#I'm prepared to make that sacrifice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kirammanswifey · 2 months ago

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arcane characters proposing x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: it was so satisfying to have written this after so much dramaaaa. i really liked this dynamic and i'll exploit it with so much more scenarios so be prepared for a lot of fluff, btw my favorite proposal was jayce's, he was all cute and clumsy. as you already know request are open ;)

wedding link:

Viktor

The silence in the lab is heavy, interrupted only by the soft hum of the machines he has designed himself. You’re beside him, watching how his fingers move with skill, adjusting a piece of the contraption he holds in his hands. The dim light from the lamps reflects on his face, casting shadows that highlight the features of his face, always so serious, so focused. But in his eyes, there’s something different today. Something... softer, deeper.

You’re used to seeing him in his colder, distant side, but something has changed. There’s a strange calmness in his presence. When he looks up and meets your gaze, his lips curl slightly, a small but meaningful smile.

"Science is my life," he says in his deep, measured tone, as if evaluating each word before speaking. "And it always has been. But some time ago, something changed. Something that... has nothing to do with experiments or formulas. Something I can’t measure or control."

He looks at you with an intensity that feels almost uncomfortable, as if he were exposed, vulnerable, on ground where he doesn’t have all the answers. His voice, though firm, carries a vulnerability he rarely shows.

"You’ve given me more than I thought I needed," he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’s not just what you’ve done for me in the lab. It’s... what you’ve done for me as a person. You’ve been my anchor, my reason to keep going when everything seemed lost. In a world that doesn’t have clear answers, you’re the only certainty I have."

The distance between the two of you seems to shorten. Viktor takes a step toward you, although his movements are slow, as if each one carries meaning. He stops beside you, almost as if it were a gesture of trust, of allowing himself to be vulnerable in your presence. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if preparing to say something that has taken him a long time to decide.

"What I’m about to say... doesn’t have any exact formula. No calculation that validates it," he says, and you can see his hands tremble slightly. "But I know that, with everything I’ve done, with everything I still want to do, I would never feel complete without you."

His voice is soft now, much quieter, as if what he’s about to say is a secret, one he’s revealing only to you.

"I’ve seen you beyond the brilliant mind, beyond the scientist who always challenges me. I’ve seen you as someone who, no matter how many times I shut myself off from the world, continues to be by my side, expecting nothing more than... to be with me."

He takes something from his pocket. A small metal case. He opens the lid carefully, revealing a simple ring, but with an elegance that only he could have imagined and created. The Hextech light reflects off the blue stone, casting glimmers that make your breath catch for a moment.

"My life wouldn’t be the same without you. And if there’s one thing in this world I don’t want to lose, it’s the opportunity to have you by my side forever."

Viktor looks at you deeply, waiting, more vulnerable than he’s ever been. And finally, after all the science, all the advancements, all the sacrifices... he asks you with a sincerity that cuts through the air:

"Will you marry me?"

The silence that follows is absolute. You stay motionless, unable to articulate a word. The weight of his declaration, of his vulnerability, pierces you, but instead of an immediate response, you dive into the intensity of his eyes, looking for something, any sign, any confirmation that this isn’t a dream. Viktor begins to worry, and the discomfort is reflected on his face.

"It’s a shame... I can’t do it the conventional way, kneeling..." he murmurs, his voice trembling. "But... I guess..."

You can’t let him finish the sentence. The anxiety in his eyes, the insecurity in his posture, prevents you from doing so. You move quickly, placing your lips on his with a soft kiss, but one filled with everything you can’t put into words. The world seems to fade away, and all that remains is him, the beating of your heart, and that silent connection between you two.

When you finally pull away, his gaze is still fixed on you, expectant, anxious. With a tenderness that comes from deep within, you take his face in your hands, your fingers caressing his skin as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And it was. He was the most precious thing in your world.

You look deeply into his eyes, every word that leaves your mouth filled with love, promises, and everything you haven’t said until now.

"Yes, Viktor... yes, yes, yes. Always yes."

The air between you both is filled with a new energy, one that needs no more words, because the simple fact of being together is enough.

Jinx

The night has fallen, but it’s not a peaceful one. The air is charged with electricity, as if the whole world is waiting for something, and you, trapped in the whirlwind of the city, can’t help but feel that something is about to explode. Literally.

You walk through the dark alleys of the Undercity, the neon lights flickering around you, when suddenly, a familiar laugh makes you turn. Jinx appears, her electric blue hair waving in the wind and a spark of madness in her eyes. She’s holding a large, seemingly heavy box in her hands, grinning mischievously.

“Surprise!” she says, her voice overflowing with excitement. “I’ve got something incredible to show you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever seen!”

Before you can say anything, she grabs your hand and drags you toward an open space, where a small platform is set up, filled with wires and explosives. The sense of danger is in the air, but it’s impossible not to feel the adrenaline she radiates. You know that with Jinx, you can’t expect anything conventional, but that’s what makes her so unpredictable. So... perfect.

“What are you doing?” you ask, although you can already imagine the kind of madness she has in mind.

“Doing what I’ve always wanted to do! A celebration of love that no one will ever forget!” she replies, her smile so wide it almost lights up the city’s darkness.

Jinx runs toward an improvised control panel and presses a button with exaggerated theatricality, as if it were a grand revelation. Suddenly, the sky lights up. A flash of colors bursts above you, as if the very chaos inside her wanted to spill over into the universe. Fireworks. A visual spectacle so dazzling that it takes your breath away. It’s as if the whole city is alive, as if life and death themselves were dancing in the sky.

While the explosions of colors fill the air, Jinx approaches you, her eyes sparkling as if she had immersed herself in her own world of madness and love. She’s not one to beat around the bush or speak sweetly, so when she takes your face in her hands, her fingers cold but full of energy, you know what she’s about to say is as unexpected as everything she does.

“Listen,” she says, looking at the colorful stars exploding above them. “What I love most about this world is the chaos. Things don’t have to be perfect or make sense! But... there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of.”

Your heart beats faster, but you can’t help but smile at her wild declaration.

“I want you to be my chaos,” she continues, her voice full of determination. “I want you to join me in this journey of madness, to hold on to me when I explode, to keep laughing when the world falls apart, to follow me... because you and I are invincible!”

With a nearly mischievous grin, Jinx pulls something from her jacket: a ring. It’s quirky, like everything in her life, with visible gears and sparkling stones, some even crackling slightly, as if they’re about to explode.

“What I mean is... will you marry me? Tell me yes before I run out of fireworks!”

Jinx’s laughter is a little overwhelming, an echo of her own unpredictable essence. But despite all her chaos, there’s something so sincere in her eyes, something that makes you feel that, even though the world may be on the edge of destruction, this moment, this chaos, is the only thing that truly matters.

You stand there, speechless for a moment, overwhelmed by the light bombardment and the madness of the proposal, but when you see how she looks at you, waiting, you realize you have no doubts. Jinx has made it clear in her own language: love is a dangerous game, but you want to play it by her side.

With a brilliant smile, you approach her, and between the lights, amid the roar, you whisper:

“Yes, Jinx. Yes, to this chaos. Yes, always.”

You’re lying on the couch, comfortable and relaxed, with your head resting on Vi’s legs. The soft sound of the city that never sleeps drifts in from the window, but inside the house, the silence feels cozy. Vi is sitting, her muscles tense but calm, with a thoughtful expression as she plays with your hair, something that always soothes you.

The warmth of her presence surrounds you, and for a moment, everything seems perfect. But something in the air changes. Vi’s relaxed demeanor begins to feel different, as if she’s holding something back. You realize that, for the first time, she’s not being the confident Vi, the one who always has everything under control.

“Are you okay?” you ask, lifting your head from her legs to look at her directly. Vi doesn’t answer right away, and her fingers stop moving through your hair. There’s uncertainty in her eyes, something you haven’t seen before.

She shifts, crosses her legs, but doesn’t seem as comfortable as usual. “You know... I’m not really good with these things,” she says, her voice softer than usual. “I’m always the one who throws punches and solves everything my way, but now...” Her gaze drops to the floor for a moment, avoiding eye contact.

You look at her, sensing that something important is about to come out of her mouth. On her face, that nervous grimace is a clear sign that she’s struggling with herself. Something’s going on, but she doesn’t know how to express it.

“What I mean is... I’ve never been good with words,” Vi continues, letting out a nervous laugh. “And I’m not one for grand gestures or fancy things. I’m not someone who can give you the best, like... you know, expensive jewelry or fancy places. But there’s something I know I want.”

Vi takes something from her pocket, and when you see it, a small ring appears between her fingers. It’s not shiny or flashy. It’s simple, made of metal with a rustic design, almost as if she made it herself. A small symbol of her effort and her love.

“This... isn’t much,” she says, looking at the ring with a slight embarrassment. “I got it with what I could save. It’s not perfect, but... I want it to be a symbol of who I am for you. Of everything we’ve been through together. And... I want us to be together. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, even if I’m not the best at this. Because, despite everything, I love you more than I can put into words.”

Vi looks at the ring like it’s a simple object, but in her eyes, you can see how much it means to her. Her insecurity is palpable, as if she’s waiting for the ring to not be enough. But you know that’s not what matters. You know it’s all she has to offer you, and that’s what makes this moment even more special.

You see her nervous, waiting for a response, and you can’t help but smile. You get up and stand in front of her, gently touching her hands, and when you look at her, the insecurity on her face melts away, though her voice is still a fearful whisper.

“Vi,” you say, with a sincere smile. “I don’t care about the ring, I don’t care about what you couldn’t give me. What matters is that you’ve shown me more love than I ever imagined. Yes, I want to marry you. Yes, I always want to be with you, by your side.”

Vi looks at you as if she can’t believe what she just heard. Her face lights up with a pure expression of relief and happiness. Even though the words aren’t perfect, everything this moment means is in her eyes. She lets out a nervous laugh and, without thinking, pulls you into a tight hug.

“I knew you’d say yes,” she whispers, but her voice is full of emotion. And you, amid the laughter and the embrace, know that despite everything that has happened, this moment couldn’t be more perfect.

Caitlyn

Night has fallen over Piltover, and the city lights shine with a golden glow, reflecting the majesty of the buildings and the life that has always characterized this city. Caitlyn has invited you to dinner at one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, an elegant place, tastefully decorated, where the panoramic view takes your breath away. The atmosphere is calm, yet filled with a sophisticated air. The murmurs of other diners do not interrupt the softness of the background music.

Caitlyn looks impeccable, as always, in her elegant dress that accentuates her delicate but strong features. The soft candlelight flickers on her face, highlighting the concentration in her eyes. From the moment you entered the restaurant, you could sense something in the air, but she is determined to maintain composure, even though her hands occasionally move restlessly over the table.

The dinner goes on as usual, with Caitlyn talking about her latest research advancements, her projects, and concerns about the future of Piltover. But even though the topic is important and her voice is firm, you can't help but notice the tension inside her. She drinks a bit more wine than she normally would, and from time to time, her fingers play with the glass as if she is seeking comfort.

"I've been waiting for this," she says suddenly, her eyes fixed on you, although her tone betrays her nervousness. "I don't know if I'm good at this, but I think... well, I need to be honest. I don't like hiding things, and this is important."

Your eyes meet hers, noticing how a slight blush begins to appear on her cheeks. Caitlyn, the woman who always has a logical answer for everything, now looks completely vulnerable. But it's not her nervousness that makes you smile; it's the way she looks at you, as if this moment is more important than any project or achievement.

Caitlyn sighs deeply and finally gets up from her chair, giving you a little spin around the table. You don't know if it's to calm herself or because she needs to distract her thoughts, but she approaches slowly, as if each step is a challenge. Her hands tremble slightly as she places them on the table, and you realize that something very important is about to happen.

"I know this isn't something I planned in the traditional way," she says, her voice soft but firm, "but... this is how I feel. And I want you to know." She lifts her hand, showing you a small ring, whose shine is subtle but radiant. It is a delicate ring, with a simple yet elegant design, of impeccable quality. And when you see it, you realize it's not just any jewel.

It's the ring her mother wore at her wedding, the same one Caitlyn had seen so many times, the one she had touched with so much love when she was a child. A symbol of tradition, of enduring love. A symbol of family.

"This is my mother's ring," Caitlyn says, almost whispering. "I know it's not a modern ring, nor expensive compared to what I could buy, but... it holds a very special meaning. For me, it means everything I want to offer you. My family, my love, my commitment. My promise that I'll always be by your side."

She looks at you, her eyes shining with emotion, as if it were the first time she showed something so intimate, so hers. There are no doubts in her gaze, only a deep certainty of what she's saying, but her voice remains soft, sincere.

"I love you," she says, with a clarity that reaches straight to your heart. "And I want you to be my partner in all of this, not just in the good moments, but in the difficult ones. Because, for me, there is no one else I want to be with. Only you."

Caitlyn places the ring in front of you, and for a moment, all the bustle of the restaurant disappears. Only the soft sound of her breath and the beating of your heart remain. You know what you have to do, but this moment feels so perfect, so genuine, that the words seem stuck in your throat. All you want to do is take her hand, look her in the eyes, and say yes.

Finally, your words come out with a wide smile. "Yes, Cait. Yes, I want to spend my life with you."

Caitlyn's eyes light up with a happiness that makes you feel as if everything is in its place, as if nothing else matters about what may come in the future. This moment, this commitment, is everything you both needed.

Caitlyn hugs you tightly, and the ring shines on your finger, a symbol of a pure and deep love, born from honesty, vulnerability, and sincerity from a woman who, despite her external perfection, has always been real with you.

Jayce

The day had been long and full of work, but Jayce, with his determined spirit, decided to surprise you. Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant or preparing something sophisticated, he had a much bolder idea—a homemade dinner. That made you smile immediately, knowing that Jayce wasn’t exactly an expert chef. But you didn’t care; the idea of sharing something so personal with him excited you more than any gourmet dinner.

