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squirrelwithatophat · 4 months ago

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How the Chantry (and Orlais) Turned Kirkwall into a Police State

One aspect of the Dragon Age series that I’ve always found odd is the way in which rather crucial political and historical context surrounding major conflicts the player must decide tends to be relegated to codices, outside materials (e.g., books), and optional dialogue with minor characters... meaning that many if not most players don’t seem to end up actually seeing it. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts (Dragon Age Inquisition) in particular has become somewhat notorious for what it left out, but it’s far from unusual.

With regard to Dragon Age II, there’s a popular perception among fans that the troubles in Kirkwall can be attributed almost entirely to rogue behavior on the part of Knight-Commander Meredith and various evil blood mages. This is understandable given the overall narrative framing and Bioware’s aforementioned problem of making key context very easy to miss. But once we take a look at the full picture, it ought to be clear that the Chantry did not simply “fail” in their responsibilities towards the mages or towards the citizens of Kirkwall more broadly — they actively created and maintained the very nightmare they later professed to be dismayed about.

Moreover, despite the running Mages vs. Templars theme, the mages were hardly the only one's who suffered under Meredith's rule. Indeed, Kirkwall endured a brutal 16-year-long dictatorship (9:21-9:37 Dragon) that came into being courtesy of the Chantry and the Orlesian empire and only fell due to the mage rebellion.

Here I’ll describe in detail (with sources and citations) the story of how the Chantry turned Kirkwall into a police state and one that ultimately descended into what the writers themselves termed "genocide."

The Templar Coup of 9:21 Dragon

Our story begins with the conflict between Viscount Perrin Threnhold of Kirkwall and Emperor Florian Valmont of Orlais.

With the beginning of the Dragon Age (the era), the Orlais had experienced a major loss of territory and influence. In 9:00-9:02 Dragon (the exact dates conflict), the Fereldan Rebellion led by Maric Theirin and Loghain Mac Tir overthrew Meghren, the last Orlesian King of Ferelden (personally appointed to the position by Emperor Florian himself), and reclaimed their country’s independence after nearly a century of Orlesian occupation. These events are described in detail in The Stolen Throne. Emperor Florian, however, remained reluctant to recognize Ferelden’s sovereignty -- with peace between the two countries not being fully established until his death and the ascension of his niece Celene to the throne in 9:20 Dragon -- and may have been eager to reassert Orlesian influence in the region. Perrin Threnhold, meanwhile, ascended to the position of viscount of Kirkwall (also formerly occupied by Orlais) in 9:14 Dragon. At some point during this volatile period, Threnhold decided to raise money by charging what the Orlesians regarded as unreasonably high tolls for passage through the Waking Sea, which also controlled Orlais’s sea access to Ferelden and its capitol, Denerim.

For reference, here’s a map with my highlights:

The Orlesian Chantry, founded by Kordillus Drakon I (the first emperor of Orlais), had from the beginning been dominated by Orlesian interests. According to World of Thedas vol. 1 (p. 56): “The Orlesian capital, Val Royeaux, is home to the Chantry’s Grand Cathedral, the center of the Andrastian religion’s power. Over multiple Blights, the Orlesians have used the Chantry to expand their influence beyond the nation’s impressive borders, notably to the north into Tevinter territory and southeast through Ferelden.” The Chantry, not surprisingly, had backed the Orlesian invasion and occupation of Ferelden, most recently under Divine Beatrix III (probably) and Grand Cleric Bronach of Denerim. It should be noted that this is all part of a pattern of highly-aggressive and imperialistic behavior that has persisted for centuries from the early years up to (potentially) the events of Dragon Age Inquisition.

It also cannot be emphasized enough that the Templars are the Chantry’s army and were created by the Chantry in the first place. They do not simply hunt and guard mages; they fight the Chantry’s wars and carry out its policies. Quote: “the Order of Templars was created as the martial arm of the Chantry” (Codex: Templars). According to First Enchanter Halden of Starkhaven (8:80 Blessed), “While mages often resent the templars as symbols of the Chantry's control over magic, the people of Thedas see them as saviors and holy warriors, champions of all that is good, armed with piety enough to protect the world from the ravages of foul magic. In reality, the Chantry's militant arm looks first for skilled warriors with unshakable faith in the Maker, with a flawless moral center as a secondary concern. Templars must carry out their duty with an emotional distance, and the Order of Templars prefers soldiers with religious fervor and absolute loyalty over paragons of virtue who might question orders when it comes time to make difficult choices. It is this sense of ruthless piety that most frightens mages when they draw the templars' attention: When the templars are sent to eliminate a possible blood mage, there is no reasoning with them, and if the templars are prepared, the mage's magic is all but useless. Driven by their faith, the templars are one of the most feared and respected forces in Thedas” (Codex: Templars). Likewise, a Chantry official confirms that the Templars are both “the watchers of the mages and the martial arm of the Chantry” (Codex: Seekers of Truth). In Dragon Age Origins, the (unwillingly) Templar-trained Alistair elaborates, “Essentially they’re trained to fight. The Chantry would tell you that the templars exist simply to defend, but don’t let them fool you. They’re an army... The Chantry keeps a close reign on its templars. We are given lyrium to help develop our magical talents, you see… which means we become addicted. And since the Chantry controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves… well, I’m sure you can put two and two together... The Chantry usually doesn’t let their templars get away, either.”

In response to Threnhold’s intolerable restrictions on the Orlesian navy’s movements in its traditional sphere of influence, Divine Beatrix III, an acknowledged “friend of the emperor” (and predecessor to Divine Justinia V of DAI), ordered the Kirkwall Templars under Knight-Commander Guylian to force open the Waking Sea. Viscount Threnhold retaliated for this obviously-illegal military interference by ordering the Templars expelled from Kirkwall and later executing the knight-commander. Then-Knight-Captain Meredith Stannard led the remaining Templars to storm the Keep and arrest Threnhold before appointing a weak viscount unwilling or unable to resist her control.

From Kirkwall: City of Chains by Brother Ferdinand Genitivi (Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 4):

Taxes were crippling and Perrin Threnhold used the ancient chains extending from “the Twins” standing at Kirkwall's harbor—unused since the New Exalted Marches—to block sea traffic and charge exorbitant fees from Orlesian ships. The Empire threatened invasion following the closure of the Waking Sea passage, and for the first time, the Chantry used the templars to pressure the viscount. Until that point, the templars had done nothing to counter the Threnholds even though, as the largest armed force in Kirkwall, they could have. Knight-Commander Guylian's only written comment was in a letter to Divine Beatrix III: “It is not our place to interfere in political affairs. We are here to safeguard the city against magic, not against itself.” The divine, as a friend to the emperor, clearly had other ideas.

In response, Viscount Perrin hired a mercenary army, forcing a showdown with the templars. They stormed the Gallows and hung Knight-Commander Guylian, igniting a series of battles that ended with Perrin's arrest and the last of his family's rule. The templars were hailed as heroes, and even though they wished to remain out of Kirkwall's affairs, it was now forced upon them. Knight-Commander Meredith appointed Lord Marlowe Dumar as the new viscount in 9:21 Dragon and she has remained influential in the city's rule ever since.

Given that this was written by a Chantry scholar, the self-justificatory rhetoric surrounding the viscount and the Chantry-instigated coup ought not be surprising. It appears, however, that in Kirkwall itself popular perceptions of Viscount Perrin Threnhold are in fact fairly polarized.

Whereas Brother Genitivi calls Perrin’s father Chivalry Threnhold “a vicious thug who took power through a campaign of intimidation” and Perrin Threnhold “even worse,” an unnamed servant writing 7 years after the coup paints a rather different picture (Codex: Viscount Marlowe Dumar):

What happened to Viscount Perrin Threnhold was a travesty. I served in the Keep, and my blood boils when I hear people call him a tyrant. He was a good man who tried his best to free Kirkwall from the control of those who use power for their own purposes. It's always been that way here, hasn't it? Long ago it was the Imperium. Then it was the Qunari, then the Orlesians, now the templars... when have we ever ruled ourselves? He tried to kick those templar bastards out and give us real freedom, and what did it get him?

Whether Threnhold was an evil tyrant or a nationalist hero (or both or something else entirely) is beside the point, however. He was not overthrown for mistreating the citizens of Kirkwall; he was overthrown for opposing Orlais and the Templars (acting as an arm of Orlesian imperialism and in defiance of their official duties). Seneschal Bran, himself no fan of either Threnhold or the Templars (and the only character to ever discuss the coup out loud), points this out in an easy-to-miss optional conversation in Act 3.

Hawke: What happens if they [the Templars] don’t like the [nobility’s] choice [of viscount]?

Seneschal Bran: Do you know how Viscount Dumar’s predecessor, Perrin Threnhold, left office? He was a tyrant, certainly, but his rule was not ended until he actively sought to expel the templars. “The good of all” is inexorably tied to what is good for the templars.

It’s unclear whether Knight-Captain Meredith was acting on her own initiative in toppling Threnhold or whether she received prior encouragement from the Chantry, but either way, what is certain is that the Chantry moved quickly to legitimize her actions and bolster the new order. Moreover, the intent to seize power for the Chantry and its military forces rather than “liberate” Kirkwall from the depredations of a tyrannical viscount can be seen in the way they illegally imposed their own viscount (one kept submissive through threats of violence) rather than allowing the people to choose or at the very least following accepted selection procedures (i.e., allowing the nobility to vote on the next viscount). Indeed, this refusal to let the nobility select the viscount as per tradition is the basis of Orsino's protest at the beginning of Act 3.

In any event, Grand Cleric Elthina, as the highest-ranking representative of the Chantry in Kirkwall (appointed to her position by Divine Beatrix III herself around 20 years before Act 1) and thus exercising authority over its Templars, presided over the show trial at the end of which Threnhold was imprisoned and later murdered in his cell. Then she rewarded Meredith with a promotion.

According to the codex for Knight-Commander Meredith:

She is credited with removing the previous viscount, Perrin Threnhold, from his position after he attempted to have the templars expelled from the city in 9:21 Dragon. The acting knight-commander was arrested and executed, and Meredith led a group of templars into the heart of the Keep to capture Threnhold. He was tried and imprisoned three days later by Grand Cleric Elthina and died from poisoning two years later. Meredith was subsequently elevated to her current position.

While merely implied here, Elthina is explicitly confirmed to have given Meredith the position of knight-commander in the first place in World of Thedas vol. 2 (p. 193):

Following Threnhold’s arrest, Grand Cleric Elthina appointed Meredith as the new knight-commander. At Knight-Commander Meredith’s suggestion, a new viscount was chosen: a man named Marlowe Dumar.

Then in blatant violation of Kirkwall’s own laws and traditions -- again, dictating that the viscount be chosen by the nobility -- the Chantry had allowed newly-installed Knight-Commander Meredith to select the new viscount. If approached in the Templar-occupied Viscount’s Keep and spoken to in Act 3, Seneschal Bran will explain:

Bran: When a line is judged unfit, or ends, we appoint from Kirkwall’s elite. Or we would, if the situation was normal. But it is not.

Hawke: Who nominates a new viscount?

Bran: A consensus of the nobility. Normally. And a willing nominee.

It seems to be the general consensus that Marlowe Dumar was chosen specifically because he was weak and willing to play the role of Templar/Chantry puppet (a subheading in Dumar’s WoT v2 entry even explicitly calls him “The Puppet”). Meredith, after all, is not only responsible for his appointment but has been threatening him into compliance from the very beginning.

Again, Brother Genitivi writes quite bluntly:

Knight-Commander Meredith appointed Lord Marlowe Dumar as the new viscount in 9:21 Dragon and she has remained influential in the city's rule ever since.

And quoting once more from the unnamed servant:

Now the Chantry has chosen Lord Marlowe Dumar as his replacement. After weeks and weeks of arguing, after telling the nobility that they would be choosing their viscount, after everyone saying it was time to use a new title—why not "king"? Why keep using the name imposed by the Orlesians? And after all that, the Chantry chose him. I suppose I can see why—everyone thinks he has the spine of a jellyfish, and it does seem that way.

Truly, he has the templars on one side, the nobility on the other, and everyone expects him to solve all their problems—yet he has no power to actually accomplish it. He keeps the peace as best he can, and I think he does a good job even if no one else does.

Likewise, to quote from Marlowe Dumar’s entry in World of Thedas vol. 2 (p. 184-185):

The new knight-commander, Meredith, appointed Marlowe to the seat, much to his surprise. Just before he was crowned, he met in private with the knight-commander at the Gallows. Marlowe was escorted, surrounded by grim templars, to Meredith’s well-appointed office, and there, she explained her reasons for the choice. Kirkwall was filled with entitled degenerates... “With my help, you will turn this city around,” she said. “We will be allies.” Meredith’s message was clear: Remember who holds power in Kirkwall. Remember what happened to Threnhold when he overreached. To drive her point home, she presented Marlowe with a small carven ivory box at his coronation. The box contained the Threnhold signet ring, misshapen, and crusted with blood. On the inside of the lid were written the words “His fate need not be yours.” Marlowe ruled Kirkwall without incident for almost a decade, in no small part thanks to Meredith’s backing. During his reign, the templars grew even more powerful, and the knight-commander’s influence was evident in almost every one of Marlowe’s decisions.

And from Meredith’s entry in WoT vol. 2 (p. 193):

Meredith presented Dumar with a carved ivory box at his crowning. All present witnessed the viscount going white as a sheet as he opened it... It is not known what the box contained, but the reaction from Dumar made its importance to him obvious. What is certain is that Dumar never openly or strongly defied the templars. Over the course of his reign, Meredith’s grip on Kirkwall grew ever tighter, and Dumar’s failure to act absolutely contributed to the events that led to the mage rebellion.

According to Lord Bellamy, “a longtime political ally of Dumar’s” (p. 193):

“Dumar had a good heart. A good heart and a weak will. On his own he might have made a good leader, given time. But he wasn’t on his own. The knight-commander was always there, looking over his shoulder. She let him know she was watching, that he wore the crown at her sufferance. Meredith appointed him. This was a nobleman of only moderate wealth, with little influence. She knew she could control him and there was little he or anyone else could do about it.”

Ultimately, the coup not only secured Chantry control over Kirkwall but furthered their (and the Orlesian Empire’s) geopolitical interests in the Free Marches as a whole. After all, the “Free Marches is [sic] best known as the breadbasket of Thedas. Its farms along the banks of the great Minanter river are the source of much of the continent’s food” (World of Thedas vol. 1, p. 65), and as with many a real-world “breadbasket,” its natural abundance and misfortune of lying between multiple empires had made it the target of one invasion and occupation after another. After the slave revolt of 25 Ancient toppled the Tevinter Imperium’s hold over the region (see Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 2), the city-state of Kirkwall fell to Qunari invasion in 7:56 Storm, then invasion and occupation by the Orlesian Empire in 7:60 Storm, and finally gained its independence about 45 years later in 8:05 Blessed (see Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 3). Prior to the Chantry-instigated coup, Kirkwall had enjoyed independence under a locally-chosen viscount for around 115 years, with Viscount Perrin Threnhold himself ruling for 7 years.

Other city-states of the Free Marches have likewise fallen under the Chantry’s sphere of influence (if not outright control):

Starkhaven is ruled by the Vael family. According to the codex for The Vaels, “They remain devout, dedicating at least one son or daughter per generation to become a cleric in the chantry.” The sole potential heir to the throne of Starkhaven is of course our DLC companion Sebastian Vael, “The Exiled Prince.” To quote from his first codex: “Sebastian Vael is the only surviving son of the ruling family of Starkhaven, which was murdered in a violent coup d'etat. Sebastian cannot forget the irony that he still lives only because his family was so ashamed of his drinking and womanizing that they committed him to the Kirkwall Chantry against his will… Since then, his belief in the Maker and His plan for Thedas have been unshakable. Embracing his new role, Sebastian took vows of poverty and chastity to become a sworn brother of the Chantry... until word of his family's deaths forced him to take up worldly concerns once again.” Elthina appears to have been playing mind games with Sebastian from the very beginning -- first she agrees to have him confined in her Chantry, then poses as a secret benefactor helping him escape from her clutches, with the revelation of her identity as said pretend benefactor leading him to embrace her authority and the life of a Chantry brother with genuine enthusiasm (see the Sebastian short story or his WoT v2 entry for details). After his family’s murder, Elthina urges him to remain with her rather than reclaim the throne. Yet when he gives up on seeking the throne and actually does attempt to return to the Chantry during “a crisis of faith,” he is “turned away by Grand Cleric Elthina, who believed he had not yet committed fully to either course” (see Codex: Sebastian - The Last Three Years), leaving him confused and even more under her thrall than ever.

Ostwick is dominated by the devout, staunchly pro-Chantry Trevelyan family. According to the codex for Trevelyan, the Free Marcher: “It is an old and distinguished family, in good standing among its peers, and with strong ties to the Chantry. Its youngest sons and daughters—those third- or fourth-born children with little chance of becoming heirs—often join the Chantry to become templars or clerics.”

Tantervale is certainly... special. According to WoT vol. 1 (p. 71): “Chantry rule is all but absolute in Tantervale, earning the city its dour reputation. The city guard is obsessed with enforcement. A street urchin would get a year in the dungeon for something that would get him a pat on the back in Orlais” (p. 71).

But let us return to Kirkwall, shall we?

"The Puppet”: The Reign of Viscount Marlowe Dumar (9:21-9:34 Dragon)

Viscount Marlow Dumar’s status as an impotent tool of the Chantry and its Templars appears to be common knowledge in Kirkwall. Various characters, from city guards to lowlifes like Gamlen, casually refer to Meredith as if she is head of state and defer to her authority.

Immediately upon approaching the gates of the city in the first quest of the game, The Destruction of Lothering (Act 1), the following exchange occurs:

Guardsman Wright: So Knight-Commander Meredith wants us to sort you all out. Most of you are getting right back on your ships, though.

Hawke: That's a templar title. Why would a city guardsman answer to the templars?

Wright: We don't answer to her... but she's the power in Kirkwall. Don't know what would happen if the viscount went against something she wanted... But he's sure never taken that chance.

Likewise, if asked about “the word on the street,” Corff the bartender remarks as early as Act 1, “People say Meredith's the real power in Kirkwall, not the Viscount. Even Dumar answers to her.”

Ordinary citizens appear terrified of Meredith, and with good reason. During the quest Enemies Among Us (Act 1, set in 9:31 Dragon), we get the following exchange with the sister of a Templar recruit:

Macha: I pleaded with him not to join the Order, but he wouldn't listen. You hear dark rumors about the templars and Knight-Commander Meredith. And now my brother is gone.

Hawke: (“Are templars so bad here?”) In Lothering, some templars died protecting villagers. I never heard any dark rumors.

Macha: And those are the stories my Keran adored. But it is not like that here, serah. There is a growing darkness in the order. They prowl the streets in packs. Hunting. And now, they say their duties put them above us, that they have the right to... take people from their homes. It is frightening.

Hawke: (“Tell me about Meredith”) What do people say about Knight-Commander Meredith?

Macha: Oh, she has many admirers. They laud the service she does in keeping the mages in check. But others say she is terribly fierce and utterly without pity. That she sees demons everywhere. It is dangerous even to whisper such things. People harboring escaped mages just disappear. Templars interrogate and threaten passers-by. My friend has a cousin who’s a mage, and she says he was made Tranquil against his will. You hear more with each passing day.

Of course, Knight-Commander Meredith’s reign over the Gallows was notoriously brutal long before she came into contact with Red Lyrium. Writing 3 years after the coup (but 7 years before Act 1), in 9:24 Dragon, Brother Genitivi remarks that "Kirkwall has been a tinderbox since becoming the center of templar power in eastern Thedas." As early as Act 1, mages in the Gallows can be heard crying out, “This place is a prison,” and “Knight-Commander Meredith would kill us all if she could.” When asked if mages are imprisoned, the guardsman replies, “Used to be, back in the Imperial days. They kept slaves here until the rebellion. Now the templars run it and use it to lock up their mages. Guess not much has changed” (The Destruction of Lothering, Act 1). Karl Thekla’s final letter before being turned Tranquil (with such illegal uses of the Rite having been repeatedly reported to Meredith) “said the knight-commander was turning the Circle into a prison. Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, made Tranquil for the slightest crimes” (Tranquility, Act 1). If Hawke questions the truth of these accusations, Anders responds, “Ask any mage in Kirkwall. Over a dozen were made Tranquil just this year. The more people you ask, the worse the rumors become.” (Elthina also appears to be aware at least to some extent of the subsequent ambush, in which a Tranquil Karl was used as bait to ensnare his former lover).

