#part of leaving the garden means leaving that surveillance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

christonbikes · 8 months

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chapter 1 | innocence meets blonde boy

pairing: renjun x jeno

summary: In August of 1984, sixteen-year-old Renjun moves to Tennessee with a brand-new VHS camcorder and a dying wish to belong somewhere. What he finds instead is trouble when he stumbles upon a fight between two players of his new school’s baseball team and gets it on camera accidentally.

warnings: minor use of slurs; f*ggot, (said twice in one scene), language, nothing else i can think of let us know if we missed anything!

genre: slow burn, teenage small town love, fluff, angst, supernatural au, set in the 80’s, ghosthunter!dreamies.

wc: 4.9k

series masterlist

It’s late into the evening when his mom gets back from grocery shopping. He can hear her rustling around with the bags in the kitchen, setting stuff away and organizing the cabinets, and he laughs, remembering her habit of redoing the pantry every couple of weeks at their old place in Bloomsberg.

Erwin is very far away from Bloomsberg, but it still feels like summer here, maybe even more than it did in Pennsylvania. Renjun has always been a fan of birds and flowers, and plenty of those things fly and bloom here. Plus, he gets to start fresh, start anew. He left the old version of himself behind, the version of himself that was awkward with people and boring, and traded off to be someone with an expensive camcorder and reawakening for life.

He’s putting up all of his favorite books on the shelf when his mom peeks her head into his room.

“Hey, kiddo,” she says, “How’s it going?”

Renjun looks up from his spot on the floor, a book in his right hand. He smiles, holding up his thumb with his left. “Good. I’ll be done by nine o’clock, probably.”

“Cool. Hey, I was coming up from the store and saw a baseball field on the way. You should go check it out! I bet there’s lots of nice boys there,” his mom suggests. “Maybe you can make some friends.”

Renjun smiles at her sadly, setting the last book on the bottom shelf. He appreciates her investment in trying to help him have a fruitful teenagehood, really, but Renjun knows he’s been the odd one out all his life. He’s never been good at making friends, nor keeping them, and he understands that. But his mom still wants him to fight.

“Mom,” Renjun sighs, “You know I’m not good at making friends.”

She nods slowly, “I know, but just cause you’ve never been good at it in Pennsylvania doesn’t mean you won’t be here! Promise me you’ll give it a try.”

She looks at him so hopefully, and Renjun can’t find it in himself to say no.

“Alright, I’ll go tomorrow,” Renjun agrees. His mom smiles sweetly before closing the door, leaving him by himself with nothing but his thoughts.

By the time Renjun makes it to the baseball field the next day, he regrets not wearing shorts like his mom had advised. There are little trees around, so the sun catches him at every corner, blazing hot and bright.

Renjun huffs tiredly. He wipes at the sweat on his forehead with the loosest part of his shirt, camera resting in his limp right hand. There is a pretty garden in someone’s yard, but he decides to leave it unrecorded after noticing the sign above that reads “Surveillance on Property”.

Cutting through a patch of trees, he spots the main part of the field. A large parking lot blocks him from the gate. An array of teenage boys in baseball uniforms scatter amongst the space of the field, some catching balls and some throwing balls. Without counting, Renjun thinks there are about nineteen of them, more short than tall, but baseball doesn’t seem to be heavily reliant on height.

A lanky boy wearing a cap runs past Renjun quickly, heading for the field. He slams the gate open while trying to button his shirt. Some of the boys on the field look over in amusement, and one of the taller ones even laughs.

“You’re late, Park!” the tall boy yells, to which Park only dismisses him with a stressed hand.

“I’ll beat your ass,” Park huffs, dipping into the dugout entrance. He slings off his backpack and frantically looks for something in it.

Renjun looks back over to the field. He spots another boy with dirty blonde hair about ready to throw a baseball at someone else. Renjun watches for a minute as the boy winds back, curling his arm, and tosses the ball hard in front of him.

The ball soars a good twenty feet in the air before it stops abruptly, landing in a glove smoothly. Renjun looks down, trying to see who caught it.

His eyes land on a tall, well-built boy with sleek black hair. He smiles over at the other boy that threw the ball, and Renjun blinks, unabashedly staring. The black-haired boy’s smile is dazzling, pretty white teeth peeking out from underneath his lips. His eyes crease into two identical crescent moons.

Renjun’s never seen anyone prettier. His brows furrow in both confusion and endearment before he eventually turns back.

The sun is finally setting, and a light breeze rustles the trees. It’s peaceful. He pulls up the camcorder and films a leaf falling onto the stark black pavement. Picking up his feet, he heads toward his new house with a smile on his face.

The next day, Renjun has breakfast with his mom at their new kitchen table for the first time.

“What do you think of it so far?” his mom asks while buttering a loaf for them.

He deducts that she means Erwin, so he only shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess. Not that different from Pennsylvania, yet,”

“Oh, it will be soon,” she snorts, “Just wait ‘til it snows this winter and we can still get out of our front door.”

He hums, “Yeah.”

She glances over at him before crossing to the sink, starting the water faucet. It’s comfortably silent for a minute while the tap heats up, but once she grabs a dish and runs it under the water, she hums.

“How’s the VHS camera comin’ along? You like it?”

Renjun looks up from his food and nods slightly. “Good. I’m using it a bunch.”

She only nods in response, going back to washing the dishes. Renjun is glad she doesn’t press further. It’s not like he’s using it for anything bad, and he has been using it, so he didn’t lie. But later today he’s going to go out to the baseball field to film, and if a certain black-haired boy happens to be the main character of his recording, he doesn’t really need her interfering in that.

He finishes up his breakfast silently, thinking about the rest of the day.

Before heading out, Renjun makes sure to dress according to the location of the sun. It’s still as high as it was yesterday when he peers out his window, so he decides on a pair of loose jean shorts and a white, collared polo. He runs his hands through his hair, then fluffs it up with a light amount of his mom’s mousse spray.

He jogs over into his room, grabbing the camera, and heads out down towards the baseball field.

In the shorts, he’s a lot less hot than he was the day before, even surrounded by a little amount of shade. He flicks on the camcorder, steadying it against his shoulder, then leaning in.

The color doesn’t disappear inside of the lens, which excites Renjun beyond belief. He walks until he can see the field from within the camera’s space, zooming in on the boys that are already at practice.

He finds the black-haired boy quickly. He’s perched against the railing, over near the gate. The lanky boy with the baseball cap, Park, stands next to him, laughing and talking as the black-haired boy listens intently. It’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he just films as the two boys gesture towards each other gently.

A shout rings out in the following seconds, and both the black-haired boy and Park turn immediately at the sound. Renjun zooms out a little, catching the tall boy that was yelling yesterday pushing a shorter boy up onto the wall of the dugout.

Renjun gasps, sensing the intensity of the scene. The black-haired boy sprints over to the dugout where a crowd of the others is starting to form.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, faggot?” The tall boy spits on the shorter boy, tightening his grip on his uniform. “Touch me like that one more time and you’re dead,”

The short boy doesn’t say a word, but hisses back at the taller boy. He leans back into the wall before kneeing the tall boy in the balls.

The tall boy yelps, his grip slipping on the short boy. “You’re gonna regret your life,” the tall boy scowls, and then his fist is coming in contact with the other boy’s jaw.

Renjun watches in horror, wincing when a crack rings out amongst the field. The black-haired boy reaches them suddenly, ripping the tall boy away from the other boy.

“Dude,” the black-haired boy yells, “knock it off!”

“What, are you a fag too? Let me finish my business,” the tall boy grits, turning back to return to the dugout wall, but he’s stopped by the black-haired boy when he grabs his wrist.

The taller boy tries to step away, but stops abruptly, falling to the ground with a cry.

“Fuck, my wrist! You bitch!” the tall boy yells out, clutching at his arm on the ground.

The black-haired boy gasps in shock, leaning down, “I didn’t mean to-”

“Get away from me, you freak! You just ruined my entire season,” the boy on the ground cries out, making the black-haired boy back away.

Renjun stares ahead, shocked. It’s as if cement is pooled around his feet. He knows he should run, get the fuck out of here, before he’s spotted and then roped into it. But his camera is facing ahead of him, pointed right at the field, and he can’t find it in him to pull away.

He quickly decides to zoom into the lens once more to see if he can get a better view of the black-haired boy’s face, but suddenly, blonde hair blocks his way.

Renjun looks up abruptly, meeting eyes with another boy. He’s not on the field, and his body position is turned in the direction like he’s heading over to the scene.

The blonde boy stares at Renjun with an unreadable expression for another moment before turning back and running over towards the chaos. Renjun gulps, finally putting down his camera and fleeing into the bushes while he still has the chance.

The following day is a Monday, which means Renjun has school officially. He’s a week late, according to his mom, so it isn’t bad, as everyone else has just started too.

His mother drops him off at the entrance to the school at seven thirty in the morning with a “Good luck!” before taking herself to work. The school building is pretty, built with red brick and riddled with windows. It’s much smaller than his school was in Pennsylvania, but Renjun thinks that’s a good thing. There aren’t as many people to meet or mess up in front of.

He walks up the concrete walkway behind a group of girls. They’re speaking in hushed voices, probably nervous about something. One of them giggles, twirling her hair with a finger, and the others “Ssshh!” her fondly. At the front door, they all stop, lining up beside each other like kindergarteners would. Renjun’s seen this before at his old school, though. Girls like to stay in packs.

One of the girls with brown hair opens the door, then looks at Renjun expectantly. When he just raises a brow, she sighs.

“For you!”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Renjun smiles at her.

She returns the favor. “No prob. You’re new here, right?”

Renjun nods, walking through the door and waiting for her to catch up. Her friends stay back a couple feet as they walk together.

“I thought so! Hi, I’m Amy,” the girl offers out her hand.

“Renjun. Nice to meet you,” Renjun replies, shaking her hand.

She smiles again, gesturing to her friends, “I gotta go, but if you need anything, you can always ask me!”

“Thank you, I will,” Renjun agrees, letting her go to her friends while he scopes out the building for its office.

It’s labeled with a large sign over the glass entrance, so he finds it quickly. He shuffles inside, making his way over to the desk in the middle.

An older lady sits behind the desk. She has glasses and dark brown hair curled into a bun. “Hi, what can we do for you today?”

There’s a heavy southern accent to her voice, but Renjun doesn’t mind. It’s quite different from Pennsylvania, and it fascinates him.

“I just moved here a week ago,” Renjun starts, trailing off when she immediately nods her head.

“Gotcha. Name?”

“Huang Renjun,”

“Found ya! Okay honey, let me print out your schedule and you can be on your way,” she says with a sweet grin. Renjun nods shyly, turning back to sit in one of the chairs he saw on the way in.

He lets himself admire the decorations while he waits for the papers to print off. The walls are painted stark white, and there are blue accents all throughout the room, such as the chair he sits in. A devil with a black handlebar mustache is encrusted on the floor in the center of the room. Probably, his new school mascot.

“Here ya go,” the office lady says, making Renjun look up from admiring the devil’s intricate face. “Your first class will be to the right, all the way down the hall. You can get your teacher to point you in the direction of the next one, and so forth.”

“I see. Thank you,” Renjun grabs the paper from her hands gently, turning towards the door. He takes note of his first teacher’s name before heading in the direction she’d instructed.

By the time the lunch bell rings, he’s rotated through three classes. His schedule says he has six, so he’s already halfway done. He waits like usual for all of his peers to leave for lunch, pretending to finish up science notes. His teacher for science, Mrs. Shertz, is a nice lady with stern expressions. He quite likes her so far.

He grabs his TinTin lunch box from inside his backpack, asking Mrs. Shertz for directions to the lunchroom before heading out of the classroom. It’s quiet down the hall, which is good for Renjun. Everyone here is a bit loud. Very opinionated, at least. So, he allows himself a moment to bask in his own mind.

“Hey, you!” A loud voice cuts through the silence of the hallway, abruptly stopping his train of thought. Renjun turns, assuming naturally it’s for him, since no one else is present, but upon seeing the same boy with the blonde hair at the field from yesterday, his eyes widen.

Turning on his heels, he tries to pretend he doesn’t hear as the boy continues to yell at him. His feet pick up, but so do the boy’s, and suddenly, a hand is wrapping around his lunch box.

Renjun stops, scowling. He wipes off the tin gently with his jacket sleeve, pretending not to notice the boy standing in front of him.

“Yo! Are you deaf?” the kid scoffs, staring straight at him. Renjun looks up and lolls his head around as if this interaction in its entirety is pointless.

“No. Don’t touch my stuff,” Renjun spits, finally glaring at the boy. He’s a bit taller than Renjun, with even more painful blonde hair up close and an evil look on his face.

The boy crosses his arms. “Maybe if you didn’t ignore me, I wouldn't have had to." He trails off, shaking his head. “Whatever. I don’t have time to frolic around,” the blonde boy says, “I need that footage you took yesterday. I know you know what I’m talking about.”

Renjun definitely does, but he already has a bad taste in his mouth about this boy, so he just shrugs his shoulders. “No clue.”

The boy sighs, cocking his hip, “Don’t play dumb with me. I saw you at the field with your camera. You had it pointed right at the fight.”

This is true, too, but no blonde boy is going to bother Renjun so rudely like this. He hums in fake confusion. “Nope. I already told you I don’t know. You must have the wrong person.”

“Oh, bullshit, dude. I know a face when I see one. There’s not a lot of people around here that carry VHS cameras,” he laughs mockingly, “Plus, you wore that shirt yesterday.”

The blonde boy raises an eyebrow, tipping his head down towards Renjun’s chest. Renjun’s cheeks paint themselves light pink as he looks down at his shirt. Dammit, he thinks. “Fine, you got me. But why should I give it to you anyway? I have no idea who you are.”

The boy fake smiles suddenly, outstretching his hand. “Zhong Chenle.”

Renjun scowls. “Not good enough,” he frowns, “Bye, Chenle.”

Chenle sneers, yelling for him to come back, as Renjun walks away toward the lunchroom.

The sun beats heavily on Renjun’s skin. School here lets out at two forty-four on the dot, so by the time he is able to scurry past all of the students, the sun has risen to its peak in the center of the sky. Like Pennsylvania, August is warm and bright still. Even the end of the month glows with an undeniable heat.

He pulls at his t-shirt, already sticking to his skin. He can’t wait to get home to shower.

Renjun’s house is not far from downtown, and downtown is a five minute walk away from the school, so he lets himself breathe in the warm air. The neighborhood leading down into the shops is pretty and clean. He stops to look at a rosebush growing in someone’s yard.

Downtown is just as pretty, if not more. There are a fair amount of diners on either side of the road, and a drugstore on the far end. The courthouse is nestled in the center, but stands prouder than the other buildings.

Renjun makes a quick stop inside the drugstore to grab a coke and a candy bar. He still has allowance from the week before, so he figures he’ll put it to good use today.

He makes quick work of it, dropping an extra penny into the tip jar and saying a well-mannered goodbye to the elderly lady behind the counter. His free hand slides the door open, looking down at his candy bar, but instead of smelling the sweetness of the summer air, his head flies into a cotton shirt.

He stumbles back, unaware there was someone coming in on his way out. Looking up, he makes eye contact with a shorter boy. He has light orange, unnaturally colored hair, and a stern expression on his face.

“Um, I’m sorry-” Renjun says before trying to shuffle past but is stopped by the boy’s hand.

“You’re coming with me,” the boy says. He grips onto Renjun’s wrist, pulling him away from the store and into town again.

Renjun struggles in the boy’s hold, confused and annoyed. “Excuse me, what are you doing?” The boy says nothing. His hold never loosens on Renjun’s hand.

Renjun is dragged down the road a ways until they finally come to a halt at the door of a diner. Renjun finally tears himself out of the boy’s grip, immediately trying to make a run for it, but he hears voices behind him. One of them sounds familiar, so just for a second, he turns back.

A boy with blonde hair is sprinting towards him, along with four other boys on his heels. Renjun recognizes the blonde boy as Chenle, the same one from school and the field. His eyes widen, but the orange-haired boy has him cornered from behind.

Renjun curses under his breath. His only option now is the diner, so he heads straight for it, ducking past the group of teenage boys. He doesn’t bother to close the door once he’s inside, instead trying desperately to locate the bathrooms.

The sign is on the right side of the diner, and two doors with restroom signs perch below it. Renjun speeds into what he hopes is the men’s, and only once he’s seated himself inside the stall does he give himself a moment to breathe.

A minute passes, and no sign of the boys arrives. Still, he waits for another couple before deciding it’s safe to exit.

The door creaks when it opens, Renjun peeking his head out an inch to see if they’re around, but he doesn’t see any signs of blonde or orange hair. Swinging the door open the rest of the way, Renjun hears it hit something soft. He turns confusedly but realizes quickly the reason.

The orange-haired boy smiles condescendingly at him before looking up, and the next thing he knows, his head is being covered with black cloth.

The first thing Renjun can feel is an immense headache. His head is pulsing, and he scrambles for purchase, crying out when he can’t move his hands.

A laugh is heard from the corner before a spotlight is being pulled on him. He still can’t see properly, the cloth covering his eyes, but the relief is short-lived when the cloth is abruptly pulled off of his head and thrown to the floor. His eyes burn immediately, the bright light sizzling after he’d spent so much time in complete darkness.

