Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I. Could be Done

He doesn’t know any different but his wolf tells him that something is wrong. And he trusts it, having gotten around on his instinct as a rogue separated from his pack. At least, Louis assumes that’s what happened. It’s hard to be certain when your childhood memories consist of being in wolf form, trees, and flashes of being taught things. So if he was taught things…he must have had a pack? Knows at the very least that he’s come from somewhere, that he has a mum and dad, even though the details are shaky at best.

Regardless, Louis is on his own.

He keeps his head low to the ground as he moves, his nose not as strong as it used to be when it comes to deciphering scents. The earth beneath his paws is damp, the chill easier to ward off when Louis is in wolf form. At least, externally. The forest is vast and endless, a tangled mass of shadows and towering pines, but Louis moves through it like a ghost. His breath comes out inconsistent with an ache creeping into his bones. The cold still bites at his fur, and the wind howls through the trees, carrying the scent of rain and distant prey.

But there’s no comfort in the hunt. No packmate at his flank. He’s alone.

Yet not. 

There’s not a lot to do as a rogue. He hunts the best he can, although likely eating less than he actually should for his status. Keeps a loose track of time by the cycle of the moon, and makes sure never to stray too far from a creek. Most importantly, stay alert not to cross into other’s territory whether it be another foreign pack or worse, another rogue. It could be dangerous but Louis feels like he’s doing an alright job managing to keep himself alive. 

The only actual troubling aspect is the isolation toll on his wolf. That’s another thing supporting the theory that he had come from a pack; his wolf grieves it, making itself sick over the loss. From what he’s unfortunately had to experience, the symptoms consist of: an unshakeable, bone-chilling cold that radiates internally rather than from the outside, a weakened immune system, and periods of alpha drop. 

Which brings him to his recent decision, one that was more so made by his wolf rather than his human brain. He found himself chasing something in the forest, a whiff on the wind that had his alpha incessantly scratching at the walls of his skull to track it. When he had finally given in, he realized why it had reacted so intensely. 

A pack. 

He’s become obsessed with it now. Never getting to close but keeping tabs on them, studying and watching with the kind of focus that borders on insanity. 

Pack! 

Track. Find pack!

It’s a bit out of body, Louis taking more of a backseat as he follows the scent. It’s not prey… it doesn’t smell like it or elicit the hunting instincts like food normally would. Instead it’s a warm scent, sweet yet woody, drifting along the frigid air. As the smell gets stronger, unbridled excitement courses through them. His tag wails unconsciously as the urge to rumble is squashed down. 

Louis lingers along the tree line, making sure to keep hidden by the underbrush as his body presses low to the ground. The Styles’ pack. It had taken about four days for him to catch the name, well aware that he’s technically stalking at this point. He just craves to watch them…feeling restless and depressed whenever he’s not perched in a hiding spot nearby. Still driven by instincts, he always waits until nighttime before watching - knowing his chances of being discovered are higher in daylight.

His ears twitch as he catches the sound of laughter, mixing with the sound of the crackling campfire. His alpha urges him to get closer; step into the warmth and let himself be surrounded by what his body and wolf crave. He even thinks it's something he, himself, wants. To be able to talk, play and live with others in a bond that’s understood implicitly. 

But logic and survival always win over his silly wants. Over the impulsive prodding and whining from his desperate wolf. 

So, he watches. Studies and learns the way the pack moves in a way that lights up every nerve threading through his body. They flow around each other, usually having nightly pack bonding from what Louis can decipher. He doesn’t know how big their territory stretches, unsure if they have shelter that they live in when they’re not gathering at this exact spot.

As much as he itches to investigate, it’s better safe than sorry which leads to him just watching from this one spot as they gather together. The scent of them is strong, carried by the wind - earthy, warm and layered in a way that speaks of their bond. Louis shifts his weight, muscles coiled tight.

One of them, he’s seen the others call him Harry, moves with an air of command—he’s leadership clear in the way others naturally defer to him. Alpha, his wolf tells him. Louis wonders how he smells.

There’s few alphas in the pack from what he can tell, majority being omegas and betas. The pack hasn't noticed him lurking, though he’s not above suspecting that Harry has caught his scent more than once. 

He’s been careful. Makes sure to stay downwind, keeps his distance, and never tries to be seen as more than a shadow among the trees. But alphas have sharp noses, and even sharper instincts. If Harry knows he’s there, he hasn’t acted on it yet. That unsettles Louis more than he’d like to admit. 

A sudden burst of laughter pulls his attention back to the group, ears raising and flicking in response. A beta nudges an omega playfully, baring his teeth in a grin before shifting back into wolf form in an easy fluid motion. The others follow suit one by one, shedding their human form to run together in the night. That could’ve been him, once. Maybe it still could be. But rogues don’t get second chances. Not often.

A sorrowful howl bubbles up, and he paws at the ground in an attempt to distract from the urge to release it. His limbs feel weary, calling for rest yet he lingers still.

Watching. Waiting. 

The wind shifts, the sudden scent of another wolf brushing against his senses. Not from the pack, not mingled with theirs. This one smells closer, body stiffening as his fur bristles. Sharp yet panicked eyes flicking toward the shadows around him. 

Nothing stands out but his alpha is tense along with his instincts screaming he’s being watched.

A low warning growl builds in his throat but he swallows it down. Stay hidden. Pack. 

Danger. 

Louis has been in isolation way too long to not recognize the presence of another predator. Rogue or not, somebody is near. Muscles locking, his wolf whirs between the survival based impulse to flee and the primal alpha need to stand his ground.

Holding his breath, he focuses on his hearing. A rustle in the brush then a flicker of movement beyond his vision. Then nothing.  

As his heart pounds sporadically in his chest, he slowly begins to move. Whatever it is, it’s good at staying hidden. But he’s better at sensing threats. His ears swivel back towards the pack; toward the safety he can’t reach. If he was wiser, he’d retreat. Lose whoever is trailing him and put as much distance between him and the pack as possible. Yet it’s clear the decision isn’t his.

Stay. 

Pack.

Safe.

Stay.

🌲 🐺 🦌

The morning came slow and silver, dew clinging to the grass like a second skin, and Louis stirs beneath the tangle of branches he calls shelter. His body is sore, his muscles having tightened from the cold. Louis blinks against the light filtering through the cracks in his den, paws twitching as he slowly wakes up.

The world smells damp, like moss and mud but there’s also the faint trace of rabbits that had passed nearby in the night. And himself of course. It’s been awhile since he’s bathed in the creek.

Fur. Dirt. Hunger.

Louis lets out a long low breath through his snout and rolls onto his side, the brush of leaves soft against his ribs. His wolf form serves armor in the sense, his human side harder to care for in solitude. As a wolf, he’s stronger though never at ease. That seems to be something he can’t find no matter what form he shifts to.

He looks at the light streaming through again, the shelter not much more than branches and bark pieced together over a hollow in the roots of a half-dead oak. It keeps the wind out more nights, and rain when it isn’t too heavy. But it doesn’t hold warmth. 

Not like the kind that comes to him in phantom sensations: the shared heat of bodies curled close, the soft exhale of breath against fur, the sound of others sleeping beside him. He has no idea if those memories are real. Sometimes they feel like dreams, other times they feel like lies. 

