Chapter Text
Between what you seem and what you are
The neighborhood was quiet — the kind that looked like it came straight out of a real estate catalog: manicured lawns, kids playing soccer, the baker who waved every morning, and a perfect silence for someone who needed to focus. That’s why Xeno Wingfield had chosen this place. Scientist. Astrophysics researcher. Passionate about the mechanics of nuclear and space engineering. He’d moved here for peace of mind — far from the city’s chaos and the competitive atmosphere that sometimes clung to NASA.
The first thing he noticed after moving in? His neighbor.
Every morning, without fail, the man stepped into his small front yard to work out. It was impossible not to notice him: muscular, tall, sun-kissed skin, a presence that seemed to fill the entire street. Shirtless, muscles flexing with every push-up, lunge, or lift. Logically, you’d assume he was an alpha. Everything about him screamed it — the straight posture, the sharp gaze, the way he walked like the world owed him something.
“Of course,” Xeno muttered one morning, watching him from the window. “Just my luck — an alpha neighbor. Great. Why am I even staring? This is ridiculous. Two alphas don’t work. Everyone knows that. No biological or dynamic sense. Authority against authority. Territorial egos clashing…”
And yet… he kept watching.
Stanley Snyder.
That was the name on his mailbox — and on the gas contract Xeno accidentally read when the delivery guy mixed up the houses. Everything about him was a contradiction to what you’d expect from an omega… because Stanley was, in fact, an omega.
No one knew.
No one suspected.
Born into a pure alpha bloodline — generations of military men — the emergence of an omega in that family tree was considered nothing short of a miracle. Stanley’s mother, a woman with a voice like thunder, cried when she learned her body had finally produced an omega. “An omega raised by alphas will be the strongest omega to ever exist,” his father used to say proudly, whiskey glass in hand. And he was right. Stanley was trained, molded, hardened like any other Snyder. No one ever suspected he wasn’t an alpha.
And he never let them.
Pretending to be an alpha became part of his routine. Not out of shame. Not exactly. It was more about protection. Freedom. He didn’t want to be boxed in, desired for his condition rather than for who he was. So his medical records were altered, and the suppressants he used were potent — borderline illegal — to keep his true nature hidden. And it worked. He’d done it his whole life.
Until that heat hit.
Xeno and Stanley had grown close. A borrowed tool here, a beer after a heavy move there. The tension between them was palpable — though neither dared to name it. Xeno, because he didn’t understand why his body and mind reacted so fiercely to another “alpha.” Stanley, because every second near Xeno’s sandalwood scent sent shivers down his skin — shivers he had to hide at all costs.
One ordinary Saturday, Xeno decided to ask for help. He needed to move some lead boxes for an experiment on magnetic fields — and who better than his ridiculously strong neighbor? He knocked once. Nothing. Twice. Still nothing.
He was about to leave when he heard it — a moan. Deep. Muffled.
Alarm shot through him.
Stanley had joked once about hiding a spare key under a potted plant. Xeno hesitated… but the sound came again — louder, more desperate. He used the key.
What he saw inside froze him in place.
Stanley was on the floor, panting, lips dry, face flushed crimson, body trembling — clearly in pain.
“Stanley!” Xeno rushed to his side, dropping to his knees. “What’s wrong? Talk to me!”
The scent in the air shifted — and as an alpha, Xeno knew immediately. This wasn’t an accident. Wasn’t a fever.
It was heat.
But not an alpha’s heat.
It was an omega’s heat — wild, brutal, as if years of suppressant abuse had finally backfired.
…Stanley was the omega.
Xeno swallowed hard, feeling his body instinctively want to react — but no. Not now. Stanley was suffering.
“Where’s your stabilizer? Do you have one?” he asked, carefully holding him.
Stanley weakly shook his head. He could barely speak.
“Shit!” Xeno jumped up, sprinted to his house, tore through his medicine cabinet. A week earlier, the pharmacist had accidentally given him an omega stabilizer. He’d almost thrown it away — but kept it “just in case.”
That “just in case” now had a name — and a trembling body.
He ran back, knelt beside Stanley again, and without hesitation, injected the stabilizer into his upper thigh. Slowly, the spasms began to fade. Stanley, drenched in sweat, breathed more evenly.
Xeno stayed beside him, silent, waiting.
Twenty minutes passed. The tension eased. Stanley’s skin cooled. When he could finally speak, he didn’t know if he could look Xeno in the eyes.
“Thank you… for not leaving me alone.”
Xeno watched him. His obsidian-black eyes gleamed under the dim light.
“How long have you been hiding this?”
Silence.
“My whole life,” Stan finally said. “Born into an alpha family. Raised as one. Trained as one. Learned to live as one. I’m not what alphas look for in an omega. I’m not delicate. Not fragile. Not ‘pretty.’ I just have this stupid face that looks like it belongs on a magazine cover — but that’s it. No one sees an omega when they look at me.”
The last words came out tinged with discomfort.
“And you want to keep living like this?” Xeno asked softly.
Stan looked at him. Hesitated. “I don’t know.”
Xeno sighed. Then chuckled. Relaxed, he said:
“Well, bad luck for you… I saw something else. I didn’t fall for the perfect alpha you pretended to be. I fell for the idiot who waters his plants at seven in the morning, who lends me his tools, who laughs like a kid when he sees something ridiculous on TV… I fell for you, Stanley. Even though it took me forever to admit it — because I thought you were an alpha… and that I was an idiot for feeling this.”
Stanley blinked.
“Are you saying that…?”
“Yes. I want a date with you. However you want to show up — as an omega, as an alpha… as you.”
A moment of silence. Slow. Heavy. A shared, deep breath. And then — Stanley laughed. He laughed like he hadn’t laughed in years.
“You’re an idiot, Xeno.”
“Yeah — but I’m your idiot now, aren’t I?”
“Mmm… I guess so. But fair warning — I’m not easy to handle.”
“Perfect. I like challenges.”
And so, in the middle of the afternoon — between laughter, sighs, and the lingering scent of sweat and pheromones in the air — something new began. Something real. Something where it didn’t matter what they seemed to be…
…but what they truly were.
And what they wanted to be — for each other.
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💚🍋
Hi there, this story is clearly going to be a little cliché — I usually like writing clichés, and I hope you enjoy it anyway.
I’m old-school — back when it was all “doncel,” mpreg, and zero logic about how men got pregnant… they just ended up knocked up, somehow.
I really hope you like it. I’ll try to make the next chapters a bit longer, more detailed, sweeter. I’m not an expert — I even ask my little friend who’s with me for help, because I’m also a roleplayer, which is why I write a bit oddly.
Sorry it’s long — but with that said, I hope you love it.
Raimu G. Lemon