Everything is blurry for a minute until the burn ceases. His eyes clear up, taking note of his current position, slouched over and tied to what looks like… a lawn chair? His head whips up when footsteps inch closer, and he meets eyes with a boy he’s never seen before.

This boy is taller than Chenle or the orange-haired weirdo, instead with light brown hair and an extremely dazzling smile.

His mouth opens, lips curling up like a bunny. Renjun would probably smile back if he wasn’t tied to a chair in the middle of a pitch-black room.

“Hi, sugar,” the tall boy says. His voice is the sweetest thing Renjun’s ever heard in his life, coated in honey and syrup.

He gets himself together enough to furrow his brows. “Where the hell am I?”

The tall boy laughs. “Aw, Lele, you got a cute one!”

At the mention of Lele, another boy steps into the light. Renjun knows it to be Chenle. His blonde hair bounces when he walks over.

“I didn’t mean to,” Chenle sighs, “He’s just the one that was walking around with the camera.”

“Wait, he’s the one with Jeno’s proof? No fucking way,” another voice sounds from the room.

“What do you mean, no fucking way,” Chenle laughs.

The orange-haired boy stalks out from the shadows. He scoffs. “He looks like a nerd. I don’t see how he’s supposed to help us keep Jeno on the baseball team.”

The tall boy to Chenle’s right scowls, “Says the kid who decorated his room themed after Cass Elliot’s albums.”

“It’s themed after her best hits!” the orange-haired boy whines.

Chenle laughs, ignoring both boys in favor of crossing over towards Renjun. He leans over Renjun’s frame, narrowing his eyes. “Give us the footage, and we’ll let you go.”

Renjun scorns, huffing a piece of his hair out of his face. “Is that seriously what this is about?”

“Listen kid, I always get what I want. And right now, I want your footage,” Chenle grits out.

“What could you possibly need it for so bad you’re willing to kidnap someone?” Renjun asks bitterly.

The tall boy sighs from behind Chenle. “You didn’t tell him? No wonder the kid said no. Poor thing,”

“I didn’t need to tell him shit, Jaem. He shoulda given it to me without reason,” Chenle snarls, still looking at Renjun.

Another voice comes from the right. “Lele, you should have told him. I think he would have been willing to help!”

“Jeno’s right, Lele,” Jaem says.

Chenle sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright then, leader Jeno, you come out here and tell him why I need the goddamn footage.”

Jeno, Renjun figures, laughs, finally stepping into the light. Renjun looks over, intrigued, but his jaw drops when he sees who it is.

The boy from the baseball field, with the shiny black hair and pretty smile and crescent-shaped eyes, Jeno, stands there sheepishly. One of his arms is hidden behind his back, and the other scratches gently at the nape of his neck.

Jeno smiles at him shyly, and Renjun realizes Jeno doesn’t know who he is. His body melts into the chair.

Chenle backs away to stand with the orange-haired boy, and Jeno approaches him slowly, leaning down so they’re face to face.

“Hi. Uh, sorry about this,” Jeno says, gesturing to the chair and Renjun’s tied hands, “I’m Jeno. And you are?”

It takes Jeno asking for him to realize he even has a name. Renjun coughs, his voice scratchy from not speaking for so long.

“Renjun,” he says finally.

Jeno smiles, outstretching a hand before pulling back abruptly, taking note of Renjun’s situation. Renjun appreciates the thought anyway.

“Nice to meet you, Renjun. You already know Chenle, I’m assuming, so,” Jeno points at the tall brunette, “That is Jaemin, and the other one is Haechan. There’s also a Jisung, but it’s past his curfew, so he wasn’t able to make it,”

Jaemin waves cutely over at Jeno and Renjun, and although he’s a little pissed, he smiles firmly back. Chenle and Haechan just peer menacingly towards the pair.

“You can ignore them. Anyways,” Jeno laughs softly, “I guess you probably want to know about the footage now, right,”

Renjun nods, “That would be nice.”

“Yeah. Um, so as you saw that day, there was a fight at the baseball field,” Jeno says, “and I was in it. And I was trying to help, I swear, but I think I’m too strong for my own good, cause I accidentally broke a guy’s wrist,”

Renjun knows. He knows everything. He knows that Jeno was there, and that he was trying to break up the fight, and that he hurt someone. But he’s not planning on stopping Jeno to tell him, because that would mean he was watching Jeno and only Jeno, and no one except for Renjun needs to know that.

He nods softly, letting Jeno continue.

“I need to stay on the baseball team, because I’m trying to get a scholarship for school, and without proof I didn’t break his wrist on purpose, I’m in deep shit with the school board,” Jeno says hastily.

“He needs the footage so he doesn’t get kicked off the team,” Haechan huffs. Jeno looks back at him in warning before turning back and smiling apologetically at Renjun.

“I’m sorry it came to this, and you got kidnapped by boys from your school, but this team is really important to me. And you’re the only person that can help.”

Renjun really wants to stick it to him, to say no, fuck you, just because his friends are douchebags that peer pressure people, but he looks into Jeno’s warm brown eyes, and it’s almost impossible to speak at all. Jeno looks like a kicked puppy who just wants some love and attention, and something in Renjun pulls him towards his gaze. The fact that Jeno needs him, he needs Renjun, weighs heavily on his sad little heart.

Renjun sighs, head falling forward. “Fine. I guess I’ll help you out.”

Jeno exhales, a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. Renjun looks up into his eyes.

“Thank you,” Jeno says, and it sounds so heartfelt Renjun can’t even pretend to be mad about being kidnapped.

Renjun nods curtly, but his jaw tenses as he thinks about his lack of retrieving film. “I don’t have any way to get it to you, though.”

“Told you nerds are useless!” Haechan interjects, throwing his hands up in the air. Chenle smacks them both down, while Jaemin chuckles.

“Easy fix,” Jaemin says, “You can use the Student Council meeting room. We have a film printer there.”

Jeno smiles brightly. “That’s great! Jaem can meet you there tomorrow at school.”

“Right,” Renjun replies. His wrists are starting to really hurt from the rope, so he shuffles around uncomfortably in the chair. “Uh, can I be set free?”

“Oh, of course!” Jaemin exclaims. He runs over to the darkness again, his silhouette disappearing for a minute before a grand amount of light comes on. Renjun looks around, finally able to see where these boys have taken him.

It’s not even close to what he was fearing. Instead of a dingy, musty basement filled with cobwebs and rats and other gross bugs, he finds himself surrounded by a pampered living room, with a dull, brown, leather couch, and a floral rug. A nice coffee table sits in the center of the room. Renjun’s position is over by the corner, and when he looks down, it’s definitely a lawn chair he’s been tied to.

Jeno rounds the chair, untying his hands and then the rope holding him down to the chair. When Renjun is untied fully, he brings his arms together, rubbing vigorously at each wrist.

Jaemin notices, humming. “I’ll get some lotion,” he says, running off to another part of the house.

Jeno scratches at his neck, sitting down onto the couch. “Welcome to Chenle’s living room.”

Renjun looks over to Chenle and Haechan, who are still standing in the same position. Haechan still scowls over at him, but Chenle looks a bit nicer for all the times Renjun’s seen him, his lips curving into a half smile.

Jaemin comes back, lotion in hand, and Renjun smiles back at Chenle.

6 notes · View notes

imbeingstalked98 · 5 months

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Stalkers are so damn entitled

There are other people in my position, other people worse than me, other people inflicting more aggression on to others, and people want to take advantage of my goodnature bc even while I have less, while I have nothing, I still am willing to give up my financial resources for someone else just to be betrayed

The internet, the public, watches me like im their source of entertainment. It's not like I've overheard them yell at their partners. Imagine having a partner screaming at you over the phone nitpicking every single penny you have bc your relationship is a transaction. I don't need to hear that part of your life, thats why I let you have more privacy in a separate room.

Unlike the majority watching over me, thinking they need to set an example for others by torturing someone to the point they can't live peacefully with the people they trust. Isolate myself, dismiss myself, no longer hold any value towards being social. The more you know someone the more you realize the good and bad they do. Thats why many people settle in toxic relationships.

I love my partner, just like I love my parents. I loved my friends but the constant need to seek betrayal, breaking every boundary. I used to think, why would anyone care about what I'm doing

They care a lot bc they don't have the things I do, well guess what

I rather trade their lives, their responsibilities, their mental health, than to be surveillance like a TV show. These people are teaching their kids how to be fucked up.

Yes, I CAN be full of myself, in the privacy of myself. Yes, I CAN have opinions of others and recognize their behavior. I CAN hold grudges against my partner, bc these things aren't meant to be public, just like everyone else. You think being "real" means to be passive aggressively disrespectful and mock someone else? Pretending to be someone to provoke them, pretending to be my friend to use me and mess with me, randomly disappear while we spend time and have everyone in that restaurant make a shitty comment about what common decency is.

Every part of me that is toxic is incomparable to being a stalker. Because that means you show up to my work place, you then look for me, then you try to record me and harass me, OR you hack my devices you show everyone my private life just to make sure everyone knows what Im doing 24/7, OR you come to where I live leave discarded food in front of the garage take a flower from my garden show up to my work place to let me know where I live, OR you get your groupies to join in on the harassment and follow me to San Diego when I went to go see my doctor, MY FUCKING DOCTOR, OR you pretend that it must be my "delusions" that Im being stalked and followed and not because people feel addicted to being creepy as fuck

If I KNEW how to get a background check on myself, IF I KNEW HOW to hack someone, IF I KNEW HOW to make other ppl disrespect someone else, I would be as low as the rest of you. Stalking me since February, spreads to my employment, spreads to my neighborhood, spreads to my close friends, family, but it didn't spread to me, bc what will I do if I gain access to how I'm being hacked. If I report it, will anyone ever stop, I think all they'll ever do is escalate the situation,

Complain about me being tired, well if you had to put up with this bullshit for the past year, you'd blow your brains out, so you're probably wondering how I managed this far.

My issues w my partner, are supposed to be private, he holds grudges against me, and my grudge against him is that hes mad that I forced him to apologize for the abuse he put me through, for years, and while things have improved, he still tries to control me when hes upset by breaking us up,

How many other people out there have their partner tell you "dont bring up the past" after they've cheated on you or abused you, to make sure you're at fault when you tell them not to repeat a shitty thing they've done,

We have a hard time leaving our partners, because we love them, or because were impoverished, most impoverished women stay in these kinds of relationships, or we think our partners would improve, and while he has, ME holding my grudges, being upset, exhausted over and over I see people repeating the same ways I've been mistreated just to turn around like "no one done anything to you" but will mimic and copy mock me, hack me, stalk me,

I can't go outside, just like that one YouTuber getting doxxed after sssniperwolf posted his address. If you were stalked, if you were mocked, if you dealt w people disrespecting you everyday, you can't expect to be happy and positive, joyful and outgoing. I felt happy bc I didn't think I was actually the center of attention. I make jokes w random ass people bc I like making others happy, I say dumb things bc I like being funny, but my resource of comedy comes from making others happy, not making others worse.

If you were stalked you'll know what its liked to see people treat you like shit over the things you do, and all of us lose our narcissism when were put on display, like a zoo animal, even they don't deserve to be held captured, people just prefer their entertainment over what is actually justified.

Fuck gang stalking, if you contribute to this, you're no better than me.

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aryaan125 · 7 months

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Why Dosti Eden is the Ideal Investment for Homebuyers in Thane

In the bustling cityscape of Thane, where life can often be a whirlwind of activity, finding a tranquil oasis to call home is a dream many cherish. Dosti Eden, a project by Dosti Realty, presents a golden opportunity for homebuyers seeking not just a place to live but a haven to invest in. Here's why Dosti Eden is the ideal investment for homebuyers in Thane.

Life Amidst Greenery: A Natural Therapy

In the concrete jungles of today's urban life, the sight of lush greenery often becomes a luxury. Dosti Eden offers an escape from the chaos and pollution of city living. The project is meticulously designed to provide residents with an abundance of greenery. The lush landscapes, meticulously manicured gardens, and green views from every window create a soothing environment that feels like a natural therapy session every day.

Excellent Connectivity: The Heart of Convenience

Dosti Eden's location in Thane (West) places it at the heart of excellent connectivity. Whether you need to commute to work in Mumbai or access various parts of Thane, the project's strategic location ensures seamless travel. The proximity to major highways, railway stations, and upcoming metro lines means you're always well-connected to the pulse of the city.

Modern Lifestyle Amenities: Where Every Day Feels Like a Weekend

Investing in Dosti Eden means investing in a lifestyle that goes beyond the ordinary. The project offers an array of modern lifestyle amenities that transform every day into a leisurely weekend. From state-of-the-art fitness centers to swimming pools, clubhouses, and play areas for children, Dosti Eden caters to the recreational needs of all age groups. Residents can embrace an active and fulfilling lifestyle without ever leaving the comfort of their community.

24x7 Security and Surveillance: Your Safety, Our Priority

Safety and security are paramount when it comes to choosing a home. Dosti Eden understands this concern and takes it seriously. The project is equipped with 24x7 security and surveillance systems to ensure the safety of residents. You can enjoy peace of mind knowing that your loved ones and belongings are protected in a secure environment.

Green Views and Serene Surroundings: A Breath of Fresh Air

Imagine waking up to the gentle rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds. At Dosti Eden, this is your daily reality. The project's design prioritizes green views and serene surroundings, allowing residents to reconnect with nature without leaving the city. It's a place where mornings are greeted with fresh air and evenings with breathtaking sunsets.

Investing in Your Well-Being

Choosing Dosti Eden as your investment is not just about buying a property; it's about investing in your well-being. The project's focus on greenery, connectivity, and modern amenities aligns perfectly with the aspirations of those seeking a balanced and fulfilling lifestyle in Thane.

Dosti Realty and Dosti Developers: A Legacy of Trust

Dosti Eden comes to you from the trusted name of Dosti Developers. With a legacy of delivering quality projects that stand the test of time, these developers bring reliability and trustworthiness to the forefront. Investing in Dosti Eden means investing in a future where your home is a testament to your choice of quality and excellence.

Dosti Eden at Dosti Desire - Phase 2 is not just a residential project; it's a promise of a life well-lived in the heart of Thane. With its emphasis on green living, excellent connectivity, modern amenities, and security, Dosti Eden is the ideal investment for homebuyers who seek a harmonious blend of nature and modernity. This project ensures that every day is a delightful experience, and every moment is an investment in a fulfilling future.

Note: This article is already posted on medium.com

Ref URL: https://medium.com/@aryansharma.02mumbai/why-dosti-eden-is-the-ideal-investment-for-homebuyers-in-thane-3121272639de

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yooviehomes · 8 months

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One of India's Biggest Luxury Sky Villas 4 BHK, 5 BHK, 6 BHK Flats in Baner & Aundh Pune

Living in luxury is a dream that many aspire to achieve. A significant aspect of this aspiration is finding the perfect home that not only offers ample space but also boasts of high-end features and a prime location. In the vibrant city of Pune, the neighborhoods of Baner and Aundh stand out as prime locations for those seeking upscale living spaces. Let's delve into the allure of 4 BHK, 5 BHK, and 6 BHK luxury flats in Baner & Aundh, Pune.

This beautiful building was christened Yoovie Homes by Komal and Rohan Deshmukh after their young daughter Yoovika Deshmukh a.k.a Yoovie.

While the building was designed at Infinity, Rohan Deshmukh decided to seek the support of one of the best structural design minds in the business at JW Consultants. They are perhaps one of the most awarded and trusted structural consultancies in India under the able leadership of Engineer Umesh Joshi.

YOUR HOME AT YOOVIE HOMES IS AN INTELLIGENT HOME

Everything is just a finger touch away from your laptop or your iPad or your mobile phone. This is a premium lifestyle address with the best of urban sophistication. You can unwind & rejuvenate in a rooftop pool or work out in a state-of-the-art gym either to stay fit or relax yourself. You can watch a movie with your family in the Private Theatre, throw a party in the banquet or just be with your kids in the children’s play area. You can also work from home in a compact Business Centre. Two basements are provided for car parking and you can park your cars there in complete safety and security. https://yoovie.in/

Spacious Grandeur:

The terms 4 BHK, 5 BHK, and 6 BHK signify the number of bedrooms and hallways, reflecting the scale of these luxurious apartments. The extra bedrooms can be utilized as guest rooms, home offices, or recreational spaces, adding a layer of versatility to your living arrangements. These additional rooms offer the potential for creative customization, allowing you to transform them into personalized spaces that cater to your unique lifestyle.

Uncompromised Elegance:

Luxury flats in Baner & Aundh are designed with utmost attention to detail and a focus on opulence. From exquisite marble flooring to high ceilings that create an airy ambiance, every element exudes elegance. Premium fixtures, top-of-the-line appliances, and intricate finishing work elevate the living experience, making every moment spent within the walls of these flats a truly indulgent affair.

Prime Location Advantage:

Baner and Aundh, situated in western Pune, are renowned for their strategic locations. The proximity to commercial hubs, entertainment centers, educational institutions, and healthcare facilities makes these areas highly sought after. Choosing a luxury flat here means not only enjoying the comforts of a lavish abode but also reaping the benefits of an accessible lifestyle.