According to the short story Paper & Steel (focusing on Samson): “Under Meredith, freedom was a cruel dream for Kirkwall’s Circle mages. They were often locked in their cells, watched night and day by templars who were told any step out of line was suspicious. All those young magelings, told that magic was a curse, that they were dangerous, and that they had to be shut indoors all their lives looking out through those windows. Some went mad. Others, mad or not, tried jumping.” And from First Enchanter Orsino’s entry in World of Thedas, vol. 2 (p. 195): “Every time a mage died by their own hand, Orsino would hear Maud’s final words to him: 'This is no life.’ The templars didn’t seem to care about the suicides. Most had the courtesy to say nothing at all, but some would snigger when they thought no one was listening. 'One less to worry about.’ ‘The only good mage is a dead mage.’ Orsino’s anger at the templars grew...” (Note that this began long before Orsino became first enchanter in 9:28, three years before the start of the game). It's also worth noting Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford quite explicitly attained his position as second-in-command of the Kirkwall Templars position because of his anti-mage extremism, later including violence against those perceived as mage sympathizers and their families.

To name more specific abuses, the Gallows features whipping posts (with dialogue confirming the reliance on whipping) and multiple other medieval torture devices, including a rack, a pillory, and iron maidens. We also see numerous references to casual beatings, sexual assaults, forced Tranquility and facial branding, long-term confinement in dark cells, and permanent family separation (e.g., Emile du Launcet). Escape attempts are typically punished with summary execution, according to multiple sources (e.g., Ser Thrask, Ser Karras, Grace). According to Ser Thrask, the most sympathetic Templar (besides Carver), kindness to mages would be a "badge of shame" among among his colleagues. For more, I recommend checking out the “DA2 mage rights reference post” by @bubonickitten. Again, note that these are cruelties largely occurring prior to or during Act 1, long before Meredith started going insane due to Red Lyrium.

If Feynriel is forced into the Circle at the end of Wayward Son (Act 1), the ex-Templar Samson says, “I hear they got your boy Feynriel locked up in the Circle. Bad business, that. It ain't all templars that're bad. It's hard luck being born a robe, but most places, they make it work. That bitch Meredith runs the Order in this town like her private army. You don't toe the line, you end up on the next corner here in Darktown. I don't think you got to hate mages to love the Order. But Meredith don't agree.” Samson, it should be remembered, had been expelled from the Templar Order for passing love notes from the mage Maddox to his lover. For the crime of “corrupting the moral integrity of a templar,” Meredith ordered Maddox turned Tranquil. According to Cullen in Before the Dawn (DAI), “Knight-Commander Meredith wielded the brand for far lesser offences, believe me."

Ordinary citizens appear to be well aware of at least some of Meredith’s reign of terror in the Gallows, given that various NPCs (including some who do not personally know any inmates) will refer to it. During Tranquility (Act 1), for example, a mob of Ferelden refugees threatens the party over fears that the latter intend to turn in “The Healer of Darktown” to the Templars. One exclaims, "We know what happens to mages in this town. And it ain’t gonna happen to him." Moreover, the knowledge is sufficiently widespread as to have reached faraway countries. A note dated 9:35 (set between Acts 2-3) from a mage of the Hossberg Circle in the Anderfels expresses utter horror: “I have heard that in the Kirkwall Gallows, mages are locked in their cells with barely room to stretch, let alone exercise. I can promise you that any mage of the Anderfels would be stark raving mad after a week of such treatment... No wonder Kirkwall has such trouble with blood mages” (WoT v2, p. 173).

And through all of this, Meredith has the support of the Chantry and more specifically Grand Cleric Elthina.

Not only did Elthina appoint Meredith to her position in the first place (WoT v2, p. 193), but if asked her opinion on Meredith in Act 1, Elthina snaps, “Gossip is a sin, child. Knight-Commander Meredith has an admirable devotion to her duties. It is not my role to form opinions on her character.” An odd statement to make about a subordinate, since Meredith reports to her directly (as knight-commanders legally do to the nearest grand cleric). The codex for Knight-Commander Meredith confirms at as of the end of Act 2, “she enjoys the grand cleric's full support and has free rein in Kirkwall as the commander of its most powerful military force.” According to Elthina’s codex, many claim that Elthina “allows Knight-Commander Meredith more leeway with each passing year.” According to World of Thedas vol. 2, which tries to put a more positive spin on Elthina’s role, her detractors “say her stubborn refusal to exercise her Chantry-given authority allowed the conflict between the templars and mages to escalate, finally resulting in the disastrous mage rebellion of 9:37 Dragon... Since Elthina was loath to exploit her authority as grand cleric, she refused to order either the mages or templars to stand down when tensions flared. Many believe that she could have forced one side to retreat by showing her support for their position, but Elthina refused to take sides” (p. 196-197). This is at best an abdication of responsibility to dependents for someone intent on remaining in power.

Moreover, Elthina’s dominance over Kirkwall appears to depend in large part on at least appearing to manage Meredith and her troops. According to her codex, “People frequently turn to her to mediate disputes—particularly those involving the powerful Templar Order, over whom she holds authority as the Chantry's ranking representative.” So Meredith as military leader rules both the Circle and the city-state through fear and violence, while Elthina maintains her power by playing Good Cop to Meredith's Bad Cop. Both then maintain a pretense of legality and legitimacy by fronting Viscount Dumar as the public face of the regime.

And this dual-power system works quite well for them -- at least until Meredith starts losing her mind under the influence of the Red Lyrium idol.

[A link will later be provided for Part 2 on Escalation and Direct Rule. If I ever do get to it 😭😭😭]

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eraenaa · 5 months ago

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Please, Please, Please (Rafe's Edition)

Inspired by the song Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

Rafe Cameron x Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Being with Rafe, a notorious hotheaded drug dealer, you knew others would question your relationship— especially your parents, who had never been fond of him. But when his habits had been too much to handle, you knew that you would prefer heartbreak to a broken ego.

Warnings: ¿Slight Angst?,Possessiveness, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Semi-Public Relations, Not Proofread

Word Count: 4,480

You took a risk—a big one at that. Rafe had always been a boy your parents, friends, and almost everyone warned you about, but you ignored their qualms, for there was this persistent pull to him that you could not deny.

Growing up, it was plain that he was a bully. He was always one to torment other children in the playground or at school, but you were saved from his hostility, him only as going as far as teasing you because you were easily baited. Later, he did admit that it was his only way to gain your attention. You had hoped he would grow out of his tormenting ways when the two of you reached maturity, but it only severed. He always got into pointless and petty fights and was scolded by his teachers and father as he was often suspended from school, but their warnings did nothing to deter him. When you reached high school, you once again hoped he would clean up his act, wanting to fall fully for him, but his rash decision, raging temper, and ill vices had only multiplied— hindering you from admitting the attraction you had to him since childhood.

It was plain that any pull you had towards him should be ignored and buried deep inside, for he only came with trouble. It also did not help that he had doubled his efforts to show his interest in you. Giving you little gifts and trinkets he knew you were entirely fond of. Scaring away any romantic prospects, labeling you as ‘his’ though nothing between you two was truly set in stone. So, you could not help yourself to succumb to him— to finally be his, just like your heart in childhood longed for. As years passed, you would silently beg him not to prove you right— that he could overcome the judgments passed on him, but your pleas were moot, for Rafe could never fully shed the true yet cruel perceptions of him.

You tried to keep him at arm’s length for as long as you could, but even the mightiest and most stubborn of soldiers falter and lose their sensibilities. The two of you started with hookups, not entirely romantic, yes, but it was enough for you to fall further for him. You would often sneak around at parties, making out in the bathroom or an empty closet or even a dark corner somewhere. You thought the both of you could live happily even though no one knew you were with him, so no one could pass their judgments. Things were quick to escalate with you giving him your first kiss to him taking your first time.

“Rafe,” You cried out in pain, him drawing circles upon your sensitive bud as his well-endowed length pushed its way in you, him hushing and kissing your tears away as he fully sheathed himself in your cunt— finally taking all of you after years of patience and restraint. “Just a little more, pretty girl… you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?” He hissed as he felt you clench around him, your cunt tighter than he had hoped, and Rafe felt lightheaded. You nodded weakly and looked at him through teared-filled eyes. “Fucking hell, baby… you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned as he cautiously thrust into you, waiting for your pained expression to turn to pleasure.

“Rafe… oh god, I— just like that,” you said, almost incoherently. “Such a good girl taking all of my cock… you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this… how long I’ve wanted you.” Rafe gritted through pleasure. That night, you knew there was no turning back; every part of you was Rafe’s that even your mind could not even find caution.

However, just like in any other relationship, there were trials. Your trial was to keep Rafe at bay, not to let him sink into his addiction and violence. Your earnest effort was poured into his rehabilitation and to calm his forever violent being. Rafe’s trial was you keeping your relationship a secret. He wanted to shout it and make it known throughout the Outer Banks that you were his. That the only girl he had ever wanted— loved was finally his, but you were persistent in keeping the both of you a secret, having to sneak around. The touches, longing, pleasure, and love need to be hidden in the dark. Sometimes, he wondered if you were ashamed of him, but he did not like dwelling on the thought, for it only brought devastation in him. There was a painful throb in his chest and a pit in his stomach when he would think of the matter.

“Rafe, do you really have to… do this?” You asked as your eyes flew towards the packet of white substance he was planning to sell at a party you two would attend later that day. “You know I have to, baby… it’ll be quick, I swear. Those kids always sell out my stock,” He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You licked your lips and stared at his chest, unable to meet his eyes. Rafe had stopped using the moment the two of you went official, but no matter what half-hearted ultimatum you threw at him, you could not hinder him from engaging in illegal dealings.

“But what if you get caught… your father h—“ Rafe sighed and kissed your lips shut. He appreciated your concern greatly; you were the only one who genuinely cared and loved him, but he could not listen to your concern, for he had no actual choice but to sell. He had great financial needs, especially because you were with him; he needed to support both of you. To show you that he can provide you with the well-off life you already lived. Yes, his family did have money, a great deal of it, but he didn’t have the want to be indebted and be under his father’s thumb.

“I won’t. Stop worrying, baby; you know it makes your stomach upset,” It was half concern and half tease; you could only roll your eyes at his words. “Just… just be safe— be cautious and—“ Rafe kissed your lips shut once more, smirking against your lips as he could not help but be flattered by your concern. “I know what I’m doing.” He said confidently. You were unconvinced but still gave a nod, not wanting to push and anger him.

True enough to his word, nothing of note happened at the party, much to your relief. The following day, you did not expect to see Rafe, for you had told him you were busy with engagements with your parents. “What are you doing here?” You asked with a frantic smile as you felt arms wrap around you. You were in the country club’s restaurant waiting for your parents to arrive.

Rafe did not answer your question; he simply just connected your lips, and your eyes grew wide. From where you sat, you gently pushed him away, and you felt guilt course your system as you saw hurt in his ocean eyes. “My parents are here,” You say warily, further putting distance between you. Rafe stood straight and frowned, “So?” He asked, and you smoothened the fabric of your dress in nervousness. “You know why,” You say softly, and you hear him scoff and shake his head. “Baby, it’s been two years… how long are you gonna hide us?” He asked, and you felt further guilt take over you. You parted your lips to speak but you hear your parents call for your name, making you stand in surprise and hesitantly greet them.

“So sorry we’re late, darling; your father and I could not escape our meeting!” Your mother sighed and patted your cheek affectionately. “Oh, you have company,” Your mother said in surprise as she noticed Rafe standing behind you. You feel your stomach drop as your father’s eyes fly to Rafe. “You’re Ward’s son, aren’t you?” He asked, uncertain as he and your mother only spent scarce time on the island. “Rafael, was it?” Your father asked, and you chewed on your cheek as you watched their interaction. “Rafe,” he gritted, and you gave him a look, “… sir. It’s Rafe,” He corrected, and your father nodded in acknowledgment.

You took in a deep breath as your father assisted your mother to sit and motioned for you to do the same, but you were hesitant as Rafe still stood by the side of your table. You look to your mother, and she purses her lips, “Bye, Rafe, tell Sarah I’ll see her later,” You suddenly say as his cue to leave; you clench your hands around the fabric of your dress as you see anger and hurt in his eyes as the words left your lips, expecting you to invite him to your family’s meal and hopefully reveal your relationship to your parents. “Yeah, see you around,” He gritted out and stomped out of the restaurant, anger exuding from him.

You took a menu into your hands and finally let out a breath of relief. “I don’t want you to associate yourself with that type of company,” Your father suddenly said. You lowered the menu in your hands, “What?” You asked quietly. “I do not want you to associate yourself with that boy,” You blinked at your father’s words. “He’s Sarah’s brother,” You say meekly. “Even so. He only comes with trouble, darling. We are here only a handful of months every year, but the rumors and talk about him and his… habits are deafening,” Your mother chimed in, and you lowered your gaze. “We are not hindering you from being friends with Sarah, but it would be best if you keep your distance from her brother— we don’t need you being influenced by that, Rafe,” You bit your lip as you slowly nodded, your parents expecting a response of agreement from you.

After the day spent with your parents, you rushed towards Tannyhill as you feel Rafe was not too happy with you. He would usually message and call you throughout the day to see how you were, but not even one notification came from him, rendering you further in guilt. “I’m so sorry,” You say in a plea as you knelt on Rafe’s bed, him sitting idly by the headboard, avoiding your gaze, a prominent furrow in his brows. You placed your hand on his leg, and you sighed as he moved his limb away from your touch. You watched as he crossed his arms across his chest and turned further away from you. It shouldn’t amuse you, but he looked like a little kid who was on the verge of a tantrum.

“I really am sorry. I just wasn’t ready to tell them yet,” You say and move closer to Rafe, taking hold of his hand. “It’s been two years. If you still aren’t ready now, when will you be?” He grumbled, and you bit your lip.

“Rafe, you know it’s complicated, my parents are…” You trailed, unable to find the word. “Just fucking say you’re ashamed of me!” Rafe seethed and stood from his bed. Your lips parted in shock at his words, “That’s not true! I love you; I will never be ashamed of you!” You defended and stood as well, following close to him. “Yeah? Then why the fuck are we a secret?” You lowered your gaze in shame as he screamed at you. “Because my parents won’t approve,” You said truthfully. “Rafe, they still see you as a hothead junkie… and I know you’ve changed�� I’ve seen you change, but they haven’t. And they're just… they don’t want me near you,” You said, and Rafe shook his head, a gnawing feeling in his gut. He didn’t care for the other’s opinion of him, but now he could not help but too because your parent’s opinion of him was what was hindering you from being fully his.

“I just fear that if we tell them now, they’ll take drastic measures to— to separate us,” You say in fear. “What?” He asked and made you lift your gaze and look at him. “They’ve been wanting to move to New York for a while now— for the business, but I keep insisting on staying here,” You admitted, having hidden that information from Rafe for a year because you didn’t want it to go in between your relationship. You hear Rafe’s ragged breathing, “How much longer?” He asked in aggravation. “I don’t know,” You say truthfully. “That’s not a fucking answer,” You hear how hard he tried hard to control his rage, to not point his anger at you.

“Rafe,” you sighed. “I know how you’ve changed— I’ve watched you change, and I am so proud of you… but,” You bit your lip as you tried to decide if you should continue speaking. “But what?” He seethed. “You still deal drugs… you haven’t cut the final tie to that life,” You say lowly. “Baby, you know why I do it,” You furrowed your brow; do you truly know why? You began to wonder. Rafe saw your confusion and spoke once more.

“I’m doing it for us— for you, so I can support you. So we can be free in the future. Just you and me.” He said and cupped your cheeks, but his explanation did not aid your bewilderment. “Rafe, you know I am not with you for money… I don’t need you to provide for me, and I most certainly don’t need tainted currency.”

“I know you don’t need me to provide for you— I want to provide for you,” You sighed as your heart doubled at his words. “I appreciate that… but, my love, there are other ways… when we build our life together, we don’t need this type of money. We could find jobs in the meantime, and in a few years, I’ll have hold of my trust fund; we could use that to build the life we want.” Rafe shook his head at the solution you presented, it was simply not good enough for him. He would not subject you to finding a job and dipping into your trust fund just because he could not provide for you properly.

“Don’t be stubborn,” you sighed, “Rafe… I— This can’t go on, ‘cause—“ you quickly halted your words before you uttered something you might regret. “Cause what?” Rafe questioned, and his frown deepened as you took off his hold on your face. “Rafe, I love you.. but I can’t be with you if you still do this,” You said, solemnly. Rafe felt his stomach twist at your words.

“You accused me of being ashamed of you… I am not, I could never be.” You spoke, voice already heavy with emotion. “I am, however, ashamed of what you do— I’m sorry— I know you are doing it with the purest of intentions, but there are other ways to earn money; you know there are.” Rafe felt his body turn rigged with rage. “And think of the scandal of it all… I love you, but please, please, please, you must understand that I cannot tarnish my and my family’s reputation with this,” You feel a tear fall from your eyes, and you cannot even stomach to look at Rafe in the eyes.

“Get out,” You hear him say through gritted teeth after a moment of steely silence passed. You finally placed your gaze upon his and all you could see was anger and hurt, “Get the fuck out!” He screamed, and you backed away, not challenging him anymore, and just did as he told. As you sat at his bedroom door, you bit your tongue to stifle a sob as you heard him let out his rage, thrashing and ruining his room, throwing and breaking anything and everything.

Three weeks passed, and you did nothing but mourn your secret relationship with Rafe. You barely left the house, actively avoiding the places you knew you would see him in. Only going out on the days you had memorized he had ‘business’ to attend to and won’t be out of town. A part of you felt entirely guilty, ending it and crushing your heart and his, but the more rational part of you saw that it was needed. Heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is certainly another. And you thought you could handle a broken heart better than a tarnished reputation.

“Hey!” You hear banging at your front door, and you frown from where you sit in the living room. You made cautious steps as the door pounded. You would lie if the violent banging of the wooden door did not make you hope it was Rafe, but as you looked through the peephole, you saw his sister. “Sarah?” You asked as you opened the door, and she smiled at you. “Where have you been? You’ve been MIA the past few weeks! Are you sick?” She asked as you ushered her inside your house.

“Uhm… just haven’t been feeling well,” You fibbed as you took her to the kitchen and handed her some refreshments. “Are you better now?” You gave her a forced smile and nodded your head. “Great! Because you’re coming with me to a party!” You frowned at her words, “I don’t know… I’m not really up for a party,” You say softly, and Sarah shakes her head. “Come on! It’s Top’s birthday— he even sent me here to convince you we miss you!” Sarah pleaded, and your broken heart grew warm at her words. You took a moment before answering, “Fine,” You sighed and you saw clear excitement in her eyes as she had convinced you.

“When is it?” You asked as Sarah took hold of your wrist. “Now! Come one, let’s get you ready!” You laughed as she hurriedly led you to your room and ready you for the party. “There are a lot of cute guys there… might wanna get to know them,” You could only blink at her words. Sarah sighed as you stood before your closet, “I… I know about you and Rafe,” She suddenly confessed, and you could not find it in yourself to be surprised. “And I’m not trying to bum you out, but maybe you should try to move on, find someone else… he certainly has,” You feel your heart pit at the last words she mumbled. “What?” You asked meekly. Sarah fidgeted with her fingers, “He’s been fucking his way through the island,” She said lowly. You sucked on your lip; you did expect it. He was a notorious playboy before you two went official, so it was only fitting he waltzes back into old patterns after your relationship’s demise.

As you entered the party with Sarah, you squared your shoulders and avoided the dark corners of the house, knowing that is where Rafe would be. You barely entered the threshold when someone already came up to you, “Can I get you a drink?” A tall guy with brown hair and hazel eyes asked you; you flashed him a quick smile and a nod, and he led you to a drinks table, Sarah whispering ‘good luck’ in your ear as you departed from her side.

Rafe felt his eye twitch as he saw you by the drink table chatting with a guy wearing one of your dresses that was his favorite. His hold on the wad of cash grew tighter as you had a smile on your face and the guy leaning closer to you. “Yo, dude, can I get my change?” Someone yelled at him through the blaring music. Rafe clenched his jaw and begrudgingly moved his eyes from you to hand the person their change. How could you just walk in this and flirt with guys as if you had not broken his heart? How could you bait him, lead in him with false promises and security— love and care for him like nobody else had, then just fucking leave!

You left the party proper, letting the guy you just met lead you to the backyard to where a swing set was, the both of you needing quiet to hold and actually conversation. He was not Rafe, did not come close, but maybe that was a good thing. You were grateful for the distraction, and if your heart were not so stubborn, you would be more interested in him. You did not know how long the both of you stayed chatting in the swing set, but when the both of you heard the distinct sound of a cop’s car and kids running out of the house, you two quickly stood and saw what was happening.

