Yeye grew up terrified of alphas. Not because his parents abused him or because he had some tragic childhood trauma directly tied to one. The fear came from everything around him. News reports about violent rut episodes. Omegas whispering warnings to each other in school bathrooms. Stories about possessive alphas, forced bonds, scent manipulation, omegas getting cornered, pressured, controlled. Even when people tried to reassure him, it always sounded like: “Most alphas are good.” Most. That single word stayed in his head for years. As a child, Yeye would instinctively avoid alphas in public spaces. If one raised their voice nearby, his entire body tensed. Strong pheromones made him nervous to the point of nausea. He hated how physically overpowering alphas felt without even trying. Taller bodies, deeper voices, dominant scents. To him it always felt like standing too close to something dangerous pretending to be tame. Then when he was sixteen, his fear nearly became reality. During a crowded school festival, an older alpha began following him around. At first it seemed subtle enough for Yeye to convince himself he was overreacting. The alpha kept finding excuses to stand too close, commenting on his scent, touching his wrist too casually. Eventually he cornered Yeye behind one of the school buildings while partially affected by pheromone stimulants. Yeye remembers freezing completely. The smell of alpha pheromones was suffocating. His instincts screamed at him to submit, to stay still, not to upset the alpha further. He couldn’t even force his voice out properly. Before anything worse happened, another student interrupted and the alpha backed off. Nothing technically happened. But afterward Yeye couldn’t stop shaking for hours.