#if he was a real person i would be putting him through so much

[kissitbttr]

a sweet moment of frat!miguel and muñeca that we rarely get to see

to miguel, relationships are complex.

he’s not built for one and never meant to. the idea of having to commit to one person when he still wants to have fun sounds like a real torture. the constant clinging and demands of going out on dates just enough to make him scowl. like what’s the point of it all? spending money on gifts or valentines dates just seem to be a waste of time.

until she entered the picture. gone were the days where his money were spent on booze and gears.

now, he’s having the ultimate pleasure of spoiling his girlfriend, walking her to classes, stay during cheerleading practice and begging her to stay over at the frat house. all that he did out of consciousness,

even curating the image of what their wedding would look like in the future.

yeah. that much.

the couple decides to have a small picnic at the campus park during their free period. whereas the rest of the students are busy with studying and walking from building to building, these two lovers find the spare time to be with each other.

“i love hibiscus flowers. they’re pretty” muñeca mentions, laying on her side with palm supporting the head. “sunflowers too—much better than a rose”

miguel fixes himself a smile upon his beautiful girlfriend, deciding to mirror her action by laying on his side as well. “how abouut cake flavor, cariño?”

she looks over at him and the sight is making her drool. the shirt that he’s sporting compliments his rippling muscles, not to mention the few unbuttons at the top showcasing a bit of his chest hair and gold chain around the neck.

“are you going somewhere with this?” she questions with a smile, seeing him shrug,

“just asking” he replies, eyes staring intently into hers. “i want to know what my girl likes—because if she mentions vanilla then i’m out”

muñeca giggles, head shaking at the ridiculous assumption. “i would never!” miguel grins even wider hearing the sound of that laugh. “i love red velvet—and anything fruit infused desserts”

he nods, making a mental note on that one. “what if I prefer chocolates?”

“then we can have both” she answers casually, hand sneaking through its way towards the slope of his calloused one. “chocolates and raspberries are good combo, anyway—not white or milk chocolates though. dark is the way”

“that’s my girl” miguel praises, his thumb drawing circles around her skin. “i love this dress on you, by the way—wear it often”

“you say that pretty much about everything i wear miggy!” she smiles, kissing his jaw. “you’re biased”

“is it my fault that my girlfriend looks good in everything?” he asks as if he’s proving his innocence, tightening the hold of his hand around hers, “got the prettiest girl on campus by my side and there’s no way i’m missing the chance to let her know how hot she is”

her cheeks warm at the compliment, looking down momentarily to hide the large grin that’s threatening to break through, “you just want to fuck me” it’s a joke,

“is it working?” he jokes back with a raised eyebrow, earning himself a punch on the shoulder making him grunt and laugh, “caray, ma!—you sure got some strength in you”

“thanks to my handsome linebacker’s workout routine” she winks, curling a loose hair around his forehead,

“put me in a headlock next, i beg of you” he says, and she can’t tell if he’s really joking or serious but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter,

“ugh! you’re so unserious sometimes!”

they both share a laugh after. “okay back to question number—five!” he picks a chocolate covered strawberry with his free hand off the plate and pop it in his mouth. “dream destination?”

her lips curl into a thinking mode and so are her eyebrows, clutching their interlocked hand against her chest. “hmm—bali, malaysia, and rome”

miguel hums, nodding as he looks down. she tilts her head to the side with confusion written all over her face, watching him. “what is this, intervention?”

“what, no. can’t a guy ask his girl a few things to get to know her better?”

“miggy, we fuck at least three times a day, i think we already went past that kind of formalities” she rolls her eyes playfully, seeing how he shrugs innocently and grin. “so? what is this about? first it was about my favorite decorations, second it’s about my favorite dish and drinks of choice and then third, and fourth—“ she trails off, watching the shy smile on his face appears as he avoids her gaze,

“what?” she asks confused, yet his smile is contagious and that makes her smile too,

“just thinking about how everything would look like for our wedding someday”

“a wedding?”

“y-yeah” he scratches the back of his neck nervously, “i’m making notes, you know? i trust them all with you, muñeca—want you to handle everything”

her heart somehow blooms in her chest, gaze softening when he mentions about marriage. tying a knot. living happily ever after. with her.

she feels the little girl inside of her is squealing at the thought of a prince charming asking her for a hand. like ones she read on fairy tales and bedtime stories.

he wants to marry her

upon hearing no response, he feels the embarrassment creeping in as he gulps, his hand trembling slightly at the thought of being rejected. he would probably cry if she told him that she doesn’t see the future together.

“look you don’t—“

“baby” she coos, her hand moving to cup his face. “you want to marry me?”

he feels somehow at ease when he hears the tone of her voice, realizing that he may not look like an eager idiot whom he thought he’d be in front of her, “i do” his response is firm and set. “do you?”

the way he’s looking at her with hopeful eyes makes her wish that they’re both alone right now, just so she could straddle his lap and smother him with kisses. but seeing that they’re not and at a public space, especially on campus, she’s holding herself back.

instead of that, she cups his face before leaning in for a kiss. miguel sighs into her mouth, kissing her back with much more passion as he snakes a hand around her waist. the kiss is somehow becoming more intense and hungry. he then moves himself to move on top of her in swift motion, making her giggle at his enthusiasm.

what’s supposed to be a simple kiss, turns into a heavy makeout session. she squeezes both his shoulders as a gesture to take it easy, not wanting the head of security to catch them in the act. again.

miguel huffs when she pulls away, but the taste of her lips remains to be the reason why a lovesick smile attached on his features.

“of course i do” she replies, “just make sure that the ring is ready after we graduate, o’hara” and miguel will hold onto that. he will buy the most expensive and prettiest ring ever for her.

she swears that the love she has for him is bigger than anything. he had changed a lot for the better and she couldn’t be more proud. miguel had learned so many things during the times he had shared with her, and it would be so crazy to think that she didn’t bring any positive impact in his life.

her existence is the key of him growing. not just love but as a person as well. and he would argue to hell and back with anyone just to prove the point of his gratitude to her will always be bigger than this girl,

none of these two lovers knew what fate had in stored for them. to have a committed relationship with someone wasn’t in either’s bucket list, let alone getting married. but everything seems to have changed.

before this, they didn’t even know each other. there had been a time where miguel didn’t know muñeca exist and vice versa. and there’s some sort of twinge rattle in his chest, knowing that someone else could be loving her instead of him.

he doesn’t like that. at all.

the negative thought that plagued into his mind somehow gets pulled when he feels her soft padded thumb traces his lower lip. his pupils dilating when he looks at her, with the pretty smile that he never gets tired of. seeing that often makes his heart fail to find a steady rhythm.

gaze in her eyes speaks so kindly to him. a look in which helps to remind him that she belongs to him and so does he to her. and miguel finds himself exhale a breath of relief yet once again.

‘she is so unbelievably gorgeous and all mine’

#frat!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara blurbs

[bad268]

maybe a story where kimis gf (reader) has curly hair and she does her curly hair routine on kimi. love your writing!! 💓

Curl TLC (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Curly Hair! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Thank you <3 and as someone with curly hair, I had too much fun with this)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1332

Summary: Kimi needed some help with his curls.

Join my 1K Celly

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

It was something you always noticed. Kimi’s hair was always unruly after a race, but after being with him for almost a year, you noticed the little things. His curls used to be so well-formed and clean, but now, it’s like he was losing his curl pattern. And given that you also had curly hair, you decided to teach him your tricks during an off weekend. 

“I don’t see why this is important,” He complained as soon as you started rinsing his hair. “This seems like a lot.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” You laughed as you made sure none of the water got in his eyes. “This is just water.”

“But the number of things you have is concerning,” He replied as he glanced over at the three bottles and diffuser on the counter.

“That’s nothing,” You dismissed as you grabbed the shampoo specifically for curly hair. “Now, this is my shampoo. The first time I do it-”

“You’re gonna do it more than once?” Kimi cut you off as he tried to sit down, but you put your hand on his shoulder to sit him back down in front of the sink. 

“Yes, the first time, I’ll give you a head massage. It helps get all the dead skin off your scalp and It’s just really relaxing,” You explained as you applied the shampoo to his roots. As you began working it through his hair. You knew better than to explain your process when you were scratching his scalp because you knew he would not be listening. As soon as you started, his eyes shut and that was game over. After a few minutes, you turned the water back on to rinse it. Maybe, you let a little splash onto Kimi’s face, causing his eyes to snap open and look up at you. “The first shampoo is to get everything off your scalp. The second one is to get all the dead skin out of your hair.”

“That sounds gross,” Kimi cringed as he settled back into his seat. “It’s just two, right?”

“Two shampoos, yes,” You answered as you started with the second shampoo treatment. “Then, we’ll condition once and put curl cream in your hair. I’ll show you how to form your curls, and then I’ll help you dry your hair with a diffuser.”

“What even is that?” He asked confused as you turned the water off to let the conditioner sit.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” You laughed as you sat on his lap to pass the time. Kimi immediately tried to bring his hands to his hair, but you grabbed them and held them to his side. “No, don’t touch it! Leave it alone!”

“That’s not fair!” He complained but leaned into you to kiss you. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” You dragged out as you pulled away and leaned your forehead against his. You felt his arms trying to pull themselves from your hold, so you adjusted your grip, “And it’s not going to work.”

“How long do I need to leave this in? It itches,” Kimi complained with no real heat behind his words. It did not really itch, but it was a different formula than he was used to. The texture was just weird to him, and he wanted it off.

“A few more minutes,” You said as you looked at his hair. The curls were starting to form back on their own, so that was going to make your job easier later on. “If it’s really bugging you, I can rinse it now and we can move on to the cream and diffusing.”

“Please?” He asked he gave you puppy eyes. He knew you could never say no to him then.

“Fine,” You sighed in mock offense as you stood up and walked around to stand at his side to wash the conditioner out. “I just don’t think you’re used to it, bu don’t worry. You’ll learn to love it.”

“That sounds threatening,” Kimi laughed as he closed his eyes when you turned the water back on.

“Take it how you wish,” You joked as you finished rinsing his hair. You grabbed a towel after turning the water off and gently dried his hair a bit. “Here, stand in front of the mirror and I’ll show you how to define your curls.”

“I never knew it was this complicated,” Kimi groaned as he stood up and stood beside you. You removed the towel and inspected the natural curls he had already formed. You were just planning on working with what he had. They were fairly spaced out right and they were already semi-formed. They just needed a little cleaning up, and that’s exactly what the curl cream would do. “What is that?”

“Curl cream,” You said simply as you put a little on your fingers and started to run it through a section of his hair. “It’s going to help your curls hold their shape and be less frizzy.”

“Is it going to make them hard?” Kimi complained as he watched you through the mirror.

“First off, that’s what she said,” You giggle as you move on to the next section. Kimi laughed a little, but he gently slapped your arm in response. “Secondly, no. It’s not. All it does is help them hold. They’ll still be soft. You’ve never noticed my hair being crunchy.”

“Oh, good,” Kimi said to himself. He watched you for a minute before asking, “What are you doing now?”

