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Red wasn’t a typical alpha. Never had been, probably never would be. He wasn’t the type of alpha who chased after an omega on the street or the type of alpha who cared for posturing and asserting his dominance. He was competitive, sure, but he liked to think that was just a personality quirk rather than a biological predetermination.
The fact that he wasn’t a typical alpha was probably the reason why he found himself in the situation he was currently in.
Digging in dirt, so early that the first morning rays were just starting to light up the surrounding biome. It wasn’t his favourite activity—especially considering that he hadn’t slept for the past 24 hours—but what was a guy supposed to do? Ignore being betrayed? Ignore being attacked? Just give up?
No. No, he may not be the most typical alpha, but he was not going to let them trample all over him. He had pride. He had power, even if no one but himself believed so. He was going to get his revenge and show them what they got for leaving him behind, for thinking he was weak. His team didn’t see him for the alpha he was—but oh, would he show them.
His shovel broke.
“Fuck,” Reddoons said and threw the splintered wood to the side. Resources were getting tight, and he had to resort to digging with stone tools, like a peasant.
“Fuck this,” he growled again and pulled out his crafting table.
His hands were clammy and cold. It was hot in this biome but the wind was harsh, and the night had been bitterly cold. There was a half-healed wound on his thigh from where a skeleton had shot him a few hours ago. He hadn’t been able to jump out of the way in time—he had been so tired then.
He wasn’t as tired anymore. Now, he was filled with a shaky, restless energy and a pounding headache that had been steadily building over the past few hours, getting stronger and stronger.
His hands shook as he crafted another stone shovel. The cobblestone was rough beneath his palms, and the shovel looked horribly deformed, but there was no one here to judge him. Certainly not his team—they had dipped the first chance they got. Now he had nothing. No team. No safe base. It was just him and his stupid, ugly stone shovel.
“Reddoons, what the fuck are you doing here?”
A voice rang out behind him, and a shiver ran down Red’s back. This was not good. He turned around.
“Well, hello there, Ashswag. Fancy seeing you here,” he quipped and leaned against his shovel with faux confidence. His body was shaking from the strain of holding himself up.
In front of him, Ashswag frowned. He was in full enchanted diamond. Hardly an achievement, Red thought—not for an alpha with a full team behind him.
“You’re on my land, Red,” Ashswag snarled, but he didn’t draw his sword, didn’t move much at all—he just stood there and looked. “What are you even doing here?” he asked.
“Just checking out the location, you know,” Red replied. “Doing the things, seeing the sights.”
He could feel a drop of sweat making its way down his forehead. He hoped Ash wouldn’t see the sign of weakness, or else he feared he would pounce.
It wasn’t his first experience with Ashswag. Nor the second. Nor the third, really. In fact, Red thought that aside from his former team, Ash was probably the person he saw the most—despite their combined efforts not to do so. He and Ash, they were nuclear. Whenever they met, there was an explosion of rage and anger that always rattled Red to his core.
It wasn’t because they were both alphas—they clashed just because. Because Ashswag was so annoying and arrogant it made Red want to wipe that smug expression off his face. To grind his face into the dirt until he begged for mercy.
“Yeah, right,” Ash scoffed and threw his braided hair over his shoulder.
Red had the sudden, inexplicable urge to strangle him with it.
“I know exactly what you’re doing,” Ash’s voice deepened, and he took a step closer to Reddoons. His posture was still relaxed and confident, but the predatory glint in his eyes was dangerous.
Red gulped. Maybe this was a prime opportunity to make a run for it. To dip, to dash. To make a swift and strategic exit.
His eyes flickered behind Ash’s shoulders. He seemed to be alone. Normally, Red wouldn’t hesitate to pick a fight—taunt a little bit and watch Ash grow angrier and angrier. It was one of his favourite activities, after all.
Today that wasn’t going to happen, though. Usually, he had nothing to fear. They were both alphas, but Red was a much better sword fighter. But this wasn’t the usual situation. This was him—without sleep, exhausted and chilled to his bones, with no armour except the fancy gold boots he had found in a ruined portal a couple of days ago. And from the casual ease that Ash was showcasing, he knew. He knew exactly that if it came down to it, Red had no chance.