Modern Amenities:

One of the hallmarks of luxury living is the availability of state-of-the-art amenities within the residential complex. These include well-equipped fitness centers, landscaped gardens, swimming pools, jogging tracks, and even spa facilities. Such amenities promote wellness and relaxation, ensuring that residents can unwind without leaving the premises.

Prestige and Security:

Living in a 4 BHK, 5 BHK, or 6 BHK luxury flat in Baner & Aundh isn't just about lavish interiors; it's also about being part of an exclusive community. These complexes often boast a sense of prestige, providing residents with a shared sense of belonging. Additionally, top-notch security measures, including surveillance systems and dedicated staff, offer peace of mind, allowing you to fully enjoy your luxurious lifestyle. https://yoovie.in/

Investment Value:

Investing in luxury real estate is not just about purchasing a home; it's an investment in your future. The demand for prime properties in Baner and Aundh remains consistently high, making these luxury flats a sound investment option. The potential for appreciation in property value over time, coupled with the prestige associated with owning such properties, adds to the allure of these homes.

CONTACT

S.no.: 286/1A/5, 286/1A/6, 287/1,

Pallod Farms, Behind Vijay Sales, Baner, Pune - 411 045

[email protected]

+91 7030 988 988

#4 bhk in baner #5 bhk in baner #6 bhk in baner

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sobharoyalcrest1 · 10 months

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Sobha Royal Crest - ready to move Flats

Sobha Royal Crest is a prestigious residential project located in Bangalore, India's bustling tech hub. Developed by Sobha Limited, one of the country's most renowned real estate developers, this project stands as a testament to luxury, quality, and craftsmanship. With its impeccable design, prime location, and world-class amenities, Sobha Royal Crest offers a unique opportunity for homebuyers seeking ready-to-move flats in the heart of Bangalore.

Nestled in the upscale neighborhood of Jakkur, Sobha Royal Crest enjoys an enviable location that is highly sought-after by professionals and families alike. The proximity to key areas like Manyata Tech Park, Hebbal, and the Bangalore International Airport makes it an ideal choice for those working in the IT industry. Additionally, the area is well-connected to major highways and public transportation, ensuring ease of commuting to any part of the city.

Sobha Royal Crest boasts an exquisite architectural design that blends contemporary elements with traditional aesthetics. The project offers a mix of spacious 2, 3, and 4 BHK flats, catering to the varying needs and preferences of homebuyers. The attention to detail in every aspect, from the layout to the use of premium materials, reflects Sobha Limited's commitment to creating homes that exude elegance and sophistication.

In terms of residential options, Sobha Royal Crest constitutes an ideal option for asset and home shoppers in South Bangalore. There is an abundance of natural sunlight and ventilation in these luxurious dwellings. There are a number of amenities close to the project, and the project is conveniently located.

There is still a lot of work to be done on the assignment by Sobha Royal Crest Limited, so the possession date is unknown. We anticipate that the project will be completed sooner than planned, and since it has been placed in the hands of the most steadfast developers here in the city.

One of the standout features of Sobha Royal Crest is that it offers ready-to-move flats. This means that homebuyers can skip the long wait associated with under-construction projects and immediately move into their dream homes. The flats are meticulously finished and equipped with top-of-the-line fittings, ensuring a seamless transition into a comfortable and luxurious lifestyle.

Sobha Royal Crest leaves no stone unturned when it comes to providing residents with an unparalleled living experience. The project offers a wide array of world-class amenities such as a state-of-the-art clubhouse, fully-equipped gymnasium, swimming pool, landscaped gardens, children's play area, and jogging tracks. Residents can indulge in recreational activities, maintain an active lifestyle, and unwind after a busy day, all within the safety and convenience of their community.

Safety is of paramount importance at Sobha Royal Crest. The project is equipped with advanced security systems, 24/7 surveillance, and dedicated security personnel to ensure the safety and well-being of residents. The gated community offers a secure environment for families to live without any concerns.

Despite being located in the heart of the city, Sobha Royal Crest prioritizes green spaces and environmental consciousness. The project features lush greenery, landscaped gardens, and eco-friendly practices that contribute to a sustainable living environment.

Sobha Royal Crest fosters a sense of community and promotes communal harmony among its residents. The project is designed to facilitate interactions and social gatherings, creating an inclusive and welcoming atmosphere for all.

In conclusion, Sobha Royal Crest stands as a symbol of opulence and modern living, offering ready-to-move flats in the heart of Bangalore. With its prime location, luxurious design, and world-class amenities, the project ensures that residents experience the pinnacle of comfort and convenience. For those seeking a truly elite living experience in Bangalore, Sobha Royal Crest emerges as an irresistible choice.

#Sobha Royal Crest #sobha apartments #sobha royal crest locations

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gunnarhenson · 2 years

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Some Advantages Of Living In Luxury Apartments

If you imagine luxury apartment living, what comes up? For many individuals, luxury apartment living means a lovely apartment with new appliances, updated floors or carpet, and an expensive monthly rent payment. What many people don’t realize is always that luxury living might Conserve your funds in the end. Below you will find 5 important things about living in luxury apartments, and different ways it can save you money in the end!

Fitness gyms Although most apartment communities have onsite health clubs, they could do not have the the equipment to get a full-body workout. Luxury apartments are nice because they’ve spent the money to generate their fitness gyms bigger, and more equipped to provide residents with additional workout machines and weights for any better workout. As well as having nicer equipment plus much more room to exercise, many luxury apartments have now added group fitness classes like Zumba, Yoga, and Kickboxing. Luxury apartment living offers a health club using a well-equipped gym AND group fitness classes, eliminating the need for a gym membership. Based on where your existing gym membership is, you may be saving $20 to $50 monthly by utilizing your luxury apartment community’s health club and classes.

Location, Location, Location. Luxury apartment living has many benefits to offer residents. One benefit of just living in luxury apartments could possibly be that you're within close vicinity to common necessities like popular malls, restaurants, and entertainment. Living near to the places you try to often doesn't only save you money, but it helps you save serious amounts of alleviates stress. Lacking to travel Twenty or thirty minutes through your way (or longer with traffic) to purchase groceries or go to a movie might make your daily life happier plus your checking account fuller.

3. Safety Many luxury apartments have gated, secure communities that frequently have surveillance cameras. Eventhough it may not fully protect you or your vehicle from theft, it really is a deterrent. For all those residing in not safe cities, it is possible to breathe easier knowing you and your vehicle feel at ease. And let’s tell the truth, you can’t put a price on safety. You may not be saving tons of money by residing in a gated community, however, you definitely won’t be losing money either!

4. Spas and Wellness Centers Many luxury apartments have realized that Spas and Wellness Centers are places people frequent often! Relaxation is an essential part of life, and part of many people’s monthly, or perhaps weekly routine! An evergrowing trend in apartment living would be to provide an onsite wellness center or spa that provides services like massage and facial treatments. Imagine returning from a long, stressful day at work, and realize you're just moments far from a blissful massage. The best of this is, you don’t even have to drive there or back! Even when your apartment community doesn’t come with an onsite spa, it may have a jacuzzi and sauna. Both are relaxing and is perfect for your skin layer. Together with having spa-like amenities, many luxury apartments have beautiful courtyards or garden areas to relax and unwind. Nothing says relaxation like gorgeous scenery plus a bestseller. People that reside in luxury apartment communities can savor the serene beautiful landscaping without having to leave their apartment and visit a park.

5. Business Perks & Free Events Luxury apartment living allows those that live a fast-paced and busy life an easier way of getting things done. Residents are able to use the entertainment rooms for events which are often challenging to plan. They’re elegant and cost-effective and if the party gets too wild, you won’t need to bother about calling an Uber to obtain home. You’ll be there! Many free events take place in the normal areas. Luxury apartment living means free wine tasting nights, movie nights, and frequently you may even get free breakfast soon on your way work. Leasing agents work tirelessly that will put events together for his or her residents, for benefit of them, you could have some terrific experiences and cut costs simultaneously! Lots of the business centers in luxury apartment communities offer free printing, and you'll bet they have a free coffee bar for all those late-night work sessions. More information about du an khu do thi vi cam just go to our website.

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enquiry-monique · 2 years

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Pleasurable Traps: Beyond the Panopticon

https://thesocietypages.org/cyborgology/2017/01/13/remembering-zygmunt-bauman-social-media-sorcery-and-pleasurable-traps/

Bauman argues that we need to move beyond the theoretic frameworks used to make sense of control in early modernity– the panopticon described by Michel Foucault in Discipline and Punish. Bauman explains (Liquid Modernity, p. 10) that panoptic control is:

burdened with… handicaps… It is an expensive strategy: conquering space and holding to it as well as keeping its residents in the surveilled place… [rapid movement] gives the power-holders a truly unprecedented opportunity: the awkward and irritating aspects of the panoptical technique of power may be disposed of. Whatever else the present stage in the history of modernity is, it is… above all, post-Panoptical.

Bauman’s 2013 collaboration with David Lyon, titled Liquid Surveillance: we need to move beyond the metaphor of the panopticon if we truly hope to understand how the relationship between visibility and control works in the age of social media.

Liquid Surveillance suggests we consider “ban-optic” power structures. The fundamental mechanism behind ban-optic structures is social sorting by way of profiling and algorithmic prediction. The ban-opticon pressures us to conform to normalized patterns of behavior or else be categorized as a potential threat and, thus, subjected to greater surveillance and diminished rights. Perhaps even more concerning, ban-optic power structures often draw boundaries of exclusion based on involuntary categories such as race, citizenship, or genetic markers.

First, the conversation about surveillance and social media has finally moved past the metaphor of the panopticon. Excellent books like David Savat’s Uncoding the Digital are attempting to develop entirely new frameworks for understanding more fluid forms of surveillance. Bauman stretches the concept of the synopticon almost beyond recognizability to the point that his recent work all but begs for new conceptual tools. Further development of terms like “omniopticon” (used by Nathan Jurgenson and George Ritzer to describe many-many surveillance dynamics) are still sorely needed.

Second, we we have begun to see that the model of surveillance is no longer an iron cage but a velvet one–it is now sought as much as it is imposed. Social media users, for example, are drawn to sites because they offer a certain kind of social gratifaction that comes from being heard or known.

Pleasurable traps must adjust themselves to most efficiently channel the desires and behaviors of each individual. When effective, such traps are not experienced as an imposition but as opportunity. Bauman:

we no longer employ technology to find the appropriate means for our ends, but we instead allow our ends to be determined by the available means of technology. We don’t develop technologies to do what we want to be done. We do what is made possible by technology.

Platforms generally attempt to maximize their user base. They encourage happy posts but will happily accept political rants. They encourage you to fill out your “about me” information, but will let you get away with leaving most things blank. They encourage you to friend or follow an ex, but will also allow you to perpetually ignore these suggestions. They may even tolerate some rule-breaking (e.g., Facebook’s real name policy) in order to keep users in the system. Generally speaking, the only things that can get you barred from a platform is if you either drive other users away or if you engage in sabotage.

Part II summary: Though they are still rational at their core, what differentiates pleasurable traps (such as social media) from early modern forms of social control (such as the panopticon) is that they have been re-enchanted; individual freedom for expression and meaning-making are now essential to their functioning. To Bauman’s list of metaphorical figures (i.e., the gamekeeper, gardener, and hunter), we can add the sorcerer, who represents the powers that conjure these re-enchanted apparatuses into being.

//////TSP brings social science to broader public visibility and influence.

The Society Pages (TSP) is an open-access social science project headquartered in the Department of Sociology at the University of Minnesota and supported by individual donors.

TSP consists of in-house “TSP HQ” articles, blogs, and podcasts; our “Community Pages”; and content produced by our partners.

PhD in Sociology at the University of Maryland. His research and teaching interests include sex work, mediated intimacy, and the performance of gender and sexuality through digital technology.

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

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meet me in the gardens

knight!natasha x noble!fem!reader

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected yoru knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

warnings: actually none but a misunderstanding and the lack of editing that i think u guys may or may not be used to at this point

word count: 5.3k

part two!!

The knight before you was the opposite of a man. She was so opposite in fact, that you had to actively make yourself not appear like you were shocked. You knew that the twins were having to try even harder to keep composure.

She was without a doubt, one of the prettiest people you had ever seen before. Being a lady, you had seen so many handsome young men and gorgeous young women, but there wasn’t one who’s fairness struck you like this woman’s. Her eyes were an unfamiliar shade of blue, and you knew that they were the kind of eyes that were made for surveillance and observation, and if you looked hard enough, maybe a window to her thoughts. She had pink lips that were set into a genuine yet thin smile, almost like she wasn’t used to wordless pleasantries at all. Her hair was cropped just above her shoulders and it shined a brilliant red that you had rarely ever seen. Despite the powerful and extremely potent energy that she was giving off, she was short, shorter than you, but something told you that she was strong. Stronger than anyone knew quite yet, but you could feel it. But, you were still confused, regardless of how she had rendered you breathless for the quickest of seconds.

The problem wasn’t that she was a woman. There wasn’t even really a problem at all. It was just the fact that a woman was a knight. You had never seen anything like it in your entire life, and you had never even thought of the possibility of that happening. At all. You had to fight tooth and nail to keep property that you hardly even wanted, all because you were a woman. Because you weren’t pregnant with a son who could carry his hypothetical father’s name. Because you were a woman without the heir to your late husband’s fortunes, you were seen as nothing, for a long time. And now, there were women who were becoming knights?

You were more impressed than confused.

You felt another pinch from Pietro, this time a little harder. You breathed in through your nose, a welcoming smile on your face as you grappled for words.

“Hello,” you said, public voice still working hard as you internally scrambled for words. You were looking the red headed woman right in her eyes, the eyes that were so intense that if you hadn’t been in rooms where extreme business had gone down, you would have melted. You tried to remember the standard greeting. “Welcome to my keep. I hope that I can accommodate you during your stay, and that you are successful in your search for what it is that you are looking for.” You knew the words were off by a bit, but you saw the coachman nod in approval that you didn’t really care to have.

The knight took a step forward, and the sound of a heavy footstep crashing against your well-kept grass made you shiver. The trampled grass had nothing on the way that you reacted to hearing her voice. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Mirellis. I sincerely thank you for allowing me into your home.”

It was hardly your home, and you could tell that the two of you had already gotten off on the wrong foot. You knew it was because of your shameless staring. “May I be graced with knowing your name?”

If possible, she stood up a little straighter. “I am Natasha Romanoff, My Lady.”

If you were hearing correctly, you heard the slight awkwardness in her last two words. Only people with titles of their own called other lords and ladies “my lady”, and lower born people were to call them “milady”. She must have been lowborn, just like you. “It is my deepest pleasure to meet you, Natasha. May I show you around my keep?”

“Typically,” the coachman cut in, and you furrowed your brows at the way he interrupted the stop-and-start flow of the conversation. “It isn’t the lord—sorry—lady of the house’s job to do that.”

Wanda opened her mouth, highly defensive of you and ready to go because it was a fight she could afford to pick. A servant and a coachman were on the same level. She would face no punishment for talking back to the man. However, you reached to your right and squeezed her hand twice.

“Well, I am the lady of the house, and I would like to show my new guest her accommodations.” The man narrowed his eyes slightly at you, and it became obvious to everyone that he clearly wasn’t expecting back talk from you.

You knew that everyone thought widows were these gentle, sad women. The type that cried themselves to sleep and wished to meet their husbands again in the afterlife. The type that listened at anything that a man uttered simply because he was a man, or because they didn’t have the energy to entertain an arguement or to correct them. Especially ladies. But you were not supposed to be a lady. You wore fancy dresses and had gold and had a small castle to yourself, but part of you would always be that girl who beat up the boys who lived a few acres away for talking about your hair and then rolled in mud with them, laughing about it the very next day.

Even through the glances that were thrown between the five of you standing there, you continued. “My staff has worked so hard on making sure it was nice for her. I’d like to show off their diligence now.” It wasn’t a question.

“Do as you please, milady.”

You resisted the urge to nod smugly. “Thank you.” You watched him climb back onto his chair and quirked a brow. The coachman always stayed for dinner. It was considered offensive if they did not, both to the knight and to the lord or lady. “Did you not want to stay for the meal, good sir?”

“I must get back, milady. If that is alright with you.”

You knew you should utter something lengthy that you didn’t mean at all, but the most you could get out after his blatant rudeness was a quick “safe travels.” There was a long stretch of awkward silence as you watched him leave, arms hanging at your sides as the trotting sound of horses carried him away.

“Goodness, was he rude.”

“Pietro.” Wanda hissed, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You whirled around to look at the knight— Natasha— and saw that she was already looking at you with blatant curiosity.

“Would it be alright with you if I took you around myself?” You asked, and she nodded her head. “Well, I’m sure you’re hungry. Would you like to eat first?”

You were beginning to realize very quickly that the woman was the staring type. Her eyes, no, her entire face and persona was so demanding and intense. It was hard to even be provoked by her shameless staring and possible judgement, because at least she was open with it. The more you looked at her, though, the more you knew that you would never understand what was happening behind her eyes. “I would like to see.”

“Then you will see,” you stated, and gave Wanda a look. She knew immediately what it meant, and she walked off to tell the chefs to expect you in an hour or so. “We can start with the outside area and make our way in.”