“I’m using my fingers to wrap your curls, so they will be more defined,” You explained, slowing down to show him. “Look. I take this piece of hair, wrap it around my finger, and then gently, keynote on gently, twirl it off. You try.” He tried it. Did it look perfect? No. Would it work for now? Yes. He’s learning, but it's a good start. “That looks good! You’ll get better, I promise.”

“As long as you’re here to help,” He sighed. “It’s a lot of work.”

“You don’t always have to do all of this,” You explained. “Some days, just washing with shampoo and conditioner works just fine. Your curls just needed some TLC today, so we did the whole nine yards, but normally, I would not do the curl cream or diffusing. Only when I’m feeling extra.”

“Oh, good to know,” Kimi trailed off as you finished off forming his curls and moved to grab the diffuser. “This is next, right?”

“Yes! If you want, I can show you how to do it, then let you. Or I can just do it,” You offered, but he immediately handed you the dryer. You chuckled at his eagerness to get rid of the object but started to blow dry his hair. “Flip your head down.”

“I feel like this is unnecessary,” He grumbled but did so without question. You did not listen to him as you just laughed to yourself and moved on with blow-drying his hair. “Why is it so cold?”

“It’s cold to start with, but I’ll warm it up as we finish up,” You replied. “Heat ruins your hair, so even though we’re blow-drying your hair, it’s going to be cool air.”

“I don’t like it,” He groaned as he tried to lean away from the cool air.

“Well, lucky for you, you don’t have a lot of hair, so you're basically done,” You said as you ran your hand through a couple of strands without separating them, and you noticed they were completely done. You decided to explain the rules as you started putting everything away. “Don’t brush it, don't run your hands through it, and do not put a helmet on for a while. In a way, it’s a good thing you don’t have a race for a couple of weeks.” 

“About that,” Kimi trailed off, causing your face to drop immediately, “I was gonna go karting tomorrow.”

“You better not! I worked hard to make those curls!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

#andrea kimi antonelli x reader #andrea kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli x reader #kimi antonelli #kimi x reader #prema team #mercedes amg petronas #formula 1 x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 #formula 1 #formula 2 imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 #f2 #f1 x reader #f2 x reader #f2 x you #f2 imagine #f2 fanfic #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

[mariamastermind]

No one hates Joe, not even Taylor, she hates the fact that her forever started to crumble to the point of no bouncing back. Both of them struggle with mental health, like a lot of people I’m sure, but just saying his “bluest days” doesn’t mean she’s talking about his mental health, it could literally just mean he had a bad day and took it out on her, or she tried to help him and he wouldn’t let her. And the album is actually barely about him. Taylor says in “In Summation” that she writes the “worst men the best”, I’d say a lot of The Anthology tracks are about him as well as like 1 (So Long, London) on the standard album.

He’s not one of the worst men, he’s the one that got away. I don’t think it’s fair for Swifties to hate on Joe, and it’s not fair for Swifties and non-swifties (who for some reason listened to the album?) to hate Taylor for being vulnerable. Joe can make a statement if he wants, and that’s fine by me.

The more I look at the lyrics of So Long, London, the more I feel bad for both of them. Joe wasn’t sure how to deal with whatever was going on in his own life and Taylor going out, doing promotions for Red TV; Taylor on the other hand didn’t know what to do because she felt him slipping and she couldn’t help him like he did for her because he pushed her away, intentionally or not we’ll never know. She says that she stopped trying to make him laugh and stopped trying to drill the safe (“the safe” being him and her trying to get him to talk to her about whatever he was going through and he resisted to let her). It hurt them both. At some point they both just came to the agreement of that this just wasn’t going to work out anymore. They were there for each other through their darkest days (or bluest days) but ultimately things just aren’t meant to be even if Taylor thought it was. It’s just cruel to pick a side when there’s so much no one considered. So no, I can’t back up the people who say she’s “wrong” for writing about his “bluest days” in one line about how she felt about their relationship. And I can’t back up the people who say “she got mad at him for being depressed and not wanting to get married so she could have her perfect wedding” because that’s not what she’s saying at all; I’m sure they’d talked about marriage and at the time it felt right, but their lives were changing and they didn’t want to hurt the other person or themselves even more than they had already. And you know what, I actually think he’s genuinely proud of her for being this vulnerable and putting on a smile every week and singing “Lover” and trying not to cry, and I think he’s genuinely happy that she’s genuinely happy with Travis, and I think he was think “wtf Taylor” when people found out about her and Matty Healy, and I think he was genuinely relieved when he saw things between them ended.

I just think that no matter what happened between them, they still wish each other the best. I think he genuinely thinks she deserves the happiness she’s felt in the past year after getting through a whole lot of shit.

(And to all the people saying Taylor “sent” her fans out to threaten Joe and his friends and costars, A) she would never do that no matter how she may feel about a person and B) fake fans do that, not real ones. Maybe you should start learning the difference since you can’t shut up about her or us.)

#taylor swift #swifties #1989 taylor's version #party like it’s 1989 #speak now taylor’s version #long live taylor’s version #red taylor’s version #evermore #fearless taylor’s version #ttpd #ttpd lyrics #ttpd track list #ts ttpd #ttpd era #the tortured poets #the tortured poets department #so long london #joe alwyn

[nebbyy]

Hi! I'm not sure if you are currently taking requests, so feel free to ignore mine if you aren't! If you are taking them, however, would you please write something for King Baldwin IV overhearing reader sing and falling further in love with her because of her soft and sweet voice? Upon realizing that he's there, she becomes extremely flustered and apologizes for disrupting his peace and quiet. Thank you!

King Baldwin IV x reader - Sweetest of melodies

A/N: omg it’s been so long since I’ve received a request! I can’t lie, Baldwin is my supreme comfort character, I think I’ll never stop writing fro him because it gives me sooo much joy😩😩😩 I personally like to think of this piece as taking place a few months after Baldwin’s and reader’s wedding, so it could be considered a sequel for my first fic ever. Also, the song mentioned in this piece is a real song from the 12th century called "Can vei la lauzeta" (in English,"When I see the lark") by Bernart de Ventadorn, and the painting is "Lovers in a garden" by Charles Edward Perugini!!

Oh btw!! I’m working on a long ass series about him, based off of a prompt by @phantomsghoulette  which I absolutely LOVED. Sooo all the KoH fans stay tuned for future updates🤭

Warning: nothing really, just pure fluff. Maybe you could say that religious innuendos could be something triggering for some people but I don’t know. There might be ONE, SLIGHTLY spicy mention but only if you squint really really hard. Also, keep in mind that the historical accuracy in my fics is rather relative, I try to add some details here and there but I don’t have the knowledge (nor the skills) to write a piece 100% accurate to the real history. Also, reader’s gender is female and uses she/her pronouns!!

Word count: 2918

Someone would say Baldwin's patience could already be put to test by only his illness, which she ruthlessly does not grant him a moment's respite, the eternal enemy of his body and his spirit. But no, to this perpetual torment of his had to be added the perilous duties of a king. And it was certainly not governing his people and lands that sucked what little energy he had left; this duty of his, given by his father and willed by divine design, he had long since embraced.

It was the nobles, the leeches who had drained him of his lifeblood lately. It was their endless demands, the insidious words that hissed behind his back, the languid bows and sleazy gifts designed only to gain some favor from him. Looking around him, he seemed to see only vices and sinners, power-hungry beasts just waiting for his moment of weakness so they could feed on what Baldwin had under his power.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, experiencing for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, to experience for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

And he dreamed of taking you with him, imagined how sweet his life would be if his only concerns were taking care of his health and you, faithful wife, sole blessing in his life battered by such burdens. How he would wish that his days would revolve around you, that his first thought in the morning would be riding by your side through the flourishing meadows, and his last thought in the evening would be caressing your face as you lie slumbering in his arms.

It would have been a blissful fate his, if only Sybilla's husband had not died at the very moment when he would have needed him most. If only his mother had not convinced him that Guido de Lusignan was a good fit for his sister and had continued to seek a new consort for her, perhaps that fate would not have been snatched from him so early. Too late to repent now, for Baldwin would have preferred to die agonizingly on his throne rather than leave power in the hands of that bumptious and arrogant lord, who was noble only in title.

And so he found himself in this sort of hellish limbo, forced into a position that should never be required of a man in his condition, but prevented by his morality from abandoning his reign, impelled by faith in God's greater plan, that his suffering should not be in vain.

And his faith always seemed to strengthen when he had a way to escape the stifling air that characterized the throne room, always packed with knights and crusaders and nobles, when he had a way to retreat to the palace gardens, one of the few verdant places in all of Jerusalem.

With slow, swaying steps, Baldwin strolled slowly among the local palm trees and flower beds from the faraway lands, those where men speak Italian and the more distant ones, those from which his fathers came. Exotic fruits mingled with those more congenial to the French, who out of nostalgia for their lands and fields did what they could to bring the seeds of these plants with them to overseas.

His mind seemed to go out, shifting his attention from the constant buzz of court demands and duties to the chirping of birds perched on the roof, to the eviction of the soft branches that shielded him from the scorching sun. He enjoyed the refreshing air that reigned in that small oasis of greens, which was able to infiltrate the fabric of his white robes, crossing the bandages that covered much of his body and finally reaching his skin, numbed by leprosy. 

To tell the truth, of that refreshing sensation little reached his damaged nerves, if not for those few points that had been spared by the merciless disease, from which departed that unusual shiver that caused him a delicate smile of relief, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in, discovering with satisfied surprise that that light gust was also a harbinger of an intoxicating perfume, a mixture of exotic and familiar.

How funny to think of the concept of "exotic", for an Angevin born and raised in the unknown lands of the east. For him it was exotic French fruit, exotic were the green plains and heavy clothing that brought his allies from the northwest, and equally alien to the snowy mountains and forest beasts that he saw drawn in detail in his childhood books. It was these changes of perspective that stimulated his mind in a myriad of thoughts and reflections, but in a pleasurable way for him, not as exhausting as his daily duties.

His reflections on exotic and local made his mind travel, wandering until he came to a subject very close to him: Muslims and Jews, reflecting well on the landscape in front of him, recognized that he could share with them the same concepts of what is foreign and what they can claim the original belonging. And he could not but reflect on how it must have been for the first inhabitants of Jerusalem to observe the Franks who came as conquerors, and filled their gardens with such foreign plants as those pale warriors who had taken possession of their dwelling... But after all, the French soldiers who were emissaries of God’s will needed something familiar to stabilize them as they fought to reclaim the Promised Land, ut Deus voluit.

But all his brooding over these matters of conquest and submission ended up in the background in his mind, when a colorful scarlet sphere caught his attention. An exquisitely red apple seemed to tempt him from a branch just above his head, beckoning him to be picked and savored by the king, that he might lose himself in the juicy sweetness of that fruit with origins so far removed from the Holy Land. But the king's modesty prevented him from yielding to that temptation, wanting to avoid exposing the advanced state of deterioration in which his mouth was.

And in fact if that temptation had been alive it would have pale in front of something much more captivating, a sound that echoed in the most melodious distance of the song of any nightingale. Baldwin was surprised to think that he had not realized before the melody that inibriated the atmosphere around him, so taken by the tribulations of his mind that he almost missed such an intoxicating song. He did not know what he felt once he arrived in Heaven, if he had ever arrived in spite of the unjust fate in Hell that the evil Saracens wished him. He didn’t know it, but if one ever had to imagine what Heaven sounded like, that song would come to mind.