When you entered the kitchen, you found him with an expression of total concentration, mixing ingredients in a way that left much to be desired, but you found it charming. He had made pasta, something simple, but it had surely cost him more effort than he wanted to admit.

"Surprise!" he said as he saw you approach. Although the dish wasn’t a culinary masterpiece, you sat with him, and despite the imperfections, you enjoyed every bite. The smile on his face as he watched you eat was enough to make everything seem perfect. And when, after a while of talking and laughing, you got up to go to the bathroom, he took the opportunity to open a special bottle of wine.

When you returned, the glass was ready, and seeing the wine in it and the label on the bottle, your eyes lit up with excitement. It was your favorite wine! You couldn’t stop smiling as you smelled it and took a small sip.

But then, suddenly, something wasn’t right. A strange piece caught in your throat made you cough hard. The wine spilled from your mouth as you tried to catch your breath, and in the midst of coughing, a strange sensation made you feel as if something was stuck there. In an instant, Jayce was by your side, looking at you with panic.

"What happened?! Are you okay?!"

With a quick maneuver, almost instinctively, Jayce patted your back and, with a racing heart, helped you spit out what was stuck in your throat. To both of your surprise, what came out was not just a piece of food, but a small ring now resting in your hand.

Jayce was in shock, looking at the ring and then at you, completely red with embarrassment. "Oh no! That wasn’t part of the plan! How did that get there? Everything has gone wrong... I’m sorry, I never imagined this would happen."

You laughed, almost hysterically, as you cleaned the ring with a napkin and held it in your palm. Despite the comical situation, Jayce was clearly frustrated. He wanted everything to be perfect, but you didn’t care. It was clear that all that mattered was that he was there, in front of you, despite the fiasco.

"Are you going to ask me or not?" you asked, the smile on your lips growing as you watched his face change from despair to disbelief.

Jayce looked at you, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He was nervous, completely out of place. "Really? Now…?" he asked, with a nervous laugh. But it didn’t take long for him to do what he had to do. With a shy but genuine smile, he knelt before you, somewhat clumsy but sincere, and with a nervous laugh, he said:

"Well… since it seems I can’t do anything right today, maybe this will be the one thing that goes well. Will you marry me?"

The scene, as clumsy as it was funny, made you laugh even more, but in the end, all that mattered was that he was there, in his own way, loving you. The ring, somewhat imperfect in all its disorder, represented more love than anyone could ask for. Without thinking any further, you took his face in your hands and kissed him tenderly, answering in the simplest yet most profound way possible:

"Yes, Jayce. I do."

Ekko

The Undercity held its own kind of magic. The faint lights of the streetlamps flickered through the mist, and the distant sounds of the markets blended with the steady flow of water running through the pipes. You were sitting on an improvised bench in a hidden corner, surrounded by the crumbling walls, but to you, this place felt like the very heart of the world. Ekko had made it a refuge for the two of you, a space where you could escape from the chaos and, for a moment, forget about everything else except the present.

There was something special about that night. The way Ekko looked at you, the spark in his eyes... it wasn’t like the times before. There was something deeper now, a sense of resolution, as if he was on the verge of making a decision that would change everything. And he did.

"You know," Ekko began, his voice more serious than usual, "I've been thinking a lot about things lately. About how everything we've lived through... everything we've overcome... has changed us." His words carried a weight they usually didn’t.

The conversation didn't seem to be heading towards a cheerful topic, but there was something in the air that told you what was coming was important. You leaned in a little closer, sensing that the atmosphere was charged with something.

He pulled a small device from his pocket, something that looked like an old piece of machinery, but upon closer inspection, you realized it was no ordinary gadget. It was a pocket watch, but not the kind you'd find in a store. This one was modified, a timepiece that seemed designed not only to measure time but also to control something else... something intangible, like destiny. It was something Ekko had built over the years, a reflection of his constant efforts to understand the flow of time.

"This watch," he said with a faint smile on his lips, "is a reminder. A reminder that even when things seem out of control, we can always find a way to move forward. Like us, always moving forward, no matter what comes our way."

He looked at you with a seriousness you’d never seen from him before, and for a moment, he fell silent, as if searching for the right words.

"And… what I’m trying to say is that, even though we don’t have control over time, even though we can’t stop what’s coming, I want you to keep walking by my side. Every second, every minute, every step."

Despite his usual relaxed demeanor, in that moment he seemed more vulnerable than ever. The watch he showed you wasn’t just a machine; it was a symbol of what he had been searching for his whole life: a way to stop time, so that the most important moments wouldn’t slip away.

"So, if at any point you feel the same way," he added, gently taking your hand, "I’d like this... what we’re living... to never end. That we can keep making memories together. I don’t know if there’s a right way to ask, but... would you like to be with me, always?"

He looked at you with a vulnerability you’d never seen before, almost as if afraid you might say something that would break the magic of the moment.

You couldn’t help but smile, at first as if you were in shock, speechless. This Ekko, the one who always had a plan, the one who had faced a thousand battles, was now asking you to be by his side forever, with a sincerity he rarely showed. It wasn’t a grand traditional gesture, but to you, it was even more meaningful.

You were silent for a few seconds, and that made Ekko feel even more unsure, his gaze beginning to fade as if he thought you had already decided not to answer. But before he could pull away or say anything more, you caught him, quickly closing the distance between you.

"Yes," you whispered, but it was a resounding yes. "Yes, Ekko, I want to be with you. Always. I don’t need a watch or a perfect plan. I just need you."

You held his hand more firmly, looking into his eyes, and his lips formed a slight smile, though his face still carried a trace of nervousness.

"Together, forever, babe," he said, pulling you close and resting your back against his chest. You smiled happily as his arms wrapped around you.

You took the watch and kissed it, feeling the cold scent of rusted metal.

"Forever," you replied, and that word felt like the beginning of something eternal.

Silco

It was another night when the soft light of candles flickered, casting shadows in the corners of the room. The atmosphere in Silco's office was charged with tension, as always, but tonight something felt different. The usual coldness of the room had transformed into something warmer. On the walls, shadows danced to the rhythm of the flames, and the scattered papers on his desk seemed to tell stories of past struggles and uncertain victories.

However, Silco wasn’t at his desk. He stood in the center of the room, silently watching you as you leaned against the door, returning his gaze. His presence was magnetic, as always, but there was something different about him tonight. Something more vulnerable in his stance, as if he had been waiting for you—or rather, waiting for you to understand what lay beneath those deep eyes.

“This is a different kind of night,” Silco spoke, his voice grave, deliberate, as if weighing each word. He motioned for you to come closer, but not to him—toward the far side of the room. A table, delicately designed, rested just beneath a window overlooking the chaotic landscape of the Undercity.

As you approached, you noticed several boxes on the table, some open, some closed. One wooden box caught your eye. Silco’s gaze hardened on it, almost as if he feared what might happen when it was opened, or perhaps what it represented. He moved toward it slowly, like someone executing a carefully planned act, and gently opened the box.

Inside lay a ring. It wasn’t the kind of ring you’d expect from someone like Silco—no extravagant jewels, no grand display of wealth. Yet, there was something profound about it. The fine, dark metalwork and the stone that caught the light in a way you couldn’t ignore seemed to tell a story. It was as if the ring itself embodied both the harshness of his life and the softness of feelings he had long kept hidden.

“This is the kind of thing I never cared for,” he said, his tone mixing toughness with an unexpected sincerity. “A symbol without meaning. But since you arrived, I’ve learned that there are things worth more than logic.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Silco showed a hint of insecurity. His gaze clouded for a moment, as if he feared your reaction. But instead of saying more, he stepped closer, the ring in his hand, and slowly sank to his knee before you.

“I’ve sacrificed so much, maybe that’s why I never let myself desire more. But now I know. I know because I want you. And because I don’t want to do this alone.”

There was no grand gesture, no theatrics, but the weight of sincerity in his simple act stunned you. He looked up at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, asking for something more than anyone had ever dared to ask before.

“Will you marry me?”

The silence in the room was thick, filled with everything Silco couldn’t say but what his proposal meant. It wasn’t a casual request—it was a serious commitment, as serious as everything he’d fought for in his life.

For a moment, you stood still, heart racing—not because of the surprise, but because of the sheer intensity of his words and the unexpected gesture. You had seen the calculating side of Silco, the way he controlled every aspect of his life, every decision with precision. But this—this was something entirely different. It was the purest form of vulnerability, someone willing to give it all up for love, to risk everything they’d built for someone who meant more than any achievement.

Finally, you took a deep breath and, with a soft smile, nodded. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “There is nothing I want more in this world than to be your wife.”

The air shifted instantly. Silco stood slowly, and his normally implacable face softened. It was as if he had laid down an immense weight, as if the future finally had a clear purpose.

Without another word, he pulled you into his arms. In that moment, the shadows in the room seemed lighter, less oppressive. With the promise of a future together, everything that had once seemed distant, unreachable, now felt within both your grasps.

Mel

It was a quiet night, one of those where the sounds of the city reached you muffled, as if time was willing to grant you a break. Mel's living room, as always, was a perfect display of elegance and order, but something about the atmosphere that night felt different, warmer, more intimate. The soft light from the lamps illuminated the carefully arranged furniture, and there was a rare calm in the air, something that only happened when the worries of the outside world seemed to vanish for a moment.

Mel had invited you to her house that night, but not for dinner or a formal event. Instead, she had wanted to show you something more, something personal. And seeing the invitation in her eyes, you knew this moment was special.

When you entered, the house had a more relaxed vibe than usual. The fireplace flickered softly in the background, and the air was filled with the delicate scent of incense. However, what truly caught your attention was what was in the center of the room. A large painting, a framed portrait, was leaning against the wall, carefully placed under a soft light.

"I want you to see this," Mel said with a slight smile, her usually firm voice now tinged with an unexpected sweetness. She approached you, guiding you toward the painting. Though her face didn’t give it away, there was a slight tension in her movements, as if she was waiting for your reaction.

You stepped closer to the portrait, and your breath caught as you saw the image in front of you. It was a portrait of you, painted with a level of detail that only someone like Mel could have achieved. Every line, every shadow seemed to capture something beyond your appearance: a reflection of your being, how she saw you. It wasn’t just a painting; it was an expression of how Mel perceived you, something that had been rendered with such dedication that the work itself seemed to come alive.

"It’s… incredible," you murmured, unable to articulate a more complete response. Mel watched your reaction, her eyes fixed on you, but without saying a word. You knew that, for her, this work meant far more than just a portrait. It was a piece of her soul, an extension of her deepest feelings.

"I did it because… because I wanted to capture something that could never be expressed just with words," Mel said, her tone calm but loaded with meaning. "It’s hard for me to share something so… personal, but with you, I feel like it makes sense."

You turned toward her, surprised by the vulnerability she was showing, so rare in the woman who had always kept everything under control. But there was something in her gaze, something in her posture, that made you see what she truly felt.

Mel took a step toward you, her gaze softening even further. "You are… the only person who has truly shown me what it means to let someone in so deeply. I’ve spent my whole life building walls, creating an image of control, but you… you’ve shown me something I didn’t even know I needed."

There was a softness in her words that you had never heard before. You knew her as a strong, calculating woman, always impeccable. But there, in that moment, in front of you, there was something more, something that only you had been able to awaken in her.

"And now I want you to… be part of my life. I want you not only to be part of this portrait, but of everything I’ve built. I’ve had all the power in the world, all the control I could wish for, but that doesn’t make sense without someone like you by my side."

Mel paused, almost as if she were fighting against herself, and then, with a smooth movement, extended her hand toward you. In her palm rested a small box, which she carefully opened, revealing a simple but elegant ring. It was beautiful but not ostentatious, with a unique beauty, a design that spoke of her personality: refined, but with a subtle touch of surprise. The golden ring glimmered softly under the candlelight, like a reflection of the same gentleness Mel had shown in her words.

"I want you to be my partner," Mel said, her voice a barely audible whisper, but filled with meaning. "Will you marry me?"

The moment was marked by a tense silence, loaded with emotion. Mel wasn’t seeking a grand declaration or an ostentatious proposal. She only wanted to share her life with you, in the way she knew how to do it: with a sincerity that only she could offer.

Without thinking, you stepped closer to her, took her face in your hands, and without saying another word, kissed her softly. The kiss wasn’t just a response to her proposal, but an affirmation of everything you shared, of everything that moment meant.

When you pulled away, her eyes were filled with something you had never seen before: vulnerability, hope, love. You took her hand, and with a warm smile, you said what she had been waiting to hear, what you both knew was true.

"Yes, Mel. Yes. I’ve always wanted this, to share all of this with you."

Mel smiled, her face lit by a deep emotion she had never shown before. Without saying another word, she hugged you, and in that embrace was everything she couldn’t say with words. The future, her promises, her fears, her desires. It was all there, intertwined in an embrace as warm as the painting she had created just for you.

Sevika

It had been a long and dangerous night, more than either of us had anticipated. You had gotten yourself into a mess, bigger than anyone else would have dared to handle, but there you were, beside Sevika, helping her get out of danger. There were a few of Silco's enemies, but with her strength and your ingenuity, you managed to make it all end in the blink of an eye. The tension eased, and calm washed over everything like a wave.

The air was charged with adrenaline, but also with a strange serenity when the two of you were finally away from danger. Sevika, with her impassive face and intense eyes, looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something more. You couldn’t say it was love at first sight or anything so romantic, but there was something about that moment that felt different, something raw, something real.

You stayed looking at her while both of you took a breath, your bodies still trembling slightly from the tension. She was so close you could feel her breath, as heavy and rhythmic as your own. Without warning, her eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the outside world disappeared. There were no more enemies, no more worries, just the two of you.