Shifting again, his claws scrape against the packed Earth beneath him. There’s a throbbing ache in his belly reminding him he hasn’t eaten in two days, maybe three. He rises slowly, shaking out his fur as the leaves that cling to his coat flutter to the ground. A bath definitely needs to happen soon.

Food first.

Eyes scanning the tree line, he edges out of his shelter with his ears twitching for movement. A shadow among trees. 

The creek wasn’t far, an intentional choice on his part to stay nearby. He knows every step of the route by now, a well-worn path carved by instinct and repetition. It also helps to smell the cold, clean water threaded with the faint mineral scent of stone. The stream of water curves between mossy stones and tangled roots. It cuts through the woods like a silver scar, shallow in places and sharp in others and he often mixes up which part he visits for safety reasons.

Stepping into it slowly, the cold water biting at his paws and climbing up his legs, a jolt that sent a shiver along his spine. He moves deeper until the stream reaches his chest, then dips his head beneath the surface. When he emerges, droplets cling to his fur and trail down his muzzle, dripping from the whiskers. He soaks in the water in silence, the current raking the remaining dirt and grim from the sweat and grit of days spent hiding, prowling, surviving.

Louis doesn’t know why he kept up the habit. There was no one around to judge the stink of his coat, no packmates to offend with the scent of blood and dirt. But it made him feel…less feral. A little more tethered. Like the wolf and the man beneath the fur were still holding each other together. It always hits him the hardest in the mornings…how little he knows about himself. All he has is the running catalogue that he keeps just to keep himself sane.

Louis. His name. He knows that, it's a solid thing. A memory that feels untouched. 

Rogue. 

By choice or force, he didn’t know. The grief his wolf holds tells him he hasn’t always been alone but whenever he tries to recall where he came from, all he finds is fog. Blurred edges and flickers of things that don’t make sense.

Alpha. He knows that by instinct. The way his wolf responds to the scent of others, to power dynamics, to the urge to lead. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him what he was.

Age? Maybe mid-twenties. His body feels mature, his strength fully formed but the number? Gone. 

His wolf blinks slowly, then raises his eyes to the opposite side of the bank. Without meaning to, he imagines the Styles’ pack padding through the brush on their morning patrol, laughing in soft human voices or low wolfish yips. He pictures the way they’d look up when he had emerged from the water, recognition in their eyes.

There you are, someone would say. Maybe one of the younger omegas, maybe even Harry himself. We were wondering where you went.

Louis would trot across the water-slick roots and step onto their side of the world. They wouldn’t flinch or run. Harry, tall and calm and steady as the Earth beneath them, would nod to him without any challenge or fear. “You’re late,” he might say, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. 

And Louis would lower his head, tail wagging just a little, and answer, I know.

A sharp whimper from his wolf breaks him out of the illusion, leaving him alone again. It’s a stupid fantasy. He hauls himself out of the creek, water dripping from his fur in heavy streams that end up flying in every direction as he shakes himself off. Soundlessly, he stands there with his heart thudding with a feeling overwhelmingly similar to pure sorrow. There’s no reality where he would be welcome like that.

An unknown alpha. A rogue. 

Still, he wants it. 

Shooting pain rumbles through his stomach, his nose turning up to the wind. Even as hungry as he is, his instincts push him to go to the pack like gravity.

Don’t, he scolds himself. Later.

For now, finding prey is the priority.

-

The wind shifts, and Louis freezes. He stood halfway up a ridge, hidden beneath the shadow of a leaning birch, his fur damp from the morning’s bath and already starting to dry in soft patches along his back. His nose lifts as he scents the air that’s coming in waves: musk, sweat, soil. Tongue flicking over his teeth slowly, his eyes narrow.

Deer.

Instantly, his wolf stirs until its eyes are blazing behind Louis’ own, a hum of energy rising under his skin like lightning building in storm clouds.

That one. That’s the one.

He doesn’t doubt the insistence, his wolf often knowing before him what his body hungered for. What it could chase and bring down. This wasn’t a desperate feed though unlike the rabbit bones and scraps he’s resigned himself to. A deer is the kind of kill that could leave him full for days. 

Crouching, he moves as carefully as he can - slow and deliberate to not be heard in advance. The more Louis trails the scent, the denser the brush becomes, likely to provide a sense of safety while the deer grazes. The deer is moving along the slope, its scent becoming both stronger and fresher, the animal following some quiet path to water or forage. He creeps along the ground until he’s able to peer over the rise of the land and see the buck, antlers still velveted, picking its way through a patch of fern-covered stone.

Its body language reads as distracted, ears flicking but not sensing the impending death looming over it.

Go now, his Alpha whispers, low and eager, now, now, now —

No, Louis counters, eyes estimating the speed and distance he’d have to conquer. Not yet. Too far.

Observing, he creeps around until he’s within the projected path of the deer. The wind had shifted again, curling towards him instead of away. Safe. Adrenaline stretches throughout his muscles, his body crouched to pounce.

The buck ambles closer, turning to reveal the dip of his shoulder. Louis eyes the soft hollow where neck meets chest, his weight shifting slightly. Every muscle in his body buzzes with the need to move, in a way that‘s beyond the hunger pangs of his stomach. Rather it felt like instinct, memory in the same way that he recognizes his own limbs. 

You know this, his wolf growled. We’ve done this. Before–

Before what?

The thought never has an answer. He pushes it away, launching himself forward as the world tumbles into motion. Wind, Earth, and the pounding of hooves. The deer sees him just a second too late, its eyes widening in that flash of primal fear with its legs scrambling in a vain attempt to get away. Body crashing into its flank, Louis’ limbs coil around the buck’s torso as they tumble into the undergrowth.

It kicks against him hard but he shifts fast, teeth already finding the pulse thumping in its neck. The snap is quick. Clean. Silence returns though Louis' chest heaves with the leftover adrenaline from the kill. He drops the limp prey to the ground, standing over it with his muzzle speckled with blood and the iron taste of it on his tongue. His wolf growls in deep satisfaction, circling inside him like it would lie down and sleep there, content.

Good, it said. We’re strong. We can take care of them. Of a pack. Of—

Louis flinches.

We don’t have a pack.

An abrupt surge of anxiety chokes him up, his head dropping down to the deer. Still warm. Yet his hunger has been quieted by the hatred of this part. Not the killing as he’s spent too much time buried in instinct for any guilt to fully blossom, but the after. The reminder that there’s no one to share it with. He’s an alpha with no hungry mouths to feed, no pups yipping at his heels. No grateful omega pressing close, thanking him, or grounding him in something other than survival.

No Harry.

That one thought rose before he could stop it. Harry, as the pack leader, seeing what he could do and maybe even looking at him as if he’s something sacred.

Louis gives a shake, the alpha within him quiet as it goes back to mourning. The meal was lonely, birds calling out to each other the only ambience as he ate. With each bite, his mind refused to clear, instead choosing to fantasize about what it might be like to drag the kill back to the pack camp—to see heads turn, eyes brighten, wolves rise to meet him. Omegas would be safe behind his strength and he would belong.

By the time he finished, the sun was higher in the sky. He should save the meat that’s left, perhaps even leave it anonymously for the pack. They’d be alerted to his presence though and the thought makes him feel jumpy. 

Rogue.

Packless Alpha.

Danger.

He could drag it back to his shelter but it’d be dangerous. Other animals are likely to scent it and perhaps challenge him for it. It’s not worth the risk. The bones clean of meat he separates, digging a hole before nosing them into it. Not to cover tracks but as the only way he knows how to say thank you.

