#there's been so many i've lost track

[ghuletteintraining]

Survived yet another round of layoffs. It feels like the longest most stressful game of musical chairs, except I never know when the music will start up again, and there's no fun to be had watching as another chair gets yanked away.

🥺🥺🥺🥺

[blatantprinterpropaganda]

one who has never had sex in a car apparently!! sorry i'm still stuck on that utterly groundshaking revelation about style

[ochrearia]

Emptiness of Dreams

Dear god okay there's like a billion bitches in here. No one talks and it's YS POV but there's. A billion

I don't know how to explain this any clearer. Read between the lines. This will make sense for the people that need to I promise. Just things I want to say but can't say directly.

BFs in this one-shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), cs!BF (Beefer, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), fc!BF (Boyf, Gold's), Cyborg!BF (Cyber, Gold's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), ourple!BF (Brooke, Isaac/VS Ourple Guy), idu!BF (BJ, Storm's), mixtape!BF (Bash, Kry's), fightin!BF (Mic, Lunar's), lca!BF (Bunny, Damien's), Yourself (YS)

Blue, Bastion, Baker, and Blake are mentioned but not physically present

He knew he had a problem. Well, that was quite the understatement really. He had a lot of problems. So many to the point where YS really couldn’t understand why any of them were still here. Broken people attracted more broken people, sure. Fine. But even other broken people still had enough logic to understand when someone was too broken, right? When there were things beyond anyone’s help. Tiring aspects that were just too much to keep thinking about. It was easy for others to stop thinking about it when it wasn’t them experiencing it. YS couldn’t stop thinking. Probably never would. Every time something slipped a little bit under the surface of the water he drowned so fast. And it was so shameful that everyone got to witness it. Felt inclined to help when really, at this point, maybe it was just better to let him drown proper.

The space in between dreams was usually empty. The more people tumbling into the space meant more things would pop up, stemming from the day’s thoughts and wishes. It was always nothing but empty whenever YS was here on his own. Nothing but cold fog. Nothing friendly, nothing warm, nothing all that safe. What did that say about his thoughts and wishes, huh?

But the usual emptiness of dreams wasn’t here this time. Not that this wasn’t meant to happen, it just hadn’t happened when YS was around. Mainly because he never really slept at the same time as anyone else aside from… an exception. He’d been going on for a few days without any real, proper sleep, and while he was an Angel, a supernatural being, there was still only so much he could take before his body completely crashed on him. Which was what happened here and now, a lucky outcome that it happened to be at a time where he should’ve been asleep anyway.

So many of his brothers were here. Half of them he suspected didn’t even realize where they were. And with so many selves came a blooming of the space in between dreams. Things, thoughts, safeties and wishes. Taking form as soft wisps of smoke, alien-like grass and flowers, lavender light coming from no visible source at all. The space here never had to make any sense to begin with. It was all just dreams, mashed together in a magic link across realities that wasn’t really supposed to exist. But it did. Might as well make something out of it.

Biff, of course. Biff was almost always here when YS was, and probably the most aware of what this place even was. Not like anyone truly knew its rules. But the longer you visit, the more you get in-tune with how some things work. YS knew some of his brothers had felt him arrive here and changed their paths entirely to cross with his. The others most likely didn’t know what was really happening and were just automatically drawn to a sense of familiarity. All leading back to him. What a nice thought.

Beef and Biff were wordlessly fighting with each other for who got the space in his arms. Idiots. No damn concept of sharing. If they wanted hugs all they ever had to do was ask. They would wake themselves up with this ridiculous tussle if they weren’t careful, but YS could see the playfulness of it in each of their faces. Silent brotherly fighting. Little bastards who cared a lot about each other but refused to admit it.

Boyf and Cyber were here too. Boyf had a secured spot on his left while Cyber lay sprawled rather unceremoniously across his legs. Something akin to the indignancy pile that YS had endured back when his reach only yielded him five brothers. Now, it was so much more. He wasn’t sure if Cyber really knew where he was, but it didn’t seem to matter. There were quiet purrs coming from him anyway. If YS was there, then nothing else mattered. A bit of a terrifying thought for YS- god, when would his brain just pick one? A constant tug-of-war between reveling in the fact he was that much of a safety to someone, and fearing being so damn important.

YS wasn’t really sure where he stood with a lot of his brothers. Which was so… stupid, wasn’t it? Why didn’t he know? They all had expressed some form of deep care for him thus far, from directly saying it to just small but meaningful actions. Choosing to let him stick around in their lives. A stray passing thought. Not looking at him like he was some sort of disgusting freak. Maybe that last one was the bare minimum but it didn’t matter to him. That was still the world in his eyes after everything.

Bash was behind him, asleep. Balancing him while they leaned back to back against each other. Now, YS loved all his brothers. That was true and it would stay true. And it was painfully obvious that he trusted some of them with different things. Was that shitty of him? Maybe. Certainly felt that way to him when he wanted everyone to feel equally important. But there were so many of them now. That wish might be an impossible task now. But maybe YS would burn himself out still trying to reach it. He never wanted to leave anyone on a metaphorical level of less importance somehow.

To his brothers, he felt love and that was clear. And he should stop worrying so much about the differences in each relationship. They were all the same person but they weren’t carbon copies of each other. It would be stupid to try to condense them all down to that. And where other brothers filled holes he desperately needed fixed, Bash sort of… balanced him. He shared similarities with many of them. There was something about his one older brother that was special. YS just wasn’t sure how to convey that. Or really… fairly approach Bash like he deserved for that matter. But for now in between dreams the connection helped dampen his worries. He hoped he could believe he mattered the way he was told he does soon with him.