Sevika didn’t speak at first. The full moon illuminated the corner where you were, but it was her silence that spoke volumes. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her low voice cut through the air:

"Do you want to marry me?"

You stopped, surprised. Had she really said that? Or was it one of her usual jokes? It couldn’t have been more unexpected, could it? You laughed lightly, thinking it must have been a joke. But when you looked into her eyes, as serious as always, a knot formed in your stomach. Sevika wasn’t joking. Not this time.

"Just like that, out of the blue?" you asked, unable to suppress a smile of disbelief. It was as if all the chaos of the night hadn’t been enough to spill over into the unpredictability of her proposal.

She didn’t flinch, her lips curving into a slight smile, but her eyes stayed fixed on you, determined. "And why not? The best things come out of nowhere, don’t they?" she said with a tone that left no room for doubt. Her voice was strong, direct, but there was a softness hidden beneath her arrogance. Sevika had never been one for too many words, but the few she spoke always carried weight. As if nothing in her was accidental, and every decision she made was calculated down to the last detail.

She looked at you for a moment, evaluating you with the same intensity she always did, then added, "So, do you want to be my little, spoiled wife? I promise to put up with your snoring and you kicking me out of bed for all eternity." She joked, a low laugh escaping her chest, and you were a little surprised by the lightness in her tone, as if, in the seriousness of the situation, Sevika also needed to soften the moment in her own way.

Your reaction was automatic, more because of the teasing tone than the content of what she said. "Hey! I don’t snore that much!" you exclaimed, pretending to be offended, but the truth was, you couldn’t really be angry. You couldn’t be upset, because there was something about her that drew you in in a very unique way.

So, you decided to raise your right hand and move your ring finger. "No ring, no wedding," you warned, then flicked your hair in the air. "I’m not a girl who settles for little, and you know that."

Sevika approached you, never losing her smile. "Believe me, sweetheart, I’ll buy you the biggest, most expensive ring in the world. Tell me how many carats you want, and I’ll get it exactly how you ask for it." Her promise was full of a confidence only she could have. Every word sounded so convincing, so solid, that there was no room for doubt. Sevika never made empty promises, and this was no exception.

Her voice was deep, playful, as if she was willing to fulfill anything asked of her. You smiled, pleased, but something in her attitude sparked a mischievous glint in your eyes. Instead of continuing the joke, you went straight to the point and leaned close to her ear, whispering with a touch of playful innuendo:

"Since the best things come out of nowhere, why don’t we fast forward to the honeymoon?"

Your whisper was soft, but with an undertone of suggestion that didn’t go unnoticed. Sevika blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised by your response. But instead of being bothered, something on her face shifted, and a sideways smile appeared on her lips, as if you had pulled the idea right out of her head.

"I like that," she said, her tone now low and filled with palpable desire. "I love that you don’t beat around the bush." Her voice was hushed, heavy with desire, accentuated by how close she was to you. "Let’s make this night something much more... memorable."

Suddenly, the environment around you both ceased to exist. Only her eyes, the heat of her body near yours, and the certainty that, despite everything, something had begun in an unexpected way remained. The best things come out of nowhere, and tonight, Sevika had shown you that her way of loving, though fierce and daring, was also the most sincere you had ever known.

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the-californicationist · 6 months ago

Text

The Old Way

Listen... I don't even know what I'm on with this. Just... don't judge me. Omfg what is wrong with me.

AO3 Link -- TW: omegaverse wildness, biting, blood, etc.

Your people are starving, and your clan's Alpha has asked you, their only remaining Omega, to give yourself up as a sacrifice to save them. So, you agree, and you are to be mated to one of the Alphas of Clan 141, praying that it is to any of them except Alpha Price. He is known to have a knot that is impossible to take, but when you finally meet him, you're not sure of what's possible anymore. Will you risk it all to be with him, even if his knot might kill you? One way to find out…

The Old Way

You couldn’t see the stars. The shroud that hung over your head was made from fine, black silk, and through its thin organza, you could barely make out the shape of the Watcher in front of you, much less the glittering galactic expanse overhead. You were wrapped like a gift, and if you wanted to save the lives of everyone you’d ever loved, you would remain cloaked in your darkness, hidden, waiting for your big moment. More than anything, you wanted to pull your veil away from your eyes just to see the familiar constellations again, to comfort yourself with their shapes, to make one last independent choice before all of your volition was stolen from you forever.

That wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t steal something that was given freely. You were not bound, and you were certainly not forced to wear the shadowed veil against your will. You had selected this path for yourself, and now you were living through the consequences of that decision.

As the only Omega in your clan – the first one born in seventy years – you were raised on the knowledge that you may one day be asked to give up your life for your clan. After the war, life was hard, and now that your people were stuck in a seemingly endless drought, it had become even more desperate. Your clan leader, Alpha Roan, had come to you six weeks ago with a terrible look in his eyes, a palpable guilt, still wearing his mourning collar for his long-lost mate, Omega Kiran, and he had asked you if you would be willing to undergo The Exchange.

His own wife had come to your clan through The Exchange, and although they had chosen to perform a private ceremony, you knew that it had been a challenge for her. Before she died, she had taught you much about your role, but you were still a youngling, and some things were just not for you to hear at such an age.

You thought about the years that had passed after the loss of your clan’s Omega. Alpha Roan had insisted on your education, and your training, but the idea that you would be asked to leave your clan through The Exchange was always a distant threat. But, now, here it was. You had been called by your Alpha to sacrifice yourself for their benefit; not in a marriage of love, but in a clan trade.

You had been asked by your Alpha to think about your choice. After he left you to ponder your choice, you sat down in your chambers surrounded by your Watchers, the women who had raised you, who had taught you to read, to write, to fight, and to charm. They looked at you with the same guilty, knowing eyes, and they asked you if you were prepared to make the sacrifice.

“You do know what awaits you at the end of The Exchange, don’t you, Omega?” Watcher Trinity had asked you quietly, holding your hands in her shaking fingers, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles folding and stretching over her thin bones.

You nodded, “Yes, Watcher. I am to be given to a new Alpha.”

She had looked at you then, her eyes sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how she would ask her next question.

“Do you know the way in which you will be given, Omega?”

Her tone chilled your heart, sinking through your body like ice across a pond, freezing you in place. You waited. There was more that she needed to say, and you allowed her to explain.

And now that you knew the truth, you felt fully prepared to accept the terms of the agreement. You would deliver your people from their strife, and any pain, any shame, and any horror that you experienced from this point onward would be in service to your clan. You hoped that would be enough solace to sustain you. There was no shame in your sacrifice, you knew that. But, in your soul, you knew that knowing a thing and experiencing a thing were two vastly disparate sides of the same coin.

You informed your clan Alpha, holding your chin high,

“I accept the terms of The Exchange, Alpha Roan.”

“Your people are forever in your debt, Omega. Watchers,” he addressed your caregivers, “Please make preparations in the old way of our clan.”

“The old way, Alpha Roan?” Watcher Trinity had asked, her voice giving away her apprehension.

“Yes, Watcher. We will follow the law, no matter how… upsetting it may be. Clan 141 is too powerful for us to take any undue risks. If they do not accept her, we may not survive their engagement.”

Even in your sheltered little academy, you had heard of Clan 141. Their clan was small, but it was deeply feared. If any other clan dared step out of line, the 141 were there to rain hellfire and destruction down on them until there was nothing left. They were not cruel, but they abided no violent acts in their territory, and any whisper of rekindling the war efforts or of superseding the peace treaty was dealt with swiftly and decisively.

Before the war, kings and presidents and generals had pulled the strings. Now that the world lay in ruins, the 141 was the only thing between your small clan and total destruction from larger, more aggressive packs. The 141 was the only reason your people still had other clans to trade with; they had made sure smaller communities had access to fair market costs for food and services, and no one dared to shun your merchants now that you were under their protective wing.

Your Watchers had done their best to ease you into your preparations. Clan 141 would be at the neutral ground in six weeks, and your team had tried to make every moment of that window meaningful in your training. They had started slowly, teaching you to stretch your untouched hole with your fingers, showing you diagrams and depictions of your own anatomy, warning you of the physical trial of taking an Alpha’s knot.

It was mortifying when you endured your first test. Watcher Gillar and Watcher Bhin had made you sit in front of a mirror and show them your progress. You were told to clench and release the muscles of your hole on command, fluttering it to prove its strength. Then, they had produced a carved, glass phallus, expecting you to practice on a smaller model before moving you up to a more advanced size.

You took it from their hands, looking at its curved, rigid shape with wide-eyed curiosity, trying to swallow your grief at being seen doing the unthinkable by people you considered to be your closest friends and caregivers. It almost made you regret your decision. But, your people needed you, so you rested the smooth tip of the phallus at the entrance of your hole and began to shove it inside of yourself.

This new feeling was overwriting your mind, so alien and yet so very comforting to you, confounding in its sensations yet overwhelming in its unique, bright pleasure.

It was a struggle, but you managed to slip it into your body almost down to the large, bulbous knot on the end. The sharp pain of being entered for the first time was not as terrible as you had feared, but when you pulled the phallic rod back out of you, it was cloudy with your slick and your blood.

“Try the knot, Omega. Your Alpha will be twice as large as this, at least. You do not want your first experience to be at the ceremony. I know that you will want to appear strong in front of the other clans.” Watcher Bhin encouraged you, holding you to her shoulder as she sat behind you, trying her best to comfort you through such a harrowing ordeal.

You put their practice cock back inside of you, slipping down further than you had, feeling the wide anatomy pressing against your entrance, but still unable to take the full knot inside. You pushed and pulled with your muscles, just like your Watchers had taught you, but it wouldn’t budge. You were panting, sweating, and teetering on the edge of an embarrassing orgasm in front of your Watchers, and you gasped out, exasperated,

“I can’t. I don’t think I can do this, Watcher.”

“Lay back, Omega. I will help you,” Watcher Gillar said softly, replacing your hand with hers at the base of the phallus.

You lay down on your back against your soft pillows, trying to avoid your Watchers’ pitying eyes. Then, you felt a cool gel being applied around the sore ring of your hole; something to ease the way since there was no true Alpha present to coax your slick from your glands. Watcher Bhin had held your hand in hers, gripping you tightly, letting you squeeze her through the pain, wiping away your tears as the glass bulb of the pretend knot began to split you, stretching your body before finally popping into place.

You Watchers had comforted you for a few minutes, but then you were told to begin your meditations.

With much difficulty, you sat up, feeling the heavy knot nestled against your walls. Then, Watcher Bhin handed you a firm pillow, and you understood that you must straddle it, and that it would push the knot against you. You were to train your body and your mind to accept it so that you would have the stamina to withstand the ceremony.

“Do not be afraid to listen to your body, Omega. We will return to help you remove it and recover. I will light some incense for you. Concentrate on your strength.”

You nodded, uncrossing your legs and settling yourself over the firm pillow, feeling the deep, sacral grind of the phallus as you set your weight against it. When you were left alone, you began your breathing techniques, but all the while, a flush was rushing across your skin, the shadow of a rising desire to come, and yet subtly different. Something whispered in your mind, and you wondered if you could call your slick down yourself, without an Alpha’s help.

So, you tried, rocking back and forth across the pillow, churning the knot within your core, feeling the rounded tip rubbing against your deepest parts. You removed your robes, letting the flush keep you warm, watching yourself in the tall mirror, meeting your own eyes.

It took only minutes before a true orgasm was upon you, but you tried to hold it at bay, searching through the sparkling, cracking fog of pleasure for the part of you that made you special. No Beta would survive a knotting; they never did, and it was a crime to even try. But, you were meant for it, and you knew that your Watchers’ training would not let you down. You breathed through the bliss, reaching out with your mind towards your slick, imagining it, visualizing your success, manifesting it deep within you.

When the Watchers found you later that night, they woke you with cool rags and worried faces,

“What happened, Omega? How did you…” Watcher Gillar looked down at your bare legs to where the pillow sat under you, seeing a torrent of slick and milky come covering your skin and the silk of the bolster, confused by how you could produce it without an Alpha’s beckoning call. It was just not done, not even considered to be a possibility.

After that night, there was much chatter amongst the Watchers. They consulted old tomes, dusting off the pages in the library of your little academy where you trained far away from the rest of your village, kept up here in your tower like a Delphic oracle, buried like a treasure.

The training became more intense, and each practice phallus that your Watchers produced became harder and heavier, each bearing knots that were unfathomably large. You used your newfound power to face each of your challenges, less ashamed now to perform in front of your team, but knowing that the ceremony would be something else entirely.

You had asked about it one night as your Watchers were helping you bathe after a particularly difficult practice session,

“Will there truly be none absent from the ceremony, Watcher Trinity?”

“Only the cubs and their mothers are forbidden from attending. Otherwise, all clan members are obligated to witness The Exchange. We will even invite Clan Farlight and Clan Seres to the feast as a token of goodwill. You know this, Omega,” her tone was a little impatient, wondering why you were asking such a basic question, “Your Alpha has asked for your ceremony to be conducted in the old way, according to the original scrolls.”

“I am worried that I will dishonor you with my abilities. I cannot seem to take even these false knots without tears,” you repeated the old scripture, chanting it rote to your Watcher just as you used to do when you had started your adult training, “Omegas are vessels. They will silently submit. The ceremony will be still, honoring the sacrifice.”

Watcher Trinity knelt down beside your bath and made you look at her. Her eyes softened, and she told you,

“Yes, that is what is written, but it is not that simple. You have already honored us with your sacrifice. We have no grain. We have skinny, milkless goats, and our well is nearly dry. When we feast after your ceremony, the full bellies of your people will mean so much more than any perceived weakness that you are reluctant to show.” She grabbed your hand out of the warm water, holding it in hers, “If you need to cry, we will understand, and we will be comforting you from the crowd. Trust me, Omega.”