Somewhere, not far, the pack would be waking. Louis stares in that direction, ears alert. He’ll visit the pack again tonight. Watch from the trees like usual. 

Maybe today is the day he’ll sneak a little closer. Or not. The longing will be there no matter what. 

Soon, his wolf huffs. They’ll see us. They’ll know.

🌲🐺🌿

Patience is a virtue he didn’t have. The sun is barely starting to lower yet Louis has returned to the edge of the Styles’ pack territory. 

He’d cleaned himself again, the blood mostly replaced by the creek water. Deciding to stalk from a different vantage point, Louis is actually able to see all of them. 

The wolves are sprawled in the clearing, both warm and loose in the late light. Some human, some wolf, a few shifting mid-conversation like they didn’t even think about it. There’s one boy, Liam, who’s name Louis had also learned by observing, who’s sitting next to a taller girl. They’re both laughing in the hiccuping sort of way that’s loud enough to carry over to him.

Imagine that—not having to worry about every sound you make.

Others are gathered around the fire pit, voices rising and falling in a soothing rhythm. And then there’s Harry.

The alpha sits with his back against a tree, legs stretched out in front of him and sleeves pushed up. He isn’t speaking much compared to other days but the others still lean into his presence, orbiting him in subtle acts of deference. Calm. Anchored. Pack.

His ears flatten against his skull. Alone. Bad Alpha. 

But what if I wasn’t? What if I were an omega?

Something guttural rises in protest, his alpha balking at the thought. He ignores it though, running the thought over in his head. What if he could pass as something safer, gentler? It’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind but today he’s deliriously feeling like why not? 

Louis isn’t a threat to them. Not even to Harry’s alpha, he has no desire to try and overthrow him for the pack leader title. If anything, he wants to curl up near the heat of them. To be allowed in.

There’s no weakness in being an omega. That’s clear in the Styles’ pack. If he were an omega, maybe they’d let him stay. Maybe they’d scent him and just…relax. Maybe someone would lean into him, dip into a playful bow to start a chase or maybe Harry would speak to him gently with his hand brushing his arm.

Breath hitching, his wolf shifts uneasily inside him. Not angry but uncertain. 

If I stay in human form, I could hide the scent with enough mud. Keep my distance and avoid eye contact. Pretend to be scared. Scared wolves aren’t alphas. That might work.

No. Too risky. Mud wouldn't last, especially close up. 

I could injure myself. Make them think I’m weak. Alphas don’t limp. Alphas don’t crawl.

A snarl forms but he shoves to the back of his throat. His wolf growls uneasily. That idea felt wrong. Too much like lying against himself rather than around the truth.

There has to be a way to hide it. Brain locking in on the idea, observing takes a backseat as he chews on the thought like a bone. 

First, there’s his posture—if he holds his tail low, ears back, lowering his gaze. All of those are surface level cues though, submissive body language would be nowhere near enough to distract from what he smells like. The scent of an alpha; deep, rich, and undeniable is the first warning sign any pack would register. He has to change his scent.

It strikes him then. Herbs. He’s seen some of the pack use herbs before, certain plants rubbed into their coats or brewed into water for healing, calming, or shifting. Once, Louis watched one of the younger wolves rub a green sticky mixture into his fur before joining a run. It had confused him then but…could herbs mask a scent? 

Is that all it would take? Some sage, blue leaf, crushed floral sweetness possibly. They have a strong scent, it should work. If he could gather the right herbs to soften or shift his alpha scent so that he’s given a chance. 

Coat before approaching. Move slowly, gently. Speak if spoken to but not too much. Let them read what they want to.

Because Louis doesn’t want to lie and he’s not trying to fool them into thinking he’s something that he’s not. He just needs time, just a moment where he’s able to be seen without being feared. 

To be known before the scent said otherwise. 

Let them think I’m soft. Let them think I’m one of theirs. 

The wolf inside him rumbles, torn. But not entirely opposed. Determination laced with an undertone of anxiety thrums through his system. It’s decided. 

He’ll find what he needs in the morning. There was a patch of wild herbs near the creek, and he recalls the sharp green bite of it on his tongue when he’d tasted it once by accident. He’ll collect the strongest ones, crush them, blend them with earth and ash and water. Coat his fur with it, douse his skin until all anyone smelled was forest.

And then Louis’ll wait at the edge of the clearing again. Just a little closer this time.

🌿🐺👁️

Morning came slowly, soft and grey. Mist hangs around, curling around Louis’ legs as he pads through the forest. 

He remembers fragments of something; textures, shapes, and smells. A flash of pale blue petals, the sharp, minty sting of crushed leaves, the bitterness of root bark chewed raw. Louis doesn’t have names for them anymore, but his body still remembers things his mind doesn’t. Guided solely from his body’s reactions, he listens when his nose wrinkles at bitter roots or when his wolf leans in curiously at certain scents.

The first plants he finds are useless. Even when he rubbed them into the thick fur along his neck and shoulders, they smelled too clean. Not right.

Others make his nose twitch and his eyes water. One batch leaves a weird static buzz in his ears, and another makes his stomach twist, his wolf snarling low and disoriented inside him.

He spits it out, growling as his body trembles with his frustration. He feels stupid, sitting here in dirt trying to patch together half remembered tricks and childhood instincts. But still, there’s something deep in his heart that refuses to let go of the idea. 

So he keeps going.

Trial. Error. Taste. Spit. Rub. Shake it off. Start again.

And then he finds a patch of short fuzzy stemmed plants near a hollow stump. The petals are almost star shaped, white with a pinkish hue. These. He remembers it vividly though he can’t place the memory.

Plucking them carefully with his teeth, he chews them into a thick paste before rolling in the mud beneath the stump to let the scent cling to him. It’s wild and fruity, dulling the sharpness of the alpha scent. 

Next comes the final touch: crushed mint and a strip of bark from a tree still weeping sap from an earlier concoction. He works it into the ruff of his fur with his paws until the mixture is sticky and pungent.

His wolf shifts in confusion beneath his skin. The urges that come rushing in are wrong, out of sync with his body. It spreads heavily throughout his limbs and his muscles twitch like they aren’t sure how to carry the new scent. Staggering a little, his ears twitch wildly. His tail drops low, not from fear but because the herbs tell his body to submit. Tell him to soften.

A wave of vertigo swells as his alpha recoils and attempts to push back against the effects. Teeth bare inside his head, snarling at the unnaturalness of it. But Louis breathes deep and forces calm through their bond.

We want this, he whispers internally. We need this. 

The wolf circles once, unsettled but eventually eased, tail low. Watching. Waiting.

That’s when the dizziness kicks in full force, something in him beginning to bend.

He doesn’t feel like an omega but he doesn’t feel like himself either. Exposed is the closest feeling. Unsteady. The surrounding forest feels too loud, the ground beneath his feet too far. Rumblings of his wolf’s growl echo in his head, dazed and wary as it shrinks in on itself. 

Easy, Louis thinks, reaching inward. It’s okay.

Any semblance of calm disappears though when he catches the sound of footsteps. Too heavy to be prey but too light to be a large animal.

Quick. Close. Two sets.

Tension shoots through him as his heart slams against his rib, yet his body refuses to rise into a proper threat posture. His legs stay crouched with his tail half tucked. Even his ability to scent properly is diminished with his nose flooded with the smell of herbs.