You took a deep breath as you saw the scene before you: Rafe being handcuffed by the sheriff and his little packets being confiscated. You locked eyes with ocean-blue ones for the first time in three weeks, and you saw nothing but rage and hate in them. You chewed on your cheeks as they escorted Rafe out, and you left the guy you were with to find Sarah.

Rafe sat in the holding cell, staring blankly at the floor. He did not know how to process anything. He did not know if he should focus more on the fact that he was arrested or the scene he saw in the backyard with you chatting and laughing with some guy but the swing set. Rafe made himself more comfortable in his seat, certain he would stay the night there, but he was surprised as the cell doors were being unlocked. “Get up, Cameron; someone posted your bail.” Rafe blinked. Did his father truly come to get him? Who else would post his bail so quickly?

When Rafe walked out of holding, he saw you speaking with the sheriff, and he felt his knees grow weak. You turned to him, no word uttered before you stepped outside, and he simply followed. Rafe saw his truck parked outside, guessing one of his friends dropped you off before leaving because you never learned how to drive. Rafe sighed, took hold of the passenger side door handle, and opened the door for you, like always, hearing you mumble a quick ‘thanks’ before the two of you were enveloped in silence once more.

You sat stiffly in your seat as Rafe drove you home, but halfway through the drive, Rafe stopped by the side of the road. “Why?” He suddenly asked as his truck came to an abrupt halt. “I know you didn’t want to bring your dad into this,” You answered quietly. Rafe huffed and shook his head. “No— why the fuck did you end it?” Rafe confronted. “Rafe, I told you, we can’t be together with all this… shit! I— I can’t be with you if you keep doing this. Do you know how scary it is for me? Besides being labeled as the girlfriend of a drug dealer… I have to wait for you to go home, hoping you’re unscathed—that you didn’t get into any danger. I don’t want to live with that kind of anxiety, Rafe!” You paused your lips as you saw his tight grip on the steering wheel. You feel your eyes welling with tears, and you curse yourself as your tears will surely ruin your makeup.

“Fine, I’ll… I’ll quit,” Rafe said after a moment, and you shook your head and crossed your arms. “Don’t make empty promises, Rafe.” You sighed as he tried to take hold of your hand. “Baby, you know I always keep my promises… remember when I said I’d quit doing drugs? I did it, didn’t I? I did it for you, and I’ll do this for you again,” You swallowed thickly at Rafe’s words. “Rafe…” you trailed, not knowing what to say. “I swear— I can put all of this behind, just… I can’t lose you, not you.” Rafe pleaded and you could only reach forward and kiss him.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t want it to come to this— I never wanted to give you an ultimatum bu—“ Rafe cut you off by kissing your lips once more, starved by the taste and feel of you. “I know, baby, I know.” He sighed as he pulled you towards his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed yours. “Sa… Sarah said you’ve been sleeping around,” You say quietly as he leaves marks on your skin. “Bullshit. You know I can’t get it up for anyone else… I only want you,” Rafe breathed out and cupped your cheek. Between his past business and his wallowing for your relationship, where would he even find time or the want for other girls? You slowly nodded and decided to believe his words.

‘I’ve missed you,” You confessed and saw him smirk. “Good.” He answered and smashed your lips. He quickly undid the zipper of his jeans and hiked up your dress to your waist. You did not even notice it, but you were already so wet for him, your wanting aiding you to sink down on his cock. Rafe watched in amazement as your eyes rolled back and your lips parted as you let out a quiet moan. “Oh god… Rafe,” you called out breathlessly, already feeling him brush over the sensitive spot in your cunt. This position was his favorite because he was able to take you deeply, have your body flushed against his, and, most importantly, he got to kiss your plush, sweet lips.

Rafe yanked down the top of your dress and took your tit into the cavern of his mouth as you bounced on his cock. “God, you’re so pretty,” Rafe breathed out as you clenched further along his length. “And you’re all mine,” he added and gripped your behind. “Yes… all yours,” You agreed as you moaned, the windowing of his truck fogging up. You grew careless at the passing cars, unable to find caution that the both of you might get caught, for you have missed Rafe and his cock terribly. “Are you gonna come, baby? Is my pretty girl gonna come?” Rafe hissed as he felt you rest your head on his broad shoulder; you often did that as you concentrated on reaching your peak.

He felt you nod, and he reached towards your breast to cup and pinch the bud, earning a loud moan from your lips. Rafe was quick to follow you, spilling his seed deep inside your cunt, as three weeks without you had made him desperate. “Fuck…” Rafe hissed, and you cupped his cheeks to kiss his lips.

You breathed heavily as you stared at his hazy eyes. “Rafe?” You called and hummed. “Please, don’t prove ‘em right? Please?” You asked, and Rafe smiled, nodding his head. “Anything for you, pretty girl.”

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lacollectionneuse1967 · 1 year ago

Text

slip of the tongue part 2 - jealous

Theseus Scamander x Reader

“He was all over you,” he hisses. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.”

summary: after confessing your feelings for (and sleeping with) your boss, theseus, you join his brother newt's team of wizards attempting to thwart the notorious gellert grindelwald. when you're tasked with distracting and seducing a powerful dark wizard on your first mission, theseus gets uncharacteristically and fiercely jealous.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: smut with plot

warnings: 18+ smut, (light) mdom/femsub elements, unprotected penetration, semi-public sex, jealousy/possessive behavior, also the reader suffers brief unwanted sexual advances in a scene

part one / part two

Your dreams are uninventive. Your nightmares are even less so.

Often you are hounded by dogs: drooling, snapping canines, bloodthirsty past the point of cognizance, they’re more open mouths than animals. Or, you’re standing on the hill where your old orphanage used to sit in North London, barefoot on the roof while the rest of London floods below, water rising, you know you’re going to drown. Or some other tired, boring allegory for your past catching up with you, at last, your blessings, your wand, crumbling to ash—you know what the dreams mean and they don’t scare you anymore.

But tonight you are perfectly dreamless. The dream dogs, the wintry world outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the empty London streets, it cannot touch you now. The fireplace is crackling and warm orange light spills in beneath the door from the living room.

Theseus’s arm is draped over your body, your head is on his chest. Every part of your body where your bare skin meets his buzzes with contentment. His room is like a sanctuary, his arms a house that holds you.

You don’t think you’ve slept for even a full hour. It’s still dark outside when you feel Theseus jostling your shoulder.

“Y/N. Wake up, darling.”

You sigh in response and are about to put up a fight, but when you meet his eyes they’re full of sore regret, apologetic. He wouldn’t ask you to leave his bed unless it was important.

You emerge from the covers and start to stretch.

“What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, love, but it’s nearly four in the morning. We have to be going, it’s urgent.”

You turn to look at him, he’s raking a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed.

“Did you sleep at all, Theseus?” You ask incredulously.

“No, too much to think about. And besides, I knew if I slept I wouldn’t be likely to wake. Better you sleep…”

Your heart wrenched. In a swell of affection, you went to him, crawling back over his body on the bed.

“No,” he groans, but his hands come around you, sliding down to your hips, anyway. You kiss his neck, raking your teeth over the skin there.

“Don’t do this to me,” he anguishes. His grip tightens on your hip, it’s meant to be chastising but it makes you want him more. “Please. We need to leave, Y/N.”

It wasn’t easy letting go of him. You know he would’ve given you what you wanted with enough persistence.

“Okay, okay!” You relent, kissing his mouth with a smile. “I’ll stop terrorizing you now.” You leap out of bed again without complaint.

When he stands he’s serious-Theseus again, your boss. And you love him still.

For his sake, you pretend not to notice his erection in his boxer shorts. It looks painfully hard.

“Get dressed,” he says to you before turning to the bathroom. “We need to get to Hogsmeade.”

It was wonderfully strange to see him like this—hair in wavy disarray, looking soft and subdued, barefoot and in his t-shirt. You want to appreciate the sight, you want to talk about what had happened between you and all that had been said. But his mind is elsewhere, preoccupied, and it seems you are both running late.

At your insistence, he lets you apparate to your apartment for a change of clothes, but then the two of you are off, running down the stairs of his building into the dark world below.

—————

Hogsmeade is more of a detour. There is an incognito meet-up organized with none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore. You’d, mercifully, taken a train--the Hogwarts Express. Theseus mentioned that Dumbledore was being watched by the Ministry, and that there were anti-apparition charms put up around the village and the castle.

You were just grateful to see him sleeping, at last, on the way there.

It was barely daylight when the two of you arrived, the sun bleak and pink over the Highlands, providing no warmth. You were grateful for the coffee you'd nursed on the train, as you were grateful to relieve yourself of the confidential documents from the Ministry. Their weight was an invisible one for you, evidence of your betrayal.

"Some aspiring Auror you are," you thought to yourself, bitterly.

“I tried to organize them for you. I started to, actually,” You supplied sheepishly when Dumbledore regarded the haphazard stacks of parchment, laid out on one of the tables in what you assumed was his brother's inn.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at you regardless and thanked you sincerely.

When you step out of the inn, you look to Theseus just as he looks over his shoulder at you. You're both more or less sleepless, and cold, and it seems the both of you have betrayed the Ministry and embarked on a hopeless mission, without many allies in the world.

But you were a united front.

It surprises you when he says, so earnestly that the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate, “God, I missed you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You blush, but don’t break his gaze. You’re not afraid to let him see you anymore.

“Where to, Mr. Scamander?”

He flexes his jaw like he’s not thinking about the plan at all, like he’s thinking about last night. But then, with a sigh, the moment is broken.

“Germany,” he says. “It’s time you meet my younger brother and the rest of the resistance.”

He says ‘resistance’ like it's some inside joke, some funny jab. You don't understand it until you arrive at the hotel room in Berlin.

-----------

Other than the hair, that uncommon shade of reddish, honey brown, and the apparent kindness and sense of humanity, Newt is nothing like Theseus. In fact, when he comes over to greet you he can hardly meet your eye, his head is half bowed in the other direction, his mouth a nervous, flat line.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I was sure that you'd do the right thing when Theseus sent you his letter. It was... very brave of you."

You look to Theseus in sharp amusement, eyes sparkling.

"Was there ever a question of whether or not I'd betray you? Did you really think there was a chance I'd turn you over to the authorities?"

Theseus places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "You know if I were to die I'd prefer it to be at your hand anyway."

You want to roll your eyes, but you're not sure to what extent he's joking.

You shake Newt's hand. You're soon after introduced to a muggle baker named Jacob and an astute, somewhat brash Auror from America named Tina. You're not much of a people-person, but you find that you like them both, immensely. They feel genuine, the sort of strong, singular characters that couldn't deceive anyone if they tried. That is why Newt's explanation of your task for the night sends a bolt of dread down your spine.

"We need to need to retrieve a magical object from a German Minister's office. I-I can't say much, it's better you don't know, but it's safe to assume that a large portion of the German Ministry of Magic has already fallen. Helmut, Vogel--and who knows how many others are under the influence of Grindelwald."

"Which German Minister's office?" Theseus says. His hands are in his pockets, he's leaning against the windowsill, the picture of nonchalance, his hair swept back. He's so handsome you could cry.

Newt ignores him. "Now, tonight may be our only chance. There's a diplomatic gala at the ministry itself. I can get us all in, Pickett and I can handle sneaking into the office itself, but there are five people who know about the object being at the ministry, who will be on the lookout and who need to be distracted until we're out."

He doled out assignments swiftly. Theseus was to distract the head of security. Jacob, the two waitstaff who served as the Minister's private informants. For Tina, the German Auror, Helmut. And for you? The Minister himself.

"Which Minister, Newt?" Theseus asks again, the edge in his voice unmistakable, though you don't understand it.

"Baron Dietrich, the Minister of Finance," Newt says at last.

Dietrich. Most of your work for Theseus was domestic, but you try to remember what you can. Dietrich was some Bavarian-born descendent of the aristocracy. Hedonistic, high society. He fought in the war, but gained his reputation in the drinking clubs of Berlin. Even you knew he was ruthless, notorious. A brute of a man without much respect for the law. That was the extent of what you knew.

Newt is rushing to explain before you or Theseus can speak.

“Please, Y/N, Theseus." He looks between the two of you, trying to appeal to both. "Dietrich, h-he likes…he likes beautiful women and he-"

Theseus crosses the room to his brother in a single stride. "Yes, and do you have any idea what he likes to do to those beautiful women, Newt?” He's seething. “Even everyone at the British Ministry knows he brutalizes them."

“I-I wouldn’t ask her if it weren’t absolutely necessary. So long as she’s able to distract him at the party, keep him interested there, at the party, nothing will happen to her—to you!” Newt turns to you now, addressing you directly. “I’m sure of it…”

Theseus sucks his teeth and turns away from his brother, still fuming. “Absolutely not. You will not send her away from my side, that’s final. Not to that man.”

“Theseus, please-"

“She’s muggleborn, Newt! Do you know what men like Baron Dietrich do to wizards like her? If he found out, if any one of Grindelwald's followers did, she'd be killed.” Theseus is speaking with such firm authority, but you know him well enough to detect the barely concealed panic in his eyes, the fracture just beneath the fortress. “Send Tina instead, she’s an Auror.”

“But Y/N is exactly the sort of girl that Dietrich would be-"

“I want to be an Auror too,” your voice sounds strange to your ears when you find it. It has a clear, confident quality, musical and lucid.

Theseus looks to you in shock. You wonder if he knew about the promotion you’d been offered at all, if he knew all you’d sacrificed to stay close to him—your very dreams dashed to pieces. From his expression, naked and open as day, he did not.

“I can do it,” you make an effort to sound settled. Unshaken.

Being a young, vulnerable girl in the streets of East London, at the orphanage after, and then being a woman at the British Ministry as an adult, you’d dealt with plenty of over-friendly and entitled men. Boorish men were everywhere and were not uniquely monstrous. You hoped Baron Dietrich wasn’t either.

"It's settled then," Jacob claps his hands together, seeming relieved that the tension between the two brothers has evaporated. Theseus is slumped over, leaning back on the nightstand in apparent defeat. "We're going to a party!"

Tina places her hand on your arm, leading you towards the closet. She doesn't seem to be terribly affectionate, so you're grateful to her for extending you this small kindness now.

"Here, Y/N," She says. "Let's get you dressed. We have plenty of time to go over the plan. It'll be okay."

------------------

Your outfit, "disguise" you suppose, is nothing like the subdued robes of your companions. You don't know why you're surprised when they ask you to enter the ministry ten minutes after them, alone.

The skirt of your dress is flowy and short, like a dancer's, ending just above your knee, something that might've been acceptable a decade prior, given the fashion trends. It's made of delicate petals of off-white fabric, adorn with tiny silver and pearlescent beads, glittering. Meant to draw attention. It's sleeveless and the top is breathtakingly form-fitting, pinching in your waist and hugging every curve of your body, but you are gratefully afforded an elegant high neckline. Silk, ivory-colored, wrist-length gloves that do nothing for the cold cover your hands and a fur half-coat is draped over your shoulders. Your lipstick is a deep red.

You understand what it means, these luxury items, your styling, the fact that you were instructed to enter alone. By no design of your own, the implication was that you were an escort, a madame of the night. No wonder Newt had Theseus leave the hotel first, before he could catch a glimpse of you. You didn't dare imagine his reaction.

As you enter the gala, handing the doorman your fabricated invitation without a glance, every head turns to you. Chatter stills as you pass, the women gawk and the men look stricken, hungry as the pack dogs in your dreams. Plates and trays sail overhead and the instruments play on, unattended. The German Ministry of Magic has spared no expense.

Patrons lean in close and speak hushed and anxiously. You assume the upcoming election for the highest office of the International Confederation of Wizards is on everyone's mind.

You head for the bar with your head held high, hoping it doesn't show on your face, your discomfort at being so seen. You were told Baron Dietrich would be at the bar with some of his men. With a trembling, gloved hand you motion the barman over and order a drink.

You don’t dare look for your friends. You assume things are going swimmingly for them, but for you? You are drowning in your finery.

You’re not even alone for a moment before the wolves descend. You should've known a man like Dietrich would come find you.

"Mädchen!" He approaches you partially, but expects you to come the rest of the way, waves you over with a meaty hand. When you raise an eyebrow, haughtily, he switches to English.

"Girl, come here." The timber of his voice is low, gravelly. He has a heavy brow, his hair is thick and peppered with gray. The gray does nothing to diminish the impression of his strength. In a fight without your wand, he could have your neck snapped, broken and rolling around its stem, in a heartbeat.

You walk over, leaving your drink at the bar, untouched.

The gala is housed in a mammoth, marble room, twenty foot ceilings held up by smooth columns, something that reminds you of Gringott's. But around the massive bar at the room's center are half-circle booths and tables, spiraling out like lily pads. You slide into Dietrich's booth and his arm goes around you immeditely.

He smells chokingly of cigars, a perfumey, sickly sweet smell. He is a bloated, thick-limbed man. No, you couldn't have fought him off. There are so many uniformed men at his table that some of the younger ones have to stand. With a sting of shock, you don't see how you could be of any influence on these men at all, they hardly see you as a person, aren't speaking to you. You hope Newt and Pickett work quickly.

Another young man, dressed in what looks like a soldier's uniform, slides into the booth after you, sandwiching you in next to Dietrich. You let out of noise of shock and begin to push him off you when Dietrich grabs both your wrists.

"Don't be fussy. This is my young friend, newly recruited. I plan to make him my protégé."

The other men slap the boy over the shoulder, jostling him in congratulations. He smiles meekly. You could hate him for that meekness. That pathetic deference to power.

"We'll share you tonight, of course." Dietrich is looking at the boy, not you. "In my office."

Dietrich's hand clamps over your exposed thigh and his fingernails jab into the fat of your thigh. You don't react to the bright bite of pain. The other boy begins to lean into you, breath hot over your neck.

Whatever small bird lives in your ribs begins to beat itself against that cage, flailing and thrashing.

"No!" You can't help the edge of panic in your voice. Dietrich is too strong, so you don't bother, but you shove the boy off of you and out of the booth without much effort. The boy stumbles out, dumbfounded.

Dietrich snatches your wrist with real fury, bruisingly.

"What?! You're for sale, aren't you?" He won't hurt you in front of his men, not at the gala, but his face is so colored with anger that it's nearly purple.

"Please," there's a real plea in your voice when you say it, you try to cover it up with a hurried smile, you try to look charming. "Dance with me, sir?"

That seems to sedate him. He looks irritated, but pleased by your attention. At least he won't be able to molest you in front of all his colleagues and superiors.

He leads you to the dance floor and the entire way your mind is racing, scrambling for purchase, trying to figure out how you're going to keep him out of his office. He made it clear he had plans to go there later tonight with his men. With you.

And he was an even cruder man than you'd thought, he'd made no attempt to even flirt with or seduce you. His interest in you was moreso entitlement, the same interest a predator has for a slab of meat.

Your wand, concealed on your person, gave you little comfort. Newt had asked that you did not reveal yourself, didn't make a scene. But if it came down to it, you would fight Dietrich rather than submit to him. He was more than repulsive. He wanted to hurt you.

"Please," you think to yourself. "Please, God, don't make me-"

You startle at the large hand that grips your waist and spins you away, just before you reach the dance floor.

Dietrich, abandoned, turns in flustered outrage and is swallowed by the crowd. You're being whisked away before he can fully react, Theseus guiding you deftly out of the overfull room of diplomats.

You sob with relief. "Theseus-" you start, but he's leading you deeper, still, away from the gala.

It's not until you're in some pitch-dark, gaping mausoleum of a hallway that Theseus finally stops, pressing you delicately against the wall, holding your face in his hands like water, like something precious. He examines your body.

"Are you okay?" He asks, pressingly.

You could cry out in joy, the sight of his face is balm-like, giving you a familiar relief.

"Yes, yes!" You reassure him. "Is it done? Did we do it?"

Theseus nods in confirmation, still looking over you for injuries, turning over your wrists in his hands.

"The others are already out. It was quick. No one noticed a thing, we probably took too many precautions this time around..." He finally meets your eyes. The look in his is dark and indecipherable. When he swallows, it's raggedly. "You're really okay, Y/N?"

"Yes," you answer, hesitant at the intensity of his look. "Why?"

Theseus presses his body against yours harshly, you don't even have time to moan before he's swallowing it with his mouth. Your hands are all over him, but he gives you no room to move, it's as if he doesn't notice, the way he's pushing you up against the wall, kissing you like he wants to consume you.

"You're so damn beautiful," he mutters. "When you walked in I almost blew my cover just to go to you."