She was very much the staring type. Not even just at faces or people in general, but with everything. You noticed that when anything caught her eye, she looked at it for a few seconds in silence and then moved on, like she heard them speak something unknown to everyone else and took the time to listen.

“These are the training grounds,” you said after walking to the back half of the castle, where the grass was still trained to grow with strength and hardly a thing was out of place. The training grounds were for young squires in the area or kids that just wanted to play fight. You had made the area yourself, and it was one of your favorite parts of your home. You liked being able to look outside and see children playing freely, and the sound of laughter was something that everyone needed in life. “You’re free to use them in any way you see fit, of course.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“You’ll run into aspiring knights here and there, but they are good children.” Your voice was fond as you spoke of them, and then took a right. “And just down here, we have the gardens.”

And gardens, they were. They were the only thing in the castle that was actually yours while your husband was alive. When you had arrived, the patch of land was so disgraced that it would have been insulting to call it a garden. The flowers were droopy, the soil was dry, and the vibrant colors that were once there had been sucked away. Your husband didn’t care about the area, and neither did anyone else, so you adopted it. You had built it from the ground up and made it into what it was; a huge and gorgeous garden full of colors, with ivy hanging from rails in what looked like an unruly manner and bushes full of roses and begonias and everything in between. It was caged off by golden rails, but the rails were hardly binding. They were so wrapped with leaves that it looked like they grew with the garden.

“This is my favorite part of the keep,” you stated softly, walking down it. You had expanded it so that it went down and into the forest, the rails forming a path. You walked down it every so often yourself, deep into the woods where no one would bother you, where you could look at the stars above in peace.

“Is it yours?”

“What?” You asked, tearing your eyes from a particular bush to see her looking up at the ivy.

“This garden,” she said, and you realized that you were strolling closer and closer to the woods. You stopped walking, but didn’t make any move to go and meet her. “Do you tend to it?”

“It’s mine,” you answered, not even bothering to take the subtle pride out of your voice. “It’s my project. I started it when I got here, and now it’s flourishing.”

“Where did you learn how to garden?”

It was no secret that typically, ladies did not get their hands dirty, even if the activity was simple planting. They were supposed to stay inside and knit or something like that. Ladies could go outside to look at gardens, but they had staff to plant for them. So, did Natasha not know that you weren’t born with a title? “When I was a girl,” you answered vaguely.

“Your Lord Father allowed you?”

My father was no lord. “Yours allowed you to wield a sword?” The sound of armor clanking brought you out of your slight hostility, and you sighed. “I apologize.”

“It’s quite alright.” The harshness in her voice told you that she was offended by what you said, and she turned around once she realized that the two of you were nearing the tree line.

You walked around with Natasha, giving her the rest of the tour halfheartedly and only speaking when absolutely necessary. It was clear that the two of you clearly weren’t clicking as well as you hoped to, and while that was tragic, you weren’t going to kiss anyone’s feet to get in their good graces.

“I’m sure you’re hungry by now.” The second you stepped on the wood floors of the inside of your keep, the warmth hit you. Your shoes clicked on the material as you walked ahead of her, not looking back or waiting for an answer. “I’ll show you the kitchens, and then the dining hall.”

The dining hall was known for its size. It was huge, and the ceiling was high. Everything that was said echoed, and the lighting provided by strategically placed candles made the hall have an elegant, almost eerie feeling to it. The staff was already bustling around, plating food and pouring wine. Wanda and Pietro were already there, their harsh and bickering whispers hitting your ears until they heard you approaching.

“Oh, please, sit.” Wanda did so immediately, and Pietro walked around the table to pull out your chair, which sat at the head of it.

You cringed when Pietro sat down. He had been dethroned from his seat at your left hand, because it was courteous of you to give up that seat for your new night. That was one tradition that you wouldn’t break, simply because it would be seen as disrespectful. “You can sit right there, Lady Natasha.” You saw her lip twitch.

In all honesty, you had no idea what to call her formally. You two certainly weren’t close enough to address each other by first name, and you doubted she even knew it. But she wasn’t a man, and male knights were called “Sir”. She wasn’t a “Sir”. You didn’t want to offend her further by calling her it.

The first half of the dinner was in awkward silence. Wanda kept giving you glances, and you frowned at the way she was looking at you- like you had clearly messed something up. You sighed through your nose when you heard Pietro clear his throat, a sound that meant that he was about to run his mouth.

“So, my lady knight, what do you think of the castle?”

The red head didn't even realize she was being addressed until she looked up and saw you and everyone else looking at her expectantly. “It’s very nice.” You waited a bit, listening to hear whatever empty compliments that she would give for the sake of being polite. Ten seconds passed, and there was nothing.

You chuckled. “Thank you,” you answered just as shortly, holding back the urge to laugh much louder than was appropriate.

“So, where are you from?”

“The slums.” You nod in acknowledgment, and guilt. Sometimes you repressed the images of people living from coin to coin. But silly you, silly everyone. For there to have been people on the top, there had to be people at the bottom. And those who lived at the bottom lived in what were called “the slums”. “I don’t know if you would know anything about that, My Lady.”

Wanda made a noise that told you that the bold knight’s words were clearly meant to wound you, and Pietro’s brows shot upwards so quickly that you barely saw the movement happen. You stared at your plate, jaw dropped open in surprise and mortification.

You were fuming on the inside. How the hell would she know who you were? What you dealt with? How your husband was as cruel as he was disgusting? How you grew up a poor farmer’s daughter? She didn’t know, and that was what kept you grounded. How could she have known?

Before you could get in your right mind to utter a threat that you were sure that your late husband had said in your presence at least once, you nodded your head and took it in stride. You stood up from the table and didn’t look at her or the confused look she shot you after looking at your painfully unfinished plate.

“Wanda will show you to your chambers, Lady Natasha. I hope you enjoy your first dinner of many here at my castle, and I hope that tonight begins your yearlong journey to wisdom.” And with that, you turned on your heels after taking your plate shamelessly, heels clacking against the polished floor once again, silence filling the hall until long after you left.

§§

By the third day Natasha was there and the second that you had been blatantly avoiding her, you were starting to feel bad for fueling the fire between you two. She was to stay under your roof and do what she had to for a full year, and you antagonized her. You gave the sacred act of showing a knight to their room to someone else, and you understood Natasha’s lack of speech towards you to be a consequence of that.

But that was fine. You certainly didn’t need for the girl to like you. It would have made things much easier and smoother, but it wasn’t a necessity. Your job was to give her food, water, shelter, and time to find herself and her purpose as a knight. Nothing said that the two of you had to be as thick as thieves.

But that also didn’t mean that you would actively pass on befriending her. You decided after a long time of sitting at the polished wooden desk that had become yours that you would be her friend should fate allow it, and if not, there was no harm to it. But you weren’t going to chase her, no matter how wonderfully her bright hair would work as an object to follow.

A soft calling of your name happened seconds before Wanda opened the door. You greeted her informally and grinned at her, until you saw the look on her face and the sealed paper in her hand. Immediately, your joyful expression left and you sighed.

“Who is it this time?” Wanda shut the door behind her after your question, and you gave her a look. “It can’t be Lord Rumlow again.”

Brock Rumlow was not a good man. No man who had power was a good man, but he was one of the worst. He had gone through two wives in the past three years, and the second one was found with stab wounds in the forest. How he had gotten out of being tried for her murder was beyond you, and it made you sick to your stomach every time you thought about it. Now, he set his sights on you, a widow sitting on plenty of money and land. He had been sending you letters, flowers, gold, dresses, anything that a narcissistic man would think that another human being would like simply because the things were tangible. And the letters always said the same old thing; to marry him. And he wasn’t ever really asking.

“It’s him,” Wanda confirmed, her tone telling you that she felt the same way you did towards the vile man.

“I want to burn it,” you said, and immediately, Wanda crossed the room to put the note in the fire, waiting for your final say. “Let me read what this imbecile has asked for now. I wonder what beautiful horse or jewel he’ll offer for my hand, this time.”

You took the letter from Wanda gently and gave her a small smile, and she urged you to open it, just as nervous to see what was inside as you were. You stared at his seal for a few seconds, eyeing the red wax with a three headed serpent engraved with disdain before tearing it right open. You did the rest without ceremony, your eyes narrowed as you found the messy and unbothered handwriting that you would recognize from anywhere.

Lady of Riverstone,

I take it that my other letters may have been lost to the wind. I apologize for not reaching you earlier. But, if you have been getting my letters, then my main offer stands the same. I would be honored for you to take my name and stand under my veil, and for you to become my wife. Marriage to me would give you a great deal of benefits, and I have listed them down below. I would like an answer within two fortnights, and if I don’t get one, I’ll send another letter.

It was all more of the same, more of the same offers and then a little more, vague threats, and monotonous language that he hardly knew how to use correctly. You read with a neutral expression, even though Wanda was shocked reading all of the things he was offering. He signed it off like he did every other letter.

Lord Rumlow, of Serpent’s Keep.

“He offered you two tons of gold to send your father?”

“Do you notice how he’s never called me Lady Mirellis?” You asked, sipping the chalice of water that constantly sat at your desk, and got refilled whenever someone walked by and saw it nearing empty. “Or by my name?”

“I have.”

“It’s always ‘Lady of Riverstone’,” you sighed, shaking your head. “If he wants the land, he should just go on and say that. It’s much more respectable for him to be honest with me. Maybe I would have said yes already.”

Wanda made a face. “You’re lying, now.”

“Well, of course I am. I've never seen him, and all he wants is a woman to beat around. I’m not that woman, no woman is. Do you think I want to find myself dead within a half year of being wed?” There was a sharp knock on your door.

“He wouldn’t kill you. He wouldn’t gain these assets after your death,” Wanda said softly, understanding that you were about to finish the conversation. “He must be truly desperate to pay ou two tons of gold. That could help nearly anyone out of a pickle, and it would certainly pay off some things back at the farm.”

You knew that. But the truth was… you held a certain amount of irrational and rational disdain for your family. You knew that some of it was warranted just off of the way humans worked in general, but others weren’t. You knew for a fact that a part of you would always be bitter about the way that no one fought hard enough for you not to be taken from your home. You knew that a part of you would be bitter because they took the money that your late husband had offered them, like you were the fattest, most desirable pig in the pen. And there would forever, and ever, be a part of you—if not all of you— that would be angry about your wedding night.

Half of your family showed. The other half came, took you to a back room, and cried. They cried on your night of terror, and you comforted them. It was the one time where you truly needed your mother and her maternal instincts, the one time you needed your brother to teach you some moves that could hurt a man if you needed them. And they either weren’t where you needed them, or weren’t what you needed them. Both truths hurt the same.

“My family doesn’t need money,” you settled on saying, swallowing the burning that came with thinking about the people you shared blood with. “If they needed it, they would ask.”

“Your father is a proud man, he wouldn’t set that pride aside. Especially not to ask one of his own daughters for money.”

“Well, let that be their problem,” you said, although your harsh words weren’t as impactful because of the tremor in them. “I won’t marry Lord Rumlow.”

Wanda leaned forward a bit, and she took both of your hands in hers as the knocking grew louder. She looked you in the eyes, just the way one true friend looked at another. With the same ferocity in her voice as the time when she assured you that no one was going to force you to give up your rights to ladyship, her next words were no louder than a whisper. “And no one will make you.”

Your eyes almost grew watery as you held her hands, feeling the purity of the bond you shared with her surging. “Thank you.” You looked towards the door and let her hands go, uttering a soft command.

Pietro stood there with his arms crossed and a flushed look on his face. He cocked his head to the side at the sight of you and Wanda hovering over a broken open letter, and took a few steps forward. It was upside down, so you turned it his way so that he could read it easier, and the second he recognized the handwriting, he groaned.

“I think I can assume what this is,” he rolled his eyes, and he picked it up and walked over to the fire. When you’d said nothing, he tossed it in and the three of you watched it burn. “I came to tell you that our little knight is strange.”

“How so?”

“Well, she's writing.”

You furrowed your brows. “Writing?” You repeated, remembering her saying that she grew up poor. Most commoners had no idea how to read or write. You only learned because you had to learn when you married a lord. And even if knights had the ability to read and write, they hardly did. Words had very little value to a man who could wield a sword.

But Natasha Romanoff was no man.

“What on earth would she be writing about?” Wanda asked, leaning against the desk. “I wonder if she’s required to write a review on her treatment.”

Pietro gave a short but genuine laugh. “She’s probably writing down terrible things about you to give to the king after she returns home,” he joked, and Wanda cracked a smile, but you couldn’t find it in you to laugh.

“I couldn’t care less about a review of my hospitality or lack therefore of,” you drawled.

Wanda rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do, because you’re a kind person.”

“But she is not.” You felt bad for saying the words that you said not even seconds after.

“We don’t know that,” Wanda reasoned softly. “Actually, I happen to know that she’s quite nice. And she’s level headed and very smart, from what I can see. She’s no man with a little praise under his belt, that’s for sure.”

“So, she’s not boastful.” You said. “That’s good. But I don’t see her and I sharing more interactions than what we need to.”

“With all due respect, Lady Y/N,” Pietro said, leaning forward with that characteristic smirk of his plastered over his face. “You are very dramatic. You always have been.”

You could hardly even pretend to be offended. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Wanda said quietly, though not fearfully at all. “You are always dramatic, and then things work out.”

Wanda was right. She very much was, actually. Things like the river nearly drying up and crops rotting too quickly and other things that were completely out of your hands terrified you. The things that you couldn’t control made you irrational and erratic, and that was probably your worst fault. You did the same with things you could change, only with worrying. Something as simple as an apology could fix something, but you would sit on giving the apology for hours, sometimes even days.

That night, when it seemed like everyone else was fast asleep and dreaming sweet little images, you put on slippers and walked right outsides, your guards not even asking you where you were going. You walked right out of the side doors and into the garden, humming quietly to yourself as you walked through the entrance of it with your pails of water.

It was quiet besides the noise of bugs chirping, and the occasional flap of wings from birds above. Even your humming had tapered off, and it felt like you could have been able to hear things from miles away. You smiled in the crisp air as you bent over to water a rose bush, a soft affirmation towards the red flowers when you saw how pretty they looked in the moonlight. When you stood back up and turned your head around, you gasped in fright and tumbled towards the ground.

“Shit,” a hand caught your arm and the other was on your shoulder as your chest heaved, adrenaline rushing from being so frightened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you saw me.” It took you a second to see the face of the woman speaking in the moonlight, but when you saw it was the knight, you sighed.

You were set back on two feet, and then Natasha took a step backwards. “Why are you out here?”

She shrugged. “It’s pretty.” There was a stretch of silence as you waited for her to say something, anything else. “It’s safe.”

A part of you was angered by that statement. Yes, the gardens were safe. Of course they were, they were your safety! They were your place that you went to when you felt like nothing was in your control, like your own decisions weren’t yours. Nothing could hurt you in the gardens, and plants couldn’t talk. They held every secret that you could ever tell, they held every tear that you never shed in front of another, and they saw every emotion that you were too stoic to show in front of others. They were the one place that you could get peace. And now the knight has ruined it.

But on the other hand, you were proud of yourself for creating something that someone else can admire. You created something that someone else could be free in, and in a way, that was amazing. And that hand was outweighing the other.

So, you said, “I’m glad it feels that way.” You cleared your throat softly when you realized that you were speaking to her the way you spoke to the twins. “I created it as my own safe space, so I’m glad someone else thinks of it that way, too.”

There was a short yet heavy silence between you and Natasha, and then you saw her turn to face you, her eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. “I know you’re not very excited to have me here, but I’m here. So we can at least try to be cordial.”

“Is that not what we’re being?” You asked, not even taking your eyes off of the moon. “I thought we were even being a little friendly.”

“It would be nice if it lasted.” Natasha muttered, and you nodded your head.

“I don’t know if I offended you with the question about whether or not your father approved your knighthood,” you said, sighing. “I assume that I did. And if you carry around that offense, then I apologize. I don’t like talking about my own father, but you couldn’t have known that.”

“You do not need to be forgiven,” she states. “I apologize, as well.”

“And it’s not that I don’t want you here,” you started, already cursing yourself for going into what she had said not even a full minute earlier. You were tense as she waited for you to continue, but you just shrugged and sighed. “Just know that that’s not it.” Something reached toward you out of the corner of your eye, and you finally turned your head to look at her.

She was… she was nothing short of gorgeous. You were taller than her, so you looked down at her just a little bit. Her red hair looked more brown than anything, and her blue eyes were pale and still as beautiful as they were during the day. There was the smallest hint of a smile on her face, nervous almost, as you looked down at the arm that was reached out your way. The moon was shedding you both its white light, and it primarily rested right where her arm was extended, her palm lord and turned to the side.

She wanted to shake hands with you. Shaking hands was seen as archaic, and knights certainly didn’t touch ladies unless they were assisting them. But, you knew by now that Natasha was not the typical knight. One of her fingers twitched, and you realized that she was just waiting there, her hand hanging in the air, like a gavel ready to drop at any moment. And quickly, almost enough to make the other woman startle, you took her right hand in your own and shook it twice, keeping your eyes right on hers.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

******

hiiii guys! still establishing things here with this chapter, but when things kick off, they are going full speed. i already love this fic, and i can’t wait to put all my ideas down for it as the finished product! i hope you guys liked it, and if you did, please show her some love! i have a little taglist building up, so here it goes!