When I see the lark beating 

Its wings in joy against the rays of the sun 

That it forgets itself and lets itself fall 

Because of the sweetness that comes to its heart

She sang in Occitan, the beautiful one in the distance. The voice of his people, of his lineage, that few in the palace can pronounce after so many years of distance from their homeland in Provence. Paying more attention to the echoing song, he would not even have had to approach it to give a face to that melodic voice: he knew how to recognize his wife’s voice.

Yet it was a new context in which he saw you, new facets of you that he had not yet had a chance to observe. Your voice, sweet as honey, venerable like all your other traits, he had never heard it except in speech, when you were proclaiming orders before your subjects with the authority fit for a queen, or when you laughed at the poems and performances of the court singers, or when you whispered in Baldwin’s ears sweet words, while you lay with bodies merged between the soft silk sheets. Always spoken, but never sung.

Alas! Such great envy then overwhelms me 

Of all those whom I see rejoicing,

But though he didn’t need to approach you to recognize you, the desire to see your face exceeded any of his other needs. As if mesmerized by the sound of a siren, Baldwin was advancing towards you, with steps so slow that it seemed a hunter about to catch a deer in the woods. He wanted nothing more than to hear you sing again, that you continue to bless him with that angelic melody. What worse sin would there be than to interrupt your song, more sacred than a prayer?

His stomach filled with butterflies and turned upside down like the beasts' jugglers, his breath seemed to stop in his throat, depriving him of the breath he no longer needed, as long as he could hear you sing a moment more. And her cheeks warmed, when finally she saw you among the white lilies, more beautiful than divine salvation.

I wonder that my heart, at that moment, 

Does not melt from desire.

Baldwin wondered if you sang with him in mind, if those words of love reflected your own emotional turmoil. 

Oh, if only it were so, and your singing equalled his own words inscribed in the sonnets and poems he composed in your honor, which he himself commissioned from your favorite singers to perform at banquets, only to steal an embarrassed smile and to see the blush of your cheeks, along with the glint in your eyes.

Whether it was or not, the outcome remained the same since he was at that moment in your proximity, in the same state mixed with adoration, love and wonder at the bold gesture. But if only he had confirmation from your words...

Alas! How much I thought I knew 

About love, and how little I know, 

Because I cannot keep myself from loving 

The one from whom I will gain nothing.

"My angel, your voice sounds like heaven but your words are false." Baldwin practically saw you blow up from your session, completely taken aback by his sudden appearance, unaware that your husband has been acting as a secret public all this time. Your initial surprise quickly turns into a laugh to mask your embarrassment for being caught in a moment like this, when you thought you were alone to be able to run the streets of music with your voice.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone in the gardens," your eyes met his own only for a moment, before you turned your face to try and hide the blush of your face, "it was just a silly song I heard singing to the Provençal knights. I hope I did not disrupt your walk, my love..”

He laughed softly, trying to hide his amusement from having caught you off guard. He approached you more quickly than when he did just a few moments before, but with the same phlegm that managed to inspire a feeling of safeness in you. Sitting by your side on the bare rock, he raised his bandaged hand to gently cup your face and make you turn your eyes towards him. It was only then, when you had no choice but to look at Baldwin in the face that you noticed how his eyes, the only part of his face exposed to the outside world, formed two half-moons, and you came to find that it was because of how widely he was smiling, as you lowered the veil from his face. 

He was making fun of you, you realized. With that swagger in his manner, you understood that his amusement came from your embarrassment at that silly misunderstanding. Laughing softly, he gently shook his head before bringing both hands to your face, holding it as if it were the most sacred of relics. "As much as I would love to hear you sing of your affection for me, just to hear your voice echoing in the air is the sweetest of gifts. How could you deprive me of this blessing thus far, my dear?"

You could do nothing but giggle at his sweet words, bringing your hands to his wrists to feel him closer to you. "You flatter me, my king. My voice boasts nothing more than those sweet melodies that the singers in the palace sing. Mine is only a dabble."

His gaze softened, his playful spirit addicted to your presence. He took the floor again, in a tone as soft as cotton, "At least this once, my queen, allow me to disagree with your words. My life may be short and my reality small, but never have I heard such an angelic voice, singing such sweet melodies. And God may not yet have granted me the ability to predict the future, but in my heart I know well that never will any singer be able to hold a candle to your beautiful voice, never will any song be able to express the same feeling of ecstasy.

"You, my angel, have managed to make a simple ballad an absolute work of art through your voice. I think I should take you with me into battle next time, for with your mere voice you could addict Saladin and his entire army.

"And seeing you here, angelic and perfect like the lilies that surround you, singing so softly that it would make any bird jealous, that I realize that whatever toil, whatever challenges God has stored up for me, and all those that still await me in my life, are worth it, if at the end of each of them there is you, voice of an angel, to hold a place for me in your arms of heaven." 

You were sure you were on the verge of crying a flood of tears, the result of pure emotion at his sweet words. It was not new to you that Baldwin worshipped you as much as the God to whom his kingdom was consecrated, from the first moment he got to hear your voice and admire your face, and you knew at once that he had become yours, body and soul. But it was new to you to see him like that, completely entranced by your simple being-it was something new. A wonderful newness that made you feel like the most desired of women on this earth.

Taken by a rush of boldness, you practically jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck; you ended up on top of him, with his hands around your hips. You both laughed, like two little boys frolicking in the gardens. And you left a kiss on his left cheek, then on the bridge of his nose. A kiss again on his forehead, and then down on the side of his lips. When you were about to give him another kiss, just where he most yearned for your lips, against his, you stopped a few inches away, with a wide smile, before speaking again, "If so little is enough to make your happiness, then I will sing to you every day, whenever you ask. Let me be your nightingale, your morning song and your lullaby all at once!"

"I couldn't wish for anything else, my dear. Now, however, I beg you, sing one more melody for me, before my duties drag me back to the palace, and I shall consider myself a blessed man."

"With great pleasure, my love." Your voice was now little more than a whisper. With a languid movement, Baldwin moved his body to rest his head on your lap, and you eagerly greeted him. After slightly moving the hood that veiled his head, so that you could play with his golden locks, you began to sing a new melody, one that this time spoke of reciprocated love, of the joy of being able to hold your loved one in your arms. But the words you sang barely reached Baldwin before his sky-colored eyes closed softly, his mind giving him at least a moment's despite from his perilous life. You continued to sing, caressing his face, which from day to day appeared more and more mutilated by his disease, singing the sweetest of melodies so as to prolong this idyll in which you and your husband found yourselves in. 

For with you Baldwin had a way of putting the crown aside, and being nothing more than a foolish young man in love, whose only duty was to love you, to love you with all the love that an angel like you deserved.

@sweetworkoffiction hope you like it <3

#fluff #writers on tumblr #f!reader #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin iv #king baldwin x reader #king baldwin x you #koh #medieval fiction #historical fiction #writing requests #requests open #anon ask #anon request

[whateverisbeautiful]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I discovered your top 30 Richonne list a few days ago and I've been down the meta rabbit hole you've so wonderfully crafted this entire week so far. I've cried and smiled so much reading them. Each post is just so beautiful.

I was reading one of your Reveling in Richonne posts this morning for episode 10 x 04 where Michonne talked with Ezekiel about how much she still misses Rick and loves him so much and that she misses his walk and now I can't get over it. Now I'm thinking about all those times when she looked at Rick walking towards or away from her pre- and post-canon where she would be thinking the man I'm crushing on, then eventually the man I love is so sexy. Is there any chance you can do a post speculating those moments where they are both checking each out specifically regarding Michonne checking out Rick's walk?

Also I cant wait for you to do a Reveling in Richonne continuation based on TOWL 👀? So excited! Lastly I just need you to know that my Richonne withdrawals have been pretty bad now that TOWL has concluded. So discovering your blog and your metas have been giving me my whole entire life and I just want to say thank you and that I really appreciate all the thought and beauty you put into your posts. You're amazing!!!! 👏🏽 👏🏽 🤩 💖

Hi @rct85 ! I'm so encouraged by your message, thank you so much. 🥰 I love that this richonne reveling rabbit hole could help with the richonne withdrawal. I’m feeling it too and really miss seeing them on screen each week. 🥲 Thank goodness we were spoiled with years of richonne content that I’ve just been playing on a loop in my head. The second I'm finally able, I'm looking forward to going all out and writing about every golden moment from TOWL. The towl thoughts and observations are abundant lol.

And I really like that thought of highlighting the times that Michonne was looking at Rick and thinking this man I'm crushing on and later in love with is so sexy. I can definitely speculate on those moments and I've placed my extra self’s speculation right below. 😊⬇

I focused on Michonne specifically for this one because if I were to make a list of times Rick was looking at Michonne and thinking this woman I'm crushing on/in love with is so sexy it would be wildly long because it's every single moment he and Michonne are on screen together. Like truly from TWD 3.06 at the fence to the TOWL 1.06 finale Rick looks like he's thinking that. 😋 While Michonne can be a little more subtle than Slick Rick, she's still head over heels for her husband and I think I pinpointed some clear moments where she was noting how fine her man is and appreciating that walk. 😏 Thanks again for reading my posts and for this kind message! 💗

Moments Michonne Was Checking Out Her Man’s Walk/Thinking Rick Is Fine 😋

Exhibit A:

It started real early if you ask me. 😌 At this point our Michonne had been abandoned by her only friend, unsuccessfully gaslit by the governor, chased down and shot by Merle, and passed out killing walkers at the prison fence. She’d been put through a whole lot in mind and body…but her eyes clearly still work just fine as she seems to be taking in this handsome stranger in front of her.

And sis is an observant person so I wouldn’t at all be surprised if she had a conscious thought that this man from the prison is attractive, even here in their first exchange. Thinking about how she described Maggie and the Governor based on appearances in this ep, I’d bet that had Michonne had to describe Rick this early, some type of good-looking adjective would‘ve been used.

(*Also the footnote for all of these bits of evidence is that Rick is absolutely captivated by her in each of these moments too 💯)

Exhibit B:

Clear is where that Richonne attraction was loud and on display from both of them. We don’t see Rick walk away in this scene at the end of the ep but uh Michonne does. 😊 And of course she likes what she sees with that lingering look and smile she gives. And all that car key shuffling - it’s giving Rick is pretty eager but maybe she is too 🤭

Exhibit C & D:

I put these two moments side by side because I love how similar they are in the way Rick walks up to her and the way Michonne smiles at him. To think one scene is during their early s4 crush era and the other is during their s7 honeymoon ep, just goes to show these two have been smitten a long long time and always will be. In both moments I know Michonne loves seeing his walk just like Rick loves seeing her smile.

Exhibit E:

As she observes Rick here, I think Michonne has a lot of thoughts going through her head, which naturally are deeper than just checking him out. On a larger level, she’s realizing that Rick has unique qualities that she loves and respects and recognizes in her own self. She saw firsthand the way Rick walks the walk when it comes to protecting his family and she’s fallen in love with him. But I think an appreciation for his literal walk can be included in those thoughts during this scene as she starts to slowly become more cognizant that she sees Rick as a lot more than just a friend.