In a moment so quick it disoriented Red, Ash was in front of him, hand shooting out to encircle Red’s wrist.
“What the fuck, man?” Red tried to blink away the darkness that had crept in front of his eyes. His head was pounding.
“I want you,” Ash said, stressing every word, “to get the hell out of my territory.” And he pulled Red closer to him.
“You say that, but I’m kind of getting mixed messages here.” Red shook the hand that Ash held in a death grip.
Ash snarled. Maybe provoking the much better geared enemy wasn't the best move. Red could see Ash’s fangs glittering in the sunlight. It made the alpha in him balk and lash out. With his free hand, he pushed Ash’s shoulders roughly, making him stumble back.
“What the fuck did you just do?”
Red could feel the anger pouring off of Ash. The scent of angry alpha made him so dizzy he had to fight against the sudden urge to tilt his head back in submission. He swallowed and composed himself.
“Giving you a sign that maybe it’s you who should fuck off,” he said. His voice broke at the last word. Well, that was embarrassing.
Ash closed his eyes and took an exaggerated breath.
“We both know that you’re in no position to argue,” he said. “And actually, I’m being very nice. If I was someone else…,” he trailed off.
“If you were someone else, what?” Red asked.
“Then you would already be dead.”
There was no pleasure in Ash’s voice, just a careful neutrality.
“If you think I could be killed that easily, then why not do it?" Red paused, but Ash didn't react. "Come on, kill me if you think it’s that easy,” he goaded, showing his fangs.
“I’m not here for you. I actually have stuff to do, you know. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Reddoons.”
“Or maybe you’re just not the alpha you think you are,” Red quipped back.
A split second after the words left his mouth, his heart skipped a beat. He shouldn’t have said that. He really shouldn’t have said that. Then he smelled rage. Pure, unfiltered alpha rage. Oh god. He was so dead.
He wanted to take it back. Make an awkward joke to diffuse the situation, but the words got stuck in his throat as Ash pounced.
With a grunt, Red fell to the ground, a heavy weight pressing him down, hands on his throat. In a fit of desperation, he went for Ash’s eyes, trying to claw himself free. It was a fight for survival at this point.
“Fucking stop,” Ash growled, batting his hands away—and Red could breathe again.
It wasn’t very dignified, the way they were rolling around in the dirt. They tousled. Ash pulled on his hair; Red bit him in retaliation. Ash dug his fingers into his ribs and Red spat in his face. A fair fight overall.
At least, until Red felt a hand at the back of his neck, enveloping his nape and squeezing.
It wasn’t a hard squeeze, just a light touch—nothing deliberate about it.
To Red, it was like jumping into cold water. Or maybe, more akin to a jump into comfortably warm water.
He could feel his whole body relax in an instant. All thoughts of fighting and defending himself suddenly gone. He was floating, his mind blissfully empty.
Ash stilled beneath him.
“Red?” he asked, strangely hesitant. “Reddoons, you’re alright, man?”
He took off his hand, and Red was startled out of his peace by an utter sense of loss—and with a very undignified noise, he chased after it as he slumped into Ash.
“Oh,” Ash murmured. Then the hand was back, squeezing gently.
If Red could have raised himself out of the comfort and warmth he was feeling, he would have been appalled by the knowledge that he was being scruffed by Ashswag, of all people. He would never live this down.
But in this very moment, he didn’t care.
He was content nuzzling the side of Ash’s neck.
“Oh,” Ash said again, quieter. He sounded almost sad. Red could feel the vibration of his voice. It was nice.
Ash sat up, without dislodging Red from his lap, and started to scratch Red’s hair.
Red wished this moment would never end.
He was sprawled on Ash’s lap, face buried in his neck, surrounded by his scent.
There were arms wrapping themselves around him, like a hug.
“You’re very tired, aren’t you, Red?” Ash asked, his voice soft and gentle now.
Red felt so good, the hand scratching his head, arms securely around him—he could do nothing but hum quietly in response.
“It’s alright,” Ash said, “you can sleep. I’ll keep you safe until you wake up, I promise.”
Red, cocooned in a blanket of safety, fell asleep.