@normanijauregui @fayhar @8plasma @procrastinatingsapphictrash

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#natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x female reader #natasha romanoff series #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff angst #marvel fanfic #knight!natasha #lgbtq #gay!natasha #marvel au #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x fem reader

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st-just · 3 years

Text

A Setting: The City of Sethennai

Because I’ve spent long enough tinkering on this that I might as well share it with a population of more than a half-dozen potential players. Also it could almost certainly use an editing pass, and I don’t want to lose it all next time my computer dies.

So, a collection of densely packed plot hooks in the shape of a city

City History

The City of Sethennai is quite possibly the oldest city in the world, or at least the oldest still inhabited. When the first Dwarfs and Goliaths fled the Titans for the coast, they found ziggurats already rising from the water and tunnels dug beneath their feet, ruined by some already ancient cataclysm. Supported by fertile soil and full waters, they built their own city over it, and welcomed their own gods to it, a center of resistance to the Titanomarchy that became an empire in its own right.

Centuries passed and power drifted inland, to the mountain palaces of the Titans’ Giant heirs and the divinely appointed heroes who sometimes overthrew them. The City was rich, but peaceful, its soldiers only raised when one princess or another took it as a capital during a civil war. Such was the case when the first ships appeared from the East.

The adventurers from the League of Free Cities had been spurred across the sea by visions of fortune and glory, overwhelming the defenders with armies of goblin slaves and the ability to evoke demons far beyond what they could deal with. Their leader Sethennai proclaimed himself Emperor and renamed the city in his honour, taking it as his capital. After his assassination some years later the ‘empire’ fell into an anarchy it has never quite recovered from, but the name has stuck, and for the two hundred years since wonders and riches have flowed across the eastern ocean while mercenaries and adventurers have poured west in ever greater numbers.

The city’s ruler for the last fifteen years has been Prince Cael, an adventurer universally believed to be supported by the League’s political rivals back East. If so, they got what they paid for – experts and financiers have been imported and sponsored, and trade opened to anyone capable of paying the reasonable import duties.

Until two years ago, he had been the picture of brutal decadence, rousing himself from luxurious hedonism only to brutally deal with any threats to his power. Recently though, he changed – sponsoring vast expeditions into the ancient palaces of the interior and the ruins buried on the city’s outskirts, and installing a self-proclaimed Hierophant whose heresies had earned her a death warrant back East in the city’s grandest temples (violently banishing the cults which had held them since the Conquest in the process).

One week ago, at exactly noon, the sun vanished from the sky for one minute, and the entire city was filled with a deafening scream. Since then, the Prince’s grand palace has been sealed tight, with ingeniously horrifying magical defences ensuring that anyone who tries to force a door or window isn’t around to try again. Everything’s very rapidly falling apart, and the city’s traditional power brokers are reacting like so many rabid weasels in too small a cage.

It is, then, a perfect opportunity for people with the will to seize it.

Districts

The Palantine

If Sethennai is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world, the vast palace complex which crowns its central hill is probably likewise the oldest building still in use. Its foundation is burrowed deep into the hill on which it stands, to the point that some delvers and historians have theorized that it was once a truly massive pyramid now mostly buried by the ages. Rising out of it are two great peaks - impressive ziggurats in their own right - of obvious dwarven make, fashioned to house their ancient Ancestors-Kings and gods in suitable splendor, and since renovated and built over to house the city’s rulers and most favored priesthoods. Surrounding them are a dozen smaller peaks, each the estate of one of the city’s foremost patrician families, teeming with retainers and servants. The land around them is pristine and perfectly manicured, full of wondrous botanical gardens and menageries for the amusement of Sethennai’s greatest citizens.

Location of Interest: The Throne

A palace built on the ruins of a palace built on the ruins of a palace. The grand ziggurat which the city’s rulers have called home since time immemorial is built into and sits at the peak of its highest hill, the highest point in the sky for dozens of miles in every direction. Its labyrinthine apartments, kitchens, vaults, galleries and corridors house the Prince and his family, dozens of favorites and notables, and hundreds of guards, servants, retainers and entertainers.

Or, well, housed.

One week ago, the sun vanished from the sky, and a scream echoed through the city. Since then, the palace complex has proven impenetrable. Every door and window is closed, and attempts to open them by force have fared...poorly. In a ‘never going to walk again’ sort of way. Scrying and other means of magical surveillance so far attempted have simply failed. No one has tried to escape, and no noises have been heard - the whole complex is simply silent.

Of course, that means that all its secrets and riches are there for the taking. Or that’s the growing consensus - at least three separate groups have camped out near various gates and major entrances, each preparing their own scheme to break in and seize everything within. There’s no fighting between them. Yet.

Faction of Note: The Hierophant

Yri Cenred is many things. A self-proclaimed ‘experimental theologian’. One of shockingly few mortal humans to piss off the Illyrin clergy enough to be specifically declared Anathema. A member of the Commonwealth’s very exclusive list of ‘Enemies of Reason’. Empirically immune to thunderbolts from cloudless skies and most other signs of divine disfavor. Easily one of the most powerful mages in the city. And, for most of the last two years, its High Priestess and Hierophant.

No one knows quite how her first meeting with Prince Cael went, and whether she was responsible for her change in personality or if he sought her out because of it. All anyone knows is that shortly after she arrived in the city a few days ahead of Imperial Witch-Hunters looking for her head on a pike, Cael forcibly expelled the Khasali cults which had occupied the Palantine’s grand temples since the Conquest, and installed her in their place with the newly minted title of Hierophant for the city. Since then she and her growing coterie of acolytes (bright-eyed, motivated and young, though you can flip a coin as to whether their hands are stained with ink or blood) have been extremely busy, though no one can say exactly what with. Certainly they haven’t held any public rituals or services. Despite the costs - both political and monetary - in protecting and sponsoring her, Cael never seemed to question whether it was worthwhile.

The general opinion on the streets is that she’s probably to blame for anything and everything worth complaining about. The only real divide is between those who think she bewitched the Prince and turned him into her puppet, those who think she’s the one who killed him, and the moderates who think the correct answer is probably ‘both’.

Foundrytown

The New World is absolutely full of exotic reagents, fuel sources, and materials to craft and invent with. It is also absolutely full of people who will pay in your currency of choice for finished goods, armor, weaponry, and whatever nasty alchemical tricks you can keep from blowing up in their face until they want them to. Foundrytown is the sprawling mass of smokestacks, workshops, factories and markets that has spilled to the north of Sethennai’s walls, exploiting both opportunities to the fullest while limiting the chance that some idiot will burn half the city down (again). Robber barons, militant workers, loose fraternities of tinkerers and half-trainer artificers, and the occasional rogue clockwork or alchemical monstrosity all jostle for space and control of the beating heart of Sethennai’s economy.

Faction of Note: The Grand Bazaar

Official Imperial theology accords true dragons a place of honour - the Princes of the Earth, entrusted by Heaven with containing the fury of the elements within themselves so as to render the world peaceful enough for cultivation by the younger races - and forbids very few things to wyrms willing to play the part. (Principally, do not become undead, a god in your own right, or an archdemon of the elements. Though some justification can usually be found for how any sufficiently problematic dragon is actually doing one of those).

And Tyramara the Magnificent, the Fire of the Deeps has not technically done any of those things. Still, the ancient wyrm has little interest in allowing the wasting disease which has crippled her continue to spread, and her solution is unorthodox enough that she thought it prudent to abandon her palace-lair in Imir and relocate to the New World, six treasure galleons worth of her hoard in tow.

One of the city’s wealthiest residents from the moment she landed, she has bought a plaza in Foundrytown and offered her sponsorship to nearly every tinker and engineer who cares to set up shop there, provided they help sustain and improve the mechanical and hydraulic prosthetics that supplement and replace her dying organs. She has promised a full half of her hoard to any who can permanently deal with her condition, a fortune men have killed for in the past, and certainly will again.

Faction of Note: The Hellworks

They’re not officially called the Hellworks - there are, in fact, absolutely no devils involved. Still, between the billowing clouds of soot and steam pouring from their chimneys at all hours of the day, the severe architecture, and the bound spirits who keep the looms running at all hours of the day and eagerly take any opportunity to leave anyone who gets too close crippled or maimed to vent their anger - well, the name stuck.

One of the most obvious consequences of Prince Cael’s turn towards the esoteric these last years, the ' ‘Royal Sethennai Weaver’s Trust” is the brainchild and absolute domain of the Lady Binder Katerine sol Dalme sol Telrin ir’Paimon. An Illyrin magister with heterodox opinions on the proper uses of magic, popular opinion is divided on whether it’s more accurate to say Cael invited her to reside in the city, or just offered her asylum before her elders had a chance to properly condemn her.

Regardless, after six months of operation she - and her half-dozen strictly bound and extremely unhappy ifrit, and several hundred eminently replaceable more mundane workers - are already well on their way to supplying all the clothing and textiles Sethennai’s teeming masses require single-handedly, produced at a scale and speed far beyond what any traditional artisans guild could hope to compete with.

Crossroads

Dominating the Old City - synonymous with it, really - that the district is called the ‘Crossroads’ is often considered something of a cruel joke by new arrivals. The ‘Labyrinth’ is usually offered instead. Ancient stone tenements and storehouses are basic facts of geography, surviving through conquest and fire, and over and around and through them are generations of newer building - mansions of imported oak and marble, shantytowns of cannibalized carts and derelict ships built on rooftops, and nondescript inns and stores conveniently built on top of trap doors and tunnels leading to much more exciting locales. Natives of a neighborhood who know all the secret passages and blind alleys can quickly get to anywhere they like. New arrivals are strongly advised to pay well for a reliable guide.

Faction of Note: The Dreamers

There’s something under the harbor. There always has been. There probably always will be. Most people can go their whole lives without noticing it, but a certain few find living in the Old City a haunting experience, their nights spent dreaming of drowned palaces and impossible angles, their days spent lost in alleys and markets that have never existed. Inevitably, they come out of a daze and find themselves perched on the waters edge, staring into the filthy, polluted depths with an intense sense of longing.

Called the Dreamers, they’re an eclectic and informal fraternity, living in makeshift houseboats or the cheapest tenements that press against the water. Quite a few simply sleep on the streets. They’re something like a religion, and something like a guild - the most personable and talkative are merchants, selling the fish that others catch, the strange relics and minor treasures that their divers retrieve from the harbor, and the often beautiful - if always uncanny - art they produce. They take care of each other and, though no one has ever seen a dreamer raise a hand in anger, every attempt by syndicates or rival cults to extort or expel them has ended with their opponents going mad, screaming and clawing at their flesh in the middle of the night, or found poised in some elaborate and improbable suicide. After the third time, everyone more or less got the idea.

No one knows who leads them - if anyone does. Insofar as they have a public face, Zoe Alvane is it - a street urchin who ‘found the sea’ before she had hit puberty, for the last few years she has been the one who spends seemingly every hour of the day ensuring her ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ have food and shelter, and looking after the other beggars and poor in the neighborhood while she can as well. She’s also the one outsiders deal with when they come looking to buy information - it’s a disquieting fact of life in Sethennai that the Dreamers’ know almost everything there is to know about almost everyone. They are generally content to be left alone, and Zoe is very sympathetic and willing to offer personal advice and play the part of fortune teller to anyone desperate and willing to trade or do a favor - but it’s generally agreed that trying to force information from them is a bad idea.

Faction of Note: Ironfang Mercenary Company

When Prince Cael seized the throne, he didn’t do so single handedly. He needed trained, disciplined soldiers to seize the Palantine and coastal forts, ensure no one escaped the palace, and keep order on the streets while the messy business of extinguishing the previous dynasty was carried out. For all this and more, he relied on the professional expertise of the Ironfang Company.

Formed around a core of hardened hobgoblin veterans of various border wars and colonial filibusters in the Free Cities, the Company has for the last fifteen years been the Prince’s favorite tool for securing his interests, keeping order, and bloodily making examples of any threats to his rule. For their trouble, they’ve grown fat and happy - a steady paycheck and yearly bonuses have left every officer with a townhouse, and most common soldiers with coin for families and apartments for them to live in.

Despite the lack of real combat - and the need to take on locals as new recruits, as more and more soldiers retire or die over the years - Captain Azaersi is a leathery old warehouse who has never let her troops grow soft. Even week the grand parade ground in Crossroads echoes with screaming drill sergeants and the crack of muskets, and it’s an open secret that the Prince paid to import stocks of grenades and munitions from Quepta for her arsenal. No one knows quite how she plans to deal with the sudden disappearance of her patron and employer, but for the moment the Ironfang seem content to keep order in the corner of Crossroads around the arsenal and parade ground that they call home.

The Ruins

The ruins are not, legally, part of Sethanni, and absolutely no one with anything resembling sense would ever actually choose to live there. No one actually knows where the eponymous ruins come from - or at least, no one can agree which section is from where. Shantytowns of the most despised and desperate and built on top of their predecessors, which are built on top of battered and broken pre-Conquest ziggurats and homes, which are built on top of - well, some of it is just a natural cave system, and no one is sure about the rest. Or ever found just how deep it goes. Aside from the casualties of the Prince’s attempts to map it, the Ruins are inhabited exclusively by those that would be strung up or burned alive if they tried to live anywhere else, or those sufficiently dedicated to their greed or ambition that they’re absolutely certain they alone can unlock the secrets and find whatever wonders are buried beneath all the traps and monsters. Not great company, either way.

Faction of Note: The Weavers’ Masquerade

Sethennai never really followed its ‘sister cities’ in the League in religion, with a sort of tolerant anarchy of different gods and sects almost always predominating over the gleefully blasphemously sublime demon-cults that the conquerors originally brought with them. But the small cultists that did exist at least enjoyed a luxurious, privileged irrelevance, with sanctums in the city’s grand temple. That finally changed when Cael seized the temples for his new Hierophant - and every relic and sacred text in them, as bloodily as necessary. Which with demon worshippers meant a massacre - letting one escape and beseech their patron for aid in crafting some horrible vengeance being generally agreed to be a terrible idea.

Not that that actually worked, of course. One acolyte managed to escape - no one’s quite sure how, but then, probably best not to ask unless you’ve got a particularly strong stomach. Well, that’s one of her stories, anyway - she goes by Maia Dayal, Beloved of the Architect, Wearer of Ten Thousand Faces, and sometimes she prefers to say she’s a recently arrived priestess from Celmy, or a street urchin who found enlightenment entirely on her own. As might be expected by the self-proclaimed title, she also changes her face (and build, age, species…) about as often as everyone else bathes.

While she has shown no interest in actually taking bloody revenge on the Prince, Dayal has done plenty to earn the price on her head. The Masquerade that has grown around her is a carnival of wonders and horrors, where all manner of temptations are offered to the truly desperate, debauched and vile. Skinweavers and facetakers always need raw material, and secrets and deaths can both be easily bought for the right price - though in keeping with their patron, the Masquerade is hardly a safe or stable place to do business, and offending the wrong cultist can easily lead to a shift from ‘visitor’ to ‘canvas for artistic expression’.

Faction of Note: The Keendream Expedition

Over the last two centuries, the actual facts about the pre-Conquest city has (with few exceptions) been buried under the weight of legends, rumors and (when necessary) several tons of rock. Despite this (or because of it) whenever things get bad (...worse) for the original population of goliaths and dwarves who can trace their lineage back to that time, stories about some hidden savior or buried relic that will free them spread like wildfire. This is just such a time.

Ilidak Keendream Kathu-Viano is an explorer from a family with some grounds for its claim of being pre-conquest nobility. For the last year he has worked on commission for the Prince, leading a large and incredibly well-armed expedition into the ruins across the water from the Old City, digging into them in search of..something. No one who knows the goal has been willing to talk, but certainly it has involved hiring every historian and scholar with anything like knowledge of the city before it was Sethennai (not to mention half the charlatans and rumor mongers who might know something).

Once news of the Prince’s disappearance reached Kathu-Viano, work shifted from its previous sedate pace to something much more determined. Certain paranoid minds have said it’s almost like he was waiting for this. Other, moderately less paranoid ones have pointed out it’s a bit odd that the government-sponsored expedition is so short on patricians and city notables and so high on mercenaries form the interior and goliath clans with far more reason to listen to Kathu-Viano than the Prince, should some conflict break out.

The Stacks

Museums, exhibitions, satellite campuses, mystical archives, storehouses of eldritch knowledge, and one actual wizard tower - if the faint taste of ozone in the air doesn’t warn you what you’re getting in for leaving the city’s eastern gates, then the architecture certainly will. Wedged between variously reputable bookstores and inquisitives, different formalized and longstanding campuses are dedicated to the arts of conjuration, enchantment, sparkcraft, and practical cosmology. Competition for new discoveries and to fully unlock ancient secrets are good natured and nonviolent - at least, that’s all you can get out of anyone left standing once the smoke clears.

