When Blair presented, she distinctly remembers a tears welling up in her eyes. Of happiness.

Of course, it was only right for a prize like her to be an omega. She was the quintessential beauty, brain, and babies, all in one. Let alone what the Waldorf name afforded her. She was the most sought-after prospect in the Upper East Side; a guaranteed golden ticket to life.

Biologically, the cushy lifestyle was necessary, no? Blair had been treated like a royal for essentially all her life; and that had only doubled-down since puberty. Oh, how boys and men alike flocked to her. Not that she’d ever entangle herself with those unsavoury. Sure, being an omega could be dangerous—but not in this world. Not when she had a whole host of minions and connections and wealth to protect her.

And you, of course.

“Oh, don’t make me beg.” Blair scoffs, though it’s playful. Her brunette locks are sprawled out on what used to be her pillows, but now looks like a heap of designer— pyjamas. Or various scents, immediately recognisable; and immediately comforting.

Nate, Serena, Chuck.. they’re all intimately familiar scents to Blair, and you. It comes with being a pack, after all. Though, the amount of mingled clothing seems excessive.

“Come on. Just one wouldn’t hurt.” She huffs, pale hands skimming under your hem, and you know damn well her nest isn’t why she’s so insistent about stealing the clothes off your back. “I’m all.. what is it? Needy.” A fox couldn’t sound coyer.