The shapes appeared through the trees—two wolves, both young. Slim, fast. One is a dusty tan color, the other pale grey with a thick ruff and curious eyes. Both slow when they see him.

The brown one tilts his head. “You alright?” he asks gently, shifting half-out of his wolf form. His voice isn’t aggressive but rather surprised.

Louis blinks at them, throat dry. He doesn’t answer. Can’t. His wolf is flickering wildly beneath the surface, still adjusting to the false signals the herbs are feeding it.

“Hey,” the grey one says, voice softer now. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”

They exchange a look when they’re met with panicked silence.

“He’s not from the pack, is he?” the brown one whispers. “I’ve never seen him.”

“No,” the other replies. “But he smells like omega.”

Louis freezes. The panic loosens just a little.

It worked.

It worked.

The two wolves step closer, slow and non-threatening. They’re being careful, the way pack wolves always are around unfamiliar omegas. 

His wolf is silent, curled deep in his chest, ears flat in confusion. It doesn’t know how to behave like this. He doesn’t know how to behave like this.

But the wolves haven’t attacked.

They haven’t growled.

The grey one stepped closer, kneeling beside him. “You smell like you’re in heat,” he said, brows furrowing. “But it’s faint. Like… masked. Are you hiding from someone?”

Louis gets out a soft shaky exhale, neither confirmation nor denial. Just the closest thing he could manage to please don’t send me away.

“Shit,” the dark-haired one murmurs. “Poor thing’s probably starving. Looks like he’s been out here alone for weeks.”

Years, Louis thinks.

“Let’s bring him back,” the younger said, glancing toward the trees. “Harry’ll know what to do.”

Harry.

Panic flares in his gut. Not yet. Not like this.

Louis tries to stand again, but his legs embarrassingly give out as he collapses against the leaves with a heaving chest.

“You’re hurt,” the grey one said. “Do you need help?”

He gulps on air to buy himself a little time. The words sit just behind his teeth, but they feel too dangerous to use. He can’t afford to sound wrong. Instead he drops his eyes in hopes of appearing submissive, uncertain.

It isn’t fully a lie.

The brown wolf smiles, soft and relieved. “Okay. You’re okay. Come with us, yeah? We’ll take you back.”

Back.

Back where?

But he follows them anyway, both the wolves flanking him to support his weight. Louis is still dizzy from the shift of scent and self, but his heart does backflips as hope sparkles like fireworks in his mind.

They’d looked at him and seen something worth bringing home. 

Pack.

Safe.

Home.

Chapter Text

II. Face to Face

They walk him in gently, as if he’s something fragile.

Louis keeps his head low and his body tucked in between the two wolves, careful not to let his shoulders square too much, not to feel like an alpha. The herbs were still working, curling through his blood like smoke, muting the bite of him, softening his scent to something more delicate, more omega-like.

His wolf still shifts restlessly inside him, unfamiliar with this shape he’d taken. The wrong skin. Too quiet, too quiet but it stays down. It has to.

Because ahead of them through the low, sun-dappled trees and past the patch of wild ferns was the Styles pack. They crest a low rise, and the scent of the pack hits him full-force.

It’s everywhere. Rich and layered with earth and campfire smoke and fur and pine. Comforting. Alive. His knees nearly buckle with the force of it. His wolf whimpers again, but this time the sound is more made of longing than resistance. Louis narrowly resists the urge to press his body against the scent trails, rub it into his skin until it replaces the sharp, lonely hollow of his own.

The pack members are spilled out in the clearing as they were yesterday, easy and unguarded. A few are shifted, lounging in the grass or pressed together in lazy circles. Others stand or crouch near the fire pit, someone cooking something in a pot that sends warm, savory smells curling into the air. Laughter ripples across the space in soft waves, gentle and real. Nearly bordering on surreal, getting to see the objects of envy and yearning up close and personal.

Louis had watched this place for months. It had always felt like something he could never touch, like a pipe dream that dissipated in the mornings when the rainfall of reality soaked him to his core.

Now he’s walking straight into it.

Heads turn as he steps out from the trees, the two wolves flanking him like guides bringing in something skittish and wild. Conversations dim. Eyes track him curious, cautious, but not afraid. No raised hackles. No defensive stances. No one bristling at his scent.

Someone steps forward, a stocky omega with thick black curls and a nose that twitches like she could smell every lie on him. Though she only squints, eyes narrowing before noticeably softening.

“Found him near the south ridge,” says the male wolf beside Louis. “Alone. Looks like he’s been that way a while.”

“An omega?” the girl asks.

Louis feels it then, that flicker of shame burning hot beneath his ribs. He’s lying. To them. To himself. Pretending to be what he isn’t, for a sliver of warmth he hasn’t earned.

But still, he nods.

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice low. It’s strained, the effects of the herbs warring with his natural instincts. “I… I’ve been on my own for a long time.”

The omega’s gaze flickers over him, inspecting the state of him, the way his limbs shake slightly from exhaustion and tension. She must see the truth of his hunger, if not the truth of him.

“You’re safe now,” she says, echoing the words he’d been offered earlier. “We don’t turn away strays.”

His head is both too full and too empty for him to think of anything to say so he just lowers his head again. Hoping that’d be enough to convey.

And then like a ripple through the clearing, he arrives.

Harry.

He steps out from the trees at the far edge of the camp, tall and quiet, his dark curls loose, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow. He isn’t speaking, but the space around him seems to lean toward him anyway, as if gravity bends differently where he stands.

His nose flares, likely scenting the air. Louis’ own scent; muted, altered would read tired, vulnerable. Nothing dominant or dangerous. When his eyes land on him for one terrible moment, Louis thinks he knows. His wolf goes still, breath locked behind his teeth. 

Harry’s gaze sweeps over him slowly, not unkindly, but measured. Alpha to omega. Sizing up without threatening. His eyes catch on every trace of his body language, the tightness in his posture, the way he struggles to meet anyone’s gaze. And then, almost imperceptibly, Harry’s stance shifts. Less guarded. More open.

“You hurt?” he asks evenly. Louis is lost in the details of him up close, his face sharp but softened by time and sun. Cheekbones high, jaw rough with stubble that looks a few days old. Not neglected but just casual. His lips are full, always on the verge of parting like he can’t help but be expressive in everything. Whether it’s to laugh or growl or say something disarming without warning.

But it’s his eyes that anchor everything.

Green. Not bright but deep, cool, and thoughtful. Like moss growing over stone, like a river shaded by trees. From afar he had watched Harry’s eyes flick over people like he was always watching, always taking stock, but never broadcasting what he found. Now he’s staring intensely at Louis, face to face.

Louis swallows. “A little. Got into something I couldn’t finish.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s mouth. Not mocking. More like: yeah, we’ve all been there.

“What’s your name?”

Stupidly, he hesitates because for a moment he forgot. Not his name, thankfully that had never left him, but what it meant to say it here. To introduce himself with this voice, this size, this lie crawling under his skin. 

“Louis.”

Harry nodded once, like he was tucking that away. “Where’s your pack, Louis?”

Gone. Forgotten. Ghosted from his memory like smoke through fingers.

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. His voice cracks on it and a shiver wracks through him unconsciously. “I don’t remember.” Something shifts in Harry’s expression. A shadow of sympathy crosses his face, understanding with a tiny drop of pity.

“Well,” Harry says, stepping back, “you’re welcome to stay the night. We’ve got space near the north tree line. You look like you could use the rest.”