Peacock was on YS’s right. He was dozing too, but even in that state YS could feel an insistence to stay as close as possible. Two angels taking comfort in each other. It was funny, being a Guardian Angel and having another angel seemingly be guarding him. Beefer was somewhere nearby too. In his dinosaur form, for some reason, but maybe it was because he had no idea what this place was. Walking around. Guarding. Not just him, but everyone here. Even Boyf, despite them never getting along. Truce in the dream space. BJ kept an eye on the dinosaur lumbering around in circles. He seemed very curious about the other versions that obviously weren’t human. That, and well, it didn’t seem like any of them had seen a living dinosaur before who’s also an alien at the same time. Despite the curiosity BJ kept close to YS as much as he could, when everyone else was already crowding him.

Bee and Brooke were here as well. Lying content in the alien-like grass of the dream plains they were all sitting in together. Brooke didn’t seem very content though. Worried, hesitant. YS hadn’t gotten to talk to him a lot, and the first encounter had gone just about as wrong as it possibly could. YS didn’t think Brooke liked him at all. He’d probably prefer to be somewhere else, and that was fair. He was going through a lot as far as the angel could tell. But despite the dislike he was sticking around. Not for his peace of mind, obviously. Probably just because Bash, Bee, and Beef were clearly happy to stay here. It was enough to let Brooke take a hesitant chance.

Mic and Bunny were very new to YS, but they had made it here too. Playing chase for the sake of playing. Joy in a space they didn’t know, but it was okay, nothing could really hurt them here except their own fears. But it was clear no one truly feared where they were. It was funny, Mic was very much a little brother to YS despite him being five years older than him. Somehow. 

Yeah, no. Bash was the only one who was getting away with any semblance of taking care of YS in an older-brother kind of way. And even then YS felt some sort of guilt he was letting anyone be responsible for him.

It was weird. All of them kind of took care of him in their own ways. Just something unique and different about each one. Balance with Bash. Loyalty with Beef. Understanding with Biff. Warmth with Peacock. The list could go on, really. Though in the end they all seemingly wanted him here. Here, amongst people. Wasn’t that weird? Why did they want him here, anyway? YS still couldn’t find an understanding of that. ‘Because they wanted to’? Why? Why choose that with no real benefit?

People were so confusing.

Most of them managed to end up here tonight. That’s never really happened before. YS wondered what was different about this night. Wondered if the ones missing were awake, or just in their own dreams instead of the space in between. Blake, Blue, Baker. Good lord, if Baker was awake he swore to god he better not be creating a kitchen disaster right now. YS wondered how long it would take to get properly through to Bastion as well. Everyone, always on his mind. So many to keep track of, sometimes it made his head spin. But he’d still find room to fit in more. He had a feeling he was going to meet more brothers in the near future anyway.

People, here. With him. For him, some of them might try to say. That couldn’t be true. People shouldn’t be here for him, not when everyone else was around. Felt weird to think he was some sort of priority. But he supposed he was a massive hypocrite too. Prioritizing everyone else as much as he could, trying his hardest to treat everyone equally, make them feel special because they were. But then flinched away if anyone tried to mirror his actions.

How dumb. YS wanted someone to do for him everything he did for others, but couldn’t even be thankful to accept that if someone tried. Nothing was ever good enough, huh? Ridiculous…

Beefer turned suddenly, red eyes boring directly into the angel. Knowing. Right… emotional walls didn’t work on that one. He could tell right away. He’d made a promise to try and think like that less. He was trying. It was just harder on some days than others.

People… here. Could he indulge in saying for him? Did he deserve that, though? Unsure on that part. Whether he said it or not wouldn’t change if it was true or not. A concept there, to sit in the back of his mind, surrounded by all these people. Did he have to keep himself so lonely? YS was so afraid to somehow hurt anyone here, everyone. But would keeping himself lonely make them happy? That might just hurt them too.

He knew one of them was terrified of him leaving. Just from one old conversation. That never really left his head. But there was still a little guilt there, making him even worry so clearly about that. YS was doing his best to keep to his word- that he wouldn’t leave. Even though things kept sliding downhill so fast some days.

Maybe none of them wanted him to leave. It’s not like he wanted to leave either. Sometimes his mind was cruel, though. It was hard to tell properly if anyone cared enough for him to stay some days. Like all the progress went back to zero. Wasn’t that so exhausting? To deal with someone who needed reassurance so often?

YS wouldn’t leave. For as long as they wanted him at all, he would stay.

He had a lot of problems. Maybe he himself was a problem and it might be time to admit that. Needing so much direct reassurance almost every day. That was a problem. And he should try harder to stop doing that because he clearly wasn’t trying hard enough. He would change completely for them, because he loved them.

Maybe that was another problem.

He was just a problem, wasn’t he?

But all of these brothers were here. Loving him. Him and his problems. And YS swore to spend the rest of his time here making up for it all. However short or long that time was allowed to be.

He loved his brothers. Maybe he shouldn’t love them this much when not much time has really passed. But he did anyway. YS loved his brothers. Maybe in another reality entirely, they were all friends. A reality YS could never find, but existed anyway. He hoped so.

Friends… he hoped so. 

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

I really wish Rejet had sent DL out with a proper tie up for the series or some sort of celebration inside of this slow fizzle into releasing only merch sets.

[otome-dissection]

*taps microphone* *clears throat* You know what. I think yakuza 5 actually went pretty hard

*feedback noises*

[telomirage]

🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨

hi hello (∩´ᴗ`∩)♡

nevertheless - billlie

poison rose - craxy

control - ghost9

boombox - kard

hot potato - n.flying

[suplexjones]

too many wips. too many difficult to execute ideas

[neverendingford]

.

