A/B/O Japanese mafia idea. Yukio, your childhood friend (son of the head of the mafia), and you (son of the leader’s closest subordinate) grow up together and become really close, since there are no other children your age in the clan (him being a few years older). But as both of you get older and Yukio’s responsibilities as the heir of the clan grow, he starts to notice how the rest of the clan looks at your relationship. They don’t hide their disdain or the whispers of such a ‘disgraceful’ thing. Why would the only heir of the clan be so close to the son of a simple subordinate? Things just get worse when he presents as an alpha.
So Yukio starts to drift away, convinced that creating some distance from you is the best for the clan. But you don’t want to lose your best friend, so you keep insisting. Again, and again, and again, one failed attempt after another, to the point where he starts to see you as a nuisance. So, right before your official initiation to the clan, you decide you will try one last time. You decide that, if he rejects you again, you will just give up. Things don’t go as well as you planned, though; stress from a failed heir test and how close he is to his rut have Yukio on the verge of a breakdown. The conversation quickly escalates into a fight, one he tries to walk away from, again. But then you grab his arm to try to make him stay for a little longer, to make him listen to you for just a second.
Neither of you expected him to answer with a command.
The syllables resonate in your ears, angry and dominant, pulling something in your chest that shoots heat throughout your whole body, a sickly sweet scent enveloping both of you.
That’s how you presented as an omega. That was your first heat, too: triggered by the rejection of the alpha you consider closest to you.
Yukio loses all sense of reason, tackling you to the ground and holding you in his arms as if he is scared you’ll disappear. You don’t fight back, mind too foggy to understand what is going on. You feel yourself purring, convinced you are being accepted by your alpha. The sound goes straight to Yukio’s head, his instinct as an alpha eager to please the omega in heat nuzzling against his neck. All you feel are his teeth on your gland, biting hard enough to break the skin. Bliss washes all over you, too far gone to hear the yelling of the clan members trying to separate you from Yukio. Everything after that is kind of a blur. You remember the feeling of panic when someone ripped you away from your alpha’s grip. You remember his loud growling and the blood on his fangs while two other subordinates struggled to drag him away. You remember how painful and lonely the next three days of your heat felt. But the memories felt like covered in fog, making them easier to ignore.
You are called by the leader when your heat is over. Of course you are. Yukio is there, too. He doesn’t look at you when you enter, not even when you sit beside him on the floor, facing the head of the clan. You ignore the pain in your nape and what feels like being stabbed, knowing it’s mere instinct because of the bond, trying to convince yourself it’s just instinct.
Then the head speaks, asking what you two will decide to do about this situation. Your alph—Yukio doesn’t hesitate to take the lead, saying he doesn’t want this—he doesn’t want you. “As the heir,” he insists, “I need a strong mate who is backed up by a strong family, perhaps the female alpha of the X clan, who could also win us an alliance. I refuse to tie myself with an omega, much less one of our subordinates.”
His father doesn’t interrupt him; he just looks at you when his son is done. You smile, bow at your leader, and walk out of the room without uttering a single word.
A few days later, it is announced that some subordinates will be relocated to different parts of Japan to supervise the zones of the clan’s territory that had been overlooked in the last few years. You are between them. Yukio doesn’t comment about it.
Fast forward, a few years later, Yukio is on the last part of his training as the heir, getting ready to take over the clan, when there is an attempt against his life while he is sleeping. He barely makes it out alive, his lessons in fighting and self-defense proving useful, but the culprit—now dead—ends up being nothing but a pawn, and the person who wants the heir of the clan dead is still alive and free. So the leader, paranoid of losing his only son, assigns Yukio a bodyguard: one of his most skilled subordinates when it comes to getting rid of threats. Knowing his son and certain he would be against it, he also declares that said bodyguard will be solely under the head’s command, and any orders from Yukio can be overlooked as long as the word of the leader is being followed.
Yukio isn’t allowed to see the information file of his bodyguard until the day of the meeting. Seeing “recessive omega” as this man’s secondary gender takes him by surprise, but then he spots the name. The folder almost falls to the floor, skeptical eyes stare at you when you enter the room, leaving Yukio stunned.
You look different. Taller, stronger, composed. Your eyes are colder, your features sharper. You posture neither tense nor relaxed; just ready to act if necessary. You are the incarnated image of what a perfect subordinate should look like, one who wouldn’t hesitate to draw blood if their leader commanded it.
But the weirdest thing—what has his alpha instincts panicked and makes him feel restless—was that he couldn’t feel the connection of the bond. How? Why? The omega collar around your neck—useless, in his opinion. You are a marked omega, so why would you need it?—keeps your mark hidden. But he is not going to bring the topic up, so he swallowed his curiosity.
You start to work as his bodyguard. Besides your official duties, there is no interaction between the two of you. You never talk to him unless it is necessary, and when you do, you keep the conversation strictly professional. Yukio feels his chest tighten whenever you are close—which is almost all the time—but it doesn’t seem to affect you at all.
It is a random day, when you are cleaning some equipment, that Yukio manages to take a closer look at your nape. The collar covers where the mark is supposed to be, but the skin around your gland—what the collar doesn’t hide—looks darker. Scarred tissue covers most of it. His hand moves before he can stop himself, brushing the skin with his fingers, making you flinch. He retracts his hand and takes a step back.
“What happened to you?”
Your startled expression does not last, your face going back to its usual composed mask. You look at him for a few seconds before you grab the next pistol to resume your cleaning. Yukio doesn’t insist, certain that he won’t get an answer, but then you talk, your voice as casual as if commenting on the weather.
“I couldn’t break the bond, so I just got rid of the gland.”
He doesn’t really know how to process that.
So I really like this idea, and I might write a longer version of this. I want to make it some kind of friends to strangers to enemies to lovers or something, but we’ll see
This is the picture Amazon sent my BIL to say the packages were “delivered to a family member directly”
You just know his ass is saying roo roo