Exhibit F (Pt. 1 & Pt. 2):

I may have forgot if this was a list of Michonne’s thoughts or mine with exhibit f lol. But I’m just gonna venture to say that she and I shared the same appreciation for Rick’s walk in that barn. It’s Season 5 Rick - of course Michonne was feeling a type of way about him. And she might not have agreed with him punching Aaron but I know she wasn’t mad at that walk.

Exhibit G:

Seeing Rick’s clean-shaven face for the first time was Michonne’s most blatant display of attraction towards him pre-canon and she was definitely noting how fine he is. And from my posts on the scene, it’s no secret how much I love this moment and it’s no secret how much these two were into each other. I also just added a later s5 moment of Rick seeing Michonne in the constable windbreaker for the first time because it gives a similar energy. It’s cute how Rick and Michonne both have such obvious attraction and intrigued reactions to seeing each other in ways they haven’t seen each other before.

(That’s also why I thought it was so funny and doomed that their plan was to pretend like they don’t know each other at the CRM because Richonne hasn’t been able to mask their blazing attraction to each other since season 3)

Exhibit H:

This is such a sweet moment and I always adore seeing the slightly bashful way Michonne can’t help but stare at her man and smile after their first night together. And the way Rick can sense her looking at him and then smiles and reaches for her. It gives me life. This had to make this list because I’m pretty sure “the man I love is so sexy” is one of the direct quotes from Michonne’s mind in this scene.

Exhibit I:

Even when injured Rick’s walk is hot and Michonne knows it. 😋 The scene above and a couple more in this episode were clear signs of Michonne admiring her man inside and out. They were both so cute and couply and in love in this ep and I’ll never get over it.

In The Ones Who Live…

Each of these towl moments deserves dissertations so I’ll wait to elaborate because dissertations are coming later on. But I still had to include them on this list because they’re prime examples of Michonne loving Rick’s walk and/or loving how sexy her husband is - with the last one being the pinnacle 😍

Exhibit J:

Exhibit K:

Exhibit L:

Exhibit M:

Exhibit NOPQRSTUVWXY&Z:

#richonne #richonne family #richonne list #thank you for giving me an opportunity to be extra again and go down memory lane 🙏🏽💖 #the ones who live #towl #rick x michonne

[acourtofthought]

Regarding Lucien’s scars. I think it’s basically a headcanon in the fandom that Lucien still has the scars on his back from being whipped, but if those are present in canon too, that could be interesting. Howeverrrr… the facial scar must be kind of a big deal for Lucien. Amarantha attacked him 50ish years ago and then within a few days she organized that masquerade ball “in Lucien’s honor” - the masked theme was a scheme to help him basically hide what she did to his face. Then the masks were plastered to the faces of everyone in Spring Court because Tamlin didn’t accept to sleep with Amarantha. So here’s Lucien, hiding his scars for 50 years no matter how uncomfortable the whole mask situation may have been… but now his facial scar that he cannot hide anywhere (unlike Azriel’s hands) is just in full view for anyone who looks at him. I think there is no question about it. He must be self conscious about it, especially since he thinks Elain is the most beautiful female he has ever seen and she doesn’t reciprocate anything yet. People have been writing about it here on tumblr recently but I really hope SJM explores Lucien’s character from this perspective too. I assume he must feel very inadequate compared to Elain. She has so much (family, friends, connected to the IC, safety and security, beauty, etc.), whereas Lucien refers to himself as a whole lot of nothing. He doesn’t have a home or even a court, he’s basically all alone in the fae world, his closest allies are two humans who so far don’t have much power or influence in Prythian. I assume he is probably also unhappy with his looks after such a traumatic experience. I hope SJM explores this, I think that would be a really cool addition to Elucien’s healing journey. Even though Lucien is quite snarky and cocky outwardly, his inner monologue seems very self conscious. Ahhh SJM give us the angstttttt

I AGREE!!!!!! I think while there are sincere aspects of Lucien's personality that are (hahaha, I just accidentally typed snocky which was my brain getting confused on whether I wanted to type snarky or cocky first) snarky and cocky, I also feel it's a default mechanism too. Lucien is known to take care in his appearance and he is aware of appearances. Even in book once he was a bit of a fashionista, commenting on how Feyre's tunic wasn't as pretty as a dress and being amazed at how positively fae she looked when she did finally put one on. There's also this: Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this" - he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-" surely we're not so miserable to look at. Lucien must be constantly aware of others looking at him and I'm guessing he's never sure if it's about the eye or if his scars are unappealing to them. For someone who does care about appearances, whose job it is to talk to High Lords and make friends to be a successful emissary, there is definitely an inner discomfort he's trying to brush off through his nonchalance and jokes about his appearance. I think you're right. Elain is beautiful to the point that people talk. Eris somehow heard across courts that Lucien's mate is a real beauty. She had heiresses jealous of her at barely thirteen. Her mother commented that if her beauty held, she'd be able to secure them a decent match on the marriage market (Elain was 11). So Lucien comes along and not only is he given this super special, sacred bond with her but she turns out to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen all while knowing that she's in love with someone else. And there he is, with no home, no family name, a scar running down his face and one eye. I would take Lucien in a second and we know that many in the ACOTAR world reference his good looks but you can see how he would struggle with his appearance. You can see how Elain literally took his breath away and she did not seem effected by him (I imagine we'll find out that wasn't the truth in her POV but it's how he perceived it at the time). He thinks she doesn't want him or need him and I definitely think we're going to find that he's been feeling very insecure about her perception of his physical appearance.

#lucien vanserra #pro elucien #pro lucien vanserra #elucien

[justwritedreams]

Whatever it takes | San

San x Reader, forbidden love au!

Genre: drama, fluff

Word count: 1.317

Warnings: cheating but it's a fake marriage so it's ok 😃

Author: Maari

Note: This is totally inspired by the Turkish series Kara Sevda so if you think San exudes Kemal, we're in this together. Something small for my inspiration to come back soon 🫡

Summary: Whatever it takes for endless love, including stolen moments.

Taglist: @foxinnie8

⪢ Ateez Masterlist

Y/N took a deep breath as her eyes adjusted to the vast darkness of the room she was in, her legs were shaking with anxiety and her hands were freezing from the cold of the intense winter that night, but she couldn't help but admire the city below. It was so late and yet the city hadn't stopped yet, as well as the fine snow that was falling.

She was exiled at her best friend's house, who had a last-minute emergency and wouldn't be returning home that day - the responsibility of being a doctor -, perhaps exiled wasn't just the only word that defined her current situation.

The ring on her left hand burned her cold hand, that was how she felt every time she left the house, it seemed like the ring was pulling her back to her sad reality as if it were a chain.

Helpless and completely sad, she imagined she smelled a familiar yet distant scent. It was difficult to control all the anguish in her chest at the same time that she missed the dark eyes admiring her as if she were the most perfect work of art.

She hugged herself as the cold took over her even more, but it didn't last that long. Y/N felt strong arms wrap around her waist and she closed her eyes as she recognized the hug, her lip curling into an almost imperceptible smirk.

She felt his chin rest on her shoulder and she no longer had any doubts that this was real, not a dream like she was having every night she slept in her tower. That's why she placed her hands on his strong arm and let herself be hugged, until she felt like she was losing herself in the warmth of the body of the person she needed most at that moment.

“I should have already guessed.” she whispered, breaking the liberating silence.

“I needed to see you.” San's soft voice was close enough to her face that it made her body shiver.

She sighed and with a lot of effort, she broke the hug so she could turn around and face him.

Even with the lack of light, she was able to observe his every feature. The same ones that wandered through her dreams and daydreams, that accompanied her on her saddest days.

He was more beautiful every day. Irresistible, in fact.

“You know it’s dangerous.” she remembered and San put his thumb to her mouth, to shut her up.

He looked as sad as she did, because a few minutes like that wouldn't be enough to satisfy all the missing they felt for each other and they both knew it, but that was all they had left. For now.

“I can’t live like this, away from you.” Y/N felt her eyes water because for her it was equally difficult and she felt useless because she had nothing to do, she wanted to change that situation more than anyone. But it was so risky. “I can't sleep knowing you're living in the same house as that psychopath.”

It was Y/N's turn to make San shut up.

That night she didn't want to remember her reality, she didn't want to remember the family she had tried to help but had sacrificed instead, the false image she had to convey to the world or the husband obsessed with her who would never have a drop of her love.

She had a miserable life that suffocated her every day.

When she was with San, she just wanted to feel.

Feel that she was still the same girl who fell in love with the most fantastic man in the world, feel that teenager invincibility that everything could be fought with the love she felt for him, feel how much he loved her back with just a look.

Y/N caressed his face slowly, watching him calm down at the touch.

“Make me forget everything, San.” she begged softly, looking him in the eyes. “The way only you know how to do it.”

She didn't need to ask twice.

San took his hand to the back of her head and brought her face closer, sealing their lips so quickly that it bordered on desperation and in fact it was exactly that.

They didn't know how many days had passed since the last time they were together, for so many reasons, but they felt as if it was an eternity that evaporated in the same moment that their warm lips met again.

They closed their eyes as they satisfied the desire to stop with the distance imposed on them, their lips, already very familiar with each other, had the only job of moving slowly and intensely.

Y/N put her hands on San's arms as he pulled her closer, bringing their bodies together in a way that no force in the world could separate.

She sighed into the kiss, feeling her heart beating so fast that it could easily jump out of her body, but if she had only one request in life, it would be that one. Die in his arms.

That was her home. It was where she belonged.

And everything was much better when she realized that it was reciprocal.

That endless and genuine love. That's how she felt around him.

As if only with him she was herself.

Everything became a little faster when her hands went up to his shoulders and their tongues followed a familiar path. It wasn't the first time they kissed and never the last but it was as if it were, all those sensations were exactly just like the first time so long ago that they didn't even remember what they were like but they would never forget what it was like to be together.

Nothing would have ended, quite the contrary, San had already pressed her against the wall so that his body was pressed against hers when the phone rang shrill, causing their kiss to be quickly broken.

Y/N stared at San with heavy breathing, still a little dizzy as he looked like he wanted to throw the phone out the window and neither of them had the courage to get out of there and release the heat.

He held her face with both hands, making her face him firmly and intensely, he was holding himself back from kissing her red mouth again, but he wanted her to feel safe.

“I’m going to undo this nightmare and we’re going to run far away from here.” he promised and she smiled, excited. “It’ll just be you and me. As it should have been in the beginning.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” She placed her hands on top of his and he looked at her completely in love.

“I won’t be the one hurt this time.” he responded with determination and she knew exactly who he was referring to.

His archenemy and husband only in Y/N's role.

"I trust you." She caressed his hand in a simple affection, making him smile even with his serious expression.

“Trust us.”

She nodded and before she could wrap San in a hug, the phone rang again. She snorted and faced San, she knew she had to answer but she didn't want all that good feeling she was feeling to leave so soon.

San kissed her forehead quickly and pulled her by the hand to go to the phone, she looked at him before he put the call on speaker.

“Where are you, my wife?”

Y/N saw San set his jaw and stare at the phone angrily.

"In hell." she replied rudely.

“Great, that means you’re on your way home. I’ll see you later then.”