[intoxicating-goddess]

TW - intox, somno, cnc, forced breeding

We're talking on a video call like we usually do in the evenings. I'm smoking a bowl to help wind down for the night. When I finish, you suggest I might want to do another. I've been really stressed out lately, it'd be helpful to have a little more, you tell me. I have been stressed lately, why not? I fill another bowl half way, but you convince me to make it another full one. After I'm done the second bowl, you can see how faded I am. I tell you that the weed is hitting me really hard and I think I'm gonna go lie down. You wish me well and say goodnight. I stumble through the house in a stoned haze, eventually making it into bed. I drowsily strip myself of my clothes before rolling over and falling asleep. I'm too deep in slumber to hear the door unlock. I gave you a spare key for emergencies, after all. You creep into my bedroom and see my naked body sprawled across the bed. You quietly take off your clothes and climb on top of me. Kissing your way down my back while running your hands all over my limp body. Feeling up my ass and tits and then finally, my pussy. I let out soft moans in my sleep. As you rub my clit and fondle my ass, I start to become wet. You then line yourself up with my slick entrance and ram your entire cock inside me. I wake with a scream, a concoction of panic and pleasure. As you begin violently thrusting, I try to get my bearings. My head is so dizzy and my body is so heavy. I let out a feeble scream as I try to resist, but it's no use. My body is far to weak and I can't put up a fight. I am pinned in place by the weight of your body on top of me. I have no idea who is inside me, but I can't seem to focus on anything but how good it feels. You lean down on top of me and begin grabbing at my breast. You pinch my nipple and I can't help but let out a moan. You chuckle softly between grunts, you know a filthy whore like me likes being used. Your thrusts are so hard and deep that it doesn't take long for me to cum on your cock. You continue to fuck me for what feels like hours. I am so out of it that I have no concept of time. I eventually let myself drown in the pleasure. It doesn't matter who is fucking me, the only thing that matters is how good it feels. After you've lost track of how many times you've made me to cum, you feel yourself get close. Your thrusts become faster and faster. You pull my hips hard against you, forcing your cock as deep into my pussy as possible. With a loud grunt, you let your load out inside me. You pull out and let my hips go, causing me to slump onto the bed. You watch as your seed seeps out of my throughly used pussy. You then put your clothes back on and leave, locking the door behind you. I lay in the wet patch knowing I should feel mortified, but instead I feel euphoric. Having my rapists seed pouring from my violated pussy turns me on all the more. It's not long before the exhaustion and intoxication lull me back into a deep sleep. I sleep well knowing my only purpose is to be a good cocksleeve. It doesn't matter if I'm conscious or not.

[nationmckinleyscorset]

This is actually so cute I love the lighting

Still only thinking about them

[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. 

NEXT ->

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

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[thekitsunesiren]

Dc x DP #50: Accidentally Kidnapping a (ex) Crime Lord

(I've seen that reverse trope list, so I just had to do it. I might do more in the future. But for now, here's accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss in dc x dp format) Jason awoke with a low groan, slowly lifting his head as his eyes blinked to take in his location.

It had happened so quick. So quick that he couldn't even blink.

There was word going around Crime Alley of a new stray making their way around. Which wasn't new given that it's Crime Alley and Gotham altogether, but there was definitely something wrong with the kid.

Apparently everyone who met him got some odd vibe. Like there was something wrong with him. Many said that he was a meta on the run, but there were others that didn't believe that.

And when Jason found out he was in Crime Alley, it was like something cold walked through him. Like someone was walking over his grave. Figuratively and literally. Something bigger than him was in his territory. Something dangerous. And every bit of him said that it was the new kid.

So Jason set out to look for him. He wasn't going to let the others find out about this, not when it was on his turg. And perhaps if he could figure out what he was, perhaps ask why he calmed the pits in such a way.

He looked into the kid, a Daniel "Danny" Nightingale from the looks of it, and that he was only sixteen. No talk about any parents, but there was word of an older sister, Jasmine Nightingale, that was going to Gotham University to study psychology. But other than that? Nothing. Zilch. As if the two appeared out of nowhere. LIke ghosts.

So, Jason took to tracking him physically. Trying to figure out where he went and if he met with anyone in particular that might raise suspicion. Whether it be some other thugs or a some gang of some sort. But he had no such luck. Not because he wasn't meeting anyone, it was he always lost him. Every corner he turned, he was always gone when Jason walked around to follow him. It was like the kid was a ghost. Did he know that he was being followed?

It was late one night when Jason caught sight of Danny on his own, walking down the street with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Thinking that he was either going to meet someone or head home, he decided to trail him and see if he could finally fill another piece of this puzzle that was Nightingale.

Jason was right on his heels as he turned the corner leading to another street, ready to confront him. But once again, Nightingale was gone.

And before he could even curse or question as to where he could've gone so quickly, a heavy thunk was heard as something heavy hit the back of Jason's head. The last thing he saw before losing unconsciousness was a pair of worn sneakers as as the attacker approached him.

Which lead him to here: tied up in a worn down apartment. Nightingale standing across from him in what he supposed was a threatening manner. A baseball bat with a faded glowing green sticker on its base. Jason could make out the word 'Fenton' on it and made sure to look up that name later once he was out of this mess. But for now, he had to deal with NIghtingale.

Jason turned his attention to him, but with his helmet on he doubted Nightingale could tell whether his gaze shifted to his chosen weapon or not. But the slightest movement was enough to tell Nightingale that Jason was indeed awake from his unconscious state.

But before Jason could speak or make any comment about the situation, Nightingale beat him to it.

"What do you want with me?" He asked bluntly. It was one question that Jason wasn't expecting, so he stared at Nightingale confused.

"What?" Came the robotic reply of his voice filter. Apparently that wasn't the right answer as Nightingale let out a frustrated huff and waved his bat towards him.