You tried to put it all out of your mind as you marched down the path, following behind your Watchers as they surrounded you, adorned in their own ceremonial garb. They had worn their armor and their long, red robes, carrying huge, black scythes like walking sticks, as was the custom of your clan. Your Alpha was walking in the front of your pack, guiding your clan to the meeting point. You could just see the white, canvas tops of the tents and yurts that had been constructed for the ceremony, meant to house hundreds of people for at least three days. Yours was the biggest, its adornment the most splendid. But that was little comfort to your frayed nerves.

You were miles from home at this point, missing the comfort of your room and your books, knowing that you would never return there, and that perhaps your new Alpha would not allow you to keep any of your belongings from your old life.

You’d heard horror stories from some of the Betas in your clan, tales of Alphas who used their Omegas like slaves, keeping them clad in irons, surviving in dark dungeons only to be used to breed and to give their Alphas carnal pleasure.

While you were being prepared for this journey, a pair of Beta women had helped you paint your skin, drawing intricate symbols and prayers in gold flake, chittering about the ceremony and the feast without knowing what you had been through over the past six weeks.

“This is the first time I will witness a ceremony done in the old way,” Beta Lilia said.

“Do you know which Alpha will claim you?” Lilia’s friend, Beta Tyran, asked you, not knowing how loaded her words were.

You shook your head; you didn’t even know how many Alphas belonged to Clan 141. Lilia gushed about them for you, taking the conversation out of your hands,

“Clan 141 has four Alphas! Can you imagine? I hear that they have an entire army of Omegas as well. Alpha Garrick is so handsome, and he has three gorgeous Omegas. They are almost too beautiful to look upon.. I saw him when I was at the central market once. He was leading a team, hunting the vagabonds who set fire to a farmer’s field, you remember when that happened? It was years ago now. He was so imposing. But, that other one was there, too.”

She made a face that was strong enough to make you ask about it,

“Which one?”

“The Ghost, Alpha Riley. They say that no one has seen his face. He wears a terrifying skull mask. I heard from Yair that he has three Omegas as his guards, all masked as well. Yes! Guards! They have armor and weapons and huge, bulging muscles. Beautiful and lethal –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beta Tyran interrupted, “No one would give their Omegas weapons. No one would let their Omegas out in the public markets! Imagine the danger.”

Lilia shrugged, “Yair said that these Omegas were the danger.”

Then, you heard about Alpha MacTavish, a descendant from one of the ancient warlords, charming and fearsome. He kept two Omegas as his brides, always pregnant, but almost as fearsome as Alpha Riley’s guards. Alpha MacTavish often expected them to travel with their Beta friends, to take their children up into the mountains, hunting and fishing and exploring outdoors. All sorts of stories about his large, loving family. You silently hoped you would be claimed by him. It would be nice to live amongst Omegas and their cubs.

“Which one is their Apex Alpha? There must be one in a clan with so many Alphas,” you mused, asking the girls since you did not know much about Clan 141 yourself.

The Betas shared a look, and then Lilia shook her head,

“You will not be claimed by him, Omega. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” You pried, using your influence to force her to tell you.

“His name is Alpha Price, the leader of Clan 141. He’s the deadliest man in the entire land, and he’s the one who destroyed Clan Konni.”

The weight of that news sank in, and the dramatic tone of her story had attracted other Betas and Watchers to gather around you to listen to her tale,

“Alpha Price has never claimed an Omega. They say that he had tried. He had found one of Alpha Garrick’s Omegas to be very pretty, but she tried to take his knot and failed, so Alpha Garrick took her under his protection instead.”

“Failed?” Watcher Bhin asked, shocked by the implication.

“My sister was a medic who served with the Alliance in the most recent skirmish, and the 141 helped defeat the rebels who were killing members of Clan Darrah a few years ago. She said that she served under the doctor who had healed Alpha Garrick’s Omega. Said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. She was so strong, and yet…”

Lilia’s words hung heavy in the air, and all of the women looked at each other and then at you, suddenly feeling the weight of your sacrifice, ashamed at their earlier levity. Tyran shook her head and patted you on the arm,

“Don’t worry. Alpha Price will not claim you. You have nothing to worry about.”

That night, painted gold and covered in your black silks, you sat in your tent and meditated while you waited for the other clans to arrive. Your mind kept wandering to Alpha Price and his lonely existence. Had he really injured an Omega during his claiming of her? How large must his knot have been to do so? It made you shudder to think about it, and yet deep inside of you, your core warmed from the thought. If he imprinted on you…

But, imprinting was just a myth. Something only written in old texts as a footnote or a story. It was a part of the ritual of The Exchange, but it wasn’t real.

“Omega,” Watcher Trinity interrupted your meditation and peeked her head into your tent, “It is time to present The Cloth.”

Clan 141 was here, then.

The ritual of The Exchange began with The Shroud, which you were already wearing. Then, it was The Cloth. If all went well, it would then be The Meeting. And finally, The Ceremony.

The Cloth was a gift from the Omega to her new Alpha, a token of her affection and a chance for him to smell her scent for the first time. In ancient legends, this is when her true mate would imprint upon her, her Omegan scent bringing out his Alphic marks, dark spots or stripes across his neck and back, making him look like a big cat, ready to bite into her neck and claim her as his own.

She tried to shake herself out of that fantasy world. All she could hope was that one of their Alphas would be drawn to her scent enough to accept her. Her people were depending on her.

“Here is your cloth, Omega. I embroidered it myself. I hope that it honors you,” Watcher Trinity handed you a wooden box, carved and adorned with great care, and when you opened it, you found a red silk square of fabric, sewn with the sigils and symbols of your clan in fine gold thread. You smiled up at your Watcher and reached out to hold her in your arms,

“It’s perfect, Watcher. Thank you for caring for me.”

You were both fighting off tears when she finally pulled away. You hoped that your Alpha would at least let you say goodbye after the ceremony, even if you might never see her again.

Watcher Trinity and all of the other women left you alone again in your tent, giving you privacy to prepare The Cloth. You made yourself naked, and you began to rub the silk across your neck and glands, trying to soak your scent into the piece. Then, you wiped it between your legs, swiping up some of your wetness to coat the fabric. Usually, this would be enough. You could call your Watcher back into the tent and give her the box, and you would be done.

But, something in your heart told you to try to call out your slick. You listened to your instincts, and you began to rub the soft fabric against your folds, bringing your own pleasure to a warm, shining height. Just when you thought you might not be able to do it, that your nervousness would make it too difficult or that you might black out again from the effort, you felt something inside of you slip free. Then, your hole was flooded, the orgasm making your vision go blurry and form spots at the edges, your whole body convulsing from the strength of your pleasure, and you had to lay down just to try and stay awake through your gushing bliss.

You felt it coat the silk and your hand, a thick, milky slick, and your heart swelled with pride. You knew that a gift this special would sway the attention of at least one of their Alphas. You trusted in your skills and training that you were worthy of this ceremony and that your people would be saved.

Sitting up, you carefully opened the box and returned The Cloth to its resting place, soaked with your scent. You took time to clean yourself up, stuffing wet blankets into your laundry packs and hiding them away, remaking your nest before your Watcher would know what you had done. You weren’t sure why you were keeping a secret from them, but you just felt like this was something between you and your Alpha. A promise, of sorts.

You replaced your black silks and veil over your otherwise unclothed body and called your Watchers. They entered your tent along with Alpha Roan.

His eyes widened as he approached you, taking the box from your hands. Quietly, as if knowing that this was an extremely private affair, he whispered to you,

“What have you done, little Omega?”

“I am doing what needs to be done, Alpha. Please, deliver my message to my new Master.”

You use of the ancient terminology caught your clan Alpha off guard, but you were glad of it. If this was to be done in the old way, then you would withstand it, but you would also do it your way. You were the Omega, here, and you were the reason your clan would survive this struggle. It was time you started acting like the heroine that you were. You would be your people’s strength, no matter the cost.

“Very well,” Alpha Roan sighed, closing the box, calling out to your team, “Watchers, bring your Omega to The Cloth ritual.”

You were guided to the path again, leaving your tent behind and walking towards the big, outdoor theater. It was a crude coliseum of sorts, a large circular pit lined with rows and rows of carved seating that was cut into the land. People had already begun to line the viewing platforms, each clan decorated in their traditional garb. You felt proud to see the stripe of red where your people sat, holding each others’ hands and praying for your safe arrival.

You were not greeted with raucous applause but instead with reverent silence. Alpha Roan walked in front of your Watchers, and you were the last one into the theater, dressed only in your sheer shroud, trying your best not to feel self-conscious about the fact that - because of the firelight - everyone could see your naked, painted body through the veil, even though you were covered head to toe in the organza. In the tent, the lighting was low and kept you in darkness, hiding your body under the thin silk. But, not here in the theater. Your skin was illuminated by the torches, and you knew that even your friends and neighbors could now see your most private parts.

You made sure that your face did not give away your lingering shame.

Alpha Roan took center stage, and you saw the Alphas of Clan 141 for the first time.

Alpha MacTavish was standing between his two Omegas, and you mused that his oldest children must have stayed behind to care for his cubs. He was dressed in his Clan’s black gear, covered in armor like a gladiator, his head shaven into a mohawk, spiked and messy on the crown of his head. His body was huge and stocky, and the Omegas seated at his sides looked so tiny compared to his bulk. But, they were strong. Their bellies were round with the promise of future cubs, and their skin and hair glowed like the stars.

Alpha Garrick stood next to him, his Omegas seated together to his right, dressed in the finest robes you had ever seen. He clearly had a type, and you thought that they looked like triplets, all decorated in jewels and gold, riches you’d never even dreamt of. Their Alpha was every bit as handsome as the stories had promised. He had pouty, full lips that were curled in a snarky sort of smile, and his soft brown eyes exuded pure confidence. His hands were wide and powerful, resting on his curved blade that lay sheathed at his hip.

Alpha Riley was masked, as you had been told, as were his Omegas. They were not seated, and every bit of armor that was strapped to his hulking body was also strapped to them. They had glittering knives, bows, arrows, and slings, looking like they could win their own war by themselves. Their bodies were heavily muscled, and all four of them seemed as tall as Alpha MacTavish, standing proudly in leather boots.

Then, you saw Alpha Price. He was holding a large wooden stick, at least seven feet tall, with hundreds of notches sliced into the side. You wondered what he was keeping track of, and you shuddered to know. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut high and tight on the sides. He was certainly bigger and better muscled than each of his men, but that was not what you noticed about him first. It was his eyes. They were piercingly blue, like glacial ice, and they were looking right at you. Hungry.

Something inside of your core tightened under his scrutiny, but Alpha Roan’s voice shook you from your trance,

“Clan Arlos welcomes Clan 141 to The Exchange. We present you with our offering, an unmated Omega, 26 years of age, fully trained in the old ways of our people. She is our greatest gift, and we ask for your acceptance of our sacrifice.”

Alpha Roan held up the box with The Cloth inside for all to see. He set it on the large, marble altar in the middle of the stage and backed away from it, waiting for the other Alphas to take part in the ritual.

Alpha Price spoke, and your body nearly trembled at the sound of his deep, purring voice. You were more nervous than you thought, and you tried to breathe to manage yourself.

“We will consider your honorable offering, Clan Arlos.”

With that, he slammed his huge stick against the stony ground and Alpha MacTavish stepped up to the altar. He opened the box, and along with the other Alphas in attendance, his body had a visceral reaction. His hands went to touch the cloth and he brought it to his nose, smelling your scent with a sort of wonder and amazement.

Then, to your great relief, he raised his hand, palm outward, as a show of his acceptance of your scent. If you accepted him as well, you would be mated.

But, the slamming sound of the stick shook you out of your celebrations. Alpha Price called up Alpha Garrick.

This was most unusual. Typically, only one Alpha had to agree. It wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. Even if Alpha MacTavish’s scent did not stir your heart, you would still submit to him as expected. This was not a marriage of love but of convenience.

MacTavish looked back over his shoulder at Price, just as shocked as you were. His Omegas looked even more taken aback, strangely offended that you would not automatically join them. But, Alpha MacTavish returned the cloth to the box and made room for Garrick, disappointed and visibly confused.

Alpha Garrick opened the box and buried his face against The Cloth, breathing in once, twice, and then tasting the fabric, right in front of everyone. It was his right, but it was a little audacious.

His palm went up, high in the air, and his Omegas smiled and held each other’s hands, excited at your acceptance.

Another loud slam. Another rejection.

You may still end up with MacTavish or Garrick after negotiations, you remembered, but you were now wondering why Alpha Price had chosen to test you against all three of his men before making a decision. It was very odd. Alpha Roan looked greatly concerned.

Alpha Riley approached the altar, his gloved hands prying open the box, then, he lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his mouth and nose. The slightest murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. He bent to smell your scent, and he raised his hand in the air, signaling his acceptance before replacing his mask. You thought you caught the hint of a smile just before his pale lips disappeared beneath the skull plate again.

Slam! The stick pounded against the floor.

All of Clan 141 turned to look at Alpha Price at once. Your heart stopped. Why would he… Why would Alpha Price want to undergo The Cloth ritual himself? He had no Omega. Surely, he wouldn’t claim you now, not after what had happened. You watched Alpha Garrick’s Omegas. One of them stared at Alpha Price with wide, glossy eyes. You thought that it must be his prior candidate for a mate. She was afraid for you. They were all afraid.

All eyes were on Alpha Price as he approached the altar, and the entire theater was silent as he took The Cloth in his hands. He lay it out flat, in no rush, inspecting the wet stain that you had left for him, using his thumb to feel the fine, gold embroidery. Then, his eyes darted up to yours. He was the first one to look at you while he held The Cloth to his nose, that icy gaze making you tremble with anticipation.