Faction of Note: The Bookhounds

The Bookhounds aren’t any sort of formal organization - and at least half of them would roll their eyes at the name - but rather a loose network of gutter mages, disreputable academics, private inquisitives and researchers for hire, and people with a little talent or cash to burn and far too much curiosity for their own good. They act as a sort of volunteer police force in the Stacks, passing each other clues and leads and doing each other favors to track down stolen (or escaped) relics and curses, stop idiots from unleashing anything really dramatic, and generally help people and save the day. Not to mention accumulate really impressive bags of tricks and rare books themselves in the process.

While they don’t have anything like a real leader, the group’s beating heart is Nikos Roth, an Esheri academic who arrived in the city as a fresh-faced student on a three month expedition a decade back and who never intends to leave. Running a small, incredibly ramshackle-looking secondhand book store wedged between two tenements, he nonetheless has one of the more impressive collections of occult lore in the city, and is more than happy to trade for more of it, or connect anyone in need with a specialist who can help them. As more than one would-be thief has discovered, he’s also a fairly talented mage, and for all that being entirely self-taught has left him with some obvious holes in his training, it’s also left him with some tricks that basically no one comes prepared to counter.

Redgate

Once, Redgate Prison stood alone, a fearsome warning of the Prince’s power to anyone looking south from the city center. Eighty-some years of steady urban sprawl later, most of its inmates would probably just need a running start from the prison walls to land back home. Filled mostly with those whose dreams of a new world fell flat, but with too little cash or too many enemies to get home, the slums of Redgate are a natural habitat for street gangs, drug peddlers, flesh traders, and everyone else looking to take advantage of the desperate and vulnerable. The prison itself - and its infamous and heavily armed wardens - has stumbled into being the center of law writ large, dealing out summary justice for criminals that are (correctly) assumed to be beneath the Prince’s notice.

Faction of Note: Regate Prison

Sitting on a steep hill across the water from the Old City, Redgate prison was at one point a fortress, but for generations has been put to use housing the city’s worst, most dangerous, and most profitable criminals. Given the sprawling, crime-ridden slums that now surround it, its wardens also work as a sort of brutal police force, keeping the pretence of order on the street and preserving the Prince’s Peace. Usually.

The problems with discipline start at the top, really. The Prison’s infamously brutal First Warden is also its oldest and most dangerous prisoner. Before the Conquest, Vrocdruk was one of the city’s lesser gods, enthroned in one of the Palantine’s grand temples. When Sethennai - the man - defeated him, he chose to pull his demons away before they could tear the god into so much bloody aether. Instead he was crippled, lessened, and bound to a new home in the fortress and a new purpose; defending the city and its rulers. Later, less skillful, princes altered the binding, making him responsible for most crime and punishment and hoping that his sacred nature would make the native dwarves and goliaths more obedient.

Vrocdruk is still crippled, still bound to the prison, still forced to obey the orders of the city’s acclaimed ruler, and still extremely unhappy about it. He takes any excuse to work out his unhappiness on criminals or troublemakers with the incredible bad luck to catch his direct attention. His wardens largely follow his example, often acting less like agents of justice and more like a particularly well armed gang - to the point of semi-officially collecting fees for ‘security’ from nearby businesses, supplementing the cash extorted from prisoners and their families for both necessities and luxuries while incarcerated.

Sootcliff

Trailing south of Foundrytown, on and under the steep slope beneath the city’s western walls, the densely packed tenements of Sootcliff are certainly stained grey enough to earn the name. Existing primarily as a source of blood and sweat to feed into the ever-hungry foundries and assembly lines to the north, The buildings are cheap, massive, and constructed at the lowest possible cost, with all the consequences you would expect from that. With easy access to weapons and alchemical supplies from Foundrytown and (literally) beneath the notice of the Old City, Sootcliff is famous as the home of militant bands, revolutionary conspiracies, disgraced artificers, and generally anyone who has a dream for a new world and a plan that will require a lot of explosions to get there.

Faction of Note: The Painted Doctors

Less a single organization and more an extraordinarily loose confederation of - often feuding - crimelords, the Painted Doctors are a fraternity of (largely half- or self-) taught alchemists who have over the last year grown to be the dominant criminal guild in Sootcliff. The name sometimes refers to the incredibly distinctive tattoos each ‘Doctor’ has covering much of their body, universally agreed to be somehow enchanted or cursed. Otherwise it refers to the incredibly alien and vibrant skin tones that their test subjects and muscle develop after repeatedly ingesting their ‘miraculous’ potions and tonics.

While possessing remarkably little actual magical talent among them, the Doctors have perfected the recipes for several extremely useful potions - several incredibly addictive drugs, a half dozen forms of acids and grenades, and a dizzying variety of enhancing tonics to improve themselves and distribute to their thugs - and have managed to keep both the recipes and their sources for the necessary reagents entirely secret. This has left them in the enviable position of being able to promise anyone signing on with them that they’ll be able to more or less become a regenerating ogre for an hour whenever they need to fight, while their opposition has had to settle with advising their men to stock up on fire and acid.

The leading light of the Doctors is one ‘Dr’ Fadre - almost certainly not his real name - an alchemical savant whose ‘miracle cures’ are bought and resold across the city. A flashy and well dressed sort whose patronage has turned several of Sootcliff’s most prominent dens of vice into something close to palaces for those who can afford it, he’s said to be far less interested in the nuts and bolts of running a criminal empire than enjoying its fruits and indulging his passion for the Sciences. It doesn’t hurt his reputation that he doesn’t look a day over thirty, and has for as long as anyone has known him.

Chance

Facing Oldport from across the river’s mouth, the docks of Chance are significantly new, cheaper, and altogether more ramshackle. Not really a part of any conscious design, Chance grew organically as the city sprawled beyond its original walls, essentially smuggling docks so successful it was easier to legitimize and start taxing them than it was to hang everyone involved. They now provide the city with a constant infusion of nerdowells and fortune seekers, and the district around them takes great pride in fleecing new arrivals of every penny to their name by the end of their first night on land. Hostels and boarding houses are usually safe, traditional vice dealers less so, and anyone selling treasure maps or magical amulets not at all. Still, they’re probably more harmless than the various mercenary recruiters and ‘exiled princes’ promising to give new arrivals exactly the thrill and fortune they came searching for.

Faction of Note: The Red Ocean Trading Company

What is now the Red Ocean Trading Company has gone through several dramatic changes over it’s eighty years of existence. First a privateer fleet hired by the Free City of Celmy during the First Armada War. Then eventually growing strong enough to seize several islands as an independent pirate state, before being crushed by the Esheri Navy during the Second Armada War. It’s remnants learned a bit of humility from that, and it is now seemingly content with its existence as either (depending on who you ask) a obscenely profitable shipping firm, or one of the most widespread criminal syndicates in the world.

The Company’s significant interests in Sethennai - nearly half the docks in Chance, guides and guards for anyone heading into the Interior, and fingers in quite a few less legitimate pies as well - are ably represented by Captain Arun Prem, a(n in)famous adventurer and scoundrel in his own right, apparently enjoying his semi-retirement behind a desk by getting outrageously drunk with his favorite mercenaries and criminals every night and swapping incredible (and implausible) old war stories.

There’s plenty of rumors, of course - that he’s here in de facto exile after angering the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he’s a thousand-year-old vampire and is the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he ate a kraken’s heart, and is immortal as long as he doesn’t lose sight of the water. That he’s biding his time to prepare an army before heading inland to carve a new kingdom for himself. That he’s only in the city for as long as it takes to carry out some truly spectacular heist. That he killed Prince Cael in a secret duel and trapped his soul in the pocketwatch he wears at all times. And so on. Of course, other rumours say that he started all of those himself to preserve his mystique as he grows fat in his old age.

Oldport

Facing out to the harbour but safely ensconced within the city walls, Oldpot is, as the name implies, one of the oldest ports in the new world - and certainly one of the busiest. Fully loaded merchant ships arrive daily, their cargoes emptied and replaced with the plunder of the New World almost overnight so they can return home on the next turn of the wind. Beyond the grand ports themselves, this district is home to all the most respectable shipping companies, merchant banks, hotels, and townhouses and apartments, as well as all the official consulates and embassies that Sethennai plays host to.

Faction of Note: First Bank of Sethennai

Despite only being as old as Prince Cael’s reign, the Bank already feels like an eternal and irreplaceable part of Sethennai. This isn’t something people are necessarily happy about, but its leadership had done a truly amazing job at keeping dissent to grumbling and resentment of the inevitable, and not actual resistance. They’re good at that sort of thing, even when they used Prince Cael’s (and, thus, the City’s) massive debts to his foreign benefactors as justification for taking control of the city’s tariffs and tolls, and began rigorously enforcing them, possibly for the first time ever.

Combined with a legal monopoly on the ability to mint coins, this has of course made the Bank incredibly wealthy. But not to the degree that might be assumed - the riches collected are to a large degree shipped back east to foreign creditors. Of the remaining, quite a bit is invested with as much an eye for politics as strict profit.

Executive Director Salman Ticaret, like most of his staff, is a Sethennai native who sought education in the Commonwealth (like most, he took a new name on gaining citizenship). Along with modern accounting and investing techniques, he came home with a firm grasp of political economy - and so for the last decade and a half has been more than happy to offer favorable rates to well positioned patrician and merchant houses, in exchange for their own favors and consideration in turn. The result is that the bank’s marble halls and adamant vaults house information as much as money. And Ticaret is perfectly willing to invest both, if the opportunity is promising enough.

Foreign Interests

The League of Free Cities

The League of Free Cities is not so much a single power as a collection of fiercely independent deomcratic city-states held together by the intertwined private empires of their leading citizens, deep and interdependent trading relationships, and a common religion that the rest of the world calls demon-worship - they view this as deeply offensive. Also they’ve been doing it for hundreds of years and they’re not all dead yet, so clearly everyone else is just doing demonology wrong. Politics are a mess of knives in the dark and openly bribing the voting populace with feasts and spectacles, with glory and riches to anyone who can hold the mob’s favor for long.

Demonic evocation - and the arts learned as a result of it, like fleshweaving, orienomarchy , breaking reality down into elemental chaos and shaping it to your whims, and so on - are in the rest of the world generally met with very thorough execution, making the freethinkers of the League the world’s bleeding edge in magical innovation. The entire culture of the League is also nearly custom-made to produce bold idiots willing to do what it takes to get rich or die trying, and the various Free City’s Adventurers Guilds are (in)famous the world over.

Until recently, the Free Cities considered Sethennai, if not one of them, then at least a younger sibling or benevolent dependency. Prince Cael’s coup has been taken as something of a wound, and the merchant interests who have lost out as he opened trade have made sure that in the decades since his name has become synonymous with bloody-handed tyranny. The first broadsheets celebrating his death will sell out in moments, and the acclaimed merchant adventurer Vyas Asraya, said to be en route to the city, is said to be very optimistic about future trading opportunities.

Holy Illyric Empire

Technically speaking a vast and sprawling feudal state unified only in the person of the Sovereign (Empress of Illyrin, Queen of Belthaya, Defender of the Hierophant of Imir, Grand Duchess of Abhari, etc, and so on, and so forth), the Empire dominates the better part of two continents, and in terms of size and prestige is unquestionably the foremost state on the globe. It is also a bureaucrat’s nightmare, its aristocracy distracted from their internal feuds only when they need to defend their ancestral rights from central overreach.

Ancient controls and long established relationships make Imperial binders the most fearsome conjurers and thaumaturges in the known world, a process not at all hurt by the wholesale incorporation of any powerful spirits or terrestrial god who will sign on the dotted line into the official pantheon. Illyrin Paladins are also easily the most storied heavy cavalry the world has ever seen, and Abharic necromancers are generally held to be the heirs (or direct pupils) of the inventors of the craft.

Illyric interests have prospered under Prince Cael’s reign, but the last years have seen Sethennai become a haven for heretical priests and radical binders, something Ambassador Konrad Reingard has been rumored to be increasingly frustrated with, though no one heard a word from his Oldport estate since the chaos began.

The Sublime Esheri Commonwealth

A thoroughly modern and enlightened state, the Commonwealth is history’s gift to the cartographer, an empire with firmly delineated borders and clear, rationally determined administrative divisions. Governed by a Janissary Corps educated and conditioned from childhood to put principle above self interest and the good of the Commonwealth above friends or (nonexistent) family, the Esheri control far less land than the Illyrin Empire, but has been able to fight it to a standstill and even force it to abandon certain far flung dependencies over a series of wars across the last century.

Beyond a ruthlessly efficient system for taxation and conscription, the Commonwealth’s military might is credited to two sources - on the one hand, its marines are the finest and most disciplined line infantry anyone is likely to ever see, experts in the use of gas and artillery and famously cool under fire. One the other, their heavy automata are an answer to any conjured devil or bound beast, enlightened clockwork providing enough force to cleave through scales and enchanted plate without missing a beat. But the Janissaries are as happy as their enemies to admit that they prefer unfair fights - though they credit their infamous spy network to the fruits of their scientific studies of society and history, while their enemies instead blame the corrupting effects of gold, blackmail, and a complete indifference to the morals of those they work with.

While the Commonwealth does have an embassy in the city, it mostly exists as an appendage of the First Sethennai Bank, the private institution responsible for printing and guarding the solvency of the city’s currency, its entire upper rung staffed by experts trained in the Commonwealth and generally considered Prince Cael’s way of paying back their support for his coup. More recently, it has been rumored that the Secretariat has taken an interest in the struggles in the interior. Coincidentally, an ‘Academic’ has been seen floating around various less than reputable bars in Chance, ostensibly as part of a project to record the city’s myths and folklore.

The Warlord States

For the last two hundred years, the interior has been an evershifting patchwork of successor kingdoms, native revolts, monstrous empires, released horrors, and stranger things besides, the unending tide of weapons and adventurers ensuring that no single player was ever able to secure dominance (and the various rulers of Sethennai have certainly played their part in keeping things that way). At the moment the foremost powers are a giantblooded kingdom led by a messaniac priest-king claiming to be the reincarnation of a Titan, a personal union enforced at sword point between a Khasli pirate queen and a goliath ‘emperor’, a red dragon who has claimed an old giant palace and forced the dwarves living in the mountains around it to provide tribute and worship, and several dozen more minor principalities. It should go without saying that war is the natural state of being, and soldiers are sucked up like ships in a whirlpool.

Adventurers are the lifeblood of Sethennai, and they don’t only flow one way. A constant stream of veterans - either enriched or embittered - skulk, limp or run back once they’ve had their fill of the wonders of the new world, usually missing something important or carrying something priceless - sometimes both. The courts and inner circles of every powerful warlord are composed exclusively of this sort of hard, tricky and generally insufferable type of rogue, and they’re often the only agents trusted enough to be dispatched on delicate missions. The line between warlord and criminal kingpin or pirate magnate is also extremely thin - sometimes nonexistent - as smuggling, sabotage and assassinations are simply basic tools of statecraft in the ruthless arena of the interior. More than once, an ambitious Prince of Sethennai has attempted to recreate their ancestor’s short lived empire, only to be found butchered in their bed but the agents of one warlord or another.

The Warlord States view Sethennai as a vital artery for supplies and funding, and for manpower to refill their armies with disposable bodies for their constant border wars. On a grander scale, those with ambition view it as either a crown jewel and future capital, or a bleeding ulcer on the land which needs to be razed to its foundations. In either case, few are interested in a strong, stable government for it. Regardless of their opinions, sending emissaries and embassies to the city is the first (and often only) diplomatic initiative of every new warlord state - though in truth their role is often closer to mercenary recruiter and fundraiser.

#this is theoretically a writing blog #D&D #abhari #well D&Dified but mostly #worlbuilding

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sfb123 · 3 years

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Sapere Aude - Part 8A

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: M -MATURE

Warning: Adult language, smut (🍋🍋🍋) and other adult themes.

Word Count: 4,049

Notes: I know I’ve sucked at updating and posting. I hit kind of a personal slump in my writing, there was a lot of self-loathing involved. I really struggled with writing chapter 9, and I eventually had a revelation that it was likely because I wasn’t done exploring everything that happened in chapter 8, so I’ve made a sub chapter. We follow Liam when after he leaves their quarters and get into his thought process in dealing with the bombshell that was dropped on him.

And yes, you read that rating right, my lemon tree has had its first bloom. I really stressed myself out over this, so I hope it’s worth the time I spent trying to convince myself that I was doing a good job, not to mention the time my friends had to spend (see below) to boost my ego.

Thank you so so much to @txemrn for reading a couple of snippets for me and being the cheerleader I needed when I was feeling really down on myself and my work...even though I was supposed to be the one giving YOU a peptalk!

And a super special thank you to my fairy smutmother @jessiembruno. You listened to me complain, and doubt myself, and a million other things multiple times a day while I was trying to find my way, and you never once came off as annoyed or frustrated. I am so lucky to be able to call you a friend.

Finally, thank you so much @twinkleallnight for my UPDATED moodboard! She took it upon herself to update it to better reflect the feel of the story, and she did a kick ass job!

Tags: I’m officially rocking my new tag list. Everyone is listed below as well as in the comments for safety. If you’d like to be added or removed, let me know!

“Liam, where are you going?”

“I need to take a walk. Gather my thoughts.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I need to be alone right now. You stay here, I’ll be back shortly.”

Before she could stop him, Liam was out the door. He knew she just wanted to be there for him, but he needed to be alone. The royal quarters, his home, his sanctuary, suddenly felt so small. He was suffocating there, he needed to get away, to breathe.