"What do you want with me? You've been following me for some time and it's getting annoying? What are you? A thug? A goon? Or are you another rogue trying to make it big. Gotta say; not a good start just by stalking someone if you were."

His words had shocked Jason to his core for various reasons. One: he didn't know who Jason was. Two: apparently he was skilled in knowing when he was followed and Jason couldn't tell. And three: HE DIDN'T KNOW WHO JASON WAS!

Jason let out a dry laugh as he realized that he was serious about his questions. Nightingale has been here for months at least. So how did he not know about the notorious Red Hood? His reputation usually brought fear to those. It was strange for someone in Gotham not to know about him.

"Do you seriously not know who I am?" Jason asked, his eyebrow raised in a question even though his hood covered it, he was sure that Nightingale understood his confusion. His blue eyes shining in confusion as he tilted his head.

"No? Are you a rogue already? Ancients, they keep popping up every week." He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. And while Jason could agree to the sentiment, he needed to get to the bottom of Nightingale and what he was doing here. And whether or not he was a threat to Gotham, or at least Crime Alley.

"I wouldn't call myself a rogue. Not anymore at least. The name's Red Hood, kid." Jason answered gruffly, eyes still focused on Nightingale as he waited for his reaction.

Nightingale titled his head at the name. Recognition flashing his eyes as he heard it.

"Red Hood? But isn't that guy that runs crime alley? Why would that-"

His eyes widened in dawning horror, his already pale skin seeming to get paler as he came to a realization as he stared at Jason. More specifically, his hood.

Jason expected some panic. That perhaps Nightingale might even try to knock him out again or hightail it out of his apartment. But instead he just continued to stare at Jason in ever growing horror as he whispered,

"Oh Ancients, I just kidnapped a crime lord." Now, there was a lot that Jason wanted to unpack from this interaction, but for some reason the first thing that came out his mouth was-

"It's ex crime lord."

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘪. (𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦) 🍊

⤷ summary: saudi arabian and australian grands prix happen! y/n starts making vlogs for the races and it reveals more about her and a certain driver's feelings than she hoped, not that she notices. poor oscar's stuck in the middle of it all but he's trying his best!

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liked by f1, landonorris, and 55,007 others

tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

mclaren saudi arabia, you were beautiful even if the results weren't! ready for what's to come

12,567 comments

user1 admin not using a single nice photo of the drivers 😭

user2 admin be honest is this your revenge era

mclaren well, yes!

user3 HELP MEEEE

user4 the way lando looks at her 😭

user5 this is a place of business

user6 oscar looks petrified 💀

mclaren dw guys we're still training him!

oscarpiastri wtf why would u say it like that, i'm not a dog

mclaren full-time team mascot, part time driver

user7 admin drop the insta your so pretty 😭😭

user8 no literally, content of her WHERE

mclaren ynusername 🤲🏼

user9 LETS FUCKING GO

user10 HER DISSING HER OWN TEAM 💀 THEY'RE GONNA FIRE YOU GIRL

mclaren they don't pay me to LIE

user11 CRAZYY

user12 LANDO IS NEVER GETTING A GOOD PIC EVER AGAIN 😭

mclaren what can i say, i am no mans peace 🥱

user13 icon

landonorris reporting you to hr

mclaren for what

landonorris idk harrassment or something

mclaren ok keyboard warrior, lets calm down 💀

user14 KEYBOARD WARRIOR HELEPSJSM

user15 i vote admin just takes over and we don't even get driver pictures

user16 real and true

user17 i fear we may have lost the plot

user18 thoughts on today's results

mclaren i'm trying to be positive in general but man

user19 LMAOOOOO

user20 ik the pr department is shaking in their boots after every post notif

mclaren probably! but unfortunately for everyone, i am going to keep doing whatever i want

user21 no more lando beef, mclaren admin?

mclaren i forget but i never forgive. i forgot why we were fighting but i stay hating bitches 🥱

landonorris literally WHAT DID I DO

mclaren IDK BUT IK U PISSED ME OFF 🫵

oscarpiastri diabolical photo choice

oscarpiastri i look like a little kid on picture day

mclaren so basically your everyday look

oscarpiastri yk what you are making this work environment very hostile

mclaren i can make it more hostile if you want 🤨

oscarpiastri nevermind!!!

maxfewtrell most flattering lando picture i've seen in years

mclaren that's saying something isn't it 🤩

user22 i went to haterville and they all knew you admin

mclaren they actually just elected me mayor there!!! 💪🏻

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liked by bsfusername, landonorris, and 17,800 others

ynusername if my admin duties don't kill me, i promise my caffeine addiction will! (:

3,422 comments

user23 be honest, how many coffees have you had today

ynusername 3!

user24 oh that's not that bad

ynusername +5

user24 JESUS CHRSUT

bsfusername at this point i think meth would be healthier

ynusername honestly yeah

ynusername thanks for the suggestion!!

user25 nooo admin don't do meth ur so sexy aha

ynusername that just made me want to do meth more

landonorris so what i'm hearing is buying you an espresso machine would get me in your good graces 😇

user26 oh brother here he goes

ynusername you must be deaf then

landonorris 😔 2 espresso machines?

ynusername i don't want ur dirty espresso machines 🙄

oscarpiastri now what car is that 🫵

ynusername SHHHHH

oscarpiastri TRAITOR

bsf2username when your not busy being super sexy on a race track, can we go thrifting and get sweetgreen and overpriced coffee 🙏🏼🙏🏼

ynusername this could've been an email, get this out of my comments 💀

ynusername but yeah obviously

user27 admin vlogs when 😔

ynusername SOON!!! very very soon

user28 mother feeding us once again

ynusername brb, adding single mom who works two jobs, loves her kids, and never stops to my resume

danielricciardo coffee recipe where?