She rolled her eyes and hung up the phone, running her hand over her face, completely tired of it.

But if it depended on San, hell would soon pass.

#san x reader #san fluff #san fanfic #san imagines #san scenarios #choi san fanfic #choi san scenarios #choi san imagines #choi san x y/n #choi san x reader #san x y/n #san x you #ateez x you #ateez imagine #ateez scenarios #ateez scenario #ateez soft hours #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez x y/n #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop x y/n #kpop x you #maari

[smytherines]

Tiktok doesn't properly embed here, but if y'all haven't seen the Curt Mega scene study tiktok for Spy Again... you need to. Just. It kills me how much respect he has for this character.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLmasdPQ/

Also part two when?? The video ends before it gets to the big Owen lines that are most interesting to me, because other than A1P1 they're the only real indication in the show of what their relationship was like. That there was care and concern and genuine affection there.

And the way those lines are sung in the show is just heartbreaking, which makes you invest in this relationship before you even know the full extent of it. The staircase scene hits as hard as it does because the show gets you to buy into Curt's grief during Spy Again. Its an absolutely pivotal moment for understanding this character

I think the especially interesting bit is this:

"Owen, please if you could see what's become of me what would you think?

If a spy is a spy and I once was a spy, I think you'd want me to spy, again.

You'd put this drink down, turn my life around"

And of course:

"Owen would want me to do this, so I know that I'll get through it"

Spy Again is so interesting to me because for the rest of the show, Curt barely says Owen's name. I think he says it once when he's telling Tatiana, then the two flashbacks. He doesn't say it at all after the DMA reveal. He has so much grief around Owen's death, but (at least until Tatiana) can only really feel that grief privately

This is, I think, also the only moment in the show where Curt acknowledges the active role he played in Owen's death with "Doesn't even matter if I killed my best friend," because every other instance (except obviously his harmony in Torture Tango) he uses passive language, like I think what he says to Tatiana is "watched as my... partner was killed right in front of me."

And that's the conflict of the song. He wants to be the person he was before, but he's carrying around so much grief and guilt that he has to rationalize his desire to move on as something Owen would want for him. And in any other circumstance that would probably be true. That's what makes it so tragic.

I dunno, I'm probably just a little weirdo. I grew up in community theatre so scene studies and character studies are like catnip to me. I mean 90% of what I do on this website is just rant endlessly about plot and character minutiae, but I find that shit fascinating. I really enjoy getting to see the choices actors make, and especially finding out why.

Anyways its good, you should watch it

#spies are forever #spy another day #tin can bros #agent curt mega #saf #tcb #curtwen #owen carvour

[nightmarist]

my mad ravings about raphael, gortash, the crown, mephistopheles, orpheus, the emperor....... everything......

vlaakith originally tried and failed to make a pact with dispater, ruler of the second hell called dis, but it didn't go well. instead she had mother gith go instead and gith was captured by tiamat, supposedly imprisoned in dis, and tiamat gave vlaakith red dragons.

vlaakith (well, voss actually) bested orpheus and orpheus became imprisoned by infernal chains.

there's no real timeline for the gith and mindflayers and the like, it's pretty much Older Than Nigh Anything Else in dnd lore.

that said, i wonder how early raphael made the orphic hammer. we dont Really know how old he is, at the very least hes 1500~2000 years old if we go by the fact he Saw netheril fall. its Called the orphic hammer and his note says it can break any infernal chain, but it's very obviously made for Orpheus himself. I wonder when raphael had it made, how many chess pieces ahead he saw, or if he was able to get it forged in the short timeline of the Absolute cult's ascension.

At some point, whether he knew it would be Gortash or not that would lead to the Crown in his hands, he had "a warlock" (Korrilla I assume) buy Gortash as a child to serve as his personal servent, severely abuse him, make him live in the dungeons tortured by Nubaldin, and thus likely how Gortash learned to speak and talk the way he does - his outfit even looks like it has the same aesthetic as the House of Hope.

And from there through association with Raphael, directly or indirectly, a "misplaced" note or an overheard whisper Gortash could have learned about the Crown of Karsus enough to try and take it for himself. It's Power but it's also Power that Raphael wants very badly. What better than to steal the one thing your warden wants that would happen to give you power over even him?

Mephistopheles had the "Accelerated Grand Design" plans in his vault that just so happened to be next to the Crown of Karsus, where Gortash just so happened to see.

The Accelerated Grand Design (AGD) was written by a "mad alhoon" according to Gortash, which is a type of Illithid Lich.

I wonder if Raphael had any particular curation involved with Mephisto's vault, especially as his son - the Canian archives probably wouldn't bat an eye at the son of their Archdevil who has a penchant for theatrics and an eye for art and presentation ordering certain things be put in certain places.

So Gortash re-establishes the cult of Bane, then he happens upon the Bhaal cult led by Durge. They exchange letters and plan to heist the Crown together, obtaining the AGD as well.

After the heist, they are given dreams of being Bhaal and Bane's Chosen and need to find Myrkul's Chosen.

Upon finding Ketheric, they learn Moonrise Towers has a mindflayer colony inside of it (which is where the Emperor was tadpoled). Gortash realizes he can make the AGD.

After making use of the AGD Gortash just so happened to have a dream about gith being in the way of his plans, and that dream was enough to push him to research the gith to find out about the Astral Prism.

I wonder if the dream was sent by the Emperor, who had broken free before but at the same time was still under the Elder brain's control at this time. I don't think Raphael is one to send prophetic dreams, I feel like his choice of theatrics is much more obvious, and his choice of chess-play is much more subtle.

That dream led Gortash to send the Emperor on its quest to the Nautiloid to find the Artifact, which was then learned about by Viconia and the Sharrans who were researching the Absolute cult.

Thus, Shadowheart was also sent to the Nautiloid where she obtained the artefact with the Emperor and thus Orpheus in it.

Orpheus of course being key to the ruination of the Absolute via Raphael producing the Orphic Hammer to free him, which would allow him to acquire of the Crown of Karsus after likely gently guiding Gortash unknowingly into using the Crown to create a Netherbrain as per the Accelerated Grand Design being next to the Crown in the Vault.

As far as I'm aware (I haven't found notes or dialogue about it), Gortash didn't have an actual Plan for the Crown, which makes me think he wanted it for a) power in general, and b) to piss off Raphael.

There's quite a lot in the middle I don't think Raphael himself made happen, but I'm sure he was giddy with excitement to see everything was leading to the Crown being taken to the Material Plane and thus closer to his claws, and all he has to do is find a way to corner the happenstance adventurers who are holding the Astral Prism a way to defeat the Brain: Orpheus. From the Orphic Hammer he personally commissioned.

Mephistopheles doesn't seem to bother doing anything about the Crown. Usually, Meph is plotting how to rule other places, take over Baator/The Hells, and the like. Granted, he did send Haarlep to "distract" and spy on Raphael, who of course showed interest in the Crown and possibly was known by his father to want to be Archdevil Supreme (and perhaps.... learned to wan that sort of thing from Mephistopheles,and ironically passed on similar to Gortash while "raising" him)

It is noted that Meph gets obsessive with a particular fixation, so the Crown could have been something he didn't care about at the moment versus Raphael's obsession with it.

Also, I like the irony that Raph basically has the same obsessive attitude Meph does, a cool and collected facade hiding a wildly vitriolic and vengeful personality.

The Crown is very powerful, but it could also be that Meph wouldn't care what mortals would do with it as long as it doesn't mess with him. Or, potentially, if BG3 considers Neverwinter Nights canons, Meph in potential endings for it means he could have been banished to stay in Cania or otherwise banished from stepping foot on Toril (and thus Faerun).

#i feel insane. i needed to figure out the general timeline for myself and how far back raphael's influence might have been #bg3 #bg3 meta #gortash #raphael #the dark urge

[your-eternal-lies]

_  YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME (chapter eight)

Main Navigation || Series Masterlist Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

Pairing — Steve Rogers x f!Reader Summary — As his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the Captain. Getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.

Warnings — None.

YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME

CHAPTER EIGHT THE SMALLEST OF GIFTS

Time seems to slow to a crawl in the steel cocoon of the elevator, but Steve finds a sense of tranquility as he keeps vigil over your sleep. 

He’d been through wars, seen the best and worst of humanity, yet nothing’s prepared him for the quiet upheaval that came with caring for someone in such a simple and unguarded way. 

There’s a promise forming within him, unspoken but resolute, vowing to bridge the gap between your brief encounter here and the uncertain expanse of the real world beyond. Even he, in his infinite attempts at denial, knows he needs to find a way to make this connection endure, to weave the thread of this shared experience into the fabric of your everyday lives. 

But life, much like you, has a way of surprising him when he least expected it. 

With a soft sigh, you stir in his arms, your body shifting ever so slightly as consciousness begins to seep back into your features. Your eyelids flutter, revealing sleepy eyes that blink up at him, still hazy from dreams. 

A smile spreads across Steve’s face, one that reaches deep into his eyes, crinkling their corners with genuine delight. 

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmurs, the affection in his voice wrapped in a playful tease. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” 

Your eyes go wide with shock, and just as you’re about to leap back in surprise, his arm tightens around you, the motion almost instinctual. 

Something shifts inside him then, like the tectonic plates of his very soul rearranging themselves to accommodate the seismic event that is you. 

He pictures you waking just like this in a bedroom with linen sheets, the sun streaming in through a nearby window, looking up at him with a sleepy smile. 

He imagines introducing you to the Avengers, his friends, all the banter and jokes at his expense, and the looks of surprise when they would see this unassuming woman who’s captured his attention. 

It’s not lost on him, the absurdity of contemplating a future with someone he’s only known a few hours, but he can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s significance in this chance encounter. 

Warmth seems to grow with each passing minute with the fantasy, feeding a fire that sparks unexpectedly in his heart. 

Suddenly, thoughts of the world outside that demands Captain America disappear, the weight of his shield feels distant, and he begins to truly appreciate a very peculiar kind of magic at play. 

“Steve?” You whisper, your breath fanning across his cheek. He only holds you tighter in response, moving achingly slow as he places his chin on top of your head, allowing you to find purchase against his chest. 

He closes his eyes, his lungs seem unable to draw in enough breath, no matter how deeply he breathes. 

Because, for the first time in years, Steve dreams for something beyond a hero’s call—a shared future, unpredictable and thrilling in moments of vulnerability and laughter. 

“Never thought I’d get cozy with Steve Rogers in an elevator,” you mumble, heart in your throat. 

You shift, your leg brushing against his as you settle further into his chest. The contact is electric, sparking a connection that surges through your veins, setting every nerve ending on alert. 

At any other time, in any other place, you might have straightened up, put distance between you out of respect for personal boundaries. But here, the rules of engagement seem rewritten by an unseen hand. 

“Am I heavy?” You ask, though what you really want to ask is whether he can feel the racing of your heart, or if he knows just how much this moment means to you. 

“Not even a little,” he assures, his tone light. “Are you comfortable?” 

“Never better,” you whisper, watching the fabric of his t-shirt ripple under your breath. “You make a surprisingly good pillow, Rogers.” 

“Happy to be of service,” he pulls back just a little, so that you can stare into his handsome face. The close quarters strip away his larger-than-life persona, leaving behind just a man—Steve, who is so much more than just a caricature of red, white, and blue. 

