UNDER CONSTRUCTION- I am currently heavily rewriting this fic. Feel free to read the initial version or save for later for the better story. The rewritten version will replace this one once completed (ie, this entire initial version will be deleted forever once I begin to upload the rewritten chapters). Estimated time of rewrite completion- September or October, 2026. - Meet Dean Silver. He's a confident and athletic Alpha in his sophomore year at university. He has a happy life, lots of friends, and a cute Omega girlfriend. But the Silver family has a secret- one that would cause Dean to have his first series of Omega heats this year, even though he's an Alpha. Dean is both terrified and horrified that this will happen to him. Enter Parker Teal. He's a a dark and intimidating dominant Alpha in his final year of his Master's degree. He's considered the most powerful Alpha at the school by both students and staff, so he was begged to be the Resident Advisor of an all-Alphas dorm hall after the last one quit. The same dorm hall that Dean had been staying in. What will happen when Dean enters his first heat, and it is Parker who finds him? - Omegaverse AU Lots of smut

When Alistair Melek gave his life to the sea, various degrees of things changed. For starters, his love for bloodshed was amplified. Bolder. He was drawn to the clash of a sword, blood spilling below the floorboards, like a moth drawn to a flame. And this love was damned to spread through his crew as some treacherous disease, claiming any and all who joined. But he knew this was the price he'd pay. The price for the sea itself. So when his crew completes another standard loot and pillage from a merchant ship, he allows his men a bit of fun. He liked to give them an audience, rounding up those who didn't fall victim to the blade during battle, and forcing them to beg for their lives. To prove how much they really wanted to live. Alistair had ruled the sea for some years now. Killed thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Destroyed hundreds, maybe thousands of vessels. And yet, each feeble human was all the same. There was not one man he threatened that didn't beg for their lives with all they had in them when faced with the wrong end of the sword. Each feeble human was always the same. Or so he thought. And yet, he also thought that this would be a standard job. A treat for his men after a night of good work. But this particular survivor, the one with long white hair and dead-looking eyes... He wasn't a merchant. He couldn't have been. More importantly, there was no hesitancy when Alistair asked the fairly built man whether he wanted to live, and the man replied with a simple no.