ynusername in your dms now ‼️

danielricciardo is this flirting

ynusername no if i was flirting i would've told you to ask me in person, i'm just being charitable

landonorris can i get the coffee recipe too then 🤲🏼

ynusername wdy want next, my mugs? keep on walking charity case

user29 CHARITY CASE IS CRAZYDFHAJ

user30 she's so effortlessly funny and mean i love her

user31 i feel like this is so unprofessional /:

ynusername babe professional where, you are on??? my personal?? account???

user32 maybe she's born with it, maybe it's the fact that she's consumed enough caffeine to tranquelize a horse

user33 oh please the horse would be dead

ynusername call an ambulance, BUT NOT FOR ME ‼️💪🏻🗣️

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ynusername posted to story!

(caption: melbourne vlog out now on youtube, go watch!!)

15,221 replies

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would you like to watch? yes or no

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"This thing better be working," could be heard slightly muffled in between vague shuffling sounds. After a second or two of incoherent noise, the camera footage finally came on. Y/N smiled at herself in the camera as the recording light blinked to life, and raised her hand victoriously. She grabbed the smile microphone in front of her and laughed, "It looks like everything is working. Thank God, I wouldn't have known how to fix it otherwise."

"Alright everybody, welcome to the first race weekend vlog hosted by me! Your favorite McLaren admin and social manager. It took me forever to figure out how I wanted to go about this, but now I think I settled on a format that will work," She explained as she walked around the small, clean kitchen that was within frame of the camera. She pulled a glass jar out of her cabinets and left it on the counter before pulling a jug of cold brew and a cartridge of milk out of her fridge.

"It is currently 7:30 A.M on March 29th, and I have a flight to Melbourne in 3 hours. I'm already packed and ready for this weekend, but I wanted to get an introduction filmed and I wanted to take a shower before I left." Y/N paused for a moment as she poured the coffee into her mason jar until she seemed satisfied and began to add some milk. "I am totally exhausted so this is probably cup one of like," she laughed, "I don't know seven probably. And this is a pretty big jar I won't lie."

"The race weekend doesn't technically start until Friday, so I'll be getting there a bit early, but I wanted to film some content before the race weekend gets really hectic, so McLaren is sending me a little bit earlier. I'm excited though! I love the heat, even if I live in London the antithesis of Australian weather," she taste-tested her coffee and hummed in delight.

"God I really never miss with this stuff," she said contently. "Anyway, it's a bit of an early start today, but I'll have plenty of time to sleep on the fight. I mean can you believe that London to Melbourne is a nearly 22 hours," she scoffed. "I vote that we start making all of the races in one place so I don't have to feel jet lag more painful than the force of 1,000 suns every other weekend. Not that I'm complaining," she chuckled awkwardly, "I love my job McLaren please don't fire me."

Abruptly an orange tabby cat came into the frame of the camera, causing Y/N to abruptly grab her glass jar in the hopes of avoiding a mess. She gasped, but laughed as the cat scampered off as quickly as it had come. She shook her head fondly.

"That, ladies and gentleman, was Cali! My cat. She's literally my baby, and I love her more than anything else on this earth. However, she does have an affinity for hitting things off of counters and breaking them. She also hates men and nearly all other animals, so she's basically the world's biggest hazard to society. She's a good girl, I love her." Y/N explained between sips of coffee as she stared wistfully past the the frame of the camera, where it could be assumed Cali had gone.

Abruptly an alarm went off and Y/N threw her head back with a groan.

"That means I have to get in the shower and get ready so I can leave on time," she said, before taking a few more sips of coffee. "I'm going to go do that, and the next time you'll hear my beautiful voice will be at the Melbourne Airport! Cue the travel montage!"

An assortment of clips follow. Y/N is seen dragging her luggage through Heathrow Airport. Y/N is seen ordering another coffee at the airport, finishing the coffee, and ordering another before her flight. Y/N is seen responding to emails from her airplane seat, editing video footage, and responding to instragram and twitter comments. Footage is shown outside the plane window of a cloudy, blue sky and a time lapse is shown as the sky grows beautiful shades of pink and red before becoming a starry-night sky. Y/N is seen cozy in a throw blanket and a travel pillow, presumably asleep with headphones on. Y/N is shown pulling her luggage through the airport once again, with a brand new coffee cup in hand. She smiles, taking a sip before she is seen settled down in a seat in the bustling airport.

"Twenty-two or so hours later and I have finally landed in Melbourne. I'm waiting for my Uber to get here so I can finally be taken to my hotel to drop my stuff off. I have a meeting with the McLaren drivers in two hours, but luckily I slept really well on the plane. I don't know how else I would be able to deal with Lando Norris. I'm going to finish this coffee in order to maximize my tolerance for the next few hours, but I suspect I'll be getting a new coffee before I reach that meeting. My addiction truly knows no bounds," she laughs, trying to ignore the people vaguely shown within frame that are staring at her speaking to a camera.

The camera cuts abruptly and the waiting screen from SpongeBob flashes on the screen, including the narrator's voice reading "2 hours later."

Y/N is shown once again in new clothes, a new coffee cup in hand, and luggage replaced by a small canvas bag. Her comfortable plane clothes have been swapped out for jean shorts and a plain white tank-top. Her hair is clipped back out of her face, and she is adorned with simple gold jewelry and light makeup.

Y/N smiles at the camera as she walks, bustling and talking heard around her, before whispering into the small microphone, "I have arrived at the McLaren garage. It is now time to meet with Lord Lando and workplace mascot Oscar Piastri," the titles slip off her tongue sarcastically and she doesn't bother suppressing an eye-roll.