It’s a peculiar thing, you muse, how a simple twist of fate can pivot your entire existence. A malfunctioning elevator has become a crucible, forging a bond that feels almost as strong as vibranium, yet as delicate as the silence that envelopes you. 

Your heart swells with a mixture of joy and uncertainty in his arms. You wonder if you’re just running on borrowed time, if this newfound intimacy is just a result of adrenaline and forced proximity, that maybe the doors would open eventually and reality would come flooding back in. 

But you cling to hope that this is just the beginning. Steve gives you a small smile in the darkness, the weight of his arm around your waist reassuring as you realize you don’t just want more moments like these; you need them. 

Taking advantage of your closeness, you carefully study his face: the slope of his nose, the spots of freckles that you hadn’t noticed before, and the curve of his lips, like a cartographer charting out the contours of newly discovered land. 

For now, you allow yourself the luxury of believing it’s possible—that someone as magnificent and lovely as Steve Rogers could feel for you even a fraction of what you feel right now. 

“Steve?” You say his name again, your voice barely audible, a whisper against the quiet thrumming of the lift. 

“Yes?” And when he says yours in return, you fall in love a little with the way it sounds. 

“Promise me something?” 

“Anything.” 

“That… we’ll go get your coffee after this,” you lean back against his shoulder, keeping your voice light, but there’s a seriousness in your tone that you can’t hide. “I need to make sure you’re not just a figment of my caffeine-deprived imagination.”

“Cross my heart.”

« Chapter 7 || Chapter 9 »

Taglist — My taglist has been discontinued. Please follow @your-eternal-library and turn on notifications for all my fanfiction updates.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers fluff #summer’s fics

[gege-wondering-around]

Characters talking about Derek

What I mean by this is when sometimes, throughout the show, someone said something almost unnotible or that almost no one would really give much tought about Derek, but nothing rude or bad, just some 'complimentes' you might say.

Satomi

Like in 4x7, during the virus outbreak and Satomi is in the hospital with Derek, Deaton and Melissa.

Sorry, I just noticed how much you remind me of Talia

She said this while looking at Derek, and he looked down for a second.

Maybe she saw something in him, not only the resemblances with his mother, maybe she saw Talia's morals and values is Derek before he did himself or anyone else. Maybe she meant Derek could be like his mother: someone you can got for advice and guidance, someone you can rely onto but that will hold you accountable.

And maybe Derek looked down cause he would never think of himself that way, he would never see how much of his mother he has inherited (and not his beauty or stuff like that) and how much potential he's holding within himself, but Satomi sees it and can't help but smile and be a bit sad. Smile because there'll be someone like Talia - guidance, relyable, strong and respected - and sad cause Talia isn't there anymore and because Derek never really got the change to learn a lot from her.

Yet Satomi complimented him kindly, hoping he would eventually be somehow like his mother.

Chris

In season 6B, when he's asked if he 'believes in werewolves' as if they are legends, he says this:

I believe in Derek Hale

which might just be a way to reintroduce his character in the show, but let's give it some depth.

Chris have seen Derek go from 'bad' to good guy, and he also knows (if I remeber correctly) that Derek 'goes around bringing justice' - let's put it like that.

Chris is not a man to believe in legends and superstitions, that's why he believes in Derek. He's very much real and maybe to Chris, Derek is someone who knows justice (and before anyone says something, everyone has different views of it, I know) and who actually does something to ensure it in the world, even if just in a small part of it.

Derek gives his life at risk to ensure other's justice and put himself up as a jury and decides the verdict. And maybe Chris sees in this someone worth believing in, deserving to be believed and not as a legend, but as someone who does something.

Noah

Of course I have to put what the sheriff says about Derek in the movie.

I have never seen anyone take the kind of punishment that Derek Hale took… And kept taking… In order to protect the people he loved.

Maybe Noah sees half of what Chris sees but also someone who knows love and sacrifice, not only justice and maybe even revenge.

To the sheriff, Derek is someone willing to risk his life endlessly to save those he loves, arriving to the point that he completely sacrifice himself and dies.

He loves his people, he does it with his whole heart and Noah knows it, he knows Derek Hale, who lost everything time and time again, would give up his life and did it to save other people, leaving his son behind to save him (along with others too).

Noah knows Derek's heart, how resilient it is and how much love it holds.

Stiles

So, Stiles had not really 'complimented' Derek, he was more 'protective' of him.

"I have given a lot of benetifs to a lot of people" "Like Derek?" Scott & Stiles

Stiles freezes for a second, he did give Derek the benefit of the doubt and he had to fight to prove he wasn't the bad guy, he never really saw Derek as someone 'completely evil'.

To Stiles, Derek is just another person who went through shit and had to deal with it on his own, he knows Derek isn't evil, he knows it by heart cause he trusts him with proof, Derek's worthy of trust to Stiles' eyes while Scott gives his trust to everyone regardless of them deserving it.

"Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?" "I did handcuff him to a radiator, why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?" Chris & Stiles

Stiles stands by Derek's side and doesn't accept the hunter's way of handling things - even if isn't aware that Chris didn't do it - and say it straight in his face. Stiles sees the cruelty Derek had to endure, not simply cause he lost his family, but also because the hunters trapped them and burned them alive.

Stiles doesn't agree with such cruelty and anger, he understands Derek somehow, they both lost some family memebers and since the whole Hale family's death wasn't necessary to Stiles' eyes, he's angry for Derek.

Also, even if in this Stiles didn't say anything, he did something very meaningful:

He didn't have to say anything, while everyone went to Boyd's body, he went to Derek. He knew Derek didn't want to do that and felt guilty for his death despite he was forced to do it. Stiles choose Derek.

Stiles saw Boyd's body and Derek staying still, and decided to comfort Derek, standing by his side and 'grounding' him.

But then we also have when Stiles' jeep broke down in Mexico.

BRAEDEN: Scott, we need to get there by night. It's too dangerous, otherwise. STILES: Go. SCOTT: Not without you! STILES: Dude, someone needs to find Derek. We'll figure something out. We always do. STILES: Just go.

What I want to say here is that Stiles won't give up on Derek nor the jeep and he risk it all for both, somehow he does while caring for Derek, pushing the others to go and find him before it's too late.

So, at the end, what I want to say is:

All these characters talked of Derek as someone worthy of trust, who know justice, love and sacrifice, someone not everyone understand but that those who does knows he's a good person despite everything that happened to him. Because think about it, after all this man went through, he was still kind and still cared for others - in his own way.

(and before someone might think 'you are saying so much about Stiles because you ship Sterek or anything similiar. Yes, I'm a sterek shipper, but right now I'm not asking you to see Sterek in this, I'm asking you to read this objectivly, cause I believe you don't have to ship Sterek to see how Stiles and Derek both cared for each other and how Stiles was probably the one who risked the most to protect/save Derek whenever it was needed and how Derek did the same)

Addiction:

This is my personal opinion (which doesn't directly attaches to Teen Wolf, but I think it fits and could be helpful).

Many people don't talk enough about the people they find... good.

When you see somehow doing the right thing, maybe help along and share how good it is to see somehow still being kind in a world that, if you look closely, it's very cruel for no reason.

Whe you think someone is a good person, please tell them. Please. they might think they aren't cause they made a mistake you aren't even aware of but maybe your little 'ehi, you're a good one' could bright their day and make them more confident and overall, you both would be better persons.

Please, be kind reasonless.

Tell that person you agree with them, tell them you like their dress or makeup, tell them you think their opinion is good and maybe even have a conversation about it, just strangers talking (but still, be careful).

We underestimate the power of words when it comes to love, kindness, respect... we think of 'powerful words' when we think something bad, that why sometimes we think 'that's such a bad thing to think/say'. But whenever it's something lovely or kind, that could bust up someone's day, confidence, self-respect and self-love, we stay quiet, we don't even think of saying it most of the time.

So, please, BE KIND REASONLESS AND REGARDLESS. BE KIND JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN.

If you came this far, thank you for reading my 'kind of' TEDTalk I guess. I hope you'll excuse my grammar and whatever errors might be in this.

#teen wolf #my thougts #derek x stiles #derek hale #sterek #stiles stilinksi #the sheriff #noah stilinski #satomi ito #talia hale #be kind #be kind reasonless #chris argent

[fatespalm]

solemn vow to never be complacent or meek around things i feel strongly about again — to at least start the conversation even if i don’t have the words to talk back exactly to a poisonous idea — in kind, to pick up the thread if someone else does the same — tired of letting evil shit unfold —

#honestly this mostly only happens because of my disability which. i've been dreaming/reading about navigating that in ways feel better #or else because im scared of violence as a trans woman but i’m sick of fear of violence making me passive #rarely because i got scared in the crosshairs of financial insecurity and feared losing work #but that is what im parsing this time and very determined not to let that happen ever again #cuz like. having the supposed 'non-action' of passivity even available to you is a privilege of whiteness #in this case it was taking a creative-side gig on a play that felt very clear the playwright had given very little if any consideration #to nonwhite perspectives like clearly by a white person thinking about a white audience kinda liberal politics #and i took it bc my friend's mentor was directing and she put us in touch and spoke highly of him #and she's indigenous and very willing to call out white bullshit so i had some hope/trust that he would push it more #and he........ did at least cast a latino actor in the one role that would have made the play horrifically racist #if it had been cast as a white person but that felt like doing the absolute least to me #im still very much figuring this world out #understanding the ethics of theater work and im glad i did this in that regard #cuz like. i didn't fully realize that my only real chance to make a creative + ethical statement was right out the gate in accepting the gi #as an SM like... there's really no other chance to have an opinion so i should not take work if the script doesn't align w my ethics #and use that rejection as a chance to make it clear what's fucked up #...if i even ever SM again that was the most stressful gig i've ever done and i didn't even get paid for it. fuck #sorry for writing half the post in the tags. if ur reading this ur too close >O< jk haaiiii thx for reading my diary #very much a 'i am thinking through these concepts still and ur welcome to share ur thoughts on them' kinda post

[screamingay]

god that was an awful shift i hate how corporate let us hire more people and then as soon as we put them on the schedule they decided having one more minimum wage server per day (for first shift only!!!) was too much for The Budget. i had to bargain to get someone else to come in today and help me out and it was STILL hell.. rant incoming in the tags

