown that you wished for, but love. “Once we are married, that’s it.” He might not agree with arranged marriages but he respected the crown and tradition enough that he would not make a mockery of it.

This particular fact has never been related to you so cleanly, but always sort of hinted at. And now that you’re hearing it directly from him, it seems almost foreboding. Like he is trying to see if you can be warned off. “The only expectation I have had for my life is to come here to marry you,” you tell him, fingers twisting around each other nervously. “I am prepared to do it. But if you decide that you don’t like me for some reason…” The possibility is surprisingly devastating to you, now that you’ve met him and feel strings of actual attraction for the man. He seems genuinely sweet. And is incredibly handsome. “If you decide you do not like me, then it is up to you what happens afterward. But I hope that that is not something we will have to think about.”

Javi shakes his head, no longer as resistant to the idea now that he had seen you in person. “My father has assured me that the contract is binding and it would be dishonorable for me to back out of this.” He gives you a nervous smile. “I just— I hope that I do not disappoint you. Our monarchy isn’t like England’s. We are the government and our people are very much our interest. We are small on the world stage.”

“That sounds vastly preferable, if I’m honest.” You’ve lingered outside one of the many palace doors for a few minutes now, and though you’re still nervous it’s slightly different than when you first arrived. “I hope that we can at least be friends? I would hate to be a disappointment to you, either. And I know that you did not ask for this.”

“We will have more time to get to know one another very well.” Javi acknowledges, opening the door for you to enter the palace. “Welcome home, Princess.”

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #royalty au #arranged marriage #tw cancer