"Theseus," you pant. You're needy, you want him to keep kissing you but he's leaning his neck back, pinning you against the wall but holding himself away so he can look at you when he runs his warm hands from the backs of your thighs up to your ass. He hooks his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulls them down so they're only hanging onto you by one of your ankles.

He leans in for another kiss, just as deep and wretched as the last, just as maddening.

He pulls away again with a pant.

"Your dress is too damn short," he curses under his breath.

"Are you angry at me?" You ask quietly, still writhing against him, desperate for friction, but suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no sweetheart," he soothes. "Not at you. You did so good. Such a good job." His praise has you leaning into his palm, which is cupping the side of your face.

You whimper, "I want you." You realize it's true as you're saying it. You can't ever lie to him. "I want you," you repeat, more insistently.

“He was all over you,” he hisses against your ear. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.” He punctuates the last word with a squeeze to your backside.

"Theseus," you breathe out, helplessly. You can't believe this is happening. The wing of the German Ministry that you're in is completely dark, you can barely make out the tapestries and curtains hanging loose from the walls. But there's distant light at the end of the hall, and dim voices and music filter in and out from the gala a few rooms over.

But you want him to keep touching you more than you know better, know you should stop. More than anything.

He starts to hike your dress up, his movements urgent, when he stops abruptly. The spot where Dietrich's nails dug into your upper thigh is small, but he drew blood.

Theseus pauses, loosens his grip and lets you slide down the wall. With a slow-thudding heart you briefly fear he'll be so furious he'll run back to the gala, to find Dietrich, but he only bends down and kisses the wound, just barely, lips ghosting over skin, so gently you could cry. Kneeling before you, he looks like a prince, a knight. He's careful to avoid the wound when he lifts you back up against the wall.

You can't help but stare down at it, in awe, when he takes his dick out. Your body still thrills at the sight of it, there, huge, resting at your entrance. Theseus grinds a slow circle, sliding it against your wet folds, against your clit. You just stare.

He flashes you a lazy smile.

“What? You want me to help you put it in?”

You moan, audibly. You're not doing a very good job at being discreet, but how can you when he says things like that to you and expects you to answer?

"Yes, please," you close your eyes, too flustered to meet his burning gaze when you say the words.

He grips the base of his cock and guides it into your pussy. Clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you're making, you whimper dumbly against his palm. Only releases his hand from your mouth once he's fully seated inside of you. The stretch is so big you know it would hardly take any movement at all for him to break that tension and make you come, drive you mad, unravel you completely. Just a few rocks against the wall, a few rolls of his hips and you'd be brainless and spent, crying out his name. You're already dripping around him. But you want to last longer for him this time.

He's looking directly into your eyes.

“You’re taking it, Y/N. You can choose where—in your mouth, on your face, inside. But you’re taking it all.”

You nod. Then once again he's fucking you dumb, you don't even care that anyone could walk by, you're just thinking about how big he is, how good it feels. He's fucking your body slack now, you don't even have to do anything, he’s holding you up, lifting you onto and off of his cock roughly, debasingly.

His hands nearly circle your waist completely, they’re so large. Your mouth is stuck open, making stupid, feeble noises and he’s grunting small words of encouragement.

"Say my name," he says.

When you don't respond immediately, too blissed out to think, he slams your body down harder onto him and you nearly yelp.

"Hngh, Theseus. Theseus, please-"

You can feel him get almost unbearably hard inside of you, then he’s heaving you up and flipping you around, manhandling you, so your back is his against his torso, his right arm a bar across your chest, still inside. He brings a hand down roughly to your clit to touch you through it, and then you're both coming hard, your loud, jagged breaths echoing through the empty hall.

Your head spins, you're seeing stars.

"Baby," he says, when you don't come back to yourself immediately. "Was I too rough? Are you okay?"

You nod, breathlessly, but stumble when he finally stops supporting your weight. Your body is still juddering with pleasure, your fingertips quiver and feel numb as you smooth down your dress.

He's right, you think with a laugh. My dress is too damn short.

Theseus has the decency to look around the hall to make sure no one was watching, and to help you fix your hair and what's left of your lipstick. Your lips are pink and bitten now, swollen.

"They're probably wondering where we are. We should go." His voice is serious, unemotive, but there's something like devotion in the way he looks over you from head to toe, just one last time, to make sure you're beyond reproach. He hands you his jacket, which is huge on you, and slings your fur cape over his arm, bearing the cold himself like a gentleman.

A flurry of snow has begun to spiral down in the streets of Berlin, white particles curling and dancing in the wind. You've always found this type of snowfall to be so fanciful, the closest thing to magic in the muggle world. You walk back to the meeting point in comfortable silence, Theseus's hand clasped firmly around yours.

"He doesn't know what's mine," he'd said about Dietrich, about you. And last night, not that long ago, he'd said, "I love you."

Albeit, after you said it first. You look over to his oblivious face, checking both sides for cars before leading you across the busy street. His kind eyes, the line of his jaw..

You wonder how he could mean it... You'd so meticulously tried to conceal from him all the ugly parts of your life, your past, your fears, even your wants when they seemed to inconvenience him.

Could he love me? Could I let him?

"I want you," you'd said to him in the hall of the German Ministry. You realize now that you meant more than his body. For so long even just a look from him, just a word, was enough to sustain you.

But now you wanted more. Maybe it was selfish, undeserved, that the magical world was giving way to crisis, the dark forces were closing in around hope, and yet here you were, wanting to ask him for more...

part three here

author's note: hiiiiii! YES i switched to present tense from past tense in the last part, and no i'm not sorry... please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! i have a third & final chapter in mind. or i can take other theseus requests. the theseus brainrot is real... some AUs would be fun too! as always, feedback is welcome <3 taglist: @mystic-mara

#theseus smut #theseus x reader #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #hp fic #fantastic beasts

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rederiswrites · 1 month ago

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I wrote this out for FB and then thought I might as well share it here as well. So if you have ADHD, are a late-diagnosed adult with ADHD, and most particular if you are a person with a uterus and/or have children, this one might be for you.

...

Last couple of days have been a little...weird. Let's start at the beginning. Buckle up and learn something.

As many of you already know, I have ADHD. It's a condition with a PR problem--a lot of people, often even medical professionals, have a very distorted idea of what it does, and a very limited one. For starters, it's not about parenting, or lead paint, or lack of discipline. It's genetic, *highly* heritable, starts in childhood and persists throughout life, and is a sufficiently severe disability that it comes with a decrease in life expectancy of up to 13 years. It is a visible difference that can be perceived in brain scans. These are all, at this point, well established and thoroughly attested in the scientific literature. ADHD affects up to 5% of the population and appears across cultures. It is very common.

It's not just about lack of attention--in fact, plenty of medical professionals think the name should be changed, as in fact the problem isn't the volume of attention but the way we struggle to direct it. We are motivated by interest, and struggle to properly weight future goals and consequences, specifically because they are in the future. If the robin outside the window is more immediately rewarding to our brain, we will watch that, and not the teacher. Our ability to properly weigh the consequences of that choice is negatively impacted by our own biochemistry.

We struggle with many of what are termed the "executive functions", the self management systems of the brain. Degree and presentation varies from person to person, but initiating tasks, completing tasks, staying ON task, restraining impulses, emotional regulation, and working memory are among the things impacted. My working memory is notoriously horrible. When they send you those activation codes on your phone? I often have to go back and read them out several times to enter a six digit number. I have to stop and remind myself what I'm doing between every step of my morning bathroom routine, or making tacos. Sometimes I take off my glasses to put on my contacts, reset, and reach for my pill bottles while I still can't see. My long-term memory is also affected, with my husband de facto serving as the memory-holder of the family.

Another common symptom I personally experience is "time blindness", which can mean both that you have no "internal clock" that has a clear idea of the passage of time, and that our ability to properly weight the importance of things in the future is impacted. So, for example, I can know intellectually what's coming, but it takes some really complex and exhausting antics to actually focus and work on those things if they're more than a week or sometimes even a couple days away.

Without externally imposed controls, many ADHD people flounder and fail to meet social markers of success. Estimates of how many ADHD people manage to complete college range from 5% to 15%. Again: 5% to 15%! I have failed twice myself. WITH externally imposed controls, ADHD people often have to work far harder to make their brains do what is required, and either fail and develop an image of themselves as failures (usually with plenty of external help), or keep fighting and suffer crippling burnout.

To that point, ADHD is HIGHLY comorbid with a whole range of knock-on conditions, some of which stem from the same brain patterns that give rise to the ADHD itself, and others from the trauma of living with a disability, but they include very high rates of depression, anxiety, fibromyalgia, social isolation, and addiction. I have dealt with depression, anxiety, and fibromyalgia my entire adult life. I have never ended up in the trap of self-medication but let's be real, that's partly about having supports and a healthy social environment. It's not some accomplishment I praise myself for, nor is addiction a sin I shame anyone for.

And anxiety has a very different texture to it when what you're really anxious about is the next time you fail in some catastrophic way. Lock your keys in the car. Completely space on a doctor's appointment. Go to pay for groceries and find that your wallet is next to your computer at home. Because the anxiety is not irrational fear of some generalized bad thing. These things do and will happen, regularly. Sometimes it feels like the only fix is getting good at recovering. Because no matter how many times you manage not to blow it, there's always another chance.

So, the struggle to be a reliable person, to be a consistent parent, to be a dependable life partner, is continuous. And it is so so so hard and it sometimes feels like you're not actually making any progress at all. I have tried therapy. I have tried three (or four??) different non-stimulant medications that sometimes help people. One of them DID help. ALL of them had catastrophic side effects. There were times as I was trialing these medications when I needed to be minded because I wasn't capable of taking care of anything, not even myself. Without Jacob, I don't know where I'd be. Not here. Probably in poverty, which is where he found me.

I have tried probably most organizational tools you know of. I have tried imposing schedules, all of which turned to dust and ash when the next fibromyalgia flareup or the next major life disruption happened. I don't think a new schedule has ever lasted a month before.

I HAVE felt like I'm made progress lately. I learned things that really helped my fibromyalgia, which gave me the space to work on other things--just like getting the borders of a puzzle finished. Enough things were spiraling upwards, and I think I might be cementing some gains. I have felt optimistic.

But in the meantime, I asked my doctor if, now that no less than three cardiologists have insisted my heart is Perfectly Healthy, I could finally try stimulant medications. After decades of use, Adderall, Ritalin, and a couple related stimulant drugs are still the gold standard for ADHD treatment and improve outcomes substantially for many people. And stimulants are in serious international shortage. Have been for many months. The only one she thought she could get me was Adderall. And she didn't dare try anything but the standard 30mg because nonstandard dosages would be even less attainable.

So now I'm taking Adderall. One week on 30mg, which I stopped when it was clear my function was being seriously impaired rather than improved. Reassessed with the doctor, now trying 60mg, because that's two of the pills I've already managed to obtain. It is....too much. And in some ways it fixes problems I wasn't working on, while so far making my executive function, my initiation or even *contemplation* of tasks, virtually nonexistant. Which was, of course, the thing I was trying to fix.

So yeah. When you have the context, I figure you can understand the substance of my frustration yourself. If you have children, I don't think you need my help to imagine what it would be like to know that you are unpredictable, or to see that your children are used to to you undergoing events that make you act strangely and erratically. I think just knowing that often, new medications introduce themselves by giving me a migraine, and I know this is possible when I take that first pill, is fairly self-explanatory. And so I expect you can imagine what it would be like, with all of this as a backdrop, to experience worsening of your symptoms, probably because of age-related hormonal changes. To in desperation try something you'd previously been denied. And to learn that it probably won't help.

In a week, I will either give up on Adderall for now or find a way to make it work. I'll put together the pieces yet again--at this point, possibly my strongest personal skill--and continue that upward climb as far as I can get. I'm incredibly fortunate in that regardless, I will be fed and dry and warm and loved. But right now, I feel justified in some serious dismay.

#ADHD

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anyca786 · 9 months ago

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Press Conference

Platonic!Marvel cast (Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Benedict Cumberbatch, Anthony Mackie, Tom Hiddleston) x actress!reader

Summary: When a notorious press member became too personal,your marvel family stood up for you.

The flashbulbs exploded in synchronized bursts as you entered the Endgame press conference, the air thick with anticipation. You, the newest member of the MCU family, were the talk of the town, and tonight, all eyes were on you.

The lights dimmed, a hush fell over the packed auditorium. All eyes swivelled towards the entrance as the press conference host boomed, "Let's give a warm welcome to Y/N L/N, our newest addition to the Marvel Cinematic Universe!"

Chris Evans, seated beside Benedict Cumberbatch, couldn't help but steal a glance, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Sebastian Stan, across from him, mirrored the sentiment, his gaze lingering a beat longer. Tom Hiddleston, ever the gentleman, offered a small, knowing nod, while Anthony Mackie, your on-screen partner, winked playfully, muttering, "Ready to steal the show, Y/N?"

After introductions and greetings, everyone settled into their assigned sofas, you positioned amongst the Avengers heartthrobs. The press conference began, questions flying thick and fast, your name met with excited murmurs and camera clicks.

You settled onto your designated sofa, a nervous flutter in your stomach. But as the press conference began, you found your rhythm, your wit and intelligence shining through your responses. Your laughter filled the room, captivating not just the audience, but also the men around you.

Their gazes, once discreet, became bolder. Chris leaned in, his smile widening with every insightful point you made. Benedict chuckled at your witty retort, his eyes sparkling with appreciation. Sebastian's lips twitched, and Tom offered a thumbs-up, his smile tinged with a hint of something deeper. Even Anthony, usually the joker, seemed captivated, his gaze lingering on you with newfound respect.

Then, the atmosphere shifted. A reporter, notorious for his inappropriate remarks, directed his attention solely at you, his motives seemingly more personal than professional, began peppering you with flirtatious questions, his gaze lingering a little too long on your figure. The room grew tense, and you could sense a change in your fellow MCU stars. Chris's normally relaxed posture stiffened, his jaw clenching imperceptibly. Sebastian's smile vanished, replaced by a steely glint in his eyes. Tom, even Tom, seemed to radiate a cool disapproval.

"Y/N," the reporter drawled, his voice dripping with insincerity, "you're absolutely captivating. Tell us, does playing alongside such handsome co-stars come with any perks?"

Benedict leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper, "You don't have to answer that, Y/N. He doesn't deserve your attention." His words, laced with a quiet intensity, sent a wave of gratitude through you.

You gave him a polite smile, your response witty and deflecting. But you saw Chris clench his jaw, and Sebastian crossed his arms, a scowl forming. You appreciated their silent show of support, focusing on the next question.

However, the reporter persisted. "Come on," he pressed, "surely there's some juicy behind-the-scenes romance brewing..."

Before you could even formulate a reply, a chorus of voices interrupted.

Suddenly, Chris interrupted, his jaw clenched, stood up, his voice low and dangerous. "Excuse me, but your line of questioning is overstepping boundaries."

Anthony, equally protective, rose, his voice booming, "Show some respect, man!"

Benedict, ever the diplomat, interjected, "Let's keep things professional, shall we?"

Sebastian, his eyes narrowed, added, "We won't tolerate any further disrespect towards Y/N."

Tom, ever eloquent, finished the thought, "Her talent speaks for itself, no need for cheap tactics."

The reporter, flustered and intimidated, stammered an apology, slinking back in his seat. You sat there, speechless, the warmth of their protectiveness washing over you.

The press conference continued, but the mood had changed. The air buzzed with a new energy, a silent understanding between you and the men around you. You were no longer just the newest star; you were their colleague, their friend, and they would fiercely protect your place in their universe.

Later, after the formalities were over, Chris approached you, a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry about that," he muttered, "we don't take kindly to anyone disrespecting our team."

You smiled, touched by their protectiveness. "It means a lot," you admitted, "having you all have my back."

A comfortable silence settled between you, before Chris chuckled. "Besides," he winked, "who wouldn't stand up for someone as brilliant and beautiful as you?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you laughed, the warmth in Chris's eyes making your heart skip a beat. Maybe being an Avenger wasn't just about saving the world, but also finding a new kind of family, one that protected you not just from villains, but also from inappropriate reporters and perhaps, even budding feelings.

And as you looked around at the smiling faces of your co-stars, you knew you wouldn't trade this experience for anything, even if it meant facing a few intrusive questions along the way. After all, who wouldn't want to be protected by Earth's Mightiest Heroes, both on and off screen?

Please suggest anything related to marvel characters, cast or actors. I'm very new to this, I just started yesterday *cries*

#marvel #avengers x reader #marvel fanfic #chris evans #benedict cumberbatch #sebastian stan #tom hiddleston #anthony mackie #marvel cast #actress reader #tumblr #marvel fic

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cinnamon-galaxies · 3 months ago

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𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐢𝐫 - Part 1

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairings: Alastor x female reader Summary: During a night out at a club with the hotel crew, you enjoy dancing and drinking with Angel while Alastor remains visibly uncomfortable in the lounge area. Seeking distraction from your conflicted feelings towards him, you connect with another woman, which quickly escalates into an embarrassing situation. This forces you to question not only your emotions but also the true nature of your complicated relationship with Alastor. Warnings/Tags: female reader, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, kissing, reader is bisexual and makes out with another woman, Alastor gets jealous, Alastor is bad at feelings so instead of communicating his jealousy he decides to taunt reader, second hand embarrassment Wordcount: 4.4k A/N: I can’t believe it – I’ve finally managed to write a new story! It has a second part that’s almost finished and will be posted at the end of the month. If you’d like to be tagged when it’s up, just let me know! Fun fact about this story: It includes lore about my OC Mara, as the circumstances under which the reader meets Selena are the same as those in which Mara encounters her best friend in my AU! Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

The club was packed with bodies and the colorful neon lights flickered in time with the relentless beat of electronic music. Loud chatter and the pounding bass around him formed an unbearable cacophony that made Alastor cringe inwardly. He despised the modern scene and its noise, the crowds and overall lack of refinement. It was far from his idea of a pleasant evening. Oh, how much he hated to be here. Stressed and feeling completely out of place, Alastor sat in the lounge area of one of Pentagram City's most notorious clubs, his grin strained, his ears perked up and a much too sweet cocktail in his hand. If it wasn’t for his gloves, the whitened knuckles from his heavy grip around the glass would’ve been apparent even from afar. He hadn’t intended to come here and would’ve preferred to stay at the hotel, settling himself in front of his fireplace with a good book and fine jazz in the background. Honestly, he would’ve even preferred to clean the entire hotel over being forced to spend his time in this establishment which felt as wrong as a walk through the Vee’s district. It was Angel Dust who had brought up the idea of this excursion, promising a wild night of fun and debauchery to blow off some steam. The other residents had barely hesitated, convinced by the idea of spending a night out together. To Alastor’s biggest disapproval, they had insisted on him to accompany them. Not that they would’ve had the power to convince him to leave the tranquility of the quiet hotel behind for such a cacophony of modern entertainment that could be the product of one of his nightmares – no. It was you who had convinced him in the end. You were just too persistent and persuasive, and he was just too taken with you to refuse after such big eyes begged him to join.

You, on the other side, enjoyed the evening. You were completely in your element, dressed up in a tight but elegant cocktail dress and exuding confidence as if you owned this place. Together with Angel Dust, you dominated the dance floor with fluid and inhibited movements, your arms held up in the air while you swung your hips to the rhythm of the music. You quickly became the center of attention, especially for Alastor who couldn’t help but watch you from his secluded spot, a mix of admiration and irritation flickering in his otherwise unreadable eyes. How he admired your confidence, your ability to let loose in such an uncomfortable and overstimulating place, reveling in the atmosphere with such vivid enthusiasm. Yet, the feelings he held for you were a secret, cautiously buried beneath the layers of his Radio Demon persona.

“Come on, Smiles, loosen up and have some fun,” Angel Dust suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts, and Alastor snapped his head in his direction, raising his eyebrows at the spider demon. When did he leave the dance floor? As Alastor glanced at him, he noticed a small tray with half a dozen shots in his hands. Angel must have left for the bar to get drinks for himself and the others. If he really thought he could convince Alastor to indulge in this kind of modern entertainment, he was delusional.

Without a word, Alastor rolled his eyes and waved him off, his gaze drifting back to you before he got aware that Angel Dust still stood beside him and turned his attention to the glass in his hand.