#we're back to 2 ppl on first shift but the new guy cant actually handle floor or dishes on his own so it's basically 1 person #plus someone following behind them to help a bit #apparently they used to have disabled workers as 'interns' just gettimg unpaid experience which is awful but at least #it meant they could actually schedule 2 other people. but i guess they got shit for not paying disabled workers #which i get. but since this new guy makes minimum wage too it means they wont let us schedule another person for first shift #which we desperately need when it's just like. me and him. in an ideal world he would be paid and getting work experience and there would #still be enough people to do the job fully #also all morning i was so scared the safety inspector would pop in bc i was told he would be. so i double checked all the possible hazards #before we opened and he literally stepped into the dining room. took a picture of it on a digital camera. then left #he didnt even come in the kitchen!! christ #but i was still stressed after that and all through lunch bc now residents' families can come in and eat like they used to before covid #and we had 2 of them today and if we fuck it up for them they can complain to corporate and im not used to running a real restaurant!! #we have to act like it's a real restaurant even tho we arent given the same resources or allowances and it's so frustrating #tbh today wouldve been 10 times easier with any other cook bc we had the fucking worst one here today. she gets frustrated when anyone asks #her for anything and she goes on rants about how bad all the other cooks are and she puts WAY too much strain on the dishwasher #using unnecessary dishes and making them wash things she could just rinse herself in the back. AND she's always telling me how to do by job #my job #and what i should do differently! it's distracting!! and makes everything harder bc she will fr just make up rules and treat u like shit if #u ignore her and do it the easier or better way #her home life sucks and she takes it out on all of us all the time. get a divorce and move to the city like you really want #it'll make everyone so much happier #(including you) #i need a new job so bad i get paid nothing to do like 4 jobs at once and im always on a time crunch and it's been absolutely killing my bac #and shoulders and feet #and joie de vivre lmao #if i get a new reliable car soon i could probably make more driving for fucking grubhub #i didnt even eat at work today. almost 8 hours straight of running my ass around the kitchen in my Shoes For Crews black sneakers #and i ate literally One piece of french toast at the very beginning #plus i came in already sick of everything bc the stupid parking garage app i have to use now malfunctioned and wouldnt let me out #bc it didnt have my entrance to the garage last night logged for some reason

[tossawary]

Listening to someone else watch the original ATLA again, just starting season 3, and there's this line where Aang suggests that it didn't just look like he died, but he DID actually die and Katara brought him back. And look, I don't know much about the lore introduced by TLOK, but this sounds like a really fun place to start an AU inspired by "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"'s take on the temporary death and resurrection of a cyclical chosen one: Aang is brought back to life and is STILL the Avatar, but his temporary death still also causes another Avatar to be born into the Southern Water Tribe (or Swamp People or refugees on some southern island, whatever).

Like, I know the Avatar is a reincarnation thing, but weird things can happen with spirits! Maybe this glitch in the cycle causes the spiritual equivalent of mitosis to happen to the Avatar and the spirit attached to them, so there's just two of them now! Maybe having two Avatars has some spiritual downsides, maybe not, it's up to whatever path you choose to explore in this AU.

I just think it would be really funny for post-canon 21yo Aang (and the Gaang and the White Lotus and all the spiritual / religious orders on the planet) to suddenly be confronted with a 10yo water tribe kid who is ALSO the Avatar.

A water tribe couple shuffle awkwardly up to Sokka, like, "Sooooo... we think our 10 year old daughter might be the Avatar...? She can, uh, bend all the elements and all that. Look at this shit." And Sokka is like, "Fuck, Aang is dead?!" Before he's like, "Wait, I saw Aang last week, this kid is way too old?!" And he has to hastily contact Aang like, "Hey, buddy, you're still alive, right?" And Aang can only reply, "Uhhh, last I checked, yes?!?!"

It's probably Sokka and Katara who put the pieces of the timeline together and figure out what caused this, because all of the other Avatars are probably initially like, "Yeah, I have no idea what's happening here. I'm you and you're me, but I'm also her and she's also me, and you and her are kind of the same person, but you're obviously different people now? Wow! Good luck figuring all that out, kid! You're really going places none of us have gone before! A real groundbreaker!"

Aang, through gritted teeth, "I am really not TRYING to do that, thank you!"

#tossawary atla #fic ideas #spoilers #aang #korra #sokka #katara #character death

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.

MASTERLIST | Next ->

“I don’t like this.” 

“Believe me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and I’ve pushed back as much as I can. They’re convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.” 

He wants to protest, but he’s been protesting this idea for three months. “What more can you tell me about her?” 

“Not much that isn’t already in her file.” Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but that’s not a conversation to be held over the phone. “She’s quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.” 

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago. 

He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. She’s cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. She’s young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink. 

He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. She’s been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didn’t care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her. 

“Christ.” He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting. 

As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, now he’s going to have an omega under his care. 

He hasn’t considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long. 

His team didn’t need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic. 

Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not. 

He can’t help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omega’s photo. They’d be here in a week. She’d be flying with Laswell to London where she’d be given a few days to adjust before they’d fly in here and she’ll be left with her new pack. 

Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week. 

You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. They’re all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you don’t understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you can’t convert meters to feet in your head. 

You’re tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath. 

“I know.” Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-” 

“Classified?” You finish for her. 

Kate smiles. “Exactly. It’s mostly for your safety. The less you know...” 

The less there is to make you a target. 

You’d been given that speech before you left D.C. You’d been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the director’s office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadn’t been any different than the other interviews you’d done before, except that you were chosen this time. 

What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadn’t really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going. 

“You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” Kate continues, something you’ve been told over and over again during your briefings. “They’re all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle them.” 

You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasn’t an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasn’t a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasn’t unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal. 

That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military. 

That, and the excuse for violence. 

Omegas weren’t allowed to enlist, omegas weren’t allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldn’t have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented. 

In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you. 

“How do you feel?” Kate asks, looking you over. You’ve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks you’ve spent together. 

“Tired.” You run a hand across your face. 

“The time difference will do that to you.” Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. “Not to mention everything else.” Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. “I have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way back.”��

You look nervous. 

He can’t blame you. He’d felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as he’d finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesn’t often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly. 

This is different, though. This isn’t a soldier he’s greeting, this is an omega. 

His omega. 

As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark you’d wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. You’re not another member of his team, you’re not even a soldier. You’re just a poor civilian that’s been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy. 

“Captain Price.” Laswell greets him, shaking his hand. 

He greets her back, but he can’t help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. You’re small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly. 

He doesn’t even want to think about that. 

Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadn’t had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say, shaking his hand. It’s small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy. 

“The pleasure is mine.” He says, releasing your hand. 

You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a moment’s notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. You’re on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed. 

“I’ll show you around and let you get settled.” He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. “You and I have some things to discuss.” 

You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141’s home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gaz’s, with Soap and Ghost on the other side. 

He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. There’s four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that they’d slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents. 

“The lads are still running a simulation, but they’ll be done within the hour.” He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. “We’ll let you get settled in and I’ll come get you when they’re ready.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say.

Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. You’d likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months you’ll have bonded with her just a bit. 

Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. He’d left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about. 

“So.” Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. “What can you really tell me about her?” 

Laswell gives him a knowing look. “The CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isn’t how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.” 

Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went. 

“They had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.” Laswell continues. “But, you know omegas aren’t cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.” 

“What sort of hesitations?” He asks. 

“You saw those scores, John. She’s a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.” 

Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right. 

Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. “She’d get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.” There’s something hidden in Laswell’s words, his mind filing that away for later. “I need someone I can trust with her. She’s smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that won’t take advantage of her.” 

“It sounds like you’ve grown rather fond of her.” He says, flipping open the first page of the file. It’s the CIA’s data on her, everything they’d done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega. 

“Like I said, I’m the one that picked her for your team.” Laswell leans forward against his desk. “She knows what she’s in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. She’ll let you mark her, no questions asked because that’s what she’s been told to do. She’s obedient, John, almost to a fault.”

“That could be dangerous.” Price says. 

“Yes, it could.” Laswell says. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.” 

Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswell’s words aren’t lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.

“Take care of her, John.” Laswell says. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you.” 

He hasn’t failed her yet. 

Your body is tingling. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or something else. You haven’t been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. He’s a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked. 

The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. There’s extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. There’s four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.

You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. They’re all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldn’t have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags. 

Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment. 

You’re breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Price’s. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Price’s. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You can’t pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent. 

You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Price’s. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. There’s something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you can’t pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk. 

One more to go. 

You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk. 

This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. There’s a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible. 

Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasn’t hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane. 

“Coming, Si?” 

Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment you’re afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard it’s pounding. Steps recede from your door and you don’t breathe until they’ve disappeared. 

You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You don’t have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You don’t even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. There’s towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. They’re all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute. 

Nothing that could dampen your natural scent. 

You almost don’t hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasn’t Price? What if it wasn’t anyone from your new pack? 

“Just me.” Price’s voice comes through the door. 

Of course he would notice your hesitation. He’s a trained soldier, he’s always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly. 

Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that you’re attune to it. “They’re ready, if you are.” He says. 

You nod. “Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like you had much of a choice to say no. 

You slip out the door, closing it behind you. You’d ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. You’re not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back. 

“I thought we’d do it in a meeting room.” Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. “Somewhere neutral.” 

It’s smart, it’ll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression. 

Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. “Ready?” 

Not really, but you wouldn’t dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “Yes, sir.” 

Price opens the door, stepping in first. You’re glad for the few moments you’re hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it. 

You can hold power over them. 

The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. “The Powerful Omega”, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to. 

You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but you’re not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.

Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. He’s tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile. 

Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. “Good to meet ya, lass.” He greets you, giving you a charming smile. He’s going to push your boundaries, you can tell. 

You’re beginning to see the dynamics already. 

“And Ghost.” Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place you’ve been avoiding since you walked in. 

All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. You’re not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha. 

Price’s hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. “Come on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.”  

Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if they’d read your file. There’s not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs. 

“What about your family?” Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. “Do you still talk to them?” 

You shake your head. “Not for a few years. Institutes don’t really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.” 

“Your father was a Marine, correct?” Price, even though they already know the answer. 

You nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“You lived on base?” He asks. 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.” 

“When did you get sent to the Institute?” He asks, almost regretting answering it. 

It’s a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. “The day after I presented.” You say. 

The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gaz’s eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well. 

“My father was a traditionalist alpha.” You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. “It was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.” You explain. “It was my dad’s status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.” 

“What was it like, in the institute?” Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent. 

You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. “Not unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.” 

“Your test scores were high.” Price remarks. 

You shrug. “I’m a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I don’t really have to think much about it.” 

“Did you really kneel for two hours straight?” Gaz asks. 

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I don’t know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldn’t handle the pain. Three even passed out.” 

“How did you manage it?” Gaz asks. 

Price wasn’t a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance. 

“To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.” You shrug.

“We won’t make you kneel for two hours.” Price says. “And definitely not without a pillow.” 

You smile softly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. You’ve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and you’ve stopped picking at your nails. 

Ghost has remained silent the entire time you’ve spoken, eyes glued on you. You’ve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

“There’s some rules we need to go over before anything else.” Price says. “You have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until you’ve been marked. There’s other alphas on this base and I don’t want them getting any ideas.” 

You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You don’t want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that won’t stop some. You’re not even sure a mark will stop them either. 

“I want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if we’re gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.” You’re beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. “We have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I won’t lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and there’s an Omega Specialist that’s been brought in for you. You’ll meet her later, I’m sure she wants to do a full workup.” 

You’ve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting. 

“I’m starving, let’s get the scenting over with.” Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach. 

His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. You’d seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like it’s not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you don’t like the way they smell? 

What if they don’t like the way you smell? 

“If you’re alright with it?” Price says, looking at you. 

You’re taken aback by the offer for consent. You weren’t expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You won’t say no, because you’ll have to do it eventually, and at least this way you’ll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier. 

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m okay with it.” 

All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you don’t stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible. 