“Your majesty?” Bastien stopped him.

“I’m fine, Bastien, just going for a walk. Please stand down.” Liam tried to keep his tone and expression neutral, but it was obvious to Bastien that something was wrong. He bowed to the King, following orders and remaining at his post.

Liam continued walking through the palace, unsure where he was going, he just needed to get out. He found himself walking through the gardens, approaching the maze. One of his mother’s last projects before her passing...or rather, before she abandoned him. It was always a special place for Liam. Growing up, he would often go there to hide out when he was feeling lonely, or missing his mother more than usual. It was one of his favorite spots on the grounds, possibly in the world. How would he ever be able to look at this space the same again? It would serve as a constant reminder of the insurmountable betrayal he had faced at the hands of the woman that gave him life.

As he walked the familiar path through the maze, he considered his options. Perhaps he would burn it to the ground, and salt the earth to prevent any attempts at regrowth. Would that make him feel better? Would it take away the pain?

Likely not, but it would feel good to know that I took something away from her that she cherished so dearly. A metaphor for what she has done to me. My memories of her, her kindness, her generosity, they mean nothing anymore. Because, to her, I meant nothing. I couldn’t have. If I did, she wouldn’t have left.

He continued his journey, getting lost in his thoughts. He would look back at his childhood memories, trying to remember something, anything, that could ease this moment for him. Nothing came. His mind then wandered to the relationship he could have had with Thomas, his brother. He had another brother this whole time. All those times when Leo had run off to god knows where, he wouldn’t have had to be quite as alone as he was. Sure, he had Drake to keep him company, but Drake wasn’t a prince. He didn’t have the same expectations, the same limitations, that Liam faced. He could have had someone else by his side that understood all of it.

How was he supposed to feel about Thomas now that he knew the truth? His first instinct was anger, but he quickly rejected that. It wasn’t his fault that they were kept apart their whole lives. He was suddenly very curious about Thomas’s life.

What was his childhood like? How did he feel when he learned that he was also royalty? Has he ever wanted to say anything to me, to come forward? Would I have believed him if he had?

Even though he wasn’t supposed to know any of this, he hoped that things would get to a point where he could talk to Thomas, and ask those questions. Ideally in a casual setting over drinks, and not an interrogation cell.

Liam soon found himself in the center of the maze. As he took in his surroundings, his mind kept racing back to his childhood. The picnics with his mother, the games of maze tag with Drake.

I wonder if Thomas would have liked to play maze tag with us, had he been around.

He felt a sudden calming come over him at one point. When he took a look around, he realized that he was standing in the exact spot where he and Riley had landed when he inadvertently tackled her the night of the masquerade ball. The night he learned she had traveled halfway around the world just for a chance to be with him, because she felt what he was feeling after just a few hours together one night in New York. Even now, all these years later, he still felt the same butterflies in his stomach thinking of that moment.

Wistfully, he walked a bit further, to the spot where they stood the night of his coronation, where he had finally managed to say those three words he had been feeling since the moment his eyes met hers. He smiled as he replayed the memory of her saying it back to him. He was fairly certain at the time that she felt the same way, but to hear those words fall from her beautiful lips, he had never felt a high quite like that in his life. His mind then wandered to the events that those words led to, another moment he had long dreamed of. Physically expressing the love they had just declared. He felt his heart start to race thinking of their first time together. All of the sudden, anger quickly replaced all other emotions, as he remembered that there was a tape of that moment. A tape that was recorded, and held, by her group. He quickly searched the area, digging his arms through the hedges, looking for anywhere a camera might be hidden. He came up empty. Given how long it had been since the recording, it made sense that they had likely removed their surveillance from the area.

Another reason to be rid of this maze once and for all. Another reminder of the deceit. Only this time it’s worse, they brought Riley into it.

Liam needed to move on from the center of the maze, so he continued walking, finally coming across the wishing well. The wishing well his mother had told him about when he was a child.

Can you take back wishes? I wished so many times that my mother would come back to me, for her death to have been a misunderstanding. Well Liam, you got your wish, now look at you. How many other wishes have I made that will come back around to bite me in the ass?

His mind began to wander again. This time, to the night of the Homecoming Ball. The night Riley was officially presented as the Duchess of Valtora, and more importantly, his fiance. They both made wishes that night, he remembered his wish: to never let fear dictate his choices, the way his father did.

He let fear dictate his choices because of the loss of his wife. Had he known what truly happened, things would have been different. Perhaps he wouldn’t have interfered with my choice during the social season. I could have been with Riley all along. The way things were always supposed to be. I know we ended up together, and the struggles made our bond that much stronger, but there was a very real chance that I could have lost her forever, I almost did, over his choice.

Thinking of Riley reminded him of her reassurances that night, she was so confident in his ability to be a good King. She believed in him from day one, and never faltered in that. Even when he didn’t believe in himself, thinking of Riley, and her faith in him gave him the strength to continue on. To be the best man, and King he could be. To make his Queen proud.

In that moment, Liam had an epiphany. This maze was so much more than his childhood and memories of a mother that betrayed him. This maze was about the love he and Riley shared. It had played a paramount role in their story. When he looked around, he saw memories of them, their stolen moments, their heartfelt confessions. He couldn’t get rid of this maze, if he did, he would be destroying a piece of his heart.

From this moment forward, this maze is not about her, not about the lies that she raised me on. It is about the love and support I have shared with my soulmate. This is where our love, much like the flowers that adorn these hedges, blossomed.

Riley...my heart, my world, my Queen. She gave up her life, her freedom, to be with me. She left her family and friends, her job, everything, for me. She has dedicated her life to my country, she has taken on my responsibilities. What have I done in return? I’ve put her in this impossible position. I’ve put her in harm's way, yet again, for the good of Cordonia. A country had never even heard of before I came in and turned her life upside down.

He needed to get back to her. Walking back toward the palace, he started considering how she might be feeling in that moment. He had been so caught up in his own mind, that he didn’t stop to think what all of this was doing to her. She had to deliver devastating news to the man she loved, and his reaction was to abandon her. His heart sank as he approached their quarters, he felt so small. He entered their bedroom, overwhelmed with shame for the way he had left her.

Of course she’s still awake. She probably stayed up worrying about me. I was so selfish to just leave her like that.

He kept his head down, too ashamed to look her in the eye, and walked straight into his closet to get ready for bed. His mind working overtime, trying to find the right words, but nothing came. He exited the closet and walked toward the bed, hoping something would come to him.

Finally, Riley broke the silence in the room.

“Liam…” She said barely above a whisper, he turned his head and looked at her for the first time since arriving home. “I’m sorry.” She placed her hand gently over his.

She thinks I’m mad at her. She’s blaming herself. How does she not understand that she is the only thing keeping me from going off the edge? I’m the one that dragged her through all of this, and she’s apologizing to me. I don’t deserve her love.

He was overwhelmed with anger at himself, and heartbreak for his wife. “Riley, you have nothing to apologize for. I am the one that wanted you to do this. You did nothing wrong. None of this is on you.” He tried to smile, but he knew it was unconvincing. He could feel the sting of tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

“Fine, but you’re not allowed to blame yourself either.”

Even to this day, after all of these years, it astonishes me how she can see right through me like that. I’ve had years of training to hide my thoughts and emotions, that training proved useless when it comes to Riley.

“What you just said, telling me you were the one that wanted me to do this. I know you Liam Rys, better than anyone. You’re thinking about how you brought all of this on yourself.”

It’s the truth. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t talked you into joining.

For the second time that night, Liam couldn’t bear to look his wife in the eyes. She was right, but so was he. Liam felt the firm, yet loving touch of Riley’s hand holding his chin and lifting his gaze to meet hers. There was a fire in her eyes, unlike any he had seen from her before.

“This is all on them, it’s the Via Imperii’s fault. That’s why we’re going to take them down. Together. Just like Anton, just like Auvernal, just like Barthelemy, just like any other enemy that has ever, or will ever come our way. We are the King and Queen of Cordonia, Liam and Riley Rys. We are a force to be reckoned with.”

Liam was taken aback by the determination in her statement. He knew she was strong, she had been his rock since the day they met, but this was so much more than that. He didn’t know it was possible, but he felt his love for her grow.

Awestruck, he took the hand she had planted on his chin in his, and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You always know just what to say, love.”

“Years of diplomatic training. I need to be prepared for every possible scenario.” She winked at him.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment. She made it seem so easy to turn his mood around. It was something he would never understand, but always be grateful for.

God, I love this woman.

Riley smiled and leaned into him. “C’mon, let’s try to get some sleep. We can circle back to this nightmare in the morning, start working on a plan.” They both laid back onto the bed, and into each others arms.

In the middle of the night, Liam’s eyes shot open, his heart pounding in his chest, worry overcoming him. He needed a moment to get his bearings, turning to his left to make sure she was still there. She was.

He had been dreaming, a nightmare, technically. Riley was gone, he wasn’t sure where she had gone or why. All he knew was he felt empty, broken, more so than he ever had before. He watched Riley as she slept, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He thought back to his family, the people that were supposed to be there and care for him above all else.

His mother, who had lied to him from the second he was brought into this world. She was his benchmark for love and support, but it was all fake. Because of her, he lived his life based on false ideals. Then he met Riley, she showed him what love and support truly was.

Leo, he was a great brother growing up. He made sure Liam got to have fun, and took the heat when it would get out of hand. However as he got older, his priorities changed, and he was around less and less. When he finally abdicated the throne, he placed the weight of the world on Liam’s shoulders. The bright side to that, was that becoming the Crown Prince, and having a social season, brought Riley into his life. She helped him believe that he truly could carry the weight that was thrust upon him.

His father, a King above all else. As hard as Liam tried to break through that wall, it was duty and his country above all else. That never mattered to Liam though, he still looked up to his father and held him to such a high standard. Until it was uncovered that he attempted to destroy his son’s one chance at true happiness. Despite his attempts at ruining her name, and putting her in harm’s way, Riley stayed and fought. She fought for herself, and she fought for their love. She forgave him for his actions, something Liam was never fully able to do. And when Liam mourned his loss, she was there by his side, holding his hand.

Riley, his bright spot in all of the darkness. His constant source of goodness and joy. In all of that pain, Riley was there. Who would be there if she left him? He would have nothing, he would be nothing. He felt a tightness in his chest at the thought of losing her. He reached his hand out and gently stroked her arm, needing to touch her.

He saw her eyes slowly start to flutter open.

She’s cute when she’s tired.

He watched as she lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Hey, are you ok?”

He unsuccessfully tried to swallow away the lump in his throat before answering. “Please don’t leave me, Riley.”

Liam watched as she sat up in bed, a confused look on her face. “Liam, never. I love you, you’re stuck with me for life.

He knew she meant it, but he also knew these things weren’t always under their control. “I just…there have been so many people that said they cared about me, and then left. Losing them was so hard. But if I lost you Riley, I don’t know how I would be able to continue on. You are the most important part of me, my everything. I don’t exist without you.”

A sadness overtook Riley’s face, Liam felt horrible for making her feel that way. He looked down before feeling her hands on either side of his face, her thumbs softly stroking his cheeks. “Liam, I promise you with all my heart, and everything I am, that there is nothing on this earth that could take me away from you. My husband and my daughter are the greatest joys of my life. A world without the two of you is not a world I would ever even want to think about.”

In that moment, all Liam could think about was being as close to her as he possibly could. He desperately needed to feel her body tangled with his. He surged forward and kissed her with everything he had. It was a kiss loaded with love, longing, and need. He lowered Riley from her seated position and rolled on top of her.

“Show me.” He whispered.

“Yes, my king.”

He shuddered at her words. Pinning her hands above her head, he slowly rolled his hips into her so that she could feel just how desperate he was for his wife. Riley closed her eyes and moaned at the sensation.

Liam’s mouth moved to her ear, nipping at the lobe before saying in a commanding, yet tender tone, “Open your eyes Riley, I want you to see everything I am going to do to you.”

Riley’s eyes opened as she met Liam’s hungry gaze. “Yes, my king.”

“Good girl.” He kissed her deeply, removing one hand from hers and slowly moving it down her body, traveling the familiar curves that drove him crazy time and time again.

Liam’s lips moved away from hers, treading across her jawline and down her neck. Riley hissed at the feeling of his teeth running along her tender skin. “Liam, calm down. You’re going to leave marks.”

“Good, they will serve as a reminder that you belong here, with me.”

Riley freed her wrists from Liam’s grasp and brought his face to hers. “Liam, I don’t need a reminder, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

He silenced her with a searing kiss. One hand traced the curve of her breast as the other traveled downward, rubbing her center through her panties. “You’re so wet for me already, love.”

All Riley could do was groan in response. She felt his lips return to her neck, as his hands traveled to the hem of her tank top, he gently lifted the shirt over her head and deposited it on the floor. His mouth continued its descent, kissing her shoulder and quickly moving to her breast, taking the nipple into his mouth, slowly circling it with his tongue. He kissed across her chest, paying the same attention to the other breast.

The quiet moans and whimpers coming from his wife were the encouragement Liam needed to continue moving south, kissing down her torso until he was met with the waistband of her panties. He paused and looked up at her.

“Liam, please.” She whispered, desperate for him to remove the lacy barrier.

He gave her a wolfish grin before taking them between his teeth and quickly dragging them down her legs. Once they were removed, he lifted her foot and softly kissed the inside of her ankle, his lips moved at a painfully slow speed, resting her leg over his shoulder as he moved closer to her wanting center.

As soon as Riley felt Liam’s breath on her glistening core, her own breath hitched. Liam heard it, and it satisfied him to know that in that moment she needed him just as much as he needed her. He tantalizingly licked up the length of her slit until he reached her sensitive nub.

She gasped as he began sucking and licking, his tongue moving in calculated circles. He knew her body inside and out, he knew just what to do to her to get the reaction he wanted.

Riley’s hands quickly found their way to Liam, running her fingers through his hair and gripping tightly guiding him exactly where she needed him. The pressure caused Liam to moan into her, Riley felt the vibration against her body and trembled.

Sensing that she was close to her release, he slowly slid one finger inside of her, and curled it slightly. She bucked her hips and moaned Liam’s name, that was all the invitation he needed to add a second finger.

“Yes Liam, don’t stop.”

He looked up at her with an unmistakable mix of lust and adoration. “Never, Riley.” Before continuing his efforts, causing Riley to plummet over the edge, loudly moaning his name. He worked through her release, savoring every second of her ecstasy.

As she started to come down from her release, Liam kissed a path up her stomach, positioning himself on top of her. Once they were face to face he kissed her deeply.

Their tongues intertwined, and Riley’s hands drifted to the front of Liam’s pajama pants, palming his hardness through the fabric eliciting a deep groan from him. Riley smiled into the kiss, moving her hand into his pants, wrapping it around his length and pumping slowly.

“Mmm...are you ready to take all of me, love?” He asked as he thrust into her hand.

Riley nipped at his bottom lip before responding. “Yes Liam, I need you.”

He quickly removed his pants, lining himself up with her entrance. Pressing his forehead to hers, and looking deep into her eyes, he eased himself into her carefully, desperate to feel every inch of her. He paused for a moment, allowing her to adjust before slowly rocking his hips against her.

As they moved together, Liam began sucking and nibbling on Riley’s earlobe. Riley whimpered in response, her hands running up and down his muscular back. She wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels into him, urging him to move faster. He complied, and almost immediately, he felt her walls starting to clench around him.

“That’s it Riley. Cum for me, love.” He locked eyes with her again, bringing one hand to her cheek to ensure she held his gaze through her release.

Riley’s back arched as she lost control, the muscles in her body tensed, and she screamed out in pleasure. “Oh god Liam, yes!”

Watching and feeling Riley come undone was all Liam needed to push him over the edge. He thrust into her one last time with a guttural groan as he filled her with his seed.

They laid still for several moments, Liam resting his face in the crook of Riley’s neck, breathing in her scent as his breathing slowly began to return to normal. He then removed himself from her and laid on his back, pulling Riley to his side. She rested her head on his chest, and he responded by planting a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.

“Are you feeling better?” She tilted her head up to look at him.

He stroked her cheek and smiled softly at her. “Much. Thank you Riley.” Their lips met in a brief kiss.

“Good. Now please try to get some sleep, we’re going to have a lot to figure out in the morning.”

“Of course. Riley?”

She looked up at him, eyelids heavy. “Hmm?”

“I love you, so much.” He kissed her on her forehead.

She smiled and leaned into him, placing several light kisses on his chest. “I love you too, Liam. Always.”

He let out a content sigh and tightened his arms around his wife as they both drifted off to sleep.

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@anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @texaskitten30 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Sapere Aude:

@burnsoslow

Liam x Riley:

@jared2612

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mavda · 3 years

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Beast Tamers

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) |

Ch.7: Of burdens and duties (2)

Naruto is sitting at his desk when Hinata wakes. She just rustles and turns until she can see him from where she is and then stares. His back is curled and he’s reading some documents with his eyebrows furrowed and Hinata waits.

She waits till he looks at her. A glance, his eyes passing over her out of habit and then catching her eyes looking at him.

“Good morning,” he smiles and Hinata rises immediately. Walks over him on her knees, grabbing the bedclothes around her naked body.

