Chapter Text
Cloud Strife was just a normal, average Beta.
And he liked being average.
He didn’t have the overwhelming pheromones of an Alpha, didn’t have to deal with the biological soap opera that was being an Omega, and most importantly—he could live his life without weird heat cycles or territorial nonsense.
His existence was peaceful. Predictable.
…Until today.
Because today, he did the one thing no sane Beta would ever do.
He crashed into Sephiroth.
The Sephiroth.
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Five Minutes Before Cloud’s Life Went to Hell:
Cloud weaved through traffic like a pro, dodging reckless drivers, potholes, and whatever that suspiciously aggressive Chocobo was doing in the middle of the road.
He was on a delivery run—nothing new. Just another high-priority package to Shinra Tower, the tallest, most ego-infested building in Midgar.
Cloud hated going there. It was full of rich, smug Alphas who smelled like expensive cologne and made everyone else feel like peasants.
But hey—he was getting paid.
He pulled up near the delivery entrance, revved his engine, and—
BAM.
A tall, silver-haired man in black stepped directly into his path.
Cloud’s life flashed before his eyes.
He tried to swerve, brake, pray, but—
BAM.
He hit Sephiroth.
The Sephiroth.
The most powerful Alpha in Midgar.
The General of SOLDIER.
The guy who could kill people with a flick of his wrist and still look like he just stepped out of a goddamn shampoo commercial.
Cloud groaned.
His entire body hurt, his motorcycle was on its side, and somehow, inexplicably, Sephiroth was standing there, completely unharmed.
No scratches. No bruises. Not even a wrinkle in his coat.
Cloud’s brain short-circuited.
How?!
The man had just been hit by a speeding motorcycle, and he looked perfectly fine, like this was just a mild inconvenience instead of what should have been a trip to the hospital.
Sephiroth stared down at Cloud, looking impossibly calm, powerful, and vaguely annoyed.
"You're in my way," he said, voice low and smooth, like he was personally offended by Cloud’s existence.
Cloud, still dazed, somehow managed to blurt out the worst possible response.
"You’re in my way."
A horrifying silence followed.
Sephiroth’s green eyes narrowed slightly, as if considering whether or not Cloud should continue existing.
Cloud immediately realized he had made a terrible mistake.
"I—I mean," he stammered, backtracking hard, "you—you walked into the street! Who does that?!"
Sephiroth’s expression did not change. "I do."
Cloud blinked. "Well—well, that’s stupid!"
Sephiroth arched a perfectly elegant eyebrow. "Is it?"
Cloud opened his mouth, realized he was about to argue with the most powerful Alpha in Midgar, and immediately decided he valued his life.
"...I mean. No. Maybe. Look, are you even hurt?"
Sephiroth gave him the kind of look one might give a particularly slow child. "I do not get ‘hurt’ from minor incidents such as this."
Cloud stared. "Oh. Cool. Good to know. Meanwhile, I think I cracked a rib."
Sephiroth ignored this entirely and instead did something deeply unnerving.
He took a slow step forward, looming over Cloud, and—
Sniffed.
Cloud froze. "What the—what the hell are you doing?!"
Sephiroth tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable.
"Your scent."
Cloud’s entire nervous system shut down. "...My what?"
"Your scent," Sephiroth repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Cloud immediately went into panic mode.
Because no. Nope. No, thank you.
"Uh—dude, I think you’re mistaken. I’m just a Beta. I don’t have a scent."
Sephiroth said nothing. Just continued staring at him. Intensely.
Cloud felt a cold sweat trickle down his spine.
There was something deeply unsettling about being analyzed by an Alpha who could probably snap his neck with a flick of his wrist.
And yet…
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a small, horrible part of him thought:
Oh no. He’s kinda hot.
Cloud immediately punched that thought in the face and buried it forever.
He scrambled to his feet, wincing as every bone in his body protested.
"Okay, well, this has been weird and traumatizing, but I gotta go."
He made a move for his bike. Sephiroth did not move.
Cloud glanced at him. "...Could you, uh. Move?"
Sephiroth did not move. Instead, his eyes narrowed slightly, like he was debating something.
Cloud panicked. "Look, man, I get it, you’re important and powerful and terrifying, but I’m just a Beta delivery guy and I’m—"
And then it happened.
A strange, unfamiliar warmth spread through Cloud’s body.
A tingling sensation crawled up his spine, like static electricity gathering under his skin.
His breath hitched. What the hell was that?
Sephiroth’s expression barely changed, but for a fraction of a second—just a fraction—his eyes darkened, and his nostrils flared slightly, as if he smelled something interesting.
Then, just as quickly, his face went back to its usual unreadable mask.
Cloud blinked rapidly, suddenly feeling lightheaded.
Sephiroth’s gaze lingered for another unnervingly long moment. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel, his long black coat dramatically billowing behind him as he walked away.
Cloud stared after him, still sprawled on the sidewalk, brain completely fried.
His bike was wrecked. His body hurt all over. And yet…
All he could think about was the way Sephiroth had looked at him.
And the way his own heartbeat had kicked up like a goddamn drum solo.
"What the hell just happened?" Cloud muttered, completely unaware that his life was about to spiral into pure, inescapable chaos.