Louis blinks at him, waiting expectantly. For a condition. A challenge. A test.

None comes.

Just… acceptance? Just like that?

One of the boys who’d found him gently nudges his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you where to settle. My name is Zayn. This is Niall.” Louis follows them both, heart in his throat. As he reaches the edge of the sleeping den, he glances back once.

Harry is still watching him, not unlike some of the other members of the pack yet there’s something in the way he’s looking. Not suspiciously or even with the slightest bit of curiosity. It’s something Louis is too overwhelmed to decipher though, so he turns forward again with his wolf quietly curled in his chest now. He’d expected that his wolf would be ecstatic but instead it settled on watchful. Waiting. It doesn’t fight him like before, but it doesn’t trust this comfort either. Not yet.

And honestly, maybe it’s right.

Sleep does not come easily, but eventually exhaustion lures him under. 

🌄🐺👁️

He wakes up with a jolt. 

Not to a sound, but the presence of a scent brushing too close. Louis’ eyes snap open, and a wolf is standing just feet away, head cocked, watching him. Nothing in their body language reads as hostile, just big eyes blinking at him curiously.

The wolf is small, light colored with patches of pale fur sprinkled along their spine. Based on the summer-like citrus smell, he guesses that the wolf is an omega, small and likely a young teen, tail wagging in a hesitant rhythm.

They step forward slowly, lowering their head in a kind of greeting before sitting back on their haunches, tail flicking. Shifting back into their human form, it’s a young girl with dark honey colored hair and green eyes. 

“You’re quiet. Most new omegas get overwhelmed on their first night. Not you.”

Louis doesn’t move. His pulse thuds in his ears as he considers what would be an appropriate response to that. No words or movement come from his wolf and it's more unsettling than he expected it to be.

“You gonna shift?” the girl asks, tipping her head to the side. “Might be easier to talk.” 

Hesitating, Louis shakes his head once. The girl is young, there’s no threat to him. She’s likely just curious about the new arrival. Either way, she doesn’t press. “You’re not from around here. But you don’t smell like the other loners, either.”

Louis fights the urge to flinch. The herbs have dulled his scent, but they aren’t perfect. He couldn’t afford too much attention. As soon as he gets the chance to have a bit more peace to himself, he’ll need to sneak away and consume more. A pang of anxiety knots within him; he hadn’t thought beyond getting accepted by the pack.

You’ve done it but look what you have to lose.

“I’m Violet, by the way,” she adds. “Harry’ll probably want to talk to you himself today. Not like... interrogation or anything. He just likes to meet the wolves who stay. Make sure they’re alright.”

Louis' ears twitch at the name..

Harry.

Of course.

He can’t just lie low forever.

“Don’t be nervous,” Violet says with a grin. “He’s nice. Like, weirdly nice. Kind of annoying about it, actually.”

Louis huffs quietly. Almost a laugh.

It gets him an excited wiggle like she’s forgotten that she’s no longer in wolf form and wants to show she’s pleased. “Zayn or Niall or my mom will bring you food. And uh… probably a shirt. You’re gonna need one eventually.” She stretches with a yawn, the ease of the movement making him feel proud. He’s not scaring her away. “Glad you’re here, though. You feel… good. You know? Like, your energy. It's quiet. Gentle.”

Violet shifts quickly, bounding off with her tail high, and Louis stays there, curled in the moss, the first light of dawn slanting across his fur. He lays his head down, barely blinking his eyes shut before his ears twitch towards the sound of footsteps his way.

“Hey,” a voice calls out ahead, warm and familiar.

Louis turns to see the two wolves who’d found him the day before, Zayn and Niall, if his memory is correct. It doesn’t exactly have the best track record in his history. Both are in human form, dressed simply in faded shirts and soft pants, bare feet brushing through moss and grass.

Zayn is the quieter of the two, with sharp eyes and a leaner build. Niall is broader, friendlier, his messy brown hair still damp from what Louis guessed was a swim or wash in the stream. He smiles easily as they approach, like they’re greeting an old friend instead of a stranger hiding behind herbs and stolen softness.

“We figured you might want someone to walk with,” Niall says, stopping a few feet away. He crouches slightly to Louis’ level, keeping his posture open. “We’re gonna take you to meet Harry. And Megs too, our healer. She just likes to check on new arrivals.”

Louis doesn’t move at first. The idea of shifting claws at his chest. In this form, he could stay quiet, anonymous. Just a scentless, submissive shape. But meeting the alpha and the healer as a wolf would raise questions.

And they already think he’s an omega.

He can’t risk the wrong kind of attention.

So slowly, with a breath that trembles down his spine, Louis lets the shift take him.

It isn’t painful, but rather uncomfortable and revealing. Like peeling something tight off his skin. His bones stretch and muscles rewire to fit his limbs. Fur pulls back into pores, and there he is…human. Crouched in the damp undergrowth, naked and breathing hard with his arms wrapped instinctively around himself.

A flush spreads across his skin with embarrassment. It’s been ages since he’s been in human form and it’s arguably intensifying the reeling feeling swimming languidly in his bloodstream.

Zayn wordlessly pulls a soft, oversized hoodie from the bag slung across his shoulder and tosses it to him. Louis catches it, awkward but grateful, and tugs it on. It swallows him in fabric and warmth and the faint scent of someone else…pine, earth, and the salt of a recent run. Niall hands him a pair of loose sweats next, turning slightly to give him privacy as he dresses.

“Thanks,” Louis murmurs, words thick from limited use. Quietly, he attempts to clear the roughness from it.. “I—uh. Thanks.”

“No worries,” Niall assures, bright and easy. “We’ve all been there. First day in a new place, feels like every move you make’s gonna get judged. But it’s not like that here.”

Louis doesn’t answer, still not comfortable relying on his mess of blurred instincts. Zayn takes the lead as they begin walking through the trees, Niall keeping pace beside Louis. The forest thins gradually as they approach the heart of the camp, but they aren’t quite there yet. It gives them time, space for the questions Louis had expected.

“So,” Niall starts, not looking at him too directly as if he’s concerned Louis might bolt, “you really don’t remember anything? Where you came from?”

That’s something easy he can answer, something that doesn’t make a low simmer of guilt burn through his spine. “Bits. Not names. Not faces.”

“That happens sometimes. Trauma can… take things. Omegas especially, when they go too long without a tether.” Zayn glances over his shoulder as Louis flinches, just slightly. Thankfully neither of them draw attention to it.

“We’ve got a couple rogues who came in like that,” Niall adds. “Most of them remember more once they’re settled. But we don’t push. Harry wouldn’t allow it.”

Louis gives a small, stiff nod. The words don’t land easily. Not when it still feels foreign, the idea of space without strings, of being left alone without suspicion.

They reach a narrow bend in the path, where the trees form a kind of arch overhead. Sunlight pools in golden puddles on the ground.

Niall bumps his shoulder lightly. “Just so you know, it’s not all alpha-led hierarchy here. Harry’s the alpha, yeah, but we’ve got a kind of… council, I guess. Megs is one of them. And a couple of betas, too. He doesn’t run the place like a dictator.”

Zayn nods. “Power’s shared. Makes us stronger. Safer.”

Louis lets that settle in his chest. The idea of a pack where safety doesn’t mean submission. Where power isn’t clenched like a fist.

“Is that how you got here?” he asks before he could think better of it. “From another pack?”