Naruto receives her with open arms, his hands slide through her waist to her back and he brings her closer to him. “Slept good?”

She rests her head on his shoulder as she nods. Naruto is soft with her, moves her hair out of the way and lays kisses along her jaw. Hinata accommodates herself in between his legs and Naruto keeps on moving papers in front of him. He brings one out for her to read.

“We’ll be going to this one in a month,” he shares. Hinata looks at the document and nods in understanding.

“The s-summit.”

“Ever gone there?”

“No… Neither has f-father. He thought it w-was…”

Naruto chuckles, “Yeah, well, it’s more or less the Beast Tamers putting up a show to check on each other.”

Hinata reads the names written in there, guards and servants and an itinerary. She doesn’t really know how to feel. She is excited to go there and actually see one of the biggest festivals the Beast Tamers have to offer, but now she is part of them and it means…

Naruto moves his hand up and down her body, presses her skin to catch her attention, "I can't wait for us to get there. I want you to meet Gaara."

Hinata stills a second, remembers her classes with Lord Minato before saying, "The One-t-tail."

"The one and only," Naruto chuckles.

"Lord Minato d-didn't tell me you two were f-friends."

Naruto shrugs, steals a kiss from her lips, "Dad usually doesn't say much unless necessary or asked." He lets the papers fall on his desk and buries his face on Hinata's neck. She squeaks and Naruto finds it endearing, "We've known each other since I was like 12."

Hinata opens her eyes in surprise and tries to bring Naruto up to her, "I didn't… I didn't know that."

"It was a point in time where I was super rebellious and my dad thought I needed a friend who was actually going through the same thing as me," he has a smile in place still, "he's a year older than me and now is super aloof and mellow, but at the time he was even more annoying than me." He gives a loud laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "We fought and I got pretty roughed up but I won," he gives her a smirk, pride in his eyes.

And Hinata is still trying to grasp the story, "Why d-did you fight?"

"I… actually don't remember," he squints his eyes in effort, but gives up soon after. "At that time…"

He pauses, gulps down out of nervousness, but Hinata stares at him with nothing but open interest, and Naruto talks, this time softer, this time quieter, "I was just starting to see the outside world. I grew up sheltered and followed my dad everywhere. I didn't know what being a Beast Tamer entailed, I didn't remember anything regarding the sealing so when I had to go under the reinforcement… I started to feel pretty resentful, you know? I wanted to be normal... Whatever that means. And I started to act out. My father, bless his soul, did his best and then thought it would be a good idea to put us two together for a while. Gaara's dad accepted under the condition of my dad checking his seal and so they came here." Naruto looks down at her, kisses her temple, "Two kids who hated themselves and everything around them, I don't remember exactly why we fought but it must have been the dumbest of reasons. We were just ready to fuck everything up at a moment's notice. So we did."

"How… you s-said you are friends."

"Oh, for sure." He laughs again, shakes his head as if remembering what he wanted to say, "we ended up roughed up and all but by the end we were friends. In the fight… I guess I ended up lifting him up? He felt worse than me, that's for sure, and I guess I ended up telling him that we could lick each other's wound, being the same and all. That I understood… what he was going through."

Naruto looks lost in thought again, and Hinata raises her hand to cup his cheek. He nestles into it.

"I-I'm glad you two became f-friends."

Naruto locks eyes with her and Hinata can't remember ever seeing him so melancholic. His childhood must have been… different. She opens her mouth to say something, anything to help him feel better, but Naruto opens his arms and hugs her again, buries his face on her body.

Hinata squeals in surprise and Naruto laughs. Laughs and kisses her and although Hinata doesn't want to let this topic go, Naruto doesn't go back to it. They talk dates and guards and servants and Naruto doesn't let himself fall back into that lost look he had before.

⁂⁂⁂

Kiba finds her one afternoon. He looks around her before getting closer and Hinata knows he's trying not to meet Sai.

"My lady," he greets. Looking to the two servants behind her, "may I take over and guard you where you are going?"

Hinata smiles at him and dismisses the servants with a polite nod. Kiba may be brash and bold to an absurd level, but he has been nothing but civilized and nice with her and even though his sense of humor might be crass, she has come to enjoy his open-mouthed laughs.

“Has the lady been able to check the name of the guards tasked with protecting you at the Summit?”

Hinata nods, knows where he’s going with this.

“And the lady is all right with them?”

Another nod, and Kiba looks at her like she has just told him she hates dogs.

“Because you can totally tell me that you don’t want them guarding you, you know?”

When it’s the two of them, when it’s them and Naruto or the people close to him, Kiba lets go of the way he addresses her normally. It’s a breath of fresh air. He made sure to check with her if she was comfortable and the moment she shared she rather enjoyed it he had smiled like a child.

Naruto had thought she was doing it because she didn’t want to bother him, but Hinata really enjoyed his company and his conversations. Naruto had chuckled, and told her that she was really something. Preferring Sai’s or Kiba’s company over a polite servant.

But she’s sure Naruto would understand if he stayed in the Hyuga compound for a while, where loud laughs like Kiba’s or the honesty of Sai are never heard. She’s sure anyone would understand if her only source of entertainment came from what people told her. She loved hearing Kiba’s boisterous voice narrating the most mundane of activities as if they were big adventures. Or Sai’s overly meticulous explanations that almost fell into comedy at times.

“I mean, Sai you already know and like, don’t ask me why,” Kiba walks with a gait that makes him look ferocious. His unkempt hair and the coat with fur lining over his hood only adding to the look. “but I’m here to vouch for Shino, all right.”

Hinata smiles, because both of them know Hinata wouldn’t turn down Shino either way. Quiet and somber, but polite and nice always. Almost always near Kiba, as their techniques are most suitable for surveillance, and almost always making Kiba groan in frustration. Very much like Sai.

“Gloomy, sure, weird, also sure, but he’s good, ok?”

Hinata giggles as Kiba’s lackluster defense of Shino continues. He will stay, as the clan still needs to be protected and his mother asked for him to work with her. His sister, Hana, is away on a mission and his mother, as the chief, refused to let him go. Their master may be away and watchful eyes may go from the compound to wherever he goes, but still, the clan must stay protected.

Kiba leaves her inside her room, with guards outside and servants at the ready. Hinata looks around the room, moves towards the garden and sits right next to the window. She’s nervous and excited and although she worries about a list of things she tries to forget, she can’t help the giddy feeling that surfaces inside her.

A trip like she had never had before.

⁂⁂⁂

Naruto comes late into the night and does his best to remain silent. But like many other times before, Hinata stirs awake and stands to help him undress.

He has told her time and time again that she doesn’t need to, doesn’t have to, that she should sleep without worrying when he’s late, and she has evaded his pleas with smiles and kisses he can’t resist.

He worries, because he wonders if she feels she has to wait for him. He worries, because her hands always travel places that make him feel on edge and whenever he answers those advances she’s eager to accept. He worries, because there’s been hardly a day in which he hasn’t spilled his seed inside of her and…

Her body is soft and plump and Naruto never tires of grabbing and dragging her to him. His passion is never-ending and seeing her eyes fill with longing and lust is everything to him. Because if those eyes ever fill with worry…

Naruto feels his stomach tightening, and Hinata clamps around him making him gasp for air. She huffs and puffs and her hands search for his face and Naruto kisses her palms, searches immediately for her eyes. Craving and hunger. He sighs in relief, brings himself down to her and kisses her. Lets his tongue move lazily against hers.

When his hips move away from her, Hinata crosses her legs around his waist, shakes her head no. “Don’t p-pull out,” she breathes, and Naruto can already fill his thirst for her washing over his body. “M-more.”

Naruto takes his time. Touches and teases, drinks her, breaths her. Naruto takes his time because this is not a chore now, and will not become a chore later. The moment his mind wanders to unwanted thoughts he buries his face on her body, concentrates on her breath and the way her hands drag over his body, the way she squirms under him and presses to him whenever possible.

He looks at her eyes, feels himself hardening at her rosy lips, her hair splayed out, his hands never quite able to hold her breasts on them. Her moans…

Naruto comes inside her and he grabs hold of the legs over his shoulders. Hinata shivers under him and drags her nails over his thighs, making Naruto gasp in pleasure brought by the sharp feeling.

The pop of his penis exiting her fills his ears and he cleans between her legs with care before giving a fast wipe over himself. He brings her to him, searches for her hand to hold. He has stopped watching his seed fall out of her in fear of giving her the wrong idea. He has stopped caressing her flat stomach after sex in fear of making her fall to the wrong conclusions.

He’s not worried. He’s not in a hurry, either, but it pains him to think she is troubled. Makes him want to bring her closer to him and whisper in her ear that there is nothing to worry about.

But he can’t. So he kisses her goodnight, nuzzles his face on the back of her head and sleeps with her body close to his.

And he worries… for her.

#naruto #naruhina #fanfic #fanfiction #hinata hyuga #beast tamers #ch.7 #part 1

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itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto · 4 years

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Jealousy... Part 1

A/N: Jealous Spencer was inspired by an idea @andiebeaword gave me, so I hope you enjoy lovely! Triggers: Swearing and making reader uncomfortable.

Jealousy - A sentiment which is born in love and which is produced by the fear that the loved person prefers someone else.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said just after you and the team went through the newest case. “Bye Penelope.” You say, always giving her a hug before you go. You were best friends growing up, you were adopted, and Penelope’s parents took you in and you still are best friends to this day, despite Penelope being 35 and you, 25. “Make sure no one touches my avocado mug whilst I’m gone.” You whisper to her. “I’ll stab their eyes out with my cactus mug if they do.” Penelope whispered back, then squished your cheeks, “Now go save the world. Spencer a word?” She asks the young doctor. You chuckle and go to your desk to grab your go bag. “You’re in troubleeee…” You wink at your other best friend, and partner on cases, Spencer. As soon as you have gone down the stairs Penelope looks at Spencer, “Look after her? Please? Her ex, Darren cheated on her when she went back to his last night, and she ended up staying at mine. I don’t mind of course, but just know she’s a bit fragile right now and not in the mood for being BS’d around.” She said “I always hated Darren. If you mean bullshitted, I know.” Spencer said, knowing Penelope hated swearing, trying to hide his joy that Y/N is now single and could be his. “Y/N is the toughest cookie I know.” He chuckled. “When she started here 5 years ago, we were on that John Doe case, and she took down the unsub by herself whilst still recovering from surgery on her hip… and she was only 20!” A week before you started at the FBI, you were working at the NYPD when a suspect you were chasing punched you so bad, you broke your back and a bone in your hip. “She didn’t mention her hip surgery to anyone besides me. How did you…” Penelope began, “Profilers.” She rolls her eyes, then shoos Spencer out of the conference room. “And I know you totally fancy her, so make your move boy wonder.” She giggled and went back to her lair. Spencer flushed his cheeks and went to get his go bag, was his crush on Y/N that obvious?! “What’s this?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the tiny pumpkin tea light on his desk. “I got it you a while ago, seems appropriate since it’s Halloween soon and your desk could do with a bit of colour.” You smile, as you tie up the lace on your trainers. Spencer smiles, putting the small tea light on his computer, his background being a photo of you and him last Halloween dressed up as Peanut butter and jelly, he smiles at the photo and turns the computer off, as you come around to Spencer’s desk as your desk is opposite his. “Isn’t it cute?” You giggle, your giggles make Spencer melt. “It is. Thank you for getting it for me.” He smiles, wishing he had the nerve to say, “You are cuter”

You arrive into New York, the case has partly hit home as you trained here as a NYPD Detective from the age of 18 to 20, before transferring to the FBI as you wanted a change and had a bit of your past you’d much rather leave behind you. “Hotch, before we go in, if there’s an officer called Myers.. We had history. We used to date but I dumped him when I got the job at the FBI, and he still hasn’t got over the fact we aren’t dating anymore. He still calls me occasionally, well.. Once every two days and asks when we are going on a date even though it’s been 5 years.” You say to your boss. “Y/N, if he was troubling you, why didn’t you tell us?” Hotch asks softly, safe to say, even if you and Hotch disagree, you have always been his favourite. “I’ll kick his ass if he does.” Morgan says flexing his muscles. “I will challenge him to a game of poker he won’t win.” Spencer says “I’ll swear at him in Italian.” Rossi says, “And get Penelope to work her Technology skills on him.” “Guys, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” You laugh, “I appreciate the support though.” “And I appreciate you telling us Y/N.” Hotch said. “You, Morgan and Reid go to the last crime scene. Meet us back here in an hour. Prentiss, JJ and Rossi, with me.” He said giving you the car keys

-- “This takes me back.” You say, making a left turn not really needing to follow Spencer’s directions but still listen to him anyway. “Do you ever miss New York?” Morgan asks. “Apart from the twat officer, yes. I miss the people, the sights and the pizza... But that’s it really. I call Quantico my home now, with you guys.” You smile. Spencer smiles at you, wishing he could grab your hand but chose not to, knowing Morgan would say something. “Next right Y/N and then straight, and we’re there.” He says. “Thanks Doc.” You smile and you all arrive at the crime scene.

At the crime scene

“This is interesting… The unsub seems to change shoes every crime scene, but they all seem to have initials. Morgan, do you think Garcia could run them with the suspect list the NYPD have so far?” You ask noticing a footprint in the garden. “Worth a shot. Hey baby girl...” Morgan says taking a photo and phoning Penelope “It’s interesting what you find interesting.” Spencer smiles. “Size 10 I’d say.” He says. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” You say. An hour later, you re-group with the team, and share your findings and deliver a profile.

“Do you want a coffee?” Spencer asked you, noticing you yawn next to the surveillance board. “Yes please. Do you want half of my muffin?” You ask as Spencer hands you a mug. “Sure.” Spencer smiles about to take the half off you when someone beats him to it. “Thanks cupcake.” The voice bellows. It’s Myers. Shit. You turn. “That was for Spencer actually.” You say taking the muffin back off him and give it to Spencer who smiles and goes to another board to talk to JJ but keeps his eye on you. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Myers smiles, eyeing you up from your shirt to your trainers, and back again. “Why didn’t you say you were coming?” “Duty called.” You say, keeping your replies as short and to the point as possible and making a point to show your FBI badge. “Wait, you’re in the FBI now?! Jesus Y/N get you!” Myers says proudly, even though he knew that’s why you left the NYPD.

Meanwhile… “Is that him?” Morgan asks Spencer and JJ who nod. “Yeah, I’m keeping an eye on her.” Spencer says noticing you are getting a little uncomfortable around Myers as he takes a bite of the muffin. “Pretty boy, just ask her out.” Morgan said sipping his coffee “How did you…” Spencer flushed his cheeks “We all know. It’s our job.” Hotch said “I see why Y/N left, NYPD coffee is terrible.” Rossi said in disgust. “Morgan is right. We all know you give Y/N lover boy eyes. It oozes from you.”

Back at the board “Is this the best angle and frame you can get of Saturday night?” You ask “Yeah. Afraid so.” Myers says “Have you tried software 4.5 Micros?” You ask “No. Show me?” He offers. You show him the software and put it on his computer, two years ago, you and Penelope came up with the programme along with the coding for it. Even though you’re an agent, you can still come up with programmes and have an impressive case solving record. “Always had a pretty brain.. So sexy… So smart.” Myers says leaning in for kiss which you quickly back away from. “Myers what the fuck?!” You shout and jump out of your seat as Spencer walks in, fuming.

Big mistake pal, big mistake.

“Everything okay babe?” Spencer asks, putting his arm around your waist, which makes you melt but you keep it together. “I got you your favourite pizza in the conference room.” He says kissing your cheek.

Whatever this side of Spencer is, and however long it lasts, it can stay rent free in your mind.

“Thanks Spence.” You smile at Spencer, going with whatever he is doing. “You’re the best.” “Anything for my girlfriend.” He says kissing your lips this time as a smashed mug comes from where the team were. “Girlfriend?!” They all whisper to each other “Girlfriend?!” Myers exclaims “Y/N.. I thought.. We are.. You know..” He says giving you eyes “We were back 5 fucking years ago. Move on Myers.” You roll your eyes. “Now if you can excuse me, I have a pizza date with my boyfriend.” You smile.

In the conference room

“Spence? What was that?” You ask him softly “I’m sorry Y/N. I don’t know what came over me. But after what you said about Myers.. I didn’t want him to get any ideas.” Spencer said, looking at his shoes. “It’s okay Spence.. I quite liked seeing that side of you.” You blushed. “You did?” Spencer asked as you nodded. “What if I showed that side again.. But took you on a date? I could actually do with some pizza now.” He smiled “I’d like that. I know a spot.” You smile “But first…” Spencer said and put his hands on your little cheeks, and leant down and kissed your lips, as you kissed back. “Yes, pretty boy!” Morgan cheers “I’m telling Penelope.” Emily smirked getting her phone out taking a photo. JJ just smiled, pleased for the two of you.

After a week, the case got solved and you left New York leaving your old life behind you. Myers left the NYPD after it was found out he was a mole on the case, leaking information. You leave New York ready to continue your new life in Quantico with your boyfriend and your future at the FBI knowing when you got back you had a lot of questions to answer judging by the amount of missed calls from Penelope.

Part 2 coming soon!

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