The spider demon let out a deep sigh. “Alright. Haven’t expected anything else,” he murmured and walked on, but not without placing one of the full shot glasses on the small table in front of Alastor and disappearing before Alastor could say something. He watched Angel Dust return to the dance floor, heading directly towards you. Then he stared at the shot glass and raised his eyebrow, clear liquor grinning back at him. With a sigh that was impossible to hear under the loud noise other people dared to call ‘music’, he took it in his hand and downed the substance in one gulp. A spicy burn seared in his throat, making him cough. At least the shot was tolerable…

You had the time of your afterlife. Increasingly intoxicated after downing one drink after another you danced in the crowd, hips swaying vividly to the music with such unrestrained joy you haven’t felt in a long time. It was a good idea to agree to Angel’s suggestion to go partying. You didn't know that you needed this until you had arrived and he dragged you to the bar almost immediately to get ready for a night of reckless debauchery. You haven’t left the dance floor since you’ve emptied your first longdrink and probably won’t within predictable time because Angel Dust served you with new drinks almost every quarter of an hour.

You watched your friend worm himself through the crowd, skillfully avoiding contact with any of the other guests, balancing the tray high above his head while he shielded himself from accidental punches with his second set of arms. When he arrived, he placed the tray on a high bar table not far from you. Still entranced by the music you danced your way over to him.

“Damn, you really want to mess me up, huh?”, you joked as you noticed the amount of shots he got and Angel shrugged his shoulders.

“Lil’ stock supply will prevent me from fighting myself over to the bar for at least another half an hour,” he responded, handing you a shot glass and taking one for himself.

A laugh escaped your throat and you praised him for his genius idea with a quick wink. “Then let’s hope no one will spike them when we look away.” With that, you raised your shot glass in a quick toast and downed the clear liquor with high anticipation, a cough escaping you as the spicy alcohol burned down your throat. Dry Ouzo. Tasty, but like fire in the stomach.

Angel chuckled at your reaction, clearly unaffected due to his regular club nights with Cherri.

“Hey man, thanks for the drinks!” a random stranger exclaimed over the music, boldly snatching two shots away and disappearing in the crowd as fast as he had appeared.

“And so the stock runs out,” Angel Dust deadpanned with an annoyed expression, staring with narrowed eyes in the direction the shot thief took their leave.

You snorted through your nose, erupting in wholehearted laughter at his reaction, and shrugged your shoulders. “Looks like you’ll have to return to the bar sooner than anticipated,” you mocked him with a smirk, patting one of his lower shoulder joints.

“Hmpf…” Without another word, Angel took another shot and downed it right after.

You and Angel Dust spend some time just standing at the bar table, chatting with raised voices and watching the other guests while you commented on their dancing styles or played a sheepish game of ‘fuck, marry, kill’ with random strangers you pointed out from the crowd.

After what was about an hour, you cleared your throat. “I need to go to the bathroom. After that, I’ll head to the bar and get myself a soda,” you informed Angel, and he nodded in acknowledgment. Pushing yourself up from the table, you navigated through the crowds, the effect of almost half a dozen shots clearly affecting your vision and balance. It wasn’t too debilitating because your body could handle large amounts of alcohol easily, but you still felt uncomfortable and needed some time to steady yourself and return to your senses. Some non-alcoholic drinks might work wonders to ease the symptoms. You're bound to face a brutal hangover tomorrow anyway.

After you returned from the bathrooms you walked over to the bar, ordering a simple soda from the barkeeper. You thanked him as he handed you your non-alcoholic drink and leaned with your back against the bar counter. As you took a few gulps, your gaze wandered around the club and a sigh escaped your throat. It was an awesome evening though different from what you expected. You actually had planned to take it easy and not indulge in such debauchery. But Angel had claimed you as soon as you entered the club, dragging you away from the group and lulling you to loosen up. It’s not that you weren’t eager to go clubbing. You actually liked to partake in such excursions and just forget about the daily stress for an evening full of fun and loud music. And this time, it seemed to be helpful to suppress certain matters of the heart as well…

Your gaze wandered to the lounge area where you found a certain deer demon sitting on a couch – the seats around him unoccupied because no one dared to sit close to him – and you could feel your heart sink. You were so confident when you convinced him to join your excursion and yet you didn’t dare to spare him a single glance ever since you entered this establishment. You had convinced him to join in a moment of boldness, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this could be an opportunity to bridge the gap between you. But instead you feared that you complicated things even further.

Alastor was an enigma and that was part of the allure that drew you in. His charm, his charisma, and the old-world chivalry he brought to every interaction caused you to melt every time he was near. He made your heart race with a single glance, his touch – so commanding yet delicate – set your skin on fire, sending thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He was a force of nature, fierce and unpredictable, with a soft spot only those he chose were privileged to see. And you were one of those people. Yet, you weren’t even sure if you meant anything to him because he held you at a respectable distance, initiating a game of push and pull between you that left you reeling.

Was it a mistake to bring him here? A part of you thought it was because you knew he never was one for Hell’s modern nightlife and seeing him sit there, a predator among prey with a strained grin plastered on his face and holding onto a drink in his hands, only highlighted the chasm between you two. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you made things worse by dragging him into an environment where he seemed completely out of place, and where your feelings for him felt more unrequited than ever.

"Dizzy head?" A female voice disrupted your train of thoughts, and you raised your head to meet the kind face of a beautiful woman leaning against the bar counter. She held a long drink with a tiny paper umbrella in her hand, her lips curled into a soft smile. Her skin had a pale pinkish hue, almost ghostly under the club's dim yet colorful lights, while two horns peeked out from her thick raven hair.

"A little," you responded, pushing your daunting thoughts away, and took a sip from your soda. "But nothing to worry about. A few minutes of abstinence will do enough," you laughed lightly, trying to shake off the haze.

The woman laughed along and glanced thoughtfully at the drink in her hands. “I’ll probably do the same after this one.” She shrugged and then turned her gaze back to you. “I’m Selena,” she introduced herself with a bright smile.

“Y/N!” you returned much more joyfully than you felt.

“So, your first time here? I’m a regular guest here so I know all of the common faces.”

You took another sip from your soda. Maybe getting to know someone new would help you feel better. “I actually came here with a group of people. Friends and co-workers, you could say. Just a simple night out to get some distraction from the stress of maintaining the hotel,” you explained with a slight smile on your lips as your gaze quickly wandered around the club. You noticed some of your companions scattered across the establishment.

Selena tilted her head curiously, clearly intrigued. “The hotel? So, you’re working at that ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” she asked, and soon your casual small talk turned into an extensive conversation. You told her about your job and Charlie’s unusual belief in redemption that barely received any recognition, and Selena listened intently, her curiosity keeping the conversation alive with thoughtful questions. As you talked, a sense of relief washed over you. Slowly, you learned more about Selena, and before long, thoughts of Alastor faded from your mind entirely.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn back into the rhythm of shots and cocktails, and soon enough, Selena dragged you back to the pulsing dance floor. The flashing lights and thumping bass faded into the background as you moved in sync, the world reduced to just the two of you dancing and laughing like old friends. The chemistry between you was palpable. Selena mirrored your enthusiasm and joy with such ease that it felt like you had known each other for years. With every dance move and shared laughter, the bond between you deepened and you were certain that if the night continued on this smoothly and you both remembered each other the next morning, you had found a new friend.

The music – a popular pop song from the early 2000’s – filled the air, infusing the atmosphere with nostalgia and energy, and a sense of euphoria washed over you. You danced, drinks raised into the air while you held each other on the shoulders. Each move felt like a release, a moment of being liberated from all worries and constraints as the adrenaline rushed through your veins.

You exchanged meaningful glances with Selena, unable to ignore the magnetic pull you felt toward her. Was it merely the alcohol heightening your perceptions, or was it genuinely her captivating presence – her allure, infectious personality, and sharp wit – that drew you in? You didn’t know but your mutual attraction pulled you closer until you eventually slipped away, stumbling into a quiet hallway at the back of the club, away from the pounding music and the press of bodies. The alcohol clouded your vision, lowered your senses and your boundaries. And so, you found yourself caught in a passionate embrace with Selena. Your fingers played with her hair as you pressed yourself against her, using the proximity with that alluring woman to your own benefit to forget about the tight squeeze around your heart and all the inner turmoil you felt whenever you thought about him.

Meanwhile, Alastor still sat in his secluded spot, grateful that his presence was nervously avoided by the other guests. He appreciated not having to endure forced proximity with people – at least most of the time. One time during the evening, Charlie – ever the caring person – had seated herself next to him, expressing her worry about his obviously strained mood and claiming to feel guilty for not allowing him to stay at the hotel. How funny that the princess truly believed she was the reason he joined their little night out; as if she had any authority over him... To his surprise, Alastor had easily managed to brush her off by affirming he was alright all over again. A blatant lie, but preferable over enduring more of her neverending rambling. Of course, she reassured him several times that returning to the hotel would be okay, before she eventually left him alone. And Alastor would have already left hours ago if it wasn’t his primary concern to ensure your safety.

He felt a migraine coming on, an unpleasant throbbing in his temple caused by the stress this establishment was inflicting upon him. Rising from his seat, he decided to retreat from the main area to seek some respite from the oppressive atmosphere, instructing his shadow to remain vigilant. With his cane tapping against the floor with every step, he walked past the lounge area and the dancefloor, the crowd instinctively parting to make way for him like Moses parting the Red Sea. Thanks to his observant shadow, he already knew that the back of the club led to an outside area that offered a welcome relief from the sensory overload.

As he walked through the dimly lit hallway, the music became quieter, no longer assaulting his sensitive hearing, and instead, faint giggles reached his ears. He hesitated before rounding the corner and stopped dead in the tracks. There, in front of him, were you, pressed against a wall and your lips locked with another woman in a heated kiss. The scene was intimate, passionate, and entirely unexpected. Your body was entwined with her’s, your hands roaming through her hair while the woman held you in her embrace.

For a moment, Alastor simply watched, unable to avert his gaze. This revelation caught him completely off-guard and his heart twisted painfully in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy and confusion warring inside him. He had known that you were fond of men but this revelation left him reeling. But no matter with whom you were with, seeing you in such an intimate manner with another person was a blow he hadn’t anticipated and that sent a surge of anger through his body. He clenched his fists, torn between storming away and interrupting you, the discomfort palpable in his features while he fought to regain his composure.

Sensing eyes on you, you broke the kiss and looked up. You startled immediately as your eyes fell on the red deer demon.

"Alastor!" you exclaimed in shock, instinctively pushing Selena away. She turned her head, her eyes widening immediately, her face paling in shock and fear as she recognized the figure standing before you both. "You– you’re the Radio Demon!" she stammered, her voice shaky.

You, still breathless from the kiss, clenched your jaws together, feeling just as uncomfortable as Alastor. His grin looked strained for a second but then he returned to his cold, unreadable expression, and your heart sank in your chest.

“Alastor… this isn’t what it looks like…” you muttered a cheap excuse while you felt the heat rising to your face, turning your already alcohol-induced cheeks to a burning red. Your lips curled into a nervous grin, driven by the rush of embarrassment coursing through your veins, mingled with a heavy, unidentifiable tangle of emotions. Out of all your companions, why did it have to be him who caught you in the middle of the act?

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile now sardonic while his gaze wandered back and forth between you and Selena. His voice carried a heavy static as he responded, “Oh, I think it is exactly what it looks like, my dear.”

You took in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean to–,” you tried to explain but Alastor cut you off with a dismissive wave of his clawed hand.

“Nonsense, my dear,” he laughed his discomfort off, pushing his jealousy aside, though the enhanced static on his voice betrayed his forced facade. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re free to do whatever you want. I am the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He wiggled his fingers in a suggestive gesture that implied everything he wanted to say without having to utter a single word.

You giggled nervously, your heartbeat slowly calming, and glanced at Selena who appeared visibly intimidated by Alastor’s presence, her posture tense and her joyful expression replaced by a mortified grimace, which only made you feel more uneasy.

“I– I should go,” she eventually said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that lingered in the hallway and attempted to walk off.

“No, wait!” you tried to stop her, not wanting to be left alone with Alastor, but Selena just forced herself to tighten her lips into a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you later,” she retorted, interpreting your reaction as a worry to not see her again instead of the sheer plea to not be left alone. With that, she walked off, returning to the main part of the club and leaving you alone with Alastor.

You felt his lingering gaze burning into your side, the faint glow of his crimson eyes in the dim light of the hallway making him appear more dangerous than he was. Well, assuming that Alastor wasn’t dangerous would be utterly naive – he was literally an overlord and one of the most dangerous ones at that. However, he would never harm you, so in that sense, he was harmless.

“Enjoying yourself, I see,” Alastor eventually commented, his unreadable expression sharpened by a subtle flicker of disapproval in his eyes.

You still couldn't bring yourself to look at him and that comment only exacerbated your unease. Why did he have to be someone who found pleasure in keeping other people on edge? Could he at least not wallow in your discomfort now? It wasn’t as if you weren’t already suffering enough.

You sighed and bit your lip, swallowing the clod in your throat before you pulled yourself together to say something. “We were just… oh fuck me…” you mumbled those last words quietly to yourself, “Look, she’s a friend and we got a little too comfortable after drinking so much booze.” While you tried to explain the situation, you asked yourself why you even bothered. He couldn’t care less. You weren’t dating and probably not even friends. Damn, you didn’t even know what you were because everything was just too complicated between the both of you. There were pushes and pulls and every time you felt some tension crackling between you it dissipated again, leaving you clueless and completely confused by Alastor’s unpredictable behavior, his intermittent interest in you, and those random moments that allowed you a fleeting glimpse behind his facade. It was infuriating the least and most of all profoundly frustrating. If it wasn’t for him and your damned feelings for that man, you probably wouldn't even have found yourself in this predicament.

“Why are you even here?” you asked and eventually dared to look at him.

“I was seeking some quiet,” he replied, his voice softer now, the edge gone.

“And then you stumbled upon us and decided to watch?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, come on. I did not watch,” he dismissed your question with a nonchalant throw of his hand, rolling his eyes as if you just asked him the stupidest thing. “But your little rendezvous was attracting quite the attention, dear.”

You gritted your teeth and decided to push his borders a little. If he could make the situation awkward for you then you could certainly return the favor. Besides, you were still drunk and the alcohol lowered your inhibitions enough to go completely bold in front of him.

Narrowing your eyes you crossed your arms in front of your chest and relaxed back against the same wall you were just pressed against by Selena mere minutes ago. “Quite the attention or your attention, Alastor?” you asked, pretending to be more confident than you actually were.

Alastor’s grin grew more strained immediately and you could swear that one of his eyes twitched for a quick second before he regained his composure yet another time. Why was he so tense? Normally, Alastor would’ve just raised an eyebrow and walked past you without further interest. But instead he froze on spot, obviously unable to avert his gaze until you felt his eyes on you.

He didn’t respond, so your expression grew more smug as you decided to push him just a little bit further. Maybe you could use this situation to your advantage and finally get some answers… “Could it be that it bothered you to catch me with someone else?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, dear,” he dismissed your question with another throw of his hand, rolling his eyes yet again. “I was merely caught off-guard by seeing you engaging in such frivolities with another woman. I didn’t know you swung both ways.” He tilted his head and chuckled, the static filter on his voice distorting the sound almost unnervingly.

“Well, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” you retorted, your voice coming out sharper than expected.

One of Alastor’s ears twitched at your aggravated tone. “Is that so?” he asked.

“It is.” You deadpanned.

A moment of silence lingered between the two of you until Alastor broke it, “Well, the world is full of surprises, isn’t it? And you, my dear, seem to be full of surprises too.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“How about both?” He tilted his head once more, casually positioning his cane in front of him and leaning on it the way he usually did when he found himself intrigued by something. The tension that had gripped him so tightly vanished as if it had never been there at all. And there it was: the so-called push and pull that left you reeling for months.

You took a deep breath, growing annoyed by this conversation. “If you don’t care then why are you still here?”

“Curiosity, dear,” he responded casually.

“Curiosity?” You arched an eyebrow, not quite buying his answer.

“Indeed,” he affirmed.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” you deadpanned.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” he retorted, clearly enjoying the banter.

You groaned. Why did he have to do this to you…? “Well, if you’re satisfied now… you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.” You pushed yourself off the wall, ready to return to the dance floor – but not without heading towards the bar beforehand and ordering the strongest booze you could get here.

You already set off, as Alastor’s voice called after you, “Running away, are we?”

You stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you were in public and therefore couldn’t just hit his head against a brick. Or…? Well, actually you could. You were in Hell, anyway. But Alastor was much stronger than you, and if you were to attack him, it meant that you couldn't be certain he would no longer be harmless to you. “I am not running away. I just don't see any reason to stay here and be interrogated by you any longer.”

“Interrogated? My dear, I'm simply making conversation.”

“This ain’t a simple conversation if you’re prying into my personal life.” With that you straightened your back and headed back to the main room of the club, leaving Alastor alone in the hallway, completely unaware of the hurt expression on his face.

Part 2 will be out at the end of the month. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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any thoughts on lilias parenting style?

I’ve long held the belief that Lilia is not the “best” or “perfect” parent in TWST, but I love that he’s so imperfect yet is willing to learn and grow from his failures and shortcomings. It’s really commendable how far he has come, especially considering that he used to be much gruffer and made claims like he never wants a child or he’s not suited to be a father and is repulsed by the very idea of it.

It’s sad to think about how, for the longest time, Lilia believed he was incapable of loving others—both receiving love and giving it in a parental capacity. He says as much to Meleanor before what could be her last stand. Bro has so much love to give 😭 and it’s so fascinating to see book 7 focus on that love between parent and child, blood be damned.

Of course Silver is the quintessential child we all think of whenever Lilia’s parenting is brought up. Silver says it must have been tough for Lilia to raise him as a single parent and with limited knowledge of human children—but Lilia still did it, and out of the kindness of his heart, for an infant who was essentially a complete stranger. However, as far back as the human-fae conflict of Briar Country, Lilia was literally throwing his life and reputation on the line for his “children”. He protected Malleus’s egg with his own body. He provided the magic that would shave off several hundred years from his lifespan to ensure that his prince hatched. He allowed himself to be chased out of the capital city but still made the time to be there for Malleus, as well as shielded Silver from the ugly truth. In modern day, we also see Lilia him imparting sage wisdom onto his boys and making efforts to help them with their own downfalls: advising Malleus on the differences between fae and humans, asking the other first years to watch over Sebek, inviting Malleus to events, reminding Sebek to be kind to his human peers, etc. Above all else, Lilia promotes understanding, and wishes for a world where all the races can live together. He leaves Silver with the same sentiments, and in him, Lilia’s legacy of love can live on.

As I said briefly mentioned before, Lilia isn’t perfect. He’s putting his own life in danger and taking the emotional brunt of the events of the past for them. He hides the circumstances surrounding Malleus’s birth, the truth behind Silver’s origins, and many other details pertaining to the warring period. In modern day, Lilia is quick to make an exit when the dark carriage comes for him, trying to save his boys the agony of a prolonged good-bye. There are also just general parenting failures under his belt: feeding babies milk through a cup (you’re supposed to use a fitted nipple, otherwise the baby could choke), not being concerned when Silver is missing + expecting him to come back on his own, general emotional insensitivity and unawareness (him laughing when Silver realized their ear shapes are different and they’re not actually blood-related), leaving Silver unsupervised in their forest cottage while he goes off to travel, taking his pranks and mischief too far (thus causing trouble for Silver, such as Endless Halloween Night), his… cooking… etc. He does manage to mend some of those issues (like having the Zigvolts help watch Silver or letting slightly older Silver housesit with the animals), but other issues like the milk in a cup persist. Additionally, Lilia can be inconsistent with his emotional awareness, as he does not realize his Halloween mischief would worry Silver as much as it did. At the same time, Lilia is overall more in tune with his son’s feelings (he’s one of the few who can read the notoriously stoic Silver’s emotions flawlessly). However, Lilia still prioritizes keeping his childrens’ eyes away from the truth and instead is shouldering the pain for them. We find ourselves circling back around to all the sacrifices Lilia has made for Malleus, Silver, and yes, even Sebek—and I’ll bet that Lilia is willing to go the distance and do more.

I actually wonder if Lilia’s “I’ll shoulder everything for you” parenting originates in part from him overcompensating for the love he never received as a child. He was an orphan taken in as a ward for his country, shunned by the Briar Valley senators for being some filthy bat with no proper lineage to speak of. He didn’t get the girl he crushed on and instead lost her and his best friend (still MIA) to the war. He was banished from the capital and loathed for his mere existence. He had things thrown at him and was chased out of cities. Lilia has experienced so much hatred and vitriol that I would not fault him if he turned bitter and sent that same hate and vitriol back. That would be the easy thing to do. But… he has also experienced great kindness and acceptance along his travels. Strangers inviting him into their homes. People telling him about their lives. Offerings of food and a warm bed. It is through these experiences that Lilia is shown an alternative: a world of love, not war. Then, upon seeing these children in need of guidance, he sees a younger version of himself in them—lonely (Malleus, isolated in his castle), lost (Silver, without his parents), confused (Sebek, about his half fae/half human identity). He knows what could become of them if he lets hate envelop their hearts. And Lilia doesn’t want what he suffered through to befall them, nor a future where the same vitriol is perpetuated. So… he throws himself into ensuring these boys have a guiding star, someone who champions empathy and cooperation between all races, at the cost of himself.