You were so lost in his eyes that you didn’t see what was stirring the crowd. There was a loud gasp and then an explosion of whispers. You looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, when he tucked The Cloth into his breast pocket, keeping you for himself, you saw it.

Long, red lines began to stain his skin like lightning. All of his veins tattooed themselves across his neck, and although his armor was covering his shoulders, you knew that the marks would be there as well.

Alpha Price had imprinted for you.

Then, he silenced the crowd by raising his right hand, palm up, staring at you the entire time.

You were whisked away, surrounded by your Watchers, hearing Alpha Roan’s voice behind you, sounding like protest, but you couldn’t make out the words. Compared to the initial silence, the area erupted in a shattering din, clans shouting and yelling over each other, the drama from the ritual dividing the people.

You thought you would be taken back to your tent, but you were brought to a large lake about five hundred yards from the theater. It was quiet again. No one was allowed to follow you here, it seemed.

Watcher Trinity tried to explain in a rushed whisper, helping you climb into a boat and rowing you out to the middle of the lake,

“There is a dispute for your claiming. Alpha Roan will negotiate new terms, and Clan 141 must decide who will be your Alpha. It will be alright, Omega. It’ll be alright.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than you.

“What now?”

“Because there is not just one Alpha who has claimed you, they will undergo a ritual called The Trial. It is a fight; a test of will. Whichever Alpha can win will be granted the right to appeal to you first. If you reject him, then you will be given a chance to hear the appeal from the second.”

“So, it will be up to me, then?”

“Yes. Alpha Price has put the choice in your hands. Very odd, and not in our custom, but we must honor his wishes. You will wait here for the winner.”

You looked around. You were now in the middle of the lake, and there was a platform lingering just below the water. It was a wide stone block, about three meters wide in each direction. Watcher Trinity helped you out of the boat and you stepped tentatively onto the platform.

“Will you wait with me?” You asked, feeling the uncertainty and fear finally get the better of you.

“No, my Omega. I cannot. These waters are forbidden to Betas. Only Alphas and Omegas can touch it. Take this. It is your flare. If you are in trouble, if he tries to get to you, fire it high into the sky and we will rescue you. You can do this. I know you are strong. Wait patiently for your Alpha,” she paused, grabbing your hand, “I realize you are doing this for us, but please, follow your heart.”

“I will, Watcher.”

So, you waited. You meditated, standing in an inch of cool lake water as you tried to commune with the land around you. And you waited some more. Hours passed until, finally, you saw torches. Your Watchers lined one side of the lake, and they greeted the newcomers. Then, you saw him. Alpha Price was being stripped down by your Watchers. They took his weapons from him, and then his clothes, making him naked on the shoreline. He craned his neck, trying to look for you in the lake, but it was dark and you were dressed in black.

You could see him just fine, though. His huge body was covered in short, curly hair, dense and dark against his skin. His muscles bulged and popped as he peeled away his layers of clothing. They left his undergarments on, little more than a linen loincloth. Then, you saw your Watchers attach a huge, metal collar around his neck. They clamped it together with a padlock in the back, and a huge chain was attached at the latch.

They bound his hands, chaining them together, and then loaded him into the boat. They rowed toward you with his back facing the platform, and as he got closer, you saw his imprint markings, red and raised like jagged scars across his neck and shoulders. Your scent had marked him permanently. The welts would go down, and the red would fade, but it would always be there, evidence of his imprinting.

The boat reached you, and he climbed out of it, sitting on the opposite side of the platform from you, just far enough to be out of range for your scent.

His eyes found yours again, staring at you through your veil, finding your gaze with a natural ease. He held a small box in his hands, and you thought you saw the phantom of a smile across his lips as you looked over his face.

The boat rowed to shore, dragging the long chain all the way back, and you were alone with him. It was quiet for a long while. You were just staring at each other, studying each other, trapped in a silent battle.

You looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time his cut, bloody knuckles, and he saw the worry cross over your eyes.

“They’re fine,” he said quietly, “My men. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“But, you triumphed over them, clearly,” you replied, not trusting your own voice.

He chuckled a bit, sighing,

“I did.”

“You fought for me, then.”

The laughing stopped, and he lifted his chin, proudly,

“I did.”

“And you are here for my acceptance.”

He didn’t respond to your cue, but instead, he took the box in his hands and slid it across the platform, skittering it along the surface of the water, making little splashes as it landed in front of you.

You reached for it, opening it up to reveal a shining key.

“Throw it in the lake,” he commanded you, using his Alpha’s voice to bend your will.

It shocked you, and you were so close to obeying, but you stopped, cutting your eyes at him,

“What is this?”

“Throw. It. Omega.”

His voice seared through your blood, calling to you with old magic. You fought hard to keep your mind under your own control,

“Stop! Stop it. Tell me what this is, Alpha.”

“It unlocks my collar. Otherwise, if I make so much as a shift in your direction that they don’t like,” his head turned to look back toward your watchers, “They will pull me into the lake, and I will drown.”

“And if I unlock it…”

“Then, you will be my mate,” his tone turned vitriolic then, “And you will die.”

You let his words sink in, your curiosity overcoming your fear,

“You believe your knot cannot be taken.”

He spat back,

“My belief is not –”

“But, it’s not up to you,” you interrupted him, “Is it?”

The shock that washed over his bright eyes filled you with a sort of sick satisfaction. You should be afraid of him, but your roles were reversed out here on this rock, and you were holding him under your command.

“Toss that key, girl. MacTavish fought hard for you. He’ll care for you. He’s a good man.”

“Are you a good man?”

“No,” he growled, his eyes dropping to the water, examining the chains around his own hands, inspecting them for the bloodstains that he obviously thought should be there.

“I am here for my people, Alpha Price. I am not looking for a husband. I am a resource to be traded for other resources. My clan needs The Exchange. Our people are starving, and I –”

“I would not let them starve,” Price’s eyes shot back up, indignant that you would suggest that he would leave you and your clan without food or water.

You let yourself smile slightly, teasing him,

“Spoken like a good man.”

He twisted his lips over his teeth, but he stayed quiet. You continued to torment him,

“Why did you raise your hand for me?”

He sighed, sitting forward, sloping his shoulders toward you,

“I couldn’t help it. My Alpha…He…” He paused, searching for the words, “I could smell you through the box. I knew you from the moment I saw you walk through the arena. And when my men all raised their hands for you, I knew you would be accepted as our Clan Omega. You are mine in every way that matters. And I cannot have you.”

His voice was full of bitterness. You wanted to smell him. What were the chances that he was your true mate? One-sided imprinting was rare, but true mates were one in a million.

You stood, surprising him, and he jolted back, sitting up right. The chain around his wrists clattering. You looked over at the shoreline. Your Watchers held the long chain around his neck, heavy and sagging into the black water, ready to yank it tight if he lunged for you, if he fell prey to his Alphic instinct to breed you.

He watched you approach, seeing how the water rippled with every step you took, gazing upon the dripping silks that clung to your legs, devouring you with his eyes. You stopped in front of his crossed legs, Knowing that he could smell you now. Your pussy was shielded only with a few layers of silk, and you watched him flare his nose, sniffing you right in front of his face, blowing a slow exhale of air through his lips, making the organza billow between your legs.

“Can I smell your scent, Alpha?” You whispered, your voice slicing through the silence of the still lake.

His chains clattered as he twisted his head to look up at you, peeling his eyes away from your pretty pussy to meet your gaze. Then, he bent his head to one side, giving you his neck, showing you his scent gland, a sea of red stripes emanating from its center.

You bent over him, closing the gap, steadying yourself by laying a gentle hand on his huge shoulder. Then, you took a long pause and breathed him in. His scent swirled through your body, wrecking your other senses. It was only him. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your true mate.

You felt the red marks of your imprint streak across your skin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw them branch through your veins and across your gland just as his had done.

The click of a lock made his eyes flash back to you, and with that movement, his heavy collar tumbled into the lake, the drag of the chain singing as it scraped the side of the platform.

“What have you done, my Omega?” Price breathed.

It was the second time you’d been asked that question. Your response was still the same:

“I am doing what needs to be done, Master. I am giving myself to you, my true mate.”

The boats were in the water the moment the collar slipped from his neck. The Watchers were on you in moments, and Price’s Beta soldiers were there to collect him. You watched as they rowed you two apart, taking you back to your camps to prepare for the ceremony.

Your Watchers were in a rush. There were only a few hours until sunrise. Your wet robes were switched out for red ones, and a red veil adorned your head. Underneath, you were rubbed and painted and sprayed with oils, until finally, Watcher Trinity came forward with a bowl of salve. She had made it herself, you could tell. She cared for you so deeply.

“I trust you, Omega. I know you know what you’re doing. But, please take this. It will help your muscles relax for him, and it will make it easier to bring on your natural defenses.”

She was being coy, avoiding using the word to refer to your slick, knowing that you had your own method of calling it forth using your special power. But, you took it from her anyway, and after you were left alone again to meditate, you used two fingers to massage it into your hole, feeling its effects begin to warm you, making your flesh supple and pliant.

A hand curled around your tent flap, pulling it open. Instead of your Watcher, you saw one of Garrick’s Omegas. It was her, the one who had failed to take your Alpha’s knot.

She stepped inside,

“May I speak with you?”

You nodded, motioning for her to sit,

“Yes, but I’m afraid I already know what you are about to say.”

Her eyes widened,

“If you know, then why have you accepted this? Alpha MacTavish was his second. He is not to your liking? His Omegas are kind and –”

“No, they were all to my liking. I am eager to join your pack in whichever way I can, but Alpha Price is my true mate.”

You showed her your skin from under the red silks, knowing she could not see them through the red of the veil. She gaped at them,

“Your… true mate? He could… This could kill you, Omega. I don’t want to see you come to harm, and it would destroy him. I saw how he was after my accident. I nearly blamed myself for his deep sorrow.”

“I trust my training, Omega, and I am so grateful for your support, but he is my mate. What is meant to happen to me, will.” You stood with her, seeing your Watchers hovering just outside the tent, signaling them that you were ready to leave.

“Then, I trust you as well. The others are so excited to meet you. I wish you an easy path, and I hope your ceremony is just as you want it to be. After this, you will be our Clan Omega, and I will serve you until the end of my days.”

She kissed your cheek through your veil and left you to be delivered back to the altar.

For a long time, you had wondered if this final walk away from your pack would be a sad one. You expected every step to be filled with hesitation and fear. But, the only thing you felt was joy. Your mate awaited you at the end of this long path, and you were ready to submit to him. He was worthy of your strength, and he would help you deliver your people from danger. You would rule beside him, helping him use the 141 for good, eradicating the evil from your land.

The sun’s pink wash was rising out of the horizon line just as you reached the theater. The crowd was silent again, and you saw the pallor and shock painted on all of their faces. They were expecting a funeral instead of a feast. They had no idea why anyone would be so desperate as to sacrifice their only Omega to this Alpha, especially when it was not necessary. But, they didn’t realize that you were no prisoner. You were no one’s puppet. You were in charge, here, and your Alpha would breed you as you commanded him to.

Your Watchers led you to the altar, kissing your hands through the thin cloth as they passed you to take their seats near Clan Arlos, tears in their eyes and staining their cheeks, and finally, your clan Alpha approached you.

“Alpha Roan,” you greeted him.

“Little Omega,” he smiled, kissing your hands just as your Watchers had done. He didn’t need to, but it was his way of showing everyone that he trusted your choice, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” you said, smiling at him through your red silk veil.

Then, Alpha Price’s men came through the center of the theater, each of them bending to kiss your hands. But, instead of the back of your knuckles, they turned them over to kiss your palms, a sign that they would accept what you had to give them. Alpha Riley was first, and he lifted his mask to show you his mouth and chin, his kiss warm and tender against your skin. Then, Alpha Garrick knelt down, placing multiple kisses along your fingers and wrists, displaying his loyalty and respect. Finally, Alpha MacTavish knelt before you, daring to whisper to you as he kissed your palms,

“Brave lass.”

You used your thumb to pet his lip, acknowledging his trust in you.

Then, it was time for the Omegas to join you. They approached as a unit, not individually as their Alphas had done, and they helped you lay on the altar, guiding your body back onto the marble platform. They pulled at your silks, allowing the crowd to see your naked body, painted in fine brushes of intricate gold designs, of prayers and songs of your people, their symbols adorning you from neck to toe. Finally, they began to kiss you, licking and sucking at your mouth like lovers, showing their devotion to you as their clan Omega.

As they kissed you, your skin began to flush hot, your body somehow knowing what was about to happen to you. The Omegas felt your fire against their lips, and they pulled your legs apart, each of them bending to lick and suck at your flower’s drooling petals, slurping and sucking up your creamy nectar. They were at your breasts, your neck, your belly, your hands and feet. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking and trembling under their affection, yet moved by their deep loyalty. You knew you would be safe with them. They would care for you just as your clan had done.

Then, you heard the familiar slam of a longstaff. Your Alpha had arrived.

According to the ceremony, you were meant to be still and silent as a showing of your acceptance. If you moved or cried out in any way, you risked a clan war, as taking a mate without their consent was a dark offense. You had to prove to your people that you were here of your own free will, and even though you were feeling the static cling of apprehension beginning to worm its way into your chest, you tried to breathe through it, trusting your Alpha to lead you through this moment with his protective power.

Your legs were lowered to the stirrup-style rests that were carved just below the stone table, keeping your knees wide apart, allowing your pussy to drip openly, glistening with the beginnings of your slick. You calmed yourself as they left you alone, each of them kissing you softly once more to show their reverence.

Then, you heard the clatter of fallen armor. He was undressing, removing his warlord’s mantle and coming to you fully bare. You spotted him between the vee of your legs as he approached the dais, his imprint marks flushed a deep wine red, his body shining with the traditional oils, meant to give him another layer of aphrodisiacs, promoting his production of his seed, keeping his cock tall and hard.