Niall looks surprised. Then smiles, softer this time. “Sort of. I wasn’t treated great where I came from. Zayn found me before I lost too much of myself.”

“And Harry brought us both in.”

Louis looks down, watching each step he’s taking. “You trust him?”

“Completely,” they say, in perfect unison. The answer shouldn’t shake him. But it does. There wasn’t even a breath of hesitation between them. As if trust is a muscle they don’t flinch to use.

They come into sight of the clearing then, dappled with early light, packmates beginning to gather around the fire pit. Some cooking, others stretching or talking quietly. Louis stops at the edge, heart pounding. He doesn’t know what to do with all this peace, how to hold it without breaking it.

Niall glances at him. “You okay?”

“Just… nervous.”

Zayn gives a rare, faint smile. “Harry’ll like you. And Megs—she’ll see you.”

Louis doesn’t know what that means. But as they arrive at what he assumes it’s Harry’s dwelling place, he pushes that to the back of his mind.

Upon entry, the room smells of cedarwood and is faintly spiced like clove maybe. The cabin’s wide windows let in long fingers of sunlight that slanted across the wooden floor, catching on the soft pelts thrown over low couches and worn rugs. There are books stacked neatly in the corners, low shelves filled with jars, polished stones, feathers. A few pieces of carved wood sit on the mantle; figures of wolves, or maybe ancestors. It's personal. It’s quiet, private, but still carries a bit of personal style. 

He stops still just inside the door, his body stiff with unease as Zayn and Niall flank him. Harry, the Styles Pack alpha, sits with one leg crossed over the other in a low chair near the fire. He looks up from a small bowl of berries and dried meat, his expression calm and unreadable.

“Louis,” Harry said, his voice warm but solid. “Welcome.”

Louis swallows and nods once. His mouth is too dry. The herbs still linger in his system, tugging at his scent, softening the edge of his alpha and painting him convincingly in omega hues. It makes his skin feel too thin. This isn’t just a lie but a performance with consequences.

Harry stands slowly, moving with the kind of quiet confidence he’s only seen in true-born leaders. His height and presence don’t demand space, instead it just simply fills it. He approaches without any sense of threat, just curious focus.

“I know this is a lot,” he says gently, stopping a few paces away. “I like to meet anyone we’re bringing into the inner pack myself. Sit, if you’re comfortable.” 

Louis doesn’t move at first. The couch across from the fire dips slightly at one end, the pelt over it sun-bleached and inviting. He doesn’t want to sit. Doesn’t want to settle. But he does it anyway, careful, uneasy. Perching more than sitting.

Zayn and Niall linger for only a moment before slipping out. The door clicks shut behind them. He’s alone with the alpha.

“You’ve been on your own a while, haven’t you?”

He nods again, more slowly this time. “Yeah.”

“You remember your last pack?”

“No. I don’t even remember leaving. Just… waking up out there one day. Alone.”

Harry’s gaze doesn’t waver. “That happens more often than you’d think. Especially after trauma. We’ve taken in plenty of lost omegas. And betas, too.”

Louis stares at the fire, watching it flick and curl. If he stares long enough, maybe it would burn the lie out of him.

“You don’t have to talk about any of it right now. What matters is that you’re here. We don’t expect loyalty overnight. Just honesty, when you’re ready.”

His wolf pulls tight inside him, coiled up beneath the herbs like a spring. He hates lying, hates how easy it is to nod and let Harry believe something that isn’t true. But it’s the only way in.

“I’m not good with people,” Louis says instead. “Never have been.”

Harry gives a charming smile, leaning back slightly. “Neither am I. Not in the way people think. I just care more about the pack than I do about being liked.”

The response pulls a tiny breath of surprise from Louis. Maybe even the start of a laugh, but it dies before it can fully form.

“Let me ask you something different. What makes you feel grounded? Safe?”

Louis blinks. The question caught him off guard. “I… I don’t know. The creek, maybe. Water. Being near it. It’s quiet.”

“Do you like to swim?”

“Sometimes. I just like watching it move.”

Harry nods thoughtfully, like he’s storing the information somewhere private. “You’ll have access to it whenever you want. There’s no shortage of places to be alone in the territory, just let someone know before you go.”

Louis is quiet for a moment before asking, “Why are you being nice to me?”

The alpha’s smile deepens at the edges, a little crooked now. “Because you’re not a threat. And because if you’re here, you deserve kindness first.”

There’s a processing silence that follows, one that stretches. Both comfortable and fragile in the air between them. Then Harry’s expression shifts subtly. Still kind, but more purposeful.

“Now, there are things I need to explain. You’re joining a very specific kind of pack, Louis.”

Louis tries to speak, can’t. Just gives a tight, jerky smile.

“I keep us safe, provided for, and strong. Our foundation is built on betas and omegas. They make up the bulk of our numbers, and they’re the heart of everything we do. Alphas… rare. Heavily vetted.“

Harry shifts, reaching for a clay cup on the small table beside him. Steam rises from it, herbal tea, maybe. He holds it loosely, letting the scent drift.

“My role as alpha is to provide. Stability, safety, strength. But also offspring. Breeding is part of the pact here. When an unmated omega joins the pack, I usually sire their first litter.”

Louis doesn’t flinch, but inside, his wolf does. Clawing at him. The herbs pulse harder through his system like a dam trying to hold back a flood.

The fire crackles louder for a moment. A log splits in half, embers spilling across the grate like stars.

“I don’t ask it of those who are unwilling,” Harry assures firmly. “But it is the expectation for unmated omegas, unless there’s a medical reason to delay or they find a mate within the pack.”

He stands again, slowly, and adds another log to the fire. The flames flare brighter, painting his silhouette in gold and orange. “You’re unmated. That means I’ll be breeding you during your next heat.”

Louis’ hands go clammy. His pulse kicks. The herbs throb in his veins, dragging down instinct like iron weights.

“It won’t happen without care or conversation,” Harry says, reading the shift in Louis’ body easily. “You’ll meet with Megs, our healer, first. She’ll assess your cycle, health, anything else we need to be aware of.” 

Panic claws at his chest. What if she sees it? What if she knows? 

The alpha steps forward again, crouching slightly so they’re closer to eye level. “You’ll be rooming with Liam. He’s mated to Zayn, so he’s not part of the breeding cycle, but he’s steady. Kind. You can trust him.”

Louis holds Harry’s gaze, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt in his chest. This was what he’d asked for, wasn’t it? What if Megs realized his body wasn’t meant for heat at all?

Harry’s gaze softens further, reading some of the worry in his eyes. “No one here will force you into anything, Louis. You’re not just here to be bred. You’re here because you chose us. Because we want you safe.”

Politely he manages a quiet, “Thank you.”

Harry stands, offering a hand to help him up. Louis holds his breath as he reaches to accept it. Harry’s grip is warm, steady, anchoring.

You’ve made it in. Now survive it.

🛖🐺🫂

The cabin is modest, one of the smaller ones tucked just past the edge of the pack’s central clearing. Trees hug the rear windows, tall and shadowed, their leaves casting a shifting quilt of shade across the porch. The air smells of woodsmoke and earth, and the door creaks softly on its hinges when Zayn opens it.

“He’s probably inside,” Zayn says, stepping back to let Louis through. “Don’t be nervous. Liam’s… he’s good.”