It’s fascinating to consider that Silver (the one who was most closely raised by Lilia) reflects his father’s teachings but also Lilia’s self-sacrificial behavior, even though Silver isn’t fully aware of what Lilia gave to raise him. Silver consciously believes that he hadn’t done enough to “pay back” his dad (similar to how Lilia may have taken Malleus under his wing to “pay back” his debt of Maleficia taking him as an orphan in and not being there for Meleanor in her final battle). To compensate, Silver keeps pushing himself to do things like suppress his own sadness at Lilia’s farewell party, taking physical blows for Lilia, and even believing that he isn’t worthy of Lilia’s love. I guess the sayings “like father, like son” and “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” are applicable here.

Anyway! Lilia as a father (whether literally or figuratively) will never not be interesting to me.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Liliw Vanrouge #Malleus Dracona #Sebek Zigvolt #Silver #Meleanor Draconia #book 7 spoilers #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #twst character analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #Maleficia Draconia #Maleanor Draconia

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ambrosialdesire · 10 days ago

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bloodsports

[ PART ONE ] [ PART TWO ]

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: modern au!reiner x fem!reader word count: 13.6k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, explicit sexual content, unhealthy relationships, misogyny, public humiliation mentions, sorta an unbalanced power dynamic, a/b/o dynamics and themes, modern & college/university au, alpha & hockey player jock reiner (will be sorta ooc but ig you can count it as his s1-3 soldier persona), omega reader, enemies to sorta friends to enemies again to lovers (but both reiner and reader are stubborn dumdums and it's sorta one-sided), bertolt x reader implications, heavy jealousy/possessive themes, heavy self-sabotage, alcohol consumption, violence & blood warning, "fated" mates, usage of suppressants, unwarranted scenting, kinda scenting kink?, pheromone-bombing, size difference, size kink, noncon kissing, all characters are 18+ synopsis: trying to get through uni should've been easy, but presenting as an omega made you become a seemingly easy target for the many disgusting alphas that roamed the campus. no matter how much suppressants you took, you unfortunately just had to grab the attention of the most notorious one out there. the university's famed center in ice hockey, reiner braun. to you, he was nothing but a godforsaken, meatheaded annoyance. a/n: i am not one of god's strongest when comes to a/b/o or the omegaverse LMFAOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY IT, SUMN ABOUT IT MAKES ME GO ABSOLUTELY FERAL AND IDC WHAT OTHERS THINK 👺👺 anywaysss, yea it's another hatefuck reiner fic that i decided recently to make a two parter LOL i made reiner a hockey player because i kinda like hockey more (i watched one game irl with my sibling and it was hella cool even tho the team we were cheering for lost 💀 the state pride was crazy, i had no idea how irritating it was hearing the other team fans cheer 😭) but i'm really really new to the sport so forgive me if i make some mistakes about it lol (i did modify it a little so it can be more dramatic and violent lol) happy valentine's day (ik this late AFFFFF LMFAO) and hope you guys enjoy this! the second part will hopefully come not too far behind, maybe in december once i'm freed from school haha note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

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"You're coming to my game, right?"

The sudden weight on the table of someone leaning upon it on the other side caused it to creak, but you didn't have to look up to know who it was. The wafting smell of warm, spiced vanilla with vague, yet noticeable earthy tones wrapped around you like a familiar heated blanket. No matter how nice it smelled, it only bubbled irritation within you. You continued writing your notes, ignoring the looming presence.

"Omega, answer and look at me." A chill ran down your spine and your head felt heavy once he spoke, the demand stern and clear. You didn't want to answer him, but your secondary gender was scratching at your brain like a persistent fly. Answer him, answer your alpha.

You stubbornly pinched your leg once to get yourself out of it before finally looking up at the man himself, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Can't. Have finals tomorrow. Also, don't ever do that shit to me or call me that."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, already knowing he wasn't going to take that as an answer. "You weren't answering me and c'mon, it's only for a few hours babe. Who wouldn't come to their alpha's big game today?"

"Me because you're not my alpha and I'm not your babe. Go find some other omega that drools over you because this one isn't going." You grumbled as you stood up, beginning to collect your stuff to get back to your dorm. He grabbed your wrist before you got your notebook, pulling you towards him, eyes were gleaming with determination.

"Come to my game and I won't bother you anymore. I promise."

You pulled your arm out of his grasp with a frown, quickly debating in your mind. Could you trust him?

On one hand, it would be nice to not get disturbed by him anymore. But on the other, that means you have to be packed in a stadium with sweaty alphas and a handful of excitable betas and omegas for an hour or two. The smell would be awful and overwhelming, false ruts and heats would get triggered easily from the adrenaline. You didn't even like ice hockey or any sport in general, too many alphas dominated the industry.

You bit back a heavy sigh, finally deciding on your answer.

"Ugh. I'm holding you to that promise then Reiner. No randomly showing up at my dorm, no waiting for me at the end of my classes, don't have your friends try and check up on me for your behalf either. Got it?" His hazel eyes lit up immediately and he nodded, his smile wide.

"You got it babe, I'll pick you up at 6."

You were about to tell him off about the pet name but he ran off, whooping in the quiet library while slamming the doors open. A few of the students' and staffs' glares went over to you, causing you to grimace before finally picking up your notebook. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Life wasn't like this before. For a year and half, you've had an alpha cling onto your every move as if you've claimed one another. It may seem like that to him but you definitely didn't want anything to do with him. All Reiner did was bring a mix of trouble to you, a burden that you never wanted. Your secondary gender was supposed to be a hidden secret for only yourself to know — the prescribed supplements made sure of that — and you were supposed to present as a beta in order to live a peaceful university life. How painfully frustrating it was to be found out from a simple error in your day-to-day routine.

You were in a rush, you're human after all, and forgot to take them before you left your dorm. It wasn't until you entered your class when a brick of strong smells bitterly hit your nose, something that never happened before. One day and that's all it took for everyone's eyes to latch onto your frame, the horrifying hunger glimmering in the darks of their pupils.

You froze, unable to move from the doorway. The vileness of their stench rang alarms in your head, they were all sour and distasteful with every short whiff you took. It was overwhelming, heavy, and nauseating. You knew what they were all thinking, internally debating whether you should run back to your dorm or transfer.

A large arm had made its way around your shoulders, pulling you closer to their body. You panicked at first until a whiff of something sweet in the air stopped you. A spiced vanilla enveloped your senses with every breath you took and like a switch, your body immediately calmed down, unintentionally leaning closer to them to continue feeling this sweet relief.

"Hey." You tilted your head up at the person who was currently holding you by the neck and felt dread quickly fill up your stomach once more.

Reiner Braun, one of the most notorious womanizers on campus and the university's proclaimed players in ice hockey.

Reiner Braun, smelling like a freshly baked pastry, slinging his arm around you while unintentionally managing to bring you back to your senses.

Reiner Braun, whose face is suddenly way too close and you could just barely feel the brush of his lips against yours.

Your face burned up at the realization and you shoved him off you, eyes wide and mouth parted open in shock as you watched him stumble back to reality. What the fuck just happened and why the fuck did he smell so good out of everyone here? He looked like he was appalled by what he did as well but recovered faster than you did, a sly smirk growing on his face.

"Hey omega, just a head's up. The next time you come to class, don't smell like a sweet treat for us alphas alright?"

You thought you couldn't burn up even more than before, your body beginning to tremble in complete rage and mortification as the students began to howl in amusement. All of your emotions were pumping through your system all at once way too quickly and you finally ran out of the class, tears brimming on the edges of your eyes. There was no way you could handle being in there for another second. The boisterous laughter faded away in your eardrums and once you got far enough from prying eyes and ears, you collapsed to the ground and nearly sobbed your heart out.

You knew attending this university would be difficult but never in your life did you think you'd be humiliated in this way, just for one stupid little mistake. To alphas, any mistake that wasn't from their pretentious clique meant your life, your downfall, everything. It becomes a weakness to exploit and use, like a deer with a broken leg completely surrounded by a pack of starving wolves.

All you could think about over and over as you finally made it to your dorm was:

Fuck Reiner Braun.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

After that day, you made sure to take your supplements on time with an alarm. Regardless of that, you still felt skittish once you stepped foot in that damn class again. Not because of the possibility that the knowing glances of your classmates would come your way, but the fact that Reiner would not leave you alone ever since he embarrassed you.

When you finally went back to that class in the next lecture, you placed yourself all the way in the back corner than your usual spot, trying to hide yourself away until everyone forgot about the incident. It seemed that your humiliating moment had faded away quickly like a passing breeze since no one looked your way as the seats began to fill up one by one. It was not until you heard the familiar laugh of him, only then you started getting nervous.

You stared down in your notebook, trying to look as busy as possible but the shuffle of a heavy bag and a body sitting down next to you in the loudest way possible confirmed your worst suspicions.

"Good thing you saved a seat for me, that’s so nice of you omega." Reiner congratulated you in a false manner and you grimaced, turning your head towards him. He wasn't looking at you but he was smiling as he looked to the front of the room. You had to force yourself not to stare at his body, which was a mental battle in itself when his pheromones were as strong as ever.

He most likely exercised before coming here, a faint sweat stain on the chest of his white cut-off tank top confirming your thoughts. The tank top was hiding little to the imagination, loose enough to where you can see his sculpted muscles from the side but tight enough to where it accentuated his chest. He was manspreading — a common occurrence in those who were considered to be extremely prideful alphas — and wearing dark gray sweatpants.

You didn't mean to but your gaze slightly wandered a little more down, heart nearly stopped in your chest when you just barely spotted the faint outline of his half-hard cock against the fabric. He was... big and if that was him barely aroused, wow. You'd pray for those that let this son-of-a-bitch hit another time.

The usually dormant annoyance in your brain wanted to get down on her knees and suck him off till he got hard in her mouth, but you had to viciously fight her back into the deep crevices of your mind. You don't know why the urge was so strong, the meds you took usually gave you no sexual desires towards anyone. Maybe you need to up the dosage? You'd have to make a doctor's appointment soon because you don't know if you could stand this new disgusting pervert inside you.

It would be the coldest day in Hell if you ever let Reiner fuck you.

"I have a name, use it or fuck off." You turned back to your notebook and he chuckled in amusement.

"You got a bite now omega? Where was she the last time we spoke?"

"Maybe she would've been there if she wasn't on the verge of a breakdown. Fucking asshole." You muttered the last bit, starting to ignore him once the professor finally entered the class. Cracking your knuckles and opening your laptop to the latest powerpoint, you began writing down the important points of what was in the week's module. It took you nearly half of the three hour long lecture to notice that he didn't make any sound, no writing or keyboard clacking or any tapping from his phone. Your peripherals just barely caught the sight of him and your skin ran cold.

Reiner wasn't paying attention to the lecture. You started to practically feel the absolute intensity of his stare, burning two deep holes into the side of your face. The chair lightly squeaked as he suddenly moved closer to you, the audible sound of him sniffing at you came after.

What the fuck was his problem? You quickly inched yourself away from him, backing into the wall but he followed suit almost immediately. His large frame nearly engulfed yours, the sheer heat of his body radiating off as he neared you.

He sniffed once above your head, then again and again as if he was searching for something. Thank God you decided to shower this morning. The tense atmosphere between the two of you grew thicker with each passing second until his hazel eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth twitched in faint irritation.

"...You don't smell like anything." Reiner sourly muttered before pulling away, giving back the needed space.

"Uh... yeah? I got back on track with my meds." What was up with him? Reiner had never once spoken to you before the incident, in the class and out of it. In this class in particular, you've usually seen him on his phone, napping, or quietly chatting with the nearest poor soul.

He's known to not fool around with your kind, back when you were still portraying yourself as a beta. Why would he? To them, betas were boring and basic. They weren't alpha enough to be considered to be one of them and not omega enough to fuck. His preferences were pretty out there in whispers and giggles too, so it's not like he would need a reason to talk to you unless it was to get his dick wet for the night. That seemed to be the plan in mind since he was continuously interacting with you.

"Why would you?" Reiner nonchalantly questioned, as if he wasn't the one of the reasons why you take such heavy supplements. Your eye twitched, your fingers tightening around your pen.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" You scowled, watching him shrug and lean back onto the chair.

"Yeah, why not? You're the first omega I've met with a scent that's not doused in cheaply made perfume, it's..." He stopped, thinking of the right words before finally settling on one. "Original."

You scrunched your nose, conflicted with what he just described. He is the talk of the campus, most if not all omegas would've loved to be marked by him; no wonder they try to court him with different concoctions. Then again, he could just be saying that to get into your pants. Original, ha! If he liked this so-called originality, he should find it in someone else.

"I'm not interested y'know, not after what you did last time."

After you said that, all the words seemed to die in his mouth. He became quiet for the rest of the lecture and you didn't have the courage to look back up to see his expression. The silence was a simmering awkwardness, and you could only try and listen to the professor as much as you could. His smell was now twisted with a dullness to it, almost bland and distasteful like the rest of the room. When the lesson finally ended, you started to zip your bag close and pull it through your arms, until his hand grabbed the strap and lifted it up onto his own shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?" Panic bubbled in your chest as you tried to grab it back but he kept maneuvering out of your reach, a playful smile growing on his lips.

"Think of this as an apology to you omega. I'll walk you to your next class." Your heart dropped to your stomach, the last thing you needed was even more people staring at you, especially with the campus fuckboy in tow.

"You really don't have to and don't call me that." Reiner snorted as he walked down the stairs, you having no choice but to follow him.

"What else can I call you if you haven't told me your name yet?" He held the door open for you, readjusting the bags he was holding. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

"Why offer to walk me to my next class when I don't even know your name?" It was a lie, of course everyone knew him just by the simple utter of his name, but he laughed at your simple comeback, genuinely laughed. It didn't sound like it did when he poked fun of you that one day, your face starting to lightly flush warm.

"Fair enough. Name's Reiner, Reiner Braun. One of the University of Marley Warriors centers." You slightly cringed at the title, he just had to add that fact in. Oh well, might as well play along just a little.

"Y/N L/N, one of the many second year students in the University of Marley."

He laughed once more and nudged you on the back with his elbow, letting you take the lead.

"You're a funny girl Y/N."

You had to ignore the way your stomach fluttered from the way he said it, picking up your pace. Remember, you had to remember that he caused you a turmoil of anguish for a near week. All you were going to give him was this moment and that's it.

"Thanks."

Now that you think back on it, how silly it was for you to think that this was the last time he was ever going to talk to you.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

There wasn't a minute in your day where Reiner wasn't in your presence.

Nearly every day for roughly five or six months since you've started talking to one another, he'd manage to find you and socialize. He'd give you a small snack or drink too, ruffling your hair once you took it from his hand and sitting down in the seat next to you. Every day was a different topic that he asked, ranging from simple questions to a little more personal ones. You knew he was trying to pry whenever you didn’t say much about yourself so you've revealed only a few tidbits, nothing big. Sometimes he needed studying help and you didn't mind tutoring him about the subjects you were sorta knowledgeable in. He always seemed so interested and focused in whatever you say, so hey, at least he was a decent listener.

He started rejecting hang-outs with his friends and teammates, all to simply talk to you. It's crazy how often he did it, a few times occurring in front of you through phone calls. He'd only mentioned his teammates when he tried to invite you to numerous practices, implying that he wanted them to meet you. You turned him down about it for the first few times, creating excuses to not go, until you got tired of him asking and finally begrudgingly agreed.

Watching him practice made you realize one thing about him: Reiner loved to play dirty.

Of course since you were merely a new bystander of the sport, it might've been one of the core strategies of how to win in hockey. Yet the more you observed, the more you noticed how he treated everyone on the ice, friend or foe. He told you before that centers did a lot for their team and were known to be more on the offense, even when defending. You thought the role was perfect for him, considering how he started this whole "friendship" thing with you. However, the way he treated you was nothing compared to how he treated the sport.

It was like watching an illegal cage fight from the way he quickly sped towards the puck, viciously slamming into others to make way. A frightening sight indeed, maybe even more for the ones on the ice as they were the ones he barreled his shoulders into their chests and sides. You can't remember how many times you flinched watching an unfortunate player get rammed into the plastic barrier by Reiner, the heavy sound echoing throughout the stadium. Everyone on the opposing team was merely his punching bag and though they can get a few hits in, you could tell that they couldn't handle the constant confrontations. He didn't care that they were still his teammates and that this was merely a practice game. To lose is to lose and for an alpha, that could never be an option.

You never told him this, but you never liked the look in his eyes that he gets whenever he played, the darks of his pupils blowing out the once-warm hazel color with a carnal and exhilarated intensity within them.

Regardless of his violent attitude, Reiner genuinely worked well with his team, whomever was on his side at least. He especially got along with whoever jersey number 60 is — the only hint being that his last name is Hoover — and who was noticeably taller than anyone else on the team. The two were extremely compatible, making the smoothest passes that whenever you blinked, it would seem that the other had the puck in the first place.

The strangest part of it all was that he'd make you wear his jersey afterwards, that's also somewhat the reason why you stopped coming over to his practices besides the extreme harshness of the sport. It was way too intimate for him to be sharing a highly scented object to a friend but you've tried refusing, saying that you hated the stink and it was still wet with sweat. Reiner never really cared about what you said about it and pulled it over your head, the fabric hanging loosely mid-thigh. You hated how calm it made you feel and how every time he asked for it back, you'd hesitate.

Even if he did like you, you don't know why he was being overly friendly. Was it because you were an omega that he had to be nice to you? You tried not to think about it like that since you were slowly getting used to his presence, as if he became a part of your routine.

He never pushed anything sexual onto you either like you originally thought he was going to. Sure, he'd make a weird comment or joke here or there but it never really made you uncomfortable or escalated into something else. Your feelings towards him simmered down to a level of neutrality, not quite at peace from what he did but not as angry as before. Did he feel bad for his actions? He never really said an actual apology to you, but is that really why you still find him aggravating to be around with?

"You're such a study bug, don't you know how to have a little fun?" Reiner skimmed his fingers against the already-read pages, your bodies squished side-by-side, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist as the two of you read your textbook together. You don't know why or when but you started to not mind the physical contact with him anymore; you chalked it up to it being the winter months and you were cold as hell, he was basically the closest thing to a portable heater. Your physician upped the dosage of your meds as well and there was a noticeable difference, but it didn't seem to deter the thoughts you were having about Reiner. They probably would’ve faded away if not for his constant presence.

"I don't have time for fun, unlike you with your full-ride and sports." You muttered as you flipped the page, eyes skimming over the new paragraphs. He groaned and rested his head on top of yours, taking in a deep breath. You’ve noticed that he was more touchier with you compared to his other friends that you once watched from afar before, but you’ve gotten used to it for the past few months.

He was silent for a few pages until you could feel his fingers trail up against your scent gland, your body immediately freezing up. He shouldn’t be touching you there, a shiver going up your spine as you felt his fingertips rub light circles around it. You couldn’t stop him, not when your brain was currently being scrambled with the feeling.

"Your smell is still not there." He off-handily murmured, finally removing his hand from your neck and letting you collect your thoughts again.

You swallowed thickly, trying to clear your throat. "I think you forget that I take heavy suppressants."

"Why do you? Do you really not want to fuck anyone any time soon?" You cringed at his wording, meeting his eyes.

"Well yeah, pretty much. I want to focus on school, not constantly wonder if I'm going to suddenly go into heat around an alpha. And it's a guaranteed protection, I don't want to get accidentally marked this early in my life." You could feel his hand squeeze and knead at the meat of your hip, knowing that he was in thought.

"I don't know if our class remembers what sub-gender I am but you certainly do, you were literally in trance when you met me," You pointed out, feeling your skin prickle warm as you thought back on the memory. "And it was my mistake, I didn't mean to get off of them and do that to you. I'm pretty much protecting myself and others from doing something... irrational."

What he didn't know is that having no heat at all for months at a time had made you indescribably horny, but you've been managing it so well that you really didn't need any outside assistance at all. Him being the only alpha that hangs around you on a day-to-day basis and consistently touching you has not made the thoughts any better than they were before, but you forced those damn heinous ideas in the back of your mind every time. Bothersome they were and you tried to not let it get to you as much as possible.