But, you knew that your imprint on his gland would do more than all of their drugs combined. He would kill every last person in this arena to get to you at this point, and although you had consented to this joining, you were no longer controlling it. He would take you, no matter what.

Then, when he got close enough to your platform, you saw it. It was standing proudly against his thick, furry belly, dripping with precome and lubricants, glittering in the rising sun. His cock was immense. You had not practiced on one so large. And his knot was larger than your two fists pressed together. He was intact, and his foreskin was slipping down his flushed head, unable to contain the swelling glans. Your body threatened to quiver from your suspense, and you tried to move your mind into your meditative trance.

As he approached, he did not go straight for his position between your legs. Instead, he walked around the front of the marble platform and bent to look you in your eyes, leaning his head down for a deep, heady kiss. He fed you his tongue and suckled on yours, letting it writhe inside of his mouth, rubbing against his own probing muscle.

He pulled away to gaze upon you, his eyes soft and full of joy. You smiled up at him, watching as he enjoyed the rest of your body, caressing your breasts, admiring your paintings.

“Did my clan show you their loyalty, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you answered quietly.

“Are you prepared for me to show you mine?”

“Yes, Master. I am,” you replied, giving him a brave face despite the absolute weapon that was slobbering for you against his belly. You wanted to taste it, but now was not the time.

He returned to the base of your platform, kneeling in front of your wet hole, bending to place his mouth against you. He began to suck, pulling your soft lips into his mouth like he was starving, lapping up the beginnings of your body’s fluids, moaning from the taste and the smell of your scent. You wanted to moan, you wanted to pin his head to your trembling quim, but you didn’t dare move a muscle or make a single sound. Breathing in, breathing out, letting the sparks of an orgasm rush through you, bringing tears to your eyes from holding back so much pleasure.

Your Watcher’s salve was almost too effective. It had made you pliant, but now you were beyond sensitive, able to feel the pound of your own heartbeat through your hole, desperate for something to press inside of you. You needed his cock.

But, he did not give it to you. He just sucked and sucked and sucked, and his fingers began to rub along the entrance of your slippery hole, pressing down on your pussy’s walls, testing their strength. You fluttered for him, just like your Watchers had taught you, and you felt him stumble in his movements, shocked by your power.

He stood between your legs, his face and beard soaking from his meal, letting you drip off of his chin like a messy hound drinking from a river. Then, to test your resolve, he teased you with a little bit of meanness, stepping forward to let his cock lay along your body, measuring himself on the outside of you. He reached far beyond your navel, his lubed phallus warm and heavy, his knot resting in the softness of your folds, and you could feel him throbbing for you.

You didn’t dare move, but you wanted to cradle his cock in your hands, to rub up and down his length, to feel the smoothness of his head and the firmness of his knot. But, you stayed stock still, showing the crowd that you would not waver. There was some soft chittering from the clans, the shock at his size obviously enough to break onlookers out of their respectful quiet.

Then, he began notching his head at the entrance of your pussy, letting the tip slide up and down your tight ring of muscles that guarded your entrance.

“Last chance, Omega. Call it off. Cry out, and my own men will cut me down,” he bade you under his breath, having a hard time holding his words and sentences together, his voice shaking in his throat.

You looked up at him with closed lips, making a point to give him a soft smile as a response.

No deal.

You pulsed your muscles again, making your pussy lap up his sloppy precome like a little mouth, watching as he was torn apart by your action, no matter how minor.

So, without any other choice, he fed himself into you. It was a fearsome experience, at first. You weren’t sure if you could actually handle him. But, you breathed through the stress, relaxing your body, finding that deep, secret place inside of you, making your slick drop down for him, flooding your hole to welcome him in.

The confusion that painted his face was so satisfying. He couldn’t understand the sheer warmth and comfort he was experiencing. His cock was being sucked into you, deeper and deeper, and finally, you felt his knot.

He pulled all the way out of you, and sheathed himself all the way back in, always reaching to that one spot, just above his bulbous anchor, and then starting his process over again. Each time his cock fucked its way through your body, humping himself into you, creamy, milking noises filled the quiet, open-air arena. The whole ensemble could hear him invading your hole, the lurid slap of skin on skin loud and unashamed.

His phallus was large enough to rub against your most sensitive spot over and over, bullying it into producing more and more slick, making you come just by dragging his heavy cockhead over it, in and out, in and out, pounding into you with almost reckless need.

You came for him, and your body began to shiver from the overwhelming bliss, but you held your voice. You tried to still yourself, not wanting to show weakness, but there was nothing you could do. You were shattered by his cock, coming over and over again. It was an endless wave. You had no idea where one started and the other stopped.

You could taste blood in your mouth from biting the inside of your cheek. Still, you pushed through it, testing yourself with every push and pull of your body.

His huge hands pawed at your hips and breasts, squeezing you, watching your plump flesh jiggle with every cruel strike of his hips. Your Alpha took your own slick and began to rub it all over your skin, swirling it around your nipples, letting it smear across your belly from his palm. Then, he painted himself, taking it from your well-fucked hole and rubbing it across his scent gland, down his chest, matting his hair with your wetness.

Then, you felt his precome begin to pump out of him. You knew it had begun because this was when your slick was meant to wash through you, but there was no space for anything else. So, it began to pour out of you and over his knot. Every time he pushed it against your body, it threatened to slip into your hole, and you were filled with a twisted excitement, ready for it to be stuck inside of you, to churn and grind against your insides, to trap you in a blinding, rageful bliss. You nearly cried out from the heavy want you felt in your chest.

“You ready for my knot, pretty Omega?” He growled, no longer speaking to you softly. There was no gentleness left within him.

He shoved you back across the dais, climbing up onto it with you, breaking every protocol by doing so, but knowing there wasn’t a single other Alpha in attendance who would do anything about it unless you asked them to. But, he trusted you, lifting himself above you, bringing his face to your face, kissing you and beginning to lick your scent gland, making you see stars.

Would he really bite you right here in front of all these people while you were about to take his knot? It was beyond intimate. Not only was it private, but it was dangerous. It was when an Alpha was most vulnerable. The audacity of this man shook you to your core.

“Bite me, Omega. Please take me. Claim me as yours, sweetheart. Show them that you are mine. My Omega.”

His voice was ragged and deep, a hoarse purr of commands, all of which you were happy to obey. You began to lick his neck, putting your mouth over his gland as you began to suck at the round swell of flesh. Then, just as you canted your hips, feeling his knot slip inside of you, shoving and burying itself within the tight sheath of your pussy, you used your muscles to yank him the rest of the way in, and you bit down on his neck, hard, your body seizing from a hard, ruthless orgasm. .

You heard the crack of his gland, and you felt him sink his fangs into yours, the pain and the pleasure mixing within you like a drug, his cock firing rope after rope of searing hot come into your belly, flooding your womb with his spend. He pulled his mouth away and stared into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face full of disbelief,

“My love…”

You kissed him, taking his lip into yours, suckling on it, trying to guide him back down from his tantric high. He was struggling above you, stuck deep inside of you, unable to stop himself from dumping heavy loads of his come into your body, his cock pulsing and throbbing with each burst of his cream.

He rested his head on your neck, returning his mouth to your gland, and every time he licked it, now, you felt your pussy twist around him, threatening to slam you with another orgasm. You licked him, too, hearing him cry out against your skin, feeling the mirror of your sensations, his heavy phallus jerking as you sucked on his broken gland.

Finally, he was able to rock back and forth, letting his knot slip out of you before popping it back inside, fucking you with it just like he did with his cock. He twisted his hips forward, driving into you with all of his strength, and then he would pull himself back out, the swell of his knot increasing with each thrust until, on the last thrust, he was finally trapped, unable to remove himself from your core.

Now, though, it was your turn. You began to use your muscles to push and pull him from the inside, fucking him like a sleeve of smooth, soaked warmth, jerking his shaft up and down with your insides.

“Oh, fuck…” He whispered, not expecting your skills to be so advanced, but you had trained hard for this moment. You weren’t about to let it go to waste.

You moved him inside of you, letting his knot take the brunt of your efforts, squeezing it like a fruit, making sure all of his juice melted into your skin. You made him come like this again, using the salve that your Watcher had given to you as an advantage, knowing that the heightened sensitivity you felt was now being passed on to him. He filled you up, his knot plugging your hole, preventing any of his seed from leaking out, and your tummy was swollen from his load, round and full for everyone to see.

He sat up on his heels, looking down at you with his eyes full of adoration and wonder, watching your strong abdominals clench and twist as you used them to help you work inside of yourself, edging him over and over before pulling him down into the depths of another hard come with you.

His hands went to the bulge of fluid in your belly, most of it flooding into your womb, unable to escape anywhere else. Your Alpha caressed your skin, marveling at the fullness. Then, he looked down at your stretched hole, playing with your clitorus that had been forced out from under its hood due to the sheer size of his knot, all of your skin bowing around it and pulled tight.

Your Alpha forced you to come like this, milking him hard, trying not to make a sound but giving away your mind-bending pleasure with shaking, whimpering breaths.

“That’s a good Omega. So full of my come.”

You smiled up at him, enjoying the full feeling of his come inside of you. But, you were losing your strength, and he could feel it. Alpha Price leaned over you again, grinding himself down into you and helping you reach one last orgasm, pulling himself along with you, squirting the last of his spend into your pussy. Then, he carefully twisted his cock out of you, watching the gush of his come coat the marble platform, dripping out of you and down the sides of the dais.

You were so empty and weak, but you were being lifted, cradled in his arms, and the whole arena burst into revelrous applause. The feast had begun, but not for you. You would be in your Alpha’s tent, and there you would remain until he bred you, making sure that you were laden with his cub, sharing food and drink with him in bed while you were stuck on his knot, traditionally until sunset when you would be presented to the clans as the new Apex Omega, destined to rule beside him forever.

“Are you done being quiet, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you whispered, nestling into his broad chest.

“Good,” he smiled, “I need to hear you scream for me.”

“And I need my Alpha to breed me. I need your knot again, Master. Don’t pull it out.”

“I’m at your command, my love,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your temple, smearing his own salve across your swollen flesh, working his cock until he was hard again.

When you felt his knot for the second time, you knew you had made the right choice. Your people were safe, and so were you. You weren’t sure if it was the high of your claiming or the truth that you felt in your heart, but you were eager to be dripping with his come every night. Trapped underneath your Alpha was right where you belonged, knotted and full of his love.

Seriously, send help. I was too ashamed to even reread it for typos. I'm so sorry.

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qqueenofhades · 7 months ago

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oh god is biden dropping out? i don't know what happens then

Jesus effing Christ.

Few thoughts:

The billionaire Democratic donors got their way, apparently. All I saw was that the big-dollar donors were secretly putting pressure on the rank-and-file Democratic elected officials (i.e. House and Senate) to denounce Biden or not get any more money, and other shameful backroom maneuvering to knife Biden. I will refrain (lol, no I won't) from speculating that billionaires of any political stripe feel threatened by Biden's increasingly progressive tax/wealth redistribution policies, and saw their chance after the bad debate performance to knife him. Because until further notice, I'm going to think that was the biggest factor.

I don't know if there's an actual health condition that made Biden agree it was the best time (in fucking July) to step down, but if this was an issue, there needed to be planning last year, at the earliest, to prepare for a new successor. I don't know what's going on. This is a clusterfuck on many, many levels.

However: it is true that this does change things and not necessarily only for the worse, as long as Harris is immediately confirmed as the new nominee and this stupid Democrats In Disarray nonsense, which is giving the media exactly what they want, is put to a fucking end. If Harris is also swept aside and the billionaire donors try to install their preferred "Centrist!!!" candidate (lol Manchin or some shit) with an equally antidemocratic closed-door Star Chamber convention, then yes, we're fucked. Because the Congressional Black Caucus and African American voters saw exactly what the rich white man billionaires were trying to do by torching Biden and then Harris, and they are not going to play ball with some Magical White Man replacement.

If Harris is immediately confirmed as the new nominee (and to the best of my knowledge Biden has endorsed her), then she has a chance of reinvigorating the race. There were a lot of Americans who did not want either Biden or Trump. I suspect they were fucking braindead, but so be it. Harris has apparently polled pretty and increasingly well in recent days (in some cases actually better than Biden) and again, there is no remotely small-d democratic alternative to her. The billionaire donors already trashed the duly elected (by the primary process) Democratic nominee. If they do the same to Harris, then yes. We will have Trump and there won't be any more democracy in this country on either side, because the Republican big-bucks donors will gleefully pick up where the Democratic big-bucks donors left off.

Jesus fucking Christ.

The message needs to be "Harris is Joe's successor, she is younger and already has four years of experience and is the only candidate." Anything else is a fucking gift from god to the Republicans, once more getting trashed after Trump's terrible RNC speech. Maybe she can then pick Whitmer or Shapiro (both popular and effective Democratic governors of swing states, MI and PA respectively) as a running mate, but the nominee has to be Kamala. There is no other fucking choice. This is already enough of a mess.

If that can happen, and the fucking donors can refrain from fucking it up, then... okay. It's not great, but it does change things. It makes the ticket younger. It makes it historic (first Black female president beating Trump would be amazing). It could reach people disenchanted with the current two-old-white-guys setup.

This is an incredible sacrifice on Biden's part and I only wish that I could believe he did it voluntarily, rather than being forced out by a small class of rich people worrying about his policies getting too progressive.

I wish him only the best and I recognize this decision was taken under extreme pressure. If we then lose to Trump, I hope everyone who forced Biden out burns in hell.

I was a diehard Biden supporter not because I loved the guy personally, but because he was the only choice for preserving democracy in America. The essential stakes of the election have not changed, even if the billionaires just knifed us in the fucking back, possibly to nobody's surprise, because R or D, they are not our friends.