“Don’t look so worried, lass.” Soap says as they gather around you. “We won’t bite.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasn’t unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what you’ve seen of Ghost, you’re not sure that’s going to happen. 

He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack. 

You tense as Price’s hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so you’re seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. They’re all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs. 

“Ready?” 

You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin. 

He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. There’s another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland. 

His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others. 

“Good girl.” He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. “Ghost.” He says, stepping back from you. 

You’re snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours. 

He’s testing you. 

You won’t satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. You’re enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl. 

He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. There’s something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and you’re sure your knees would have given out if you hadn’t been sitting. 

Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphas’ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Price’s scent hadn’t reached. 

You let out a quiet whine as he’s pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghost’s place. 

“How ya doing?” Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. “Hanging in there?” 

You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head. 

“You’re halfway there.” He says, leaning in closer. “Got through the hard part.” 

His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland. 

You’re drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. You’re clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you. 

“Easy.” He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. “Still with us?” He asks, meeting your gaze. 

“Yeah.” You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this. 

“Almost done, hen.” Soap says, taking Gaz’s place in front of you. “Lucky there’s only four of us.”

He’s right, you think as you bear your throat for him. You’re not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like you’re floating, enveloped in so many scents you’re not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghost’s. The look in them has changed, his body poised like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him. 

You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat. 

You’re trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. It’s subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, it’s likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper. 

“There she is.” The low grumble of Price’s voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek. 

You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. He’s older than you, they’re all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze. 

You’re vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, they’re all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. You’d be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. You’d be entirely helpless against them. 

They could if they wanted to. 

It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldn’t stop them, and no one would help you. 

“You hungry, pup?” 

Price’s voice cuts through your fearful daze. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. It’s a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. You’ve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work. 

Pup. Price called you Pup. 

You haven’t been called “pup” since you were a pup. It’s a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but it’s more commonly used affectionately. He’s trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you. 

The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment. 

“Alright?” Price asks as your gaze meets his again. 

You nod, still leaning into his touch. “Yeah, ‘s a lot.” 

“I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.” 

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasn’t unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. You’re sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out. 

“Come on.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesn’t even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not entirely one of fear. 

His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. They’re less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes. 

Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, it’s almost second nature. You’re sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear. 

The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what he’s doing. 

He’s proving his ability as a provider. 

In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. He’s proving his capabilities in the way he can. 

You’re also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. It’s not entirely indiscernible, though, and you’re sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, you’re happy to let Price do it for you. 

He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement don’t feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks. 

A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost. 

Then there’s you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow you’ll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you can’t help but feel like you’re only going to make things more difficult. 

I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #a/b/o

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses?

CHARACTERS: OB students (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia & Malleus)

TAGS: Bullet Points; Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 300 words per character.

COMMENTS: This has been a WIP for so long that I don't even remember how I got the idea to write it. And in my case, being a WIP for a long time means that I wrote one part and then went on to write something else and ended up forgetting about this one for a long time. 😅 But now I've finished it.

I hope you enjoy 💋

CONTEXT: You two are in an established relationship already.

Riddle is not really the PDA type. The most he would do with you in public could be walk arm in arm like you were royalty. In terms of kisses, a kiss on the back of your hand or, at the most, on your cheek.

When the two of you are alone on a normal day, he will probably be working on his student and Housewarden duties. But whenever you tell him he should take a break, he'll get up, sit next to you and hug you, like you're a charger.

If you're relaxing together, he’ll be reading a book with one arm around you. Either around your shoulders or around your waist, which you told him you like the most. He’ll also laying his head on your shoulder.

The most meaningful kisses are, of course, the kisses on your lips. He's not the type to kiss you on the lips just like a "good morning" thing. These kisses are always sweet and lovely. His hands would be on your cheeks to caress them.

He needs you, but his kisses aren't needy. They are the caring type. You are his precious rose. In contrast to his strict self, the way he shows you that he loves you is through soft affection and care.

A relationship with Leona Kingscholar comes with your rights and duties. Some of your rights: He will buy you things; you’re allowed to pet his ears; he will be your protector and you can sleep with him in his comfy bed and have breakfast in bed (he ordered someone to bring it to you two)

Some of your duties: let him use you as a pillow (be it your thighs in the greenhouse or your chest in bed.); don't be too annoying to him; dealing with his “smugness” on a daily basis and being his and his alone, the same way he's yours.

He's kinda into PDA, but more in the sense of telling anyone who might look at you with interest that you're his. Or anyone who looks down on you that if they do the slightest thing against you they will have to suffer at his claws. If the other person is a friend of yours, he'll let it go.

He has at least two types of kisses. The first is the “make out” kisses. When you're alone and he wants you (if you want him at the time too of course), he would give you deep kisses, kiss your neck and run his hands over you. Either he would make you sit on his lap our make you lie down with him.

His real meaningful kisses are the second ones. The "lazy" kisses. The first ones are linked to his pride. These second ones are much more affectionate. Usually happen when he's still sleepy, like when he just woke up from a good nap. He may lazily put his arms around you and kiss your cheek, neck, or shoulder gently. This is perhaps the most vulnerable state he will let you see. And so it will only happen in private.

Azul is also not very adept at PDA, but he is still capable of putting an arm around you and kissing your cheek to show how well he takes care of you.

He's already quite charming and pleasant with his potential clients, so with you it's not much different in public. The only difference is that with you it's genuine.

Do I need to say that dating him is like dating a Mafia Boss? AKA: Nobody disrespects my loved ones, unless they want a certain head in their beds when they wake up. (reference to The Godfather)

Being alone with him on a normal day would probably be being with him in his VIP room at Mostro Lounge. You're sitting on one of the couches while he's dealing with his paperwork. He’s probably the type that likes to be teased a little. So, when you see that he is no longer that attentive to the papers, go up to him, play with his hair, kiss his cheek, that will put him in the mood for you.

He’s the opposite of Leona. The kisses he usually gives you are sweet and charming like him. Because that's the side of him he want to show you the most. He'll kiss your cheek and lips affectionately. Let you sit on his lap. The side he most wants to show you is the confident and caring side. The one who shows you that you can trust him and that he will take care of you.

His most meaningful kiss is the opposite. The one related to his needy side. He shows you his most vulnerable side when he is the one who needs you. And that's what everything he does shows you. His kisses, his hugs, his begging look, all screaming “I need you! Please don’t leave me.”

Jamil is completely against PDA! He doesn't like to stand out or draw attention and PDA always do that to the people involved. He won't hold your hand or kiss you. To the point where no one knows if you're even dating or not.

The only way he would show his affection for you in public is if that is a way to protect you. If someone looks down on you and he feels that that persons can be a threat to you, he will show that he is an even greater threat to them. In these moments, his protective side is stronger. He is Kalim's protector by obligation, but yours by free will.

It's when you're alone that he'll make up for his lack of affection of the day. On a normal day, you would be alone in the kitchen. He would probably be cooking for Kalim, but making something for you two as well. He’ll let you taste things as he cooks. He feels more relaxed when he's with you and even more so when you hug him.

When you're relaxing together, he would spoil you. Give you soft and sweet kisses. Pet your head and play with your hair. Give you massages and feed you things like grapes or small snacks. Or even taking the first mouthful of food he made for you to your mouth and seeing your delighted face.

The most meaningful gestures of affection he shows you are related to his most lustful side (lust for power) when you are the one spoiling him. The one moment in his life where he is no longer the servant, but the master. This time, he kisses your lips, your neck and everything he's entitled to. He tends not to show his feelings but with you he will show how much he loves you and how much he wants you.

In reality, Vil neither likes nor dislikes PDA. He's kind of indifferent to it. The only reason he doesn't do it with you is because it would have bad consequences for both of you for his work as an actor and model. The most he can do is walk hand in hand with you.

Even though he doesn't show it much in public, everyone will know that you two are dating. He'll make sure of it, even if it's just information on the internet or him straight out saying it. On the one hand to protect you, because only an idiot would try to mess with Vil Schoenheit's partner. On the other hand to discourage anyone who has the slightest interest in you. “Honey, they’re with me. Do you really think you can even get to my heels? So, don't bother them.”

The only possible problem for you is that he's going to be more strict now that you're dating. From the outside it looks like he can be mean and demanding with you. But the truth is, he wants you to look your best so people know why he fell in love with you. He wants others to see on the outside how beautiful you are on the inside.

But of course, sometimes it's too much and you'll challenge him. Be stubborn and carefree. The best part? He's so into it! Your way of teasing each other.

He kisses you every now and then when you're alone. But when you put him on this mood, all his affection mix with boldness intensifies. Oh, of course, you wanted him to remind you what the reward is for listening to him. The answer is: appreciating you with the rest of his senses, sensual kisses on your lips, jaw, neck and shoulders; his hands running over your body, him delighting in your wearing the perfume he made for you. He'll show you how beautiful you are to him.

PDA is not even an option! There is no way! Na-a! Listen, Idia loves you, really, he promises BUT going with you to places where couples usually go is already a lot and holding hands is the absolute most he can do. IF that even happens.

He wouldn’t be the jealous type. If someone shows an interest in you, at least they have good taste. But if someone looks down on you or goes so far as to disrespect you, then he goes from 0 to 100. Do these worms know he can hack them? exposing things that can completely ruin their lives until the day they pass through the gates of the underworld? Ortho can help protect you in the meantime.

Since he is a 0 to 100 guy, his kisses are the same. His "0" kisses are lazy. Mainly light, on your shoulder and neck, because you would be sitting on his lap, chest to chest, while he plays on his PC and you on your phone on his back. He also gives you casual "hi" and "bye" kisses on the lips.

Then there is his "100" kisses. Those are the real meaningful kisses, the "I love you" kisses. They are passionate but kind. Because loving you is different for loving a game, it's like he found his balance. they are not needy, but appreciative, the real embodiment of "OMG, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" He also becomes bolder as he feels comfortable with you. He loves to tease you until he makes you shut him up with a kiss. The stronger your relationship is, the more daring and smug he will be.

Malleus is quite indifferent to PDA. However, he is not the type to initiate the exchange of affection, but he is the type to reciprocate it. He won't kiss or hug you out of nowhere. But if you kiss or hug him, he will definitely reciprocate.

And he's going to be extremely casual about it. I mean, it's two lovers interacting with each other. As young humans would say: What's the big deal? However, he still distinguishes between the affection he gives you in public and the affection he gives you in private.

In public, his hugs are polite, and his kisses are light but loving.

In private, what he wants most is simply to be with you. He loves it when you sit on his lap and he cuddles you, and he likes it even more when you cuddle him back. He maintains his composure quite well, but you know that just your kisses on his checks already melt him inside.

His regular kisses in privet are sweet, loving, showing you that you are the most precious thing in his life. And very recurrent. He may not be the type to initiate the exchange of affection in public, but he certainly is in private.

All his kisses are meaningful, but the most meaningful of all are the one he gives you on your lips while smiling. The kind of kiss he can't stop himself from giving you. You may not even notice when they happen, because you are simply being yourself.

He feels the need to kiss you passionately when you do something that reminds him of why he fell in love with you. The moments when you do something that may seem simple, but for him it is something extraordinary. And if you don't realize at first how incredible that small gesture can be for him, it only makes you more charming.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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