Louis nods stiffly, trying to force his body to relax. The herbs keep his body language soft so he’s more focused on not looking like he’s constipated. His feet carry him forward even as some part of him wants to bolt.

Inside, the cabin feels more like a home than anything he’s had in years. Warm, golden light filters through the curtains, softening the sharp intrusion of his anxiety. The scent of rose tea and pine, a distinctly omega scent wafts throughout the space. It’s settled and nonthreatening, wrapping around him like soft warm cloth. 

There are two beds pushed against opposite walls, each made with care. Shelves lined with worn books and a few photographs sit above them. A couple of woven blankets are tossed over a shared couch, the kind that still smells faintly of soap and fur. The hearth in the center of the room holds the dying coals of a morning fire, pulsing with low warmth. Someone hums behind the open door of what must be a small washroom, the melody light and unselfconscious.

“Liam?” Zayn calls gently.

A head peeks around the door, framed by soft brown hair, cheeks flushed from the heat of a recent wash. Kind brown eyes meet Louis’, open and curious. Liam dries his hands on a towel, the scent of peppermint soap trailing behind him.

“Oh,” he says, voice lifting with warmth. “You must be Louis.”

Louis stands awkwardly by the door, stiff and unsure like stepping too far in would shatter the calm. His instincts war with the space; quiet, gentle, and yet dangerous in a different way. But Liam is already moving toward him, radiating kindness, not a flicker of suspicion in his gaze.

“It’s good to meet you,” Liam says, extending a hand.

Louis glances at Zayn who nods approvingly before he takes Liam’s hand. The contact is brief, but it feels significant. His wolf purrs at the acceptance. “Nice to meet you too.”

Zayn leans in to give Liam a quick kiss on the cheek. It’s soft, casual, affectionate in a way that catches him off guard.

“I’ll let you get settled,” Zayn says. “Megs will probably want him soon.”

“I’ll make sure he’s ready,” Liam promises, then turns back to Louis with a gentle gesture. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

The “tour” takes thirty seconds, maybe less, but Liam moves through the space with the ease of someone who’s made it feel like his.

Louis’ bed is the one by the window, fresh linens tucked with care, an empty wooden chest at the foot waiting for whatever little he carries. A folded stack of clothes sits neatly at the edge. 

Someone thought about his arrival. Someone prepared.

“You can borrow any of that,” Liam says. “Sizes might be close enough for now. We’ll get you proper things soon. Are you hungry?”

Eating hasn’t crossed his mind at all. Not a single thought about hunger in a while. His stomach is knotted and tight with nerves but it would feel rude to say no.

“I could eat.”

Liam gives a small, unpressured smile. “Good. You sit, I’ll get it.”

Louis perches at the table, choosing the seat farthest from the hearth. His eyes scan the room, cataloging it like he would a safehouse: the boots by the door, the flickering shadows cast by the coals, the plant in the windowsill with one wilted leaf and a stubborn sprout of green. There are signs of comfort, of routine. It’s lived in. It’s real.

Liam sets a bowl in front of him and sits nearby with his own. The stew is thick and steaming. “It’s rabbit and wild rice. Megs gave me grief for not including enough greens.”

“She sounds thorough.”

“She is. Kind of terrifying too, but in a good way. She’ll take care of you.”

Louis stares into the stew. Steam curls up toward his face, bringing the scent of meat, broth, something herbal and grounding. He lifts the spoon, hand steady only by force of will, and tastes it. It’s good, tasting like someone meant it to nourish, not just feed.

“Thanks,” he says, voice quieter than he intends.

Liam leans his chin on one hand, watching him with mild curiosity. “You don’t talk much, huh?”

Louis glances up, startled, almost defensive but Liam’s tone isn’t judgmental. It’s just… observation.

He noticed that quickly. Louis swallows. How many other things will he notice? How long before the cracks show?

“I didn’t either, at first,” Liam adds. “It’s okay. When I first came here, I didn’t talk for three days. Zayn thought I was mute.”

That pulls an unexpected breath of laughter from Louis, soft and short. “I just… don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“There’s no script,” Liam says, smiling again, and this time there’s something quietly sad beneath it. “You’re allowed to just exist here. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Louis sets his spoon down. “Does it ever feel… fake?”

Liam tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he says, gesturing vaguely around the room. “Safety. Quiet. A pack.”

Liam considers that. “It felt surreal for a while. But fake? No. Not once I let myself believe it could be mine too. It’s alright to be overwhelmed. This place can be intense. But it’s safe. And people are kind. You’ll find your rhythm soon.”

Louis looks down. The lie he carries pulses like a bruise, sore and festering. You don’t belong. You don’t deserve this. “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

“You don’t have to today.”

They sit in silence, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. It should feel comforting, but Louis is still too taut inside his own skin. The quiet stretches long enough that his thoughts start to drift to dangerous places and past things…and then before he can stop himself, he asks, “Has Harry… bred you?”

Liam blinks startled, then shakes his head. “No. I’m mated. Zayn and I bonded pretty early. I never went through that part of the pack dynamic.”

Nodding slowly, he figures he might as well go down the rabbit hole he’s just dug up. “Do you know others who have?”

“A few,” Liam says gently. “But no one’s forced. It’s considered honorable. A celebration of pleasure and pack longevity. Plus, Harry’s a very sought-after alpha, if you know what I mean.” A slight smile. “He takes his role seriously. But he’s not a brute.”

Liam hesitates, then asks, “Can I ask something?”

Louis stiffens without meaning to, bracing for what could come. “Sure.”

“Are you scared of being bred?”

“What?”

“I just mean…” he shrugs. “Some omegas come here and don’t want that. Some do. It’s okay to want it. It’s okay not to.”

“I—” Louis’ mouth is dry. “I don’t know.”

“It’s not a test, you know. The whole thing with Harry, it’s not about proving you’re omega enough or strong enough. You’re not less if you say no.”

Louis’ eyes snap to him, sharper now. “Did someone say that to you?”

“Not in words,” Liam replies, expression dimming. “But yeah. Before I found Zayn, I was in a place that treated omegas like tools. Like things to be managed, not people to be trusted. This pack isn’t like that.”

“I don’t know what I want yet.”

“Then we figure it out together,” Liam says, and the way he says it…certain without a trace of pity…makes Louis’ throat ache. He looks away, clearing it a bit.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not. You’re just… new. And healing. That’s not the same thing.” Liam stands, stretching his arms overhead. “You can shower if you want. Bathroom’s through there. Towels on the shelf. Clothes should fit okay.”

Louis stands slowly, legs stiff but with the kind of exhaustion that makes him feel grounded for once. “Thanks. For all of this.”

“You don’t owe me for being decent,” Liam makes sure to look pointedly at Louis to emphasize his point before giving him a soft, kind smile. “But I’ll take the company, if you’re offering it.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he hopes Liam knows just how deeply his appreciation runs. 

🩺🐺🌿

Megs’ cabin sits on the southern edge of the pack lands, where the forest thickens and hushes like it knows to tread softly. A crooked stone path winds through tall grasses and low ferns, leading to a wide porch draped in bundles of drying herbs: sage, thyme and lavender. Their mingling scents carry by a breeze that sets the wind chimes clicking like old bones. The air feels denser here too; the trees crowd closer around this part of the territory, casting long, dappled shadows across the porch.

Liam walks him most of the way, their footsteps soft on the mossy trail. Liam’s presence is grounding, like the weight of a hand on a high-strung animal.