Kamala is the only choice. I will now have to defend her as hard as I did for Biden. She needs to beat Trump. There is nothing else to it. If you think she can't, then you need to work at helping her do that. There is already enough calamity and doom. We do not have a choice. We cannot lose sight of what is at stake here.

Kamala Harris/Whitmer and/or Shapiro and/or Buttigieg 2024.

The end.

#rionsanura #ask #politics for ts #jesus fucking christ #fucking hell #we don't live in a democracy any more either way #but we can still prevent trump #we cannot forget that #we cannot do anything else #kamala harris 2024 #i guess this is how it goes now #fuck i'm going back to bed

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aveloka-draws · 1 year ago

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Lamb, looking at a Narinder who is catnip'd out of his mind and has fallen asleep on their lap: You're going to try and kill me. You betrayed me before, and you'll betray me again. I will take what comfort from your company that I can while I can, but I shall prepare well for when your coat turns. Fool that I am, I have fallen in love with the mask you wear, but don't you dare think I will hesitate when the time comes.

Also Lamb wen Narinder is awake: Hello my bestie! Let's go play dice! Did you get hurt on your crusade? Let me fix it. Let's make out in the confessional. Let's make blood sacrifices to each other and make out again. I'm still gonna call you "my lord" and stuff. And if you call me "vessel" I will swoon.

You got it. thats exactly it. what else is there to say jjsjsjkss

#ask a bird #cotl au #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #ichor's vessel au

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so-i-did-this-thing · 4 months ago

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Scenarios I am immediately preparing for:

1) Gender markers on my docs being reverted

2) Shadow ban of trans HRT (likely still accessible, but severely restricted for good chunks of the trans population - see FL, for example)

3) Tariffs making everything super expensive

4) Loss of same-sex marriage rights

5) Online presence as a trans person criminalized as pornographic

6) Disruption of supply chains, especially food

7) Being barred from federal work as a trans person

I expect the incoming admin to be making considerable progress on these outcomes within the first year. "Progress" does not necessarily mean "comes to pass"; it's too soon to know what the momentum and obstacles will be like for Project 2025 initiatives.

I'm not here to scaremonger, but it's incredibly important to be prudent as a trans person right now and start prepping for how to mitigate damage to yourself and how to support your community.

Your own lists of concerns will vary. But I suggest writing down your fears as specific as possible, taking a deep breath, then seeing how best you can plan for each.

There will be paperwork, there will be sacrifices, but also remember that building bonds with your community and taking care of yourself are also vitally important right now.

#trans stuff #resistance prep

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pickingupmymercedes · 4 months ago

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That girl (woman) - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: That girl - Olly Murs

pairing: Husband!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff

a/n: tried a little something different with the pov and the narrative, let me know what you guys think.

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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It was a regular Wednesday mid-autumn, the kind of quiet morning in the Hamilton household that felt precious in its ordinariness. Lewis sat at the edge of their bed, balancing a tray loaded with her favorite redberry pancakes and a fresh bouquet perched precariously on the side table.

Before we dive deeper, let me share a little secret about Lewis. He’s a legend on the track—speed, skill, mind, the whole package. But there, in their Monaco apartment, watching his wife sleep soundly as morning eased into afternoon, he was just a man.

And as he gazed at her with a strange mix of tenderness and a touch of guilt, it was clear he was reflecting on what he nearly threw away once.

You see, Y/n hadn’t been just any woman in his life. She’d been a force, a renowned stylist, beloved by many. And Lewis, in a past he now could only shake his head at, had once thought he was doing her a favor by pushing her away.

He’d believed that she deserved someone less weighed down by a career that dragged him across continents, with fame that threw him, and her by default, under every public spotlight.

So, in a moment of misguided self-sacrifice, he’d told her she deserved better. Needed to leave him, he’d said, so she could find someone who could give her the life she deserved.

But she’d seen through his words. She’d planted herself firmly in his life and told him, in no uncertain terms, that if he truly wanted her gone, he’d have to make the effort to really let her go.

He hadn’t, of course— couldn’t. And now, there she was, their child growing inside her, still by his side.

Back in the bedroom that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea, Y/n began to stir, her dark lashes fluttering as she woke.

The sunlight had climbed high, a clear sign she’d overslept. Not that it was surprising. Lately, the exhaustion came in waves—pregnancy was starting to demand more rest from her.

She shifted slightly, her bump visible under the soft rise of his oversized T-shirt she’d claimed as sleepwear. Lewis smiled at that, too, how she’d taken so much of him as her own.

As Y/n stretched, blinking sleep from her eyes, she spotted Lewis there, looking all too pleased with himself, balancing that breakfast tray as if he’d been waiting an hour to make his grand entrance.

“Why, Sir. To what do I owe this royal breakfast treatment?” she asked, her voice still drowsy, as she raised an eyebrow playfully though she wore a faint smile.

“Oh, nothing much,” he said, setting the tray in front of her. But there was something about the way he lingered, how his eyes traced her face a bit longer than usual, and how his hand found its way to her bump, lightly brushing circles over her stomach.

She noticed it too, of course. Y/n’s gaze slid from him to the pancakes, to the bouquet of wildflowers he’d set down beside her. His hand was still there, fingers spreading, gentle against her skin.

She tucked into the pancakes, savoring the tart sweetness of the berries, though one eye was still on him. He was keeping quiet, which was unusual enough to make her pause, fork halfway to her mouth.

He didn’t speak, but his fingers had settled in, tracing softer circles on her tummy, as if trying to connect with their child through her skin.

“Alright, spill it, Hamilton,” she said at last, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion. She hadn’t missed the glances, the softer smiles, or how his usual self-assured charm was just a little off this morning.

He fumbled. Oh yes, THE Lewis Hamilton—six inches taller than everyone else when it came to confidence—stumbling on his words now as he looked back at her, gathering himself as if preparing to speak before a packed audience.

“It’s nothing. Really, I just…” he hesitated, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to thank you. For yesterday. For coming to the factory with me.”

Ah, yes, the visit. Y/n had been there at his side all day, chatting with engineers and mechanics, giving them warm smiles, sometimes asking the kind of questions that endeared her to the team.

She’d been there, even though they both knew she’d been exhausted—he’d seen it in the way she leaned against surfaces or rested a hand on her bump when she thought he wasn’t looking.

But she’s the kind of person who’d walk the extra mile without a second thought if it meant making him feel grounded

“Oh” She waved it off. “I just know it’s important for you to have your support system there. Besides, we’ll leave you alone to those visits for a while, after this one gets here.” She gave him a smile, and it was enough to make Lewis sit back, humbled and deeply, thoroughly grateful.

Because that’s the thing about Y/n. She didn’t just say the right things. She showed up. She showed him, again and again, that he was worth it to her.

When he’d told her to leave, thinking he was noble, sacrificing himself for her own good, she’d thrown it right back at him. Said if he wanted her gone, he’d have to be a man and make it happen. He hadn’t. And in not doing it, he’d made a choice just as firmly as she had.

He reached out then, brushing his fingers on her cheek, his hand lingering for a moment, as if memorizing her face.

Y/n, ever observant, took his hand, resting it over hers. She could feel the weight of everything unsaid—how his grip was just a bit tighter, his thumb brushing her knuckles in slow circles. Her eyes softened, and for once, he allowed himself to drop the pretense.

“I know I’ve said it before,” he started, his voice quiet. “But I don’t think I can ever say it enough. I’m grateful. For you, for our little one. For everything.”

She let out a small laugh, rolling her eyes. “Lewis, you don’t need to go poetic on me. I’m not going anywhere.”

He chuckled, but even then, there was a solemnity in his expression, an echo of the worry that had lived with him since that fateful night years ago when he’d tried to push her out.

He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to let her know he was serious.

They didn’t need words, not really. She knew, and he knew she knew.

That’s the magic they’d always shared. She didn’t need a grand speech to understand that in the way he carried her breakfast in, the way he’d brushed her cheek, he was telling her a thousand times over just how lucky he felt.

For Lewis, that single kiss said everything he couldn’t.

They sat there in quiet contentment, her finishing the last of her pancakes, his hand tracing that rhythmic pattern on her bump again, as if communicating with their little one in their secret code.

“Now” she said, breaking the silence as she watched him circling his fingers on her belly “I need you to go. This mama’s got work, and so do you, unless you plan on spending the rest of the day like this.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing” he said, flashing a mischievous grin.

But he stood regardless, though he couldn’t resist stealing one more kiss. Because that’s also the thing about Lewis—he’d had a brush with losing her once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

So there he was, savoring the sight of her, engraving this moment into memory. After all, being wrong about her had been the best mistake of his life.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you #ella1k

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haunt3dh3art · 2 months ago

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Born In Blood | Yandere Dexter Morgan x reader

i’ve been watching almost a season of Dexter a day now i’m on winter break!! i know you guys lurking in the Dexter community have been waiting for some more work, so this is for you <33 i'm also posting this on my ao3 page if you prefer that formatting - type in "haunt3dh3art" and you'll find me.

TW: Blood, slight gore, slight torture, mention of blades and rope, canon-typical violence, slight obsession hinting

· ˳ . ✦ . ˚ . ✦ . ˳ · ˖ ✶ ⋆ . ✧̣̇☽༺♰༻☾✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚ . ✦ . ˳ ·

Chapter 1 - Silence

Miami is full of gorgeous, witty women, and plenty of them would love a piece of Dexter.

But, none of them have ever held his attention for more than a few months. He tries not to let his lack of emotions get in the way of relationships, but its like everybody he meets eventually gets the feeling that something is very, very wrong.

A sixth sense, like when a dog growls at the darkness. You can't see what they can, but go back the way you came anyway.

So, eventually, everyone leaves, as is the next logical step for their survival.

When Dexter first sees you, whether you are an "almost victim" of the Miami Metro's latest killer or someone he sees on the street, it’s like he forgets to breathe. His eyes squint, a darkness glazing them over and something changes. His Dark Passenger appears behind him, but Dexter pays no attention to the ramblings of his damaged subconscious.

For argument's sake, here, you present to him as a victim. Or you would have been, had Dexter not figured out the location of the killer's lair in time.

He's led to a decrepit church, stone bricks falling off the walls, thick ivy covering almost every surface he can see. He makes no sound as he creeps towards the entrance. Slowly, he pushes the door open - it makes a lowly creak and Dexter slips into the darkness.

There is no light here, no ceremonious candles for the next killing, no flashy weapons to be seen on many of the stone slabs Dexter passes. Then, he sees a soft glow in the back corner of the vast church.

A cellar. The trapdoor won't quite close, and a whisper of light is allowed to seep through the thin crack against the floor. Dexter lifts it with deft fingers, careful to not make a sound. His steps make no sound as he glides down the stone stairs down, down into the basement. It's cold down here, and the air is thick with moisture. His silence, although usually an upper hand on an opponent, was not necessary here.

Your guttering screams rang out through the entire lower level; as loud as they were, Dexter was left wondering how they couldn't be heard until down here. You sounded animalistic, clearly fighting for your life and barely hanging on. As he got closer to the awful sounds of clanging metal and splitting screams, a chill rose up on Dexter's skin.

Then, he heard the killer's voice for the first time.

"How stupid can you be? You're nothing but a sacrifice to me." A low voice cut your screams into nothing but whimpers.

The slow dragging of a metal blade rang out into Dexter's ears and he was glad he came more than adequately prepared for a fight.

The killer was one Joseph Butler, serial womaniser and priest. Clearly, God had abandoned this disciple. The victims were most often strippers caught in his charming web, or occasionally single women looking for human connection. They must have thought they had struck gold.

His call card had been arranging his victims' hands into a prayer stance, nailing nails through the palms to keep the pose in place, and deftly placing a barbed wire "crown" on the person's head. They were always sat upright, bound with rope to a chair and lathered in blood.

The blade was new - Joseph was on the cusp to evolve his method, but he would never get the chance.

Candles lit the basement with a warm light, contrasting the suffocating atmosphere. Dexter suspected Butler had been torturing you with hot wax, or something similar, perhaps flames and the heated blade?

There was only a cloth curtain separating you, the killer and Dexter now.

"These are your final moments on this demented Earth. I suggest you use them to say a prayer." The killer spoke.

Dexter pulled back the curtain with one finger and saw he had his back to him.

This was the moment.

Moving as a snake slithers, Dexter stepped towards your torturer, and injected him with a tranquilizer. He instantly collapsed to the floor, making a satisfying thud.

Dexter stepped over him, and reached for his pocketknife to cut you free of your binds. You began to scream again and writhed in petrifying fear in your seat.

It was now that Dexter, crouched to your level, could finally see your face. Butler had obscured his view of you before, but with him out cold on the floor, Dexter could take the time to look.

You, caked in dirt and filth.

You, a look of horror beyond comprehension etched on to your face.

You, born in blood, just as he had been.

The moment Dexter was to undertake his duty once again as the necessary evil of Miami, he paused. Each time he had a killer strapped to a table, he paused for a moment to collect himself and appreciate the serenity of the moment. Perpetually holding the blade above his subject's heart, the point positioned perfectly, quivering in the air for a second of peace.

It was this moment, as he looked at you, that the constant roaring and wailing inside his head fell silent.

His eyes were fixed on yours, searching for an avenue of the same peace. He saw oceans reflected in your eyes, deep and dangerous.

"Shh, shh, shh. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm getting you out." He pleads, leaning forward on his knees.

He places the cool blade of his pocketknife on the rope next to your skin, making a quick, efficient cut of each loop around your wrists. It's a welcome sensation, despite the distant threat of pain.

Your screaming subsides, replaced by hyperventilating. Dexter's eyebrows pull together as he quickens his pace cutting the ropes around your feet.