Reiner nodded slowly, closing his eyes. "Well if you do get into a heat, I'm available for use."

You gasped, quickly jabbing your elbow into his side, causing him to flinch from the feeling and laugh almost aloud in the quiet library. "God, don't say that here!"

"It's true! There's a line-up of omegas that need help through their heats, I'm not the only one that's getting something out of it. They need a knot and I give it to them." You don't know why but hearing him admit that made you almost freeze and feel your stomach drop. Every time you're reminded of his reputation, something in you twists in an unpleasant way. It's strange. You have no reason to feel this way when you don't even like him in any romantic sense.

"I'd rather not hear about your many conquests, thank you very much." His eyes connected to yours and you tried not to pull away, trying not to feign anything that would give you up.

"Don't tell me... You're jealous, aren't you?" He teased as his grin grew wider and you scoffed, closing the textbook almost a little too hard.

"Please, as if! I'm not the one here insinuating into starting something." You huffed and tried to disconnect your body from his to put the book away but he didn't let you, his arm holding you around the crook of your back firmly.

"I never mark them, if that makes you feel better. No matter how much they beg me to, I don't. I'm pretty good at controlling myself."

You paused, the heavy stone in your stomach still dragging you down. He sounded honest about it and any omega that he marked would've bragged about it for years to come. Hell, you wouldn't even be as close as you were with him right now if that was the case. Yet, the admission didn't make you feel any better and you'd rather not praise him for something so bare minimum.

"...I really, really don't care Reiner. You can fuck anyone you want silly and it's none of my business. I'm not your mate and you're not mine." His eyes softened, looking at you so fondly that you almost wanted to take back every word you had just said.

"We could be."

Time stopped. The way he said it so nonchalantly made you feel absolutely breathless, like you were punched so deeply in the gut. You so desperately wanted to kiss him in that moment — say fuck it, why not be his mate for the rest of your lives — but that was nothing but the godforsaken omega in you talking. This wasn't some cheesy romcom movie, this was real life. Why in the world would he think there was a possibility that he’d be your mate? The two of you barely knew each other besides the light-hearted chats you’ve had together, he only liked your presence because like every other omega, you were easy.

No matter how long you stayed up at night thinking about him or how much you desired pressing your body against his at all times, you would not sacrifice your future for him. You were trying to be more than just your sub-gender and more than solely becoming an alpha’s eventual trophy wife. Being with him would only complicate things. There was nothing he could do or say would change your perspective.

As you stood up with your stuff, you told him as firmly as you were able to make it without your voice wavering.

"No, we couldn't."

It felt like it was you trying to convince yourself otherwise.

You’d do anything to not be the one watching his heart break right in front of your eyes, his mood changing almost immediately. He tried to look away from you but you saw the deep disappointment reflecting in his irises. The softness they once held hardened up once he realized what he was feeling, trying hard to swallow back the pain. The change of his smell washed over you in waves, a cold melancholy hitting the back of your throat while a burning anger bit at the pit of your stomach at the same time. It wasn't like him to be so distraught with a simple rejection, maybe you were the first one that didn't immediately fall for his charms.

Maybe, just maybe... it should've been you that had gotten rejected instead. Perhaps it would've made you feel less awful about it.

"Yeah, sorry. I… I don’t even know why I said that. Why would I even choose yo— No. Wait. Fuck, I—" Reiner cleared his throat quickly and stood up himself, ready to get out of the situation he put himself in. He was backpedaling, you knew he was, but it didn’t make you or him feel any better about the situation. He really was not used to rejection, huh?

"Let's... let's forget all that. There’s a party going on in Delta Kappa Theta tonight. If you want to come, come. I don’t want you to keep preventing yourself from having fun." The way he still cared about you first made you feel like you were the complete piece of shit here. No matter what though, you didn’t owe him a relationship or situationship or whatever you two have.

You partially nodded anyways, a squeak of an ‘okay’ barely escaping you as you watched him walk away. Every step that he took made you feel even less sure about what you just did, but it was for the best… right?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

It was the first frat party you’ve ever been to and as you approached the house, you knew that it was going to be way out of your comfort zone. You wanted to go back to your safe and warm dorm, make up an excuse to go to bed early, but Reiner was right, you shouldn't be cooping yourself up for so long without any other interaction besides him. You slowly took in a deep breath, tugging at the seams of your jacket before entering the house, music blaring in your ears and bright lights hitting your eyes as soon as you opened the door.

Find Reiner, find him. Your omega begged you as you shuffled through drunk and dancing bodies, but you ignored it. Would he even want to see you after you rejected him?

Someone tapped you on the shoulder and you turned towards the person, eyes wide with shock.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you," Another alpha, his clean rain-like scent faint from the amount of alcohol in the air. He was extremely tall but folded his body within himself while holding a red solo cup, and his black hair was in desperate need of a new haircut, nearly covering the tops of his eyes. The man didn't seem to present himself like an alpha, his demeanor certainly different to the ones you've met and seen before. "You smelled like my friend and the lights are way too bright so I thought you were him, so sorry again."

He looked vaguely familiar but it seemed that he recognized you first, his mouth suddenly agape. "Wait. Aren't you the girl that Reiner keeps talking about? Uh... sorry. What was your name again?"

"Y/N, nice to meet you. Reiner... mentioned me?"

He kindly smiled and nodded, holding out his hand for you to shake. "Bertolt and you have no idea. You're basically all he wants to talk about recently."

It felt like your heart skipped a beat, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. You really had that much of an effect on him? You felt partially proud that you, a complete nobody, managed to get him head over heels for you. The other part felt horrible, you didn't mean to lead him on like that to the point where he started bringing you up to his friends. It seemed that Bertolt realized what he said was causing you to get upset, pulling you towards the kitchen.

He quickly scooped up some liquid from a punchbowl and poured it into a new cup, handing it over to you. "Here. A drink might make you feel better."

You weren't new to drinking, only having it a few times casually here and there so you took a quick sip, a smooth burn going down your throat. You coughed lightly and shook your head, hearing him chuckle. He leaned against the countertop beside you, swirling around the cup in his hand.

"Bertolt?" You hated how small you sounded, trailing your fingertips against the ridges of the plastic cup.

"Hm?" He started to take another sip out of his drink, raising it up above his head.

"I don't know if he told you this already but I rejected him this afternoon." The sound of him choking and hacking followed suit immediately after you confessed, a spew of apologies running out of your mouth as you patted his back to get it all out. He definitely didn't tell him yet.

Once he managed to finally stop clearing his throat, he wiped his mouth and turned towards you, eyes wide. "Why did you?"

You bit the inside of your cheek and took another quick sip. "I told him that I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship or sex, all I want to do is focus on is passing my classes and graduating. That's the complete and honest truth."

His friend stayed quiet for a bit until he nodded once, as if he understood your reasoning.

"That's fair, you should be able to pursue what you want to do for your life instead of tending to his needs. It's hard out there for omegas and it's great that you're doing more for yourself. I know Reiner really does actually like you, but you don't have to pursue anything with him if you don't want to. You control what you get to do."

You felt flushed from both the alcohol and his words, you've never met an alpha that shared such a considerably controversial opinion before. You quietly thanked him, watching him tilt his head up towards the ceiling, sighing softly.

"Reiner... I've known Reiner since middle school and fuck, he has his moments where he tends to be a shitty guy, even long before he presented as an alpha. He's stubborn as hell and rarely listens to us and he's occasionally a great guy to be teamed up with, but inside, I know he's just trying to figure himself out."

"What do you mean?" He flinched, beginning to sweat bullets as he nervously fidgeted next to you.

"A-ah, sorry. I don't know if I should be telling you this since you're also his friend but," His pale eyes darted side-to-side, as if he was making sure that no one was listening. "Every omega he's been with, he calls all of them 'practice' for his fated mate. Everyone knows that having a fated mate is super, super rare but since he met you, well..."

He nervously tugged at the hem of his shirt but you immediately knew what he was saying.

"No." You awkwardly started laughing, shaking your head quickly. The house immediately felt even more stuffy and overbearing, a nauseating feeling overcoming you all of a sudden. Omegas being used as practice? Were you just another practice target if the relationship didn't work out?

"N-no, he doesn't seriously think that I'm his fated mate?"

Bertolt sharply inhaled through his teeth, eyes locked to the ground. "Reiner was always hopeful he'd find his second half and you've been the only omega he speaks so positively and constantly about. He mentioned the day you guys met, how your pheromones enticed him so much that he nearly kissed you and he wanted nothing more but to have you as his mate after that. Ugh, sorry. Even saying it out loud makes me feel gross."

You felt sick, numb. Were you even friends from the start or was all of his actions just some kind of courting method? You could barely hear yourself tell Bertolt that you had to go, fumbling a goodbye and an apology to him before pushing yourself into the crowd. The sea of people felt like it was getting more impossible to navigate the more you moved in it, a tight feeling building in your chest from being overwhelmed by every little smell and sound all around you.

Get out.

GET OUT.

When you finally managed to push through and find the front door, your blood ran cold immediately. Like a deer frozen in front of oncoming headlights, you couldn't believe what you were staring at. Every part of your body screamed in complete anguish and devastation but you couldn't move. You had no right to, but you couldn't stop your tears from rapidly falling down your cheeks.

Reiner Braun, sitting down on the couch with some stranger on his lap, tracing his hands down their back, and pulling them closer to his body.

Reiner Braun, kissing down their neck, the peaks of his canines just barely scraping against their scent gland.

Reiner Braun, basically publicly grinding himself against this willing participant of his.

His eyes opened half-lidded and in some cruel form of fate, locked onto yours. Out of everyone in the room, he managed to find yours. He pulled away from the omega, a strand of drool still connecting between them. His hand still rested comfortably on the curve of their back, his mouth uttering only one name with wide eyes.

"Y/N...?"

All you could think as you finally snapped out of it — running out of the fraternity until your lungs felt like they were being ripped to shreds — was how bad you felt for that omega. How they were only going to be reduced into something so demeaning, a dummy-run to find his perfect mate. They didn't deserve that, being wide-eyed and hopeful that because he decided to choose them for his lustful pursuits, they're finally worthy of being a candidate of his.

You sobbed aloud as you washed and scrubbed your body red once you reached your dorm, trying to erase every scent and touch he made for the past couple of months. He was nothing more but absolute filth and you fell for it like a fool, a stupid brainless omega. You thought you were better than that but no, you were just like the rest of them. Even if you were his so-called fated mate, why did he continue to seek out others? Wouldn't he have tried to abstain? Sure, you shouldn't have expected that much out of him considering that you didn't even accept his confession but for some reason, it still hurt.

Fuck Reiner Braun. You should've never forgotten that in the first place.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Now you were here, leaving the messy history of the second year behind and now moving onto your third. Always look to the future, as they say. You took a lot of preventatives in avoiding seeing Reiner, the plan nearly as extensive as your studying.

You blocked his number once he started to keep calling over and over again ever since the party, blocking the new ones that came every so often and changing your number once you couldn't take it anymore. There was no reason for you to hear his explanation, it's his business on who he decides to fuck and you shouldn't be mad about it anymore. Part of you was afraid that if you hear him explain himself, you'd run right back to him just like every other omega he had a finger wrapped around.

You stopped frequenting areas you used to hang around in, which was unfortunate since some of those places were your favorites. You moved dorms, avoided places he frequented, and made sure he wasn't in any of your classes. Your majors were luckily too different to be in the same buildings or rooms, and with the help of Bertolt, you were always one step ahead of him.

He was the one that approached you first in one of your classes together at the start of the new semester and taught you the ways in how to avoid meeting up with him. You didn't know why his best friend wanted to help you and once asked him, getting the answer that Reiner hasn't been himself recently and he was afraid that he might do something rash if he managed to find you.

"You have so much ahead of you, I’d hate to see Reiner make you throw it away."

Bertolt made sure that he wasn't seen with you whenever the two of you hung out, and when he was with him, he made sure to steer clear of your direction with a simple text. He had to bathe immediately after just in case your scent got on him, which should be nonexistent but he was afraid that if there was just the vaguest trace on him, Reiner would hound him about it. He basically became your bodyguard whenever it was possible for him to do so, and you didn't even ask. You've never felt so grateful meeting someone like him before.

He also brought up that Reiner's been playing more rougher than usual, and snapping at others even when they're on his side of the team exercises. Even the coach was too afraid to say anything about his behavior, relying on him and a few others that were friends with him to talk to him about it.

"It sounds like he's in a pre-rut." You mentioned, handing over the pickles from your sandwich over to him. He took them with an open palm and threw them into his mouth like chips.

"I hope not, his scent smells the same so far but he rarely gets into ruts for me to really know what he smells like. Plus, he never knows how to handle them well."

"Reiner doesn't choose any of the omegas he messes around with for his ruts?" Bertolt shook his head, swallowing.

"Not at all. It's weird, he may mess around with them during their heats but he never, ever lets them in when he's going through a rut. Think it has something to do with the fated mate mentality he has, but sometimes we don't even know he was ever in one until they're over, he basically disappears for a week or so."

It’s funny in a weird way. The two of you were hiding each other from behind Reiner’s back as if the two of you were dating. Even though the two of you became close, your relationship with him was nothing romantic. Some kind of bro-code would've been broken between Reiner and Bertolt if you started dating him, and you'd be eating your own words from what you've said to Reiner. Then again, you never wanted to date him and tolerated his looming, clingy presence on most days.

Bertolt told you that he liked someone but was too afraid to make any move. She was another alpha and one of his friends, so the pairing itself had its controversies. He kept saying that his confession might ruin what they had for years and he was satisfied being in her shadow. It was sad to hear him put himself in second place for her happiness. So you tried doing a little nudge for him to go for it — 'the worst she can say is no' kind of talk — because it was better for him to say something than nothing at all and still quietly pine for her. Bertolt got too excited and rushed in with the confession after one of his practices without your knowledge, a messy bouquet of roses tightly gripped in his hand.

There was a few word texts that he sent to you after the whole ordeal:

Didn't get accepted.

Heartbroken.

Bar.

You found him standing in front of your dormitory building waiting for you, awkward looks of both omegas and betas glancing at him. As you approached him, he took a few steps towards you and almost collapsed in your arms as you held them outstretched. His tears and snot quickly dampened your jacket, his body wracking out heaves of anguish. There wasn't an alpha in the world that you've seen so vulnerable before, his fists gripping your clothes tightly as he shook in sadness.

He started telling you what had happened once he somewhat composed himself, his voice weak and crackly as the two of you walked to his chosen bar. Unfortunately, she turned him down and told him that she was actually interested in some beta from Paradis Tech named Armin. You could only imagine the bouquet dropping to the floor in dramatic fashion, tears welling up in poor Bertolt's eyes. She apologized and somewhat comforted him by saying that his confession won't change anything between their friendship. That was good, at least on her side.

You started consoling him, rubbing his back in circles as he drunkenly wept on the polished wood after downing one too many tequila shots. The speed in which he drank each one was shocking to say the least, you don't think his glass touched the table since he picked it up.

"We've known each 'ther shince we were kitss." He hiccupped, head resting in-between his arms as he tearfully stared in the distance and dangled the shot cup in his fingers.

"If I shaid sumnthin 'ears ago, would she hab 'ccepted me — or or or — shill reject me because of awer shub-genda?" You pitifully stared at his crumpled form, not knowing what to really say to make him feel better about the situation. The bartender then took his glass from Bertolt and told you to take the poor guy home, shaking his head slowly as he quietly whined about getting cut off.

"C'mon big guy, let's get you back."

The walk was quiet besides the occasional sniffle and you could tell he was trying not to fall on top of you, his feet slowly dragging on the concrete. As the designated sober friend, you were carefully observing him, a hand firmly holding the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He stopped suddenly, the sounds of his sneakers squeaking.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

You turned your attention towards him, tilting your head to the side.

"If I wazzn'tin love wif Annie, I'd be sooooo in love 'ith—"

Bertolt then jolted to the side of an alleyway before he could finish what he was saying and started throwing up. It prompted you to quickly go by his side and hold him up, patting hard on his back to get it all out. You knew what he was going to say and you hated it. He's drunk and sad, nothing that came out of him was going to be honest.

"Don't say that Bertolt." You mumbled, lifting him back up once he finished and slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"I'm not going to be a replacement for you."

He reached over with his other hand, skin cold around the nape of your neck as he pulled your face towards his. You could smell the alcohol lingering in his breath, face cringing when you saw a bit of spittle still hanging off of his lips. He started saying something even more incoherent, his eyes beginning to close in hints of slumber.

"No, no, no. I... I swer'lve ewtoo."

You laughed softly as you shook your head in amusement, pulling him forwards. He really won't remember this at all. Bertolt finally fell silent, the occasional drunken groans slipping through if you tugged him too roughly.

Maybe in another world, if you had met Bertolt before Reiner...

You made the decision to take him to your dorm. The dormitory building was way closer than the frat house he lived in, and you'd rather not lug around his heavy body another ten blocks to get there. Never in your life you had thought you'd be sneaking in a giant of an alpha into the shared beta-omega dorms, but you wouldn't be the first to do so. It's a good thing his scent was currently dulled with alcohol or you'd be in more trouble trying to hide him. Quickly unlocking your door and taking him over to your loveseat, you watched as his body slowly relaxed into the cushions.

He was simply way too tall for the seating, his legs dangled off of the side of the couch as you adjusted him to a positioning that would prevent any risk of asphyxiation if he started throwing up again. You highly doubted that he had anything left in him, but it was good to be on the safe side. You lightly pinched his cheek, getting a change of clothes and headed towards the bathroom.

You checked on him once more before going to bed, a light snore coming out of him. Seems like he's all tuckered out and okay for now, the hangover is definitely not going to be pretty in the morning. You settled yourself into your sheets and turned the lights off, soon falling asleep.

The sound of your alarm on your phone blared in your ears, arms trying to pull out from underneath the blanket to turn it off but you didn't move an inch. Groggily opening your eyes, you saw an arm wrapped around your body, your mind not registering what was going on until you heard the soft sounds of breathing on top of your head. You turned your head slowly to the couch, the connection finally being put together when you saw his body wasn't lying there.

He started to rouse from his sleep when the alarm kept sounding off, an annoyed hiss slipping through his lip as his head lifted up from yours, reaching over himself to shut it off.

"Good morning big guy." You whispered as he settled back next to you, lightly squeezing you closer to him as if you were his pillow.

Bertolt grumbled quietly. "What time is it?"

"According to my alarm, maybe 8:05 in the morning." You tried to get up to get him water and something for his headache, but he didn't budge an inch. The two of you laid with each other, basking in the morning warmth quietly.

"Sorry for getting in bed with you, I tried finding a blanket but didn't want to wake you up."

"It's fine," You hummed quietly, turning your body towards him. "You okay though?"

He opened his mouth but closed it, falling silent as he slowly began to think. He turned on his back, staring at the white ceiling.

"Not really. Everything still hurts and I'm tempted to cry even more but... I don't know. Some part of me feels... relieved? If I never told her, I'd still be stuck in a loop worrying whether I'd ruin something between us and keep having this twist in my stomach whenever I see her with someone else. I'm glad that she found someone that she's happy with but..."

Bertolt put his forearm over his eyes, letting out a soft laugh.

"But why do I still want her?" His voice cracked, a tremble following the end of his words and once more, you wrapped your arms around his torso. You could smell his sadness, a heavy and misty petrichor filling the room in waves.

"Sometimes there's things that we desperately want to have but can't have. Irrational as it is, it's in our nature." You mumbled, your hands balling up in his sweatshirt.

"Like you with Reiner?" Your blood ran cold as he said that but you merely pushed your face into his body.

"I don't know."

In the end, Reiner managed to find you and ask you to his game. You texted Bertolt, asking how was he able to get your location after being almost MIA for months. Apparently when you and him finally snuck him out of the dormitory, it completely slipped his mind that he had to wash off like usual. When he entered the frat house, Reiner greeted him but stopped midway, quickly approaching him and grabbing his shirt collar roughly.

He demanded me to tell him where you were. I'm so sorry Y/N, I couldn't stop him and our team needs the both of us playing.

You stared at the text, almost throwing your phone in frustration. You should've said no, had firmly stood behind your decision. Yet, the second his pheromones reached your nostrils, you couldn't stop yourself from agreeing, even if you were trying to look angry at him. You've noticed it had gotten stronger than before, was it because you haven't seen him in a while? You couldn't even be mad at Bertolt, you'd be terrified out of your mind too if an alpha was demanding an answer from you like that.