In the next clip, Oscar and Lando are seen seated on either side of her as they sit in what seems like a board-room. Lando leans over and whispers something that the camera doesn't pick up and Oscar laughs while Y/N grimaces and reaches forward to readjust the camera. When the camera comes back on, Lando and Oscar are seated together on the left of Y/N as she faces on angle toward both them and the camera.

"Don't just sit there and look pretty, say hello to the camera boys," Y/N says and Oscar cackles at the disgruntled look on Lando's face.

"Is that your way of calling me pretty Y/N," Lando chokes out between laughs, and Y/N scoffs with an eye-roll.

"I was actually talking about Oscar, but whatever floats your little papaya boat Norris," Y/N deadpans and Oscar doubles over from the force of his laughter at the pout on Lando's face.

"That's not nice at all, I hope you know that. I think I am sitting here very prettily, thank you very much," Lando says, leaning into the girl next to him to speak into her microphone.

Y/N draws the microphone back, swatting him away, "Yes, yes quite prettily," Y/N mocks in a British accent.

Oscar, still trying to recover, joins in, "Pretty little Lando Norris," and Y/N laughs jovially, reaching across Lando as if the boy weren't there to high-five the Austrialian driver.

"Bullies, the lot of you," Lando mumbles and Y/N brushes off his comment without response before finally facing the camera.

"Anyway, welcome to the first McLaren race weekend vlog. I'm Y/N L/N, the best media manager in the whole god damn world, and this is Lando Norris, the biggest pain in my ass, and Oscar Piastri, the second biggest pain in my ass. How are you feeling about Melbourne boys?" Y/N questions, transitioning smoothly much to the British driver's chagrin.

"Feeling proud to be the second biggest pain in the ass and not the first. Probably the only time i've been glad to get second actually," Oscar comments and Y/N laughs as Lando shakes his head in disappointment.

"But in all seriousness it is good to be home, this is easily my favorite race of the year seeing as it's my home race and i'm looking forward to, hopefully, good results from our team," Oscar supplies and Y/N nods along to his words.

"Yes, Australia, we are in you and we are happy about it," both boys choked out a laugh at the manager's sexual innuendo and Oscar quickly covered his mouth with his hand so as not to react too much. "What about you Lando what are you feeling," Y/N questioned, leaning the small microphone to the boy.

"Feeling like that was a stupid joke. And also like I am going to be getting P1 this weekend. I can feel it in my bones."

"Leave my jokes alone Lando, you're not being paid to be a critic," she scoffed, "and if I recall, you said the same thing in Saudi Arabia not that long ago. What's changed now?"

Lando rolled his eyes, "What's changed is that we're in Australia now and I'm feeling much more confident."

"Well thank god for that," Y/N supplied unhelpfully as Oscar laughed.

"Now, what we really came here for, it's time to film a video for this channel, it's going to be a fan Q and A, I picked the questions. By the time this vlog is up, the QnA should've already been posted. So feel free to stop watching this and to go watch that or whatever," Y/N commented. "After that we're going to film a TikTok challenge," both and Lando and Oscar grimaced, but Y/N ignored their dismay at the idea of fiming yet another TikTok, so cue the montage! Filming time!" Y/N exclaimed and the screen transitioned to a new series of clips.

In the first clip Oscar and Lando were sitting in two chairs while Y/N sat across from them with a set of notecards.

"Lando, this question from user "ln4mania" asks, "Are you and admin actually friends? Or is the online beef real? The people demand answers!" Y/N reads off with a laugh.

"Do you hear that, the people demand answers Lando! Don't keep them waiting!" Oscar and Y/N laugh as Lando shakes his head and tucks his face into his hands.

"There is no beef, guys. Me and admin, or rather me and Y/N are just fine. We hadn't even actually met when that happened," Lando supplied between laughs. Y/N looked at the camera and rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, faux-disagreeing with the boy.

She ignored the simmering pit of disappointment in her stomach. She did in fact have a problem with entitled little Lando Norris who still gave her side-eyed looks and judgmental stares whenever he saw her. If that wasn't humiliating enough, Oscar had clearly noticed it too, which just gave Y/N the feeling that she wasn't being taken seriously at all now that Oscar understood Lando's lack of respect for Y/N. However that didn't matter in the current moment. All that mattered was making this video.

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar sitting at a table with bowls of water in front of them and towels strewn across a chair just within frame of the camera. Y/N stood behind them, hands rested in their hair as she reacted to the prompts being read by someone, an unnamed media intern, off-camera.

"Who is harder to make videos with?" The intern asked and Y/N huffed out a laugh as she let her hands fully grasp Lando's curls and push him into the water quickly. He sputtered, trying to blink the water out of his eyes as Y/N laughed at the wet-puppy dog look he was sporting.

Y/N tried to shake the ridiculous desire to let her hands run through the soft curls underneath her finger tips. Curse Lando and whatever stupidly good, rich-person hair routine he used that made him smell good and look good, and... whatever.

Lando, blinking water out of his eyes, was now undoubtedly certain that being damn-near waterboarded was worth it if it meant that Y/N would laugh like that again. He knew Oscar would harass him again later for being "down-bad" or something along those lines- as he had done every time he caught the man staring-, but as he caught a glimpse of Y/N's bright smile and shaking shoulders, he found he didn't really care.

The next clip showed Oscar, Lando, Y/N, and a laughing media intern as they all dried off- somehow all having become wet through the course of filming. Y/N dried herself off quickly, taking a sip of her newly refilled coffee, not seeing the way that only the camera and Oscar saw Lando stared at her until the driver was nudged back into focus on drying himself off.