Butler was only beginning his spree, killing 3 women in only 6 weeks. You would have been his fourth, had Dexter not been 10 steps ahead of his own department.

'Clearly an amateur,' Dexter thinks. The rope was too weak to hold a victim who had fight left to give, but that's easier said than done.

Finally, you were free, and instantly pushed the chair back. It crashed on the floor with a loud bang, but Dexter paid no attention to it. His eyes were stuck to you, mesmerised by you, even in your condition.

"What are you going to do to me?" You whispered, rubbing your fingers over your aching wounds.

Some of the blood on your skin was still fresh, glowing a crimson red against the candlelight. Dexter shook his head.

"Nothing," He said. "But, you need to stay with me, here. I can protect you, keep you safe, but you have to stay."

Dexter never imagined this happening to him. He knew the chances of you trusting him were beyond slim, but he hoped that by seeing your torturer on the floor, knocked out by his hand, that you wouldn't see him as a threat.

Dexter watched you with bated breath, his hands tightly clenched into fists.

You didn't move, weighing your choices. Would you really survive if you ran? How would you know there weren't more of these psychopaths waiting outside, ready to pounce the second you walked out into the night?

You shook your head, pacing around the room.

The curtain was pulled in a circle around the chair and it waved in the air as you walked past it.

"What's your name?" You asked.

"Dexter."

Saying his real name out loud felt like a violation, a curse. Only people in his life knew his name. Were you going to be a part of that now?

You nodded and stopped pacing. Pointing at the killer, you asked another question. "What are you going to do with him?"

Dexter let his gaze break from you to the man on the floor.

He would be out cold for the next 7 hours at least, unless Dexter chose to wake him up sooner. However, on this occasion, he didn't have a plan. He had all the supplies needed for a killing in the boot of his car outside, but he hadn't anticipated for you to be here tonight. The timing of the killing wasn't quite right, and a sign that Butler was becoming a bigger problem than the Miami Metro could handle. The FBI would soon step in, and Butler would be out of Dexter's grasp.

"I'm going to make it look like you were never here, which is why you have to stay with me. I have to.. dispose of him, but it won't take more than a few hours." Dexter said, choosing his words carefully to not scare you even more.

He checked his watch. 10:47pm. If he was to kill Butler and get to the marina in time, the process would have to be quick.

The sun was beginning to rise earlier in Miami.

· ˳ . ✦ . ˚ . ✦ . ˳ · ˖ ✶ ⋆ . ✧̣̇☽༺♰༻☾✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚ . ✦ . ˳ ·

#yandere #male yandere #yandere dexter morgan #dexter morgan #dexter morgan x reader #dexter #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x you #tw blood #tw body horror #cw gore #tw horror

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glitch-but-ya · 2 months ago

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Remember me.

Pairing: Sylus x Reader

Tags: Angst, angst, angst, with no comfort, established relationship, pet names like 'sweetie' and 'kitten', descriptions of blood, gore, and death.

Summary: Sylus could not fathom the feeling of everything slipping from his fingers. He couldn’t comprehend how he had lost control so easily. He watched you take a devastating blow from a wanderer, helpless to reach you in time. His world crumbled before his eyes as you fell. In that moment, Sylus realized he had less control over fate than he had ever imagined. Though you had awoken from your injuries, the relief would not last, for he would soon be dragged back into a spiral of helplessness once more.

Word count: 2,281 words.

A/N: Feeling angsty lately hehehe

"And even in my dying breath, my only thoughts will be of you."

The blood wouldn't stop. It gushed out of the gigantic wound in your stomach ceaselessly, erupting with remarkable fervor. The blood continued to flow, slipping between Sylus's fingers as his hands latched onto your stomach in an attempt to stop the bleeding. But it didn't work. Nothing did. And for the first time in his life, Sylus felt helpless.

He clenched his jaw, his teeth gritting. "Don't you dare die on me." You responded with a kind smile. Your hand reached out to caress the side of his face. "I won't make it, Sylus." You croaked out weakly. "Don't try to save a dying person."

He shook his head and curled his fists. "Don't speak nonsense. I'm not in the mood for jokes." And although his tone was harsh, his words held no bite. You knew that, of course. What part of him did you not know? Which part of him had you not learned by heart yet?

"Hold on to me," he said, guiding your hands to his neck. "I'll get us out of here, and you'll get better. I promise." "You won't die." he said firmly. You've never seen him so serious. Not with you, at least.

Sylus carried you back to his car. His arms supported your back as you hung limply from his neck. You used your last remaining strength to pry your eyes open and gaze back at the protofield. You hadn't yet processed how a normal mission could turn into an event that'd end up claiming your life. You were prepared for this, you told yourself. This is the unfair life a hunter must live. This is the sacrifice you must make for the sake of others. But now, being on the verge of death, you couldn't help but wish to live.

Your gaze drew back to Sylus. You observed his furrowed eyebrows, his sorrowful frown, and the panic etched across his face. You couldn't help but be grateful for him. To have a man like him was a blessing. He was kind to you. When you needed him, he was there. He had cradled you through the harshest nights and been by your side through happiness and sorrow. He was there, always. Even now, in death, he was by your side. It was by miracle that he happened to be in the same place, close enough to you to respond to your plea for help immediately.

You couldn't help but feel thankful for him. To have someone like him in your life was a blessing only you were lucky enough to receive. After his arrival, you had something to live for. Someone cared about you, someone worth living for. And, admittedly, you didn't want to let this privilege go. You loved him, and you knew for sure that he reciprocated. You wanted to be selfish. For once, you wanted to live.

"Sylus..." you wheezed. His gaze immediately shifted. His eyes locked onto yours, slightly narrowing in displeasure at your weak countenance. "Save your breath. No need to say anything." he looked away, almost as if he couldn't bear to see you in such a sorry state anymore.

You simpered at him lovingly. "Thank you," was all you said. Sylus did not respond for a while, his only response being a slight falter in his speed. "Don't get sentimental now," he looked away. But you could catch a glimpse of the slight tremble of his lips. It was the first time you'd seen him so vulnerable, almost on the verge of tears. And even now, he tried to be strong. He tried to conceal his sorrow, even though he knew he didn't need to. Not around you. And yet, he was so adamant on being your devout protector, he’d forgotten that he was allowed to feel. You wanted to press your lips against his, to hug him in your arms and tell him that he could stop now. That he didn't have to make such sacrifices for your sake, that he was allowed to cry if he wanted to.

But alas, your strength began to fail you. And slowly, you began to fade into a deep slumber, lulled by the warmth of his body pressing against yours. You could hear Sylus's voice calling out to you, begging you to stay with him. But you couldn't. A gentle breeze blew you away easily as if you were but a tiny fairy floating about freely in the land of purgatory. Your eyes fluttered shut, only eliciting more panicked noises from him. But they were all drowned by the welcoming darkness. And so, your eyes closed, but not for the last time.

It wouldn't be long before you'd realize that you'd survived. When you awoke, it was atop a familiar mattress as hard as stone. It was clear that someone had tucked you in gingerly, layering multiple soft blankets beneath you in a flimsy attempt at cushioning you. Despite Sylus's efforts, the rigidity and firmness of the mattress pressed against your back painfully, leaving you with a sore back. Even with the lack of effectiveness in his approach, you found Sylus's attempt oddly endearing. You giggled internally, picturing a worried Sylus hurriedly skittering about and fussing over your makeshift bed.

Your carefreeness was cut off the moment you opened your mouth to speak. You felt a lump in your throat that felt as if it bobbled each time you gulped. On top of that, your throat was dry, and your voice low and hoarse. You quickly realized that you had not the strength to even lift your arm off the bed, let alone get up and call for help. You didn't know where Sylus was. All you could do was wait until he showed up eventually, which didn't take long.

"Sweetie," his pupils contracted subtly. You couldn't tell if it was a response brought about by relief or shock, or both. Were you not supposed to wake up so soon?

Dropping the towels by your bed, Sylus fixed his composure and rushed to your side, taking your arm in his. "How are you feeling?" "Horrible." you croaked out with a small laugh. "I feel like I'm gonna die," you said, but the joke didn't seem to sit right with Sylus, on whose forehead a crinkle had formed. He made it very clear that he did not find it funny.

Changing the topic, you let out a hum. "How long has it been?" "A week." You nearly choked on your own spit, but said nothing in response. You didn't have the energy to. Sylus caressed your hand thoroughly, his eyes slightly narrowing as he felt your skin. But you couldn't tell why. "We didn't know if you were going to, well... do you remember what happened?" You placed your finger on your lip, humming in thought, before nodding weakly. "You got discharged yesterday. I guess you're really taking a turn for the better, huh?" And yet, as he spoke, he did not smile. He only inspected your hand further, running his fingers over the bumps of your knuckles, and tenderly tracing the skin of your palm. "...Did you always have cold hands, sweetie?"

You only responded by pointing to the jug of water on the large, ebony nightstand. Following your request, Sylus grabs the jug and pours you a glass of water. "Here, I'll help you." he helps you sit up and brings the glass to your lips. Only for you to begin choking on the water as you drank. Sylus patted your back reassuringly. "You've been quite... breathless, haven't you? Your breathing is faster, and so is your heart rate." He placed his hand on his chin and thought. "Your face is pale, your hands are cold. And—are you listening?"

You stared at him before flashing him with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, can you repeat?" He let out a sigh. "I'm calling a doctor over. You're displaying abnormal symptoms." Your hands began to tremble uncontrollably as you passed him the glass. "Doctor? I feel fine." You waved your hand dismissively. "You're overreacting. I woke up, didn't I? It means I'm getting better." Sylus shook his head. "Right. And that also means it's time for a checkup. Don't resist, sweetie. You're not escaping this one." Although he tried to mask it, you could sense an underlying fear in his tone. You didn't know why. You truly did feel fine.

"He'll be here in a few hours. The snowfall's heavy tonight. It'll take a while." He pulled the covers over you and nuzzled your face. "Until then, rest." With that, he left the room.

A few hours had gone by, and your condition only worsened. Your skin grew colder, and your heart began to beat at a rapid rate. To add to Sylus's concern, your behavior and mental state began to worsen as well. When he'd ask you something, you'd stare at him for a good 30 seconds before smiling, "Sorry, could you repeat that?"

Eventually, your bandages began to bleed once more, and you felt as if you were rendered completely senile, like a sickly old man spending his last moments on his deathbed. You managed to squeeze out your dying voice to ask Sylus to change them. He gently propped you up, pulling off your shirt before carefully unwrapping the bandages around your chest.

"Sylus..." "Didn't I tell you to save your energy?" he scolded softly. "The doctor will be here in an hour." He pressed the back of his palm against your forehead. "Cold. Don't worry, I'll patch you up and tuck you back in." Suddenly, you grasped his hand weakly. He didn't have the heart nor intention to shake you off. "Thank you." Your gaze did not meet his.

Sylus tilted his head back and smirked lightly. "What, are we feeling affectionate now too?" It seemed as if he was trying to swallow the ache of his heart. You shook your head, your eyes glued to your lap. "I'm sorry. I'm so much trouble." Fresh tears began to slip from the corners of your eyes, only to be swept up by Sylus's hand before they could reach your chin. "I was weak. I know I've failed everyone."

"Sweetie..." his hand met your cheek, his thumb flicking off the crystalline beads rolling down your face. "I never saw you as a burden. The strength needed to withstand such a blow... your dodge was incredible, kitten." His other hand shot up to ruffle your hair. "Even I would have a hard time. You did well. I'm proud of you."

You let out a muffled sob. "Will you remember me, Sylus?" His gaze softened. He could reassure you that you wouldn't be leaving his side anytime soon and that there was no reason for him to have to remember you, but he knew that wasn't what you wanted to hear. "You're quite hard to forget, if I'm being honest. Even if we are worlds apart, you will linger in my memories eternally, shining like the most priceless gem not even the God of wealth could lay their eyes on." He gazed upon your face, taking in the sight of your drooping eyelids, inflamed nose, chapped lips, and pale visage with a wince. "We are bound by much more than a simple promise. What we have will never be replaced." His eyes met yours. "I could never forget you, even if I wanted to."

Your shoulders slackened almost as if you'd let go, your soul finally able to rest now that you'd heard him say it with his own lips. "I love you, Sylus," you confirmed. He traced his thumb over your bottom lip. "I love you too." Sylus slipped the shirt back onto your body and pushed you into the covers. "Sleep," he said, picking up the clutter. Before he left, he turned to you and looked at you one last time. "When you're better, I'll take you to a meadow for a nice picnic under the warm sun." His gaze trembled, and he swallowed the melancholy beginning to invade his voice. "I know a place. A vast field of anemones and other flowers. The breeze there is cool and constant. It's a place humanity is yet to reach, untainted by the spoils of mankind." He approached you, slipping his fingers in between your own. "When you're better, I'll take you there." He flashed you the warmest smile he could muster, even in his state of despair.

His heart nearly broke as you so innocently smiled back at him. "I see. Thank you, Sylus. It sounds nice indeed." You brought his hand to your face and nuzzled against it. "May we cross the fields together one day."

"Go now. I'm sleepy." You began pushing him away, ushering him out of your bed. Once he was a good distance away, you sank into your bedsheets and turned your back on him. "Goodnight, Sylus. I love you." And so, you went to sleep.

You did not wake up the next day. So he waited. Although Sylus knew you wouldn't last the moment you'd displayed the symptoms. He'd seen death; he'd known it half his life. He could tell when a man was about to die from a distance. And yet, with you, he couldn't bring himself to accept it.

And so, he waited again. For you to wake up. For you to return to him once more. He would wait until the heat death of the universe, if he must, just to reunite with you, his beloved, his lover. He couldn't stop the tears from flowing. He'd lost you again. And this time, it was his beloved who was gone.

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