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don't call me pretty (call me smart)

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Doyoung was late. 

The sound of his feet stomping into the water puddles was rowdy and striking. Making him wish that he chose another type of shoes, maybe one that didn’t make him sound like a sneaky teenager. 

Madam Grey should stop manipulating me to use this kind of stuff, he thought I already said that I hate heels shoes.

As soon as he stepped onto the entrance, flooding all the floor, a woman with pitch-black hair, dusky brown eyes and a severe expression appeared, in Doyoung’s opinion, out of nowhere.

“Mother!” His hands flew to his chest and his eyes went wide. Still, his voice was just smooth and calm as always.“You scared me to death.”

Not so surprisingly, this caused her to recede, giving Doyoung a pointed look and then a soft smile. A traditional omega smile, some would say. Soon, Doyoung would be the one giving smiles like these to his alpha’s puppies. Although the thought didn’t make him happy at all, it was not like he had much strength of will to do anything against it.

Play along. So they may not know what is in your mind.

That’s what his grandma used to say to him when the world still looked like something that worth it a fight. Sometimes, when he was missing her too much, he would think that the world died with her and that now he was living in a coma-dream reality. Somehow, that used to make him feel better. 

“You’re late, darling.” His mother’s voice it’s calm and composed, just like herself but there’s a hint of accusation that Doyoung does not let it pass unnoticed, still, he says nothing. 

When younger, Doyoung used to think that she didn’t appreciate him as a son. Now, he thinks she doesn’t appreciate him even as a person. He tries to tell himself that it doesn’t hurt. But deep down, where he can’t lie to himself, he knows it. Always will hurt.

“It won’t happen again, mother.” Doyoung can see both their reflexions on the side mirror and for a moment he consider if instead of a coma-dream, he’s not living in a wax-dollhouse reality.

Mother smiles. Never really reach her eyes, though.

Chapter Text

Yuta never really understood the idea behind a “welcome back” party.

He had just flown from Toronto to Ulsan in a trip that took a good amount of time from his life (twenty-two hours, fifty minutes and forty seconds. If you ask for precision) and still, here he was.

Engulfed in a wave of people who either he hasn’t seen in years or did ever met. It was quite sad, actually, Yuta would give anything for, at least, one familiar face.

He lets out a yawn, stretching his whole body like a cat. The guests must have grown used by now, cause no one dares spare even a glance at his direction.

He wanders through the aisle. Averting any person who might try sweet talk him. Yuta knows better, there’s not a single person in this house (besides his family, maybe) that actually likes him.

He is, after all, the doesn’t-know-his-place omega. And everybody hates these types of omegas.

Sometimes, Yuta thinks, they hate the omegas itself. He remembers his younger self. Stubborn and intense. Never bowing his head, always standing for what he understood as good for the common well.

Until he was fifteen, it was ok. They supposed he was granted to a greater life, to be a leader. To be an alpha. But then his first heat came and hell broke loose.

Despite the stares people would give him, Yuta actually enjoyed being an omega. Of course, he has never been anything different, but he never complained when he received his results confirming that yes, the loud and obstinate Nakamoto Yuta was, indeed, also part of the most submissive and sweet class.

He always thought that the “submissive by nature” thing was bullshit, even when he was just a bratty toddler. Never really liked alphas either, they were boring and would treat other people like shit just so they could feel better. It was always a hard time having them around.

The piercing sound of shattered glass makes way to Yuta’s ears, making him stop and look around, seeking the source of the noise.

Around the corner, behind a distorted (and expensive) statue of Buda, there was a man.

Wearing a dark blue suit, face hidden by that stupid statue, Yuta couldn’t afford the pleasure to get a full display of the man’s face but he could feel his scent. It was strong. The sweetness of chocolate alongside the coffee bitterness.

Then, it hits him.

Sweet.

An alpha or a beta would never smell this sweet.

The man appears to realize that he was caught and get out of behind the statue, his face coming to light revealing a raven hair omega.

Yuta feels his eyes glistening in purple as the feeling blossom in his chest. For a moment all he can feel is the dazzling emotion fill him up, making things around him float.

The perception makes way trough him and Yuta almost choke on his breath. He can see the omega retreat, looking quite startled. His eyes growing bigger in the most pretty shade of blue Yuta ever saw in his life.

This is the moment that defines everything, Yuta realizes.

One could run from destiny just for a short time. It always comes back, after all.

This omega and him had an imprint.

They’re bonded for life and whatever comes next.