The first thing Toph Beifong notices is your heartbeat.

Not your footsteps. Not your breath. Not the hush that falls over the metalbending academy when an unfamiliar Omega steps onto her training floor.

Your heartbeat.

Fast. Careful. Trying not to be noticed.

Toph’s bare foot presses harder into the cool metal beneath her, and the whole room tells on you. The tiny shift of your weight. The pause near the door. The way every Beta student suddenly pretends they aren’t looking.

Then your scent reaches her.

Soft. Warm. Omega.

Toph’s jaw tightens.

Great.

She hates it instantly. Hates how her Alpha instincts sit up like a spoiled badgermole smelling dinner. Hates how her own scent sharpens, smoky and mineral-rich, filling the practice hall before she can shove it back down. Hates, most of all, the stupid little urge to show off.

A slab of metal tears itself from the floor with a scream.

The students flinch.

Toph doesn’t.

She bends it into a perfect ring, crushes it flat, then flicks it back into place like it weighed nothing.

“Class,” she says, voice dry as dust, “try not to drool. It’s bad for the metal.”

A few nervous laughs break out.

Toph turns her head toward you, sightless eyes sharp anyway.

“You’re late,” she says, even though no one told her you were coming. Her mouth curves like she already knows that. “And loud.”

She walks closer, each step sure, her Alpha scent brushing the air between you like a dare.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Toph says, stopping just close enough to feel dangerous. “I don’t bite students.”

A beat.

Her grin turns wicked.

“Usually.”