A title-card once again came on the screen with white words on a photo collage of Australian grand-prix candids that Y/N had taken, reading "Race montage? More likely than you'd think."

Footage was shown of the free practice sessions. Oscar and Lando getting in and out of their cars. Engineers along the pit wall going over data. The team speaking incoherently, going over the game plan for Sunday's race. Oscar and Lando greeting fans, signing merch, and posing for photos. Y/N smiling and waving at a cheering crowd of people before staring at the camera incredulously with a small caption reading: "Omg she's famous your honor". More clips showed Lando laughing as Oscar tossed grapes and Lando moved to catch them with his mouth. Lando nearly choking as Y/N cackled in the background. Multiple clips showing Y/N with a fresh coffee, and another... and another, as Oscar's face in the background grew with concern. Zak Brown explaining to Y/N the dangers of caffeine overdose, and the need for moderation. Y/N explaining to Zak Brown that without coffee she would simply collapse and die, which the camera showed did nothing to ease her concern. Y/N getting caps signed by the drivers for fans and walking away with intricate friendship bracelets decorating her wrists.

And finally footage of the race. The engineers in the garage. The pit-crew changing tires. The cars racing past as Y/N watched attentively. Footage of the crowd as they cheered when the cars whizzed past. Smiling faces of fans. Y/N's cheers as Oscar and Lando passed. The smiling faces of McLaren employees as Lando and Oscar crossed the checkered flag in P6 and P8 respectively.

Y/N accepting hugs from both drivers, ignoring the burning sensation in her stomach as Lando wrapped his arms around her with a smile and a laugh. Y/N calling Lando smelly and telling him to go wash off if he wants to hug her next time, and him rolling his eyes at her fondly before making a face at the camera. The podium celebration is shown and Y/N smiles as the anthem plays, even though it's not for her own team.

The final clip is shown of Y/N in her hotel room, comfortable in sweats as she sits on the unmade bed.

"Not bad results this week guys! P6 for Lando and P8 for Oscar, which are good points for the team. I'm happy on my end, I think we got some good content filmed, and I am now ready to go to sleep so I can get home to Cali and my own bed quicker. I hope you enjoyed this video, and if you didn't don't tell me because I don't care!" Y/N jokes with a smile.

"Hopefully I will see you all at the next race, if not the race after that! Bye papaya fans, and be sure to follow us on instagram and all of the other social platforms!" Y/N exclaimed, gesturing to the list of the social media handles that appeared on her right hand side.

And with that, the camera cut to black.

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liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 29,145 others

ynusername afraid to report that i fought jetlag and lost 😔 i did sleep for 25 hours straight after melbourne and i had no clue where i was when i woke up! shout out cali for waking me up 🙏🏼 best friend frl

9,547 comments

bsfusername i'm going to try not to be offended by that caption (love you bb cali) but FUCK YOU CAUSE I BOUGHT YOUR ASS BREAKFAST

ynusername my bad! s/o to that bomb ass omlette 🤩

bsfusername never doing shit for you again

user34 that vlog was god tier, how long did that take

ynusername it took 7 hours of editing and years off my life, thanks so much for asking 🥳

maxverstappen1 thanks again for those podium photos! you have a gift for photography 💪🏻

ynusername don't mention it! 👍🏼

ynusername (no seriously, mclaren might behead me)

mclaren beheading is so last year. firing squad. 🗣️

user35 not y/n threatening herself 💀

oscarpiastri suprised your body didn't naturally wake up for coffee

ynusername it did! just 25 hours later

user36 your poor cat was literally starving for a whole day? youre a horrible owner

ynusername let me introduce you to god's greatest creation: the automatic feeder!!! i'm sure they can mail one to whatever fucking rock you live under!

user37 PERIODDDD

user38 me personally? i'd never log on again

user39 she needs a personal channel 🙏🏼🙏🏼 i'd subscribe

user40 her cat is so cute 😭😭😭 gimme that

ynusername 🫵 STAY BACK HEATHEN, NO ONE TOUCHES CALI AND LIVES

user40 my bad fam 🧍🏻‍♀️

user41 i want someone to love me as much as she loves that mean ass cat

landonorris don't you have a job to be doing 💀💀 she slept through a full work day

user42 lando always on her ass and for whattttt

user43 obsessed obsessed obsessed

ynusername i had the day off! but not the guy who was streaming video games coming for me 🥱 talking bout get a job

user44 lando and y/n beefing on insta again? we're so back

user45 at this point instagram comment beef isn't enough, they need to duel or some shit

user46 the caffeine addiction almost got her guys

ynusername i wish it would, then i wouldn't have to work with lando's annoying ass

landonorris I CAN SEE YOUR COMMENTS???

ynusername THAT'S THE POINT

user47 honestly just give her a gun atp, these men test her too damn much

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user48 NURSE 🫵 SHE'S RIGHT HERE

user49 no fr, like let's get back to bed grandma

user50 OP, are you concussed?

user51 no actually cause didn't y/n just say she wanted to khs working with him 💀💀

pastryboy81 that sign can't stop me, because i can't read!

user53 OK I ACTUALLY SEE THE VISION

user54 ARE YOUR EYES CLOSED???!1!1

user55 i fear i totally get it 😔

user56 it's giving enemies to lovers, secret relationship type vibe lowkkkk

user57 no deadass like he hugged her reallll tight

user58 she also hugged oscar 😭😭?? and he has a whole gf

user59 the way she shoved him off and told him he reeked not 5 seconds after 💀 delusion is a disease yall

user60 someone call the f1 gossip pages cause 😗

user61 more like someone call the ward cause somethings real off with yall 🤨

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sorry that this update took forever, i had surgery and recovery has been rougher than i expected! hope you enjoy!!

please leave your thoughts in the comments and feel free to drop a request for your fav in my asks <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Main Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

Found Footage (Post-Series Chapters)

Just Too Important - You and Ben head to Costco. Takes place about two months post-series. Dreams of Love - Request! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series. Setting In A Honeymoon - You and Ben finally get a honeymoon. Takes place about a year post-series.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Run, Run, Run II

Leila Ouahabi x Reader

Summary: Your new life

Your feet pound on the concrete of the pavement, rain drip-dropping down your skin.