It's only for a few hours, you thought as you took in a slow breath. After that, he'll finally leave you alone.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Reiner picked you up earlier than usual. It was about 5:10 when you heard a knock at your door, causing you put down the lip gloss before you even could apply it. Shuffling over and peeking through the peephole, you saw him standing there in a suit and tie. He cleaned himself up, the stubble he once had when he found you was completely shaven away and his blond hair was slight slicked back with gel.

"You're early." You muttered as you opened the door, keeping it barely ajar. He's not even supposed to step foot in the dorm, nervousness crawling up your spine. His pheromones hit you like a train, practically everyone that was walking down the dorm hallway could smell him, heads turning in your room's direction.

"I wanted to see you." He grinned, pushing the door open even more — nearly knocking you over — and handing you a bouquet of morning glories, camellias, and forget-me-nots. As you were staring at the mostly red flowers, almost a complete eyesore with the addition of the light blue petals that peered out from within, he waltzed in your safe haven without your permission.

"Hey! Reiner, you can't just—!"

You groaned as you exasperatedly followed after him, placing the bouquet down on your desk. His form was absolutely massive compared to the entire room, his head constantly turning towards the different decor that you hung up on the walls.

"I've never seen your dorm on the inside before, it's cute. It's... you." He softly mumbled, your face turning warm. You grabbed his sleeve, trying to tug him out of your space so you can get ready, but he stopped in the middle of the room, his attention honed in towards the messed sheets of your bed.

"Reiner," You started, your eyes following to where he was looking at. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when you smelled a burning anger occupy the space — a smoldering, cindering scent — nearly making you cover your nose from how horrible it was. You gulped, hand slipping out and down to your side in a fist. "Reiner, w-we... we didn't do anything."

He just stood there silently, still focused on your bed. He has every right to be angry, you were literally snuggling with his best friend this morning, but you didn't belong to him. Scummy as it was, you made your bed and laid on it, there was nothing he could change about it.

"I-I'm just going to get ready." You whispered, turning around to go back into the bathroom. Big mistake.

Large hands grabbed your wrist, dragging you around in a speed that you couldn't comprehend. You almost screamed as he threw you on the bed, Reiner following after you and trapping you beneath him, his leg in-between yours. Fear was pouring out of you in waves but he couldn't smell it, no one could.

It took him little time and effort for him to press his lips against yours, your eyes wide as you soon realized what he was doing. You tried moving your mouth away, a scared and little no slipping out but he caught you again, his hand gripping your chin and forcing your head to stay in place. You tried pulling at his suit, squirming and kicking your legs, anything to get this monster off of you, but he didn't budge, seemingly finding enjoyment in your weak attempts as he pressed himself deeper against your lips.

His knee nudged at your cunt, a muffled, surprised gasp coming out of you, letting him enter your mouth even more. A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his tongue run against yours, the wet muscle violating wherever he went in a meticulous fashion. You could barely breathe, the smell of him and the aftershave he had on was so intense that you could feel the tug of your omega side slipping through the cracks of your mind; not even your medication was able to stop you from feeling this way.

Reiner finally pulled away, a mix of each other's saliva connecting the two of you. Strands of his gelled back hair fell over his forehead, your once-brushed out hair tousled into a mess. Both of your breaths were uneven and heavy, his eyes low and dazed as he stared down at you. Tears were running down your face, ruining what you've already put on, your eyebrows scrunched together in absolute horror as you shared the same stare with him. He sniffed the air once, again and again as he neared your neck.

"Stop, stop, stop." You cried out as you pushed against his stubborn head, fearing that he would bite down on your scent gland.

He didn't make any move, only sniffing at you like a curious dog. He then pressed his lips against it, causing you to abruptly stiffen in horrid expectation.

There was no pain as he pulled away from you, your hand immediately shooting to your neck to feel for any welts or marks. Nothing. A simple kiss was all he did on it, and you couldn't help but feel appreciative that he didn't mark you.

"Don't you dare see Bertolt ever again, you understand?" He hissed into your ear, the threat echoing hollowly in your head. No way in hell were you going to listen to him, but the omega in you nodded slowly, his heavy body finally lifting off of you. You tried to ignore the imprint straining against his lower half, your eyes staring up at him in complete shock.

"Go get yourself ready."

Shakily getting up on your feet, you beelined towards the bathroom without a single word, nearly collapsing on the floor once you turned the lock. As you looked at your face in the mirror, dripping dark drops of mascara and eyeliner stained the apples of your cheeks. The lipstick that was once there, was now rubbed away, leaving nothing but your bare lips. Your hand trembled as you reached over for a makeup wipe, a quiver of a sigh coming out of you.

You wanted to throw up, get every bit of spit and slobber of his out of your system, but you couldn’t. He’d hear you.

Reiner brought one of his jersey's for you to wear once you came out of the bathroom with fresh casual makeup back on, and you could tell that the article was completely drenched in his scent. You sniffed at it gingerly as you held it in your hands, cringing away from the sweet vanilla smell.

"What? It's clean, I promise."

"Liar." You mumbled under your breath but pulled it over the shirt you wore, the fabric loose against your body. He took a quick minute to admire you in his clothing, placing his hand on your cheek and stroking the skin with his thumb. You could still see the red stain of your lipstick smeared on his lips, trying to fight back tears and a sneer.

"You look so fuckable right now," You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched the tip of his tongue licked across his bottom lip, the darks of his pupils reflecting an unhinged licentiousness that horrified you within every atom in your body. "Maybe tonight, when I win, I'll be getting another trophy."

"Don't forget our deal asshole," You finally spat out, ripping his hand off of your face in disgust. "I'm only going to your stupid game because of the promise you made this morning."

Reiner simply stared down at you, your nerves scrambling even worse than before. He finally scoffed, crossing his arms. "Right. Our deal."

You hated the fact that he basically was acting like he didn't just forcefully kiss you, your nails digging into the palm of your hand. "Can we go now?"

He checked his phone, huffing slightly. "Yeah. Don't worry, we're not that far to the stadium. Just a few traffic lights and we'll be there."

You felt all the color drain from your face. You thought it was close by in walking terms but now you had to be in a small space where it now completely smells like him? Might as well hold your breath the entire ride.

The short drive was quiet, some random old rock station was lowly playing on the radio, but the two of you didn't speak to each other. What would even be exchanged anymore? You didn't want to be associated with him so long as you walked on this planet. Reiner's fingers thrummed on the wheel, red spilling into the car and staining every surface within. He turned towards you as if he wanted to say something and you stared back, a chill running down your spine. No words were said, but you felt every little thing from his smell.

Ravenous, a voracious appetite for the predator in disguise. Right in front of him, a five-course meal just ripe for the picking. All he's doing now was waiting for you to back into an inescapable cliff, the perfect moment to finally strike.

"...You have to go." You whispered and he finally broke eye contact, staring at the traffic light above and accelerating.

"Yeah, right."

The silence once presumed until the two of you approached the stadium, him mentioning that he got you a seat near the rink so you could see the action up close. To be honest, you could care less about the game and who would win overall. Reiner handed you the ticket between his index and middle finger, but when you reached over to grab it, he took it back.

"Need a good luck kiss from you first. If this is the last time I'll get to see you, I want to make it last."

You didn't want to rile him up before he played or make him force his hand upon you in the car, so you planted a quick kiss on his cheek before grabbing the ticket from his hand simultaneously. "Okay. Done. Good luck or whatever."

You scrambled out of his car, making your way to the inside as soon as possible. The arena was louder than you thought once you stepped foot, the joyous chatter and screams echoing throughout the hallways. LED screens hanging from the ceiling flashed the words Marley Warriors vs Paradis Titans, showing the line-ups of each team member.

Reiner came first in the centers, his pose prideful and boasting with stats to match. The other three names that you noticed were Porco Galliard, Colt Grice, and Eren Kruger. You eventually saw Bertolt come up as one of the right wingers but no sign of his usual reserved side showed in his photo, he looked focused and tough more than anything else. One of the goalies was an older looking individual by the name of Zeke Jaeger, confident but not too boasting. Clips of their past games showed afterwards, showing their amazing teamwork and impressive previous goals, then moving on to the other team.

The main centers for the Paradis Titans were composed of four men; Eren Jaeger, Jean Kirschtein, Levi Ackerman, and Miche Zacharius. Was the Eren guy related to the other Jaeger on your university's team? They definitely didn't look alike in your opinion but it could simply be because of a crazy Punnett square. Some wingers and defensemen that you sorta paid attention to were Armin Arlelt, Hange Zoë, Floch Forster, and Connie Springer. The goalie on their team was a massive blond man named Erwin Smith, his photo exuding a powerful stance, maybe even more than your uni's goalie. You felt like Reiner's team might have some trouble facing them, their defense and attack seems pretty threatening.

You finally took a glance at your ticket, walking around trying to find the stairway for your seating. The smells of popcorn, melted cheese, and hotdogs filled your nose, but you didn't feel hungry at all, still sick to your stomach from what had happened earlier. Eventually you finally found where you were supposed to go, and if you thought it was loud in the other shell of the arena, finally stepping in the seating area and the rink was absolutely ear-breaking.

Sirens, music, screaming, loud announcers. Almost every unbearable sound was contained in the structure, you should've bought earplugs prior to this. Not to mention, every scent of maybe hundred alphas and omegas intertwined made you feel even more overwhelmed, a headache beginning to form.

It's only for a few hours, a few hours and you'll never see this place or him ever again.

Your seat was nearby Reiner's team, nearly in-between the other team as well, the other teammates chattering with each other. You've sorta recognized them, occasionally seen around campus and such. Heads and eyes of strangers from school nearby were somewhat turning towards you, even the team started to notice you walking up behind them. Your face burned up at the realization once you sat down. Shit. You had completely forgotten that you were wearing Reiner's heavily scented jersey, you might as well be showing off the mating mark that he could've made a few hours ago.

"Yo Braun's omega is here!" One of the team members called out and you almost hid your head in your hands in embarrassment. Oh God, don't say that.

"Y/N, you made it?" The most recognizable voice cleared your thoughts immediately, head perking back up with a wide smile.

"Bertolt!" You wanted to hug him but he recoiled back as if you were a stranger, his nose scrunching. Your face fell immediately, his gaze sinking down in shame when he noticed your crestfallen expression.

"Sorry, it's not you. It's... y'know. That." He nudged the bottom of the jersey with the end of his stick, a frown forming on your face.

"I know. He made me wear it." You frustratingly tugged at the fabric with one hand and he chuckled, ruffling the top of your head. You'd burn it on the spot if you could.

"I didn't make you wear anything babe, you've always liked wearing my clothes." The sound of his voice made you freeze in place, eyes wide as your head turned in the direction of where he was walking in. Bertolt followed suit, his hand retracting away from you as if you were suddenly a hot stove.

"I don't think I could follow up your end of our deal if you're not respecting my demands, omega." No. That was never part of the agreement. You just gave the okay so he'd get off your back about it. He genuinely couldn't be serious about not seeing Bertolt anymore, right?

"Don't be an asshole Reiner. She's not just an omega."

The blond scowled at his friend, shoving his helmet roughly against his chest. He pushed it off of him, staring the other down in a sneer. You've never seen Bertolt like this before, the usual rain smell he had was turning stormy and bitterly furious.

"Oh, I'm the asshole? I wasn't the one hiding my fucking mate from me for months and sleeping in her bed. Not to mention, what happened to Annie or did you get tired of another alpha that's better than you?" You internally winced for him, that was such a low blow. Bertolt looked stunned for a second, glancing over at you for a quick second, but he pushed his shoulder back roughly in return.

"Don't bring Annie into this Reiner, this is about my friend. Did you really think she'd let you — of all people in this school — mark her when you act like a conceited asshole? She's not your fated mate. You've proven that over and over again that she's going to be like the rest, you knotheaded fuck."

You gasped at the sudden insult, a vein nearly popping out of Reiner's forehead but he didn't say anything more, pushing past Bertolt and shouldering him roughly with a scowl. You didn't mean for them to start an argument with one another, the game hadn't even started and tensions were already high. The Paradis Titans team weren't hiding their amused stares, the Eren Jaeger guy whispering to the short haired, bowl-cut blond next to him; Armin, you think. The murmurs of strangers behind you made you feel sick, hearing the word knottease being tossed around, the horrid word directed towards you.

You started to apologize profusely once Bertolt turned towards you, but he simply held out a hand, patting your shoulder as you stopped.

"Don't be. Someone needed to say it to him, maybe this fight would finally clear his head."

"But the game Bertolt, I—" You started but he interrupted you once more.

"I don't give a shit about the game if you're the one being hurt. You matter more than hitting a puck around, okay?" If you weren't wearing Reiner's jersey, you'd hug him right now. He smiled and put his helmet on, leaning close to you to whisper something in your ear.

"By the way, don't listen to the jerks behind you. You're nothing like that, you're going to be something great." He backed away once the horn started, walking over to the entrance to the ice rink to join his team. Good luck, you wanted to say because if anything, he'll need it when he gets into the arena with a monster in tow.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

If you thought Reiner was bad in practice, his violent playstyle was nothing compared to when he's in an actual game. How on Earth this sport was approved to play for anyone, you had no idea. All you could hear was men yelling at each other and slamming each other to snatch the slippery little puck, fans behind you hollering just as loudly.

Both Reiner and Bertolt had seemed to forgive each other on the court, winning being the only thing on their minds. Just like in practice, they didn't have to say anything to get the point across, making passes and attempted shots whenever they had the slightest of openings. The two Galliards seemed to be more communicative with one another, defending the goalie whenever they could with short barks of commands. They were good but Eren Jaeger seemed to be the rookie ace of the Titans, managing to push through and score in the most impossible scenarios.

You could tell he was aggravating them, putting them in a corner while constantly taunting them with a one-liner or a smug smile as he scored. An angry alpha was something not to mess with and putting a whole group of them against other alphas who were mocking them for their failures? It's obviously an immediate recipe for disaster.

Intermission came around, the score against the Warriors by two. As the teams were talking to one another to plan out their next attack, you watched the Zambonis slowly smooth out the ice again. You paid no attention to them and their chatter, you wouldn't have made sense of it anyways.

"Hey," You looked around for the source of the voice and finally down, seeing bright turquoise-blue and a mess of brown hair standing below you. He smelled sharply fresh, like the first bite to a mint leaf and drinking cold water afterwards. It wasn't necessarily bad like most in the arena, just made your nose crinkle a little from the suddenness of it. "Eren Jaeger."

"Oh- um... Y/N. Aren't you supposed to be talking to your team?"

He waved his hand dismissively towards your statement, crossing his arms with a smile. "Nah, there's nothing else that's new with the planning. You, however, are the talk of the arena."

Your cheeks flushed warm, the temptation of burying yourself alive later on growing more and more, but you grimaced instead. "So what? You wanted to see if I'm what they say I am?"

Eren shook his head, taking a few steps closer towards you. "I'm not talking about the knottease comments, I'm talking about the Reiner Braun's mate comments. Is it true?"

"No! Of course not!" You exclaimed in shock, but the subtle-not-so-subtle glance downwards towards your attire seemed to make him doubt you otherwise. You tried defending yourself about it without revealing much about the twisted relationship you actually have with Reiner.

"This is just because he thinks he's claimed me and we've made a deal. I have no other choice."

"Is it now? Well then," He pointed towards himself with a thumb, his grin growing even wider. "When I win, wanna go on a date with me after this?"

How many alphas were gunning for you right now?! You knew that you took your suppressants today after Bertolt left your dorm so how come this was happening to you? The absolute balls on this man, especially since he was thinking that his team had already won. You wearily shook your head, you've had your fill of pestering alphas for the rest of your schooling life.

He looked dejected for a second but perked up immediately, the buzzer of the timer echoing throughout the arena. You thought that was that and began to turn your attention towards your college's team, but then he called out a 'head's up', tossing something in your direction. You caught it in surprise, looking in the palm of your hands and finding a keyhole shaped earring.

"Keep it! For the next time we meet!" Eren waved you goodbye and jogged over to his side of the team, high-fiving and chattering with his friends before putting a helmet on. You let a small smile slip out, he may be a little cute but there was definitely no way you were ever going to see him ever again. You safely tucked it into your pocket, finally looking towards the Warriors.

He was watching you. Of course. There was a livid look in his eyes, his brows scrunched even more in irascibility and his teeth were bared, perhaps even grinding together in this current moment. You paled at the thought of them sinking into your neck like some kind of rabid animal. Reiner was barely human anymore, you realize. Any loving gaze that he had before for you was nothing more but a dangerous hunger.

All you could hope was for the Warriors to win so he would be in a decent mood to finalize the goodbyes, and you'd pray for the Titans for the brutality that they're about to endure because of his horrid attachment to you.

The players slid into the ice once more, the deafening cheers of everyone growing louder and louder as the second half of the game was beginning to start. The referee smoothly made his way between the two masses of men, Reiner staring down coldly into the clear mask of Eren. Like a coin flip, the puck was thrown highly into the midst of them, their eyes following it as it made its way down to the icy ground.

Click.

In a snap of a finger, the sound of sticks bashed together once the puck bounced off of the surface. Like a choreographed dance, the rivals whirled with one another, swinging and twisting their bodies around in order to get ahold of the very thing that might as well be the trophy itself. The intensity of the game was now at an all time high that even you started to pay more attention to it, the hairs on your arms raising in anticipation.

The puck swung back and forth like a pinball, but the Warriors managing to catch up to a tie. It was starting to become a standstill again however, taunting chants coming out from the people in the stands, jeering at the anyone that opposed their team. Players were being switched out on both teams during timeouts but few remained on the ice, a tense aura between the three.

Reiner, Bertolt, Eren.

Bertolt took a few glances at his friend, tapping the end of his stick with his and seemingly started to exchange words with him from what you could see. Who knows what it was about; the game, the enemy team, you. He only lifted his fist up, letting the other return it in a similar gesture and that seemed to calm the black-haired male's nerves.

Reiner's eyes were lasered in on Eren for the most part, gripping the handle of his stick tightly and swiping it around on the ice as if he was practicing a shot. He was truly unrecognizable, a shell of the man that once followed you around like the world's most clingiest puppy dog. You knew he wanted to show-off, his pride was at risk to a girl that he believed he owned for months. Disgusting and typical.

Eren seemed the most lax out of all of them, leaning against the plastic border as fans behind him fawned over him. He seemed not to care about Reiner's burning glares at him, waving across the rink to seemingly you. He seemed nice, but it was obvious that he had more intentions than just wanting to befriend you.

The whistle sounded and the game began once more, the men skating themselves back to the middle. You checked how much time was left on the clock, ten minutes. Ten more excruciating minutes and you were going to be finally free.

" 'Round it now!" You could hear Reiner call out to Grice as he suddenly slammed his complete weight into enemy Jaeger, their eyes meeting as the others chased after the puck. They went after it as well once he recovered from the blow, but it looked like they started talking and you managed to spot a furious glint glazing over his hazel eyes.

He suddenly threw his stick out onto the rink, ripping off his gloves and grabbing Jaeger's shirt by the collar in frightening speed. Reiner was undeniably experienced with his punches, uppercutting him from below the mask. It toppled off of his head, falling to the ground with a crack, and Eren was stunned for a second, just for a single second. He was unable to completely process what had happened before the bigger male tackled him to the cold ground, the deafening sounds of heavy bodies slamming into the ice made the arena stand still.

The referee was too afraid to intervene but blew the whistle immediately, and hundreds of people watched the Reiner Braun brutally dig his knuckles into his face. Fresh crimson spilt down on the ice in splatters and you were forced to witness him weakly trying to stop him, protecting his face as much as possible to no avail. Bertolt immediately tried pulling him off of him, shouting at him that he needed to stop but it was like he was in a trance, almost attacking him in the process.

He finally was pulled off of Eren by the goalie of Warriors — furiously throwing his own punch into his face — and the poor boy having to be quickly removed from the rink on a stretcher. Reiner was pinned to the ground by multiple individuals and given a tranquilizer, his body soon relaxing and slumping over. They put him on a stretcher as well, his hands and legs bounded together and his mouth wrapped with a cloth rag. He was still slightly conscious, his calm and woozy stare meeting your horrified one.

The game had to continue without them but you had already left, not knowing the result. You felt too nauseous from smelling the sheer fear and panic that was coming of Eren, pungent and potent as it filled the air. But Reiner's...

All you could smell was that sickening warmth, a burning sensation in your nares. The same scent from your dorm but that's not at all what made you leave immediately. The sick fuck was happy he was beating into the defenseless guy, exhilarated that his blood was running down his skin and staining the floor, joyful. The nose doesn't lie and you wonder if everyone else caught it too.

Bertolt texted you when he visited Reiner in the hospital, but you didn't respond, busy trying to scrub the remnants of him out of your dorm while tears ran down your cheeks.

He did it for you.

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