The rain of Manchester had been difficult to get used to when you originally moved, used to the sun of Spain and the warmth on your skin as you completed your morning run.

The rain wasn't something that you were surprised about but it was still something that you've had to get used to.

You've had to get used to a lot actually but one thing, for better or for worse has stayed that same.

Your damned attraction to female footballers older than you.

You'd been burned by Alexia. That was all you could think about those first few weeks. How every memory with her was stained with fire and flames and an overwhelming heat that made you lose your mind.

But she had cheated and you had promised yourself to never be like your mother - to never stay with someone that disrespected you like that.

Your father was a damned near perfect father. He took you to all of your track meets and he'd never missed a parent-teacher evening in his life. He bragged about you to his co-workers.

But he had never been a perfect husband, cheating on your mother multiple times but she had still stayed, happy in the relative normalcy she has with your father.

You'd promised to never be like her so the decision to leave Alexia and flee the country didn't take as much thought as you thought it would.

And now you're in rainy Manchester, drying off your hair with the handy towel that hangs up in the entrance hall for you to use exactly for these moments.

"You're back?"

You smile as you rub the towel over your hair.

"I said I would before you left me."

"Left you? I'm only going to camp."

You sigh dramatically, pressing the back of your palm to your still damp forehead. "And leaving me here, all alone! Locked in this prison!"

"You were the one that decided on this apartment? You said you liked the open plan arrangement? We have a balcony?"

You press a soft kiss to Leila's lips. "You knew I was only joking. But I will miss you when you're at camp."

"I'll miss you too. Are you sure you can't come to the match?"

You nibble on the inside of your cheek.

Your life with Leila was practically perfect in every way. She was so in tune with you and your needs. She knew when you needed a break from cooking dinner or doing the grocery shop. She knew exactly when you needed a little pick me up like flowers or chocolates or even a long cuddle session in bed.

Everything was perfect but you just can't bring yourself to go back to Spain in that way, to put yourself in a situation where you'll be so close to Alexia again, the woman that you had once thought would be your wife some day.

"Baby..." You say, looking up at Leila," You know I wouldn't put you in that situation. Alexia...I don't want her to try to ostracise you from the team."

Leila sighs. "She's never done such a thing. Even...Even during...you know..."

"I know but it might be different. I mean...with me and her, it was...I don't know. I don't want you be at risk."

"I understand," Leila says, forehead pressed against your own," But if you did want to come, I've got a ticket reserved for you, alright?"

"I'll...I'll think about it. I promise."

Leila thinks about it too, all throughout camp. It circles through her mind like a dog with a bone. She wakes up thinking about. She goes to sleep thinking about it.

You've watched plenty of her matches at City, where you've become a favourite of the fans without even meaning to. You're a constant presence in the stands with a cup of whatever warm drink you poured yourself before leaving the house.

She's lost count of how many of her Panini stickers you've signed for fans before coming down onto the pitch to greet her.

But you've never come to one of her matches for Spain, not with Alexia on the team, the ever lurking looming presence of your relationship.

Leila's never really seen her captain in the same way since. She's a good captain, an amazing player but Leila's learnt how to separate those aspects of Alexia to the one that she knows you experienced, the one that had tried to manipulate you into staying in a relationship, the one that had tried to promise you everything to stay with her even after cheating.

Leila can separate the Alexia on the pitch to the one off of it but she knows that is something you can't do.

The Alexia on the pitch and off the pitch has always been the same Alexia to you. There is no separation of who she is and Leila can accept your decision to stay away for that reason.

But it still doesn't stop her from wishing you would come to see her play.

The option is open for you but Leila would never hold it against you if you decided not to.

There were plenty of other games for you to go to.

"So..." Codi wheedles during breakfast before the match," Where's the girlfriend?"

Leila almost chokes over her cereal. "At home."

"She isn't coming?"

"She has the option if she wants. She's busy."

Codi rolls her eyes. "She's always busy during international break. She's got to come at some point."

Leila rolls her eyes. "She's her own person. I won't force her to do anything."

"You've got a new girlfriend?" Alexia asks, looking up from her phone.

Leila looks back down at her bowl, swirling the milk around with the back of her spoon. "I...Yeah, I do. She's great..."

She bites her tongue, swallowing back what she actually wants to say, all of the things she wants to spit at Alexia on your behalf.

But she doesn't.

Leila stays silent, swirling her cereal around as the conversation moves on.

The pass is perfectly weighted from her on the pitch a few hours later, speeding through the legs of opposition players for Alexia to slot neatly into the net.

The rush of an assist runs through Leila as she turns to look into the stands.

You're sitting there, amongst the cheering of the fans.

Leila had seen you earlier, a surprise in a hoodie to cover your hair but your girlfriend could just see the Spanish jersey poking out from under it.

She suddenly finds herself praying that it's hers.

She'd even take it being blank.

Because Leila knows Alexia noticed you earlier, had seen you when the big screen focused on the crowd during the warm ups. She had seen Alexia stare at you. She had seen the aborted movement Alexia made towards you, like she was about to abandon the warm ups to go up to you - sweetly saccharine tone at the ready to convince you to go back to her.

Leila hopes that if you do have a name on your shirt, it's not Alexia's.