“She’s a bit blunt,” he says, pausing at the edge of the clearing and squeezing Louis’ shoulder. “But only because she knows more than most of us. Don’t lie to her.”

The words echo louder than they should, clanging around in Louis’ chest as he steps up to the door. His hand hovers midair, fingers curled, knuckles tight. He hesitates.

“Come in,” says a voice from within. Omega. Calm.

He pushes the door open.

The interior is warm, light filtered through thin curtains and heavy with the scent of earth and fire. Shelves line the walls, cluttered with glass jars holding powders and roots, dried petals, preserved insects. Bundles of herbs hang in ordered rows from the rafters overhead, their leaves rustling softly in the draft. A low fire crackles in the hearth, its heat gentle, the smoke trailing up in lazy spirals like it has nowhere better to be.

In the center of the room waits a wide wooden table, freshly scrubbed and draped in linen. Beside it stands Megs.

She looks up from a book, her sharp eyes catching him in a single sweep. One glance, and Louis feels horribly seen. There’s a quiet sort of authority in the way she sets the book aside and steps forward, her confidence similar to stone that’s weathered many storms and hasn’t crumbled yet.

“Louis, right?” she says. Her voice is friendly, intentional, and disarming. She keeps a respectful distance, her posture open. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Louis nods quickly, trying to still the tremble in his fingers. “Yeah. Nice to meet you too.”

“You don’t need to be nervous,” she says. Her tone doesn’t change, but there’s a note of gentleness there now. “I’m Megs. I take care of the pack, healing mostly. But not just bones and bruises. I deal with the things under the skin too.”

Under the skin—that’s exactly where his lie lives. Coiled and waiting.

His instincts stir again. Run, they whisper. Shift. Get out. But his wolf is still dulled by the herbs, curled in some quiet corner of him like a tethered thing. Watching through his eyes but silent. Muzzled. A whimper rings out but it settles. 

Megs gestures toward the table. “Come sit. We’ll start easy.”

The stool looks too small for him, like it might vanish if he puts his full weight on it. He walks to it anyway, slow, like approaching a trap. When he sits, the wood is cool under his palms. He presses them flat to it, grounding himself in sensation.

Megs uncaps a jar and scoops out a thick, glistening balm with two fingers. “This’ll check your hormonal balance,” she says. “Don’t squirm.”

He doesn’t, but his jaw tightens. She reaches for him slowly, no sudden movements, and presses her fingers beneath his jaw just at the pulse point. The balm is cool at first, then warming as it seeps into his skin. Her touch is practiced, confident, and almost... kind. She hums lowly as she works, a sound without melody but full of presence. It’s oddly soothing. Like something a mother wolf would do for a frightened pup.

“Your body’s under stress,” she says after a beat. “Not unusual for an unmated omega newly accepted into territory. But the strain’s layered.”

Louis stiffens. “What does that mean?”

She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she watches him. “It means your scent markers are muddy. Like someone rubbed fresh dirt over old blood. You masking something?”

His mouth opens, closes. “I—just the herbs. I took something to ease the shift.”

She studies him a beat longer before nodding. “Mm.” She wipes her hands on a cloth, her expression unreadable. “That’ll confuse things for a bit. Should settle by the time your next heat cycles in.”

“Do you know when that is?”

“Hard to say exactly with the masking. Normally I’d sense it building already, but your system’s been suppressed. My guess is ten days. Sooner if the stress triggers it.”

Ten days.

Ten days before his body might betray him. 

Louis nods, throat tight. 

“You’ll need to rest. Eat properly. No shifting unless absolutely necessary.”

His voice feels hollow when he finally asks, “What happens when it comes?”

“That depends.” She’s already reaching for another vial, dark glass clinking softly against the wood. “Some omegas handle it fine. Some spiral without preparation or bonding. Harry’s bred unmated omegas before—he’s careful. But you’ll need suppressants on hand just in case.”

Louis tries to stay neutral, but he knows something flickers across his face. Shame, maybe. Dread. Megs catches it.

“You’re scared,” she says quietly.

He doesn’t deny it, just looks down. “A little.”

“That’s normal.” Her voice softens, like she’s offering a blanket. “It’s a vulnerable thing. But Harry doesn’t take what isn’t freely offered. If you change your mind about anything, you come to me. I’ll advocate for you.”

It lands harder than he expects. The offer of safety. The unearned promise.

“Thank you,” he says, and this time, he means it. 

Megs hands him the vial. “Take a few drops each morning. It’ll ease the symptoms and keep your scent from shifting too fast.”

He takes it like it’s fragile. “Okay.”

She scribbles notes on parchment with a practiced hand. “You’ll come back tomorrow. I want to track how your scent stabilizes. If you feel foggy or feverish, you come here immediately. No hiding.”

“I will,” he promises, quiet but firm.

She studies him again. Not with suspicion but more like... curiosity. Like she’s reading the shape of a wound beneath the skin.

“You’re a quiet one,” she murmurs. Her mouth twitches, almost a smile. “But I’ve seen wolves walk in with stories carved into their bones. Yours hasn’t been written yet.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. It feels like both an invitation and a warning.He stands.

“Go on,” she says, voice gentle again. “Rest. Settle in. You’ve got a place here for as long as you choose to stay.”

He nods, barely breathing, and slips out the door into the fading light. Outside, the wind tugs at the edge of his coat, rustling through the trees like its whispering secrets. The sky is stained orange and gold, shadows lengthening across the clearing. Louis walks slowly, the vial warm in his palm.

_

Time passes differently in a pack.

Not in hours or days, but in the rhythm of shared space: footsteps on forest paths, laughter through cabin walls, meals passed hand to hand without asking.

They don’t ask too many questions. Maybe they sense he wouldn’t answer or they’ve learned that trust takes time. But they let him in.

He’s assigned small tasks. Gathering herbs with Megs in the early morning mist. Carrying firewood for Liam, who always smiles and thanks him with a hand on his arm. Washing dishes shoulder-to-shoulder with younger omegas who whisper jokes under their breath, tossing soap suds like snowflakes when they think no one’s looking.

They make space for him without demanding he fill it. And that more than anything starts to loosen something inside him.

His wolf, confused and dulled as it is by the herbs, perks up at the change. A flick of instinct when another wolf brushes against him in the dining hall. A low, humming awareness when he sits near the hearth with others and feels their warmth at his back.

This is what it remembers. The life inside of a pack. The presence of others. The language of scent and proximity and belonging.

There are nights when Louis lies awake on his borrowed cot, the vial of suppressant tucked beneath his pillow, and listens to the sounds of the pack breathing all around him. 

Close. 

Alive. 

Together. 

Pack. 

His wolf presses up against his skin like it’s trying to reach them. To be seen, finally seen and accepted.

It feels too soon when he’s perched back on the stool in Megs’ cabin. She’s already examining his wrist, fingers cool against his pulse.

“Bit slower than expected,” she notes. “But not abnormal. Your body’s adjusting. That’s good. We’ll keep an eye on it.”

He nods, silent. Megs shifts to his shoulders, thumbs working into the tense muscles. “You’re carrying a lot of strain. When was your last real physical contact?”

"It’s been a while," he answers truthfully. "I’ve… been alone for some time now."

Megs hums thoughtfully, continuing her gentle examination. "That kind of isolation can cause touch deprivation. Wolves need touch, need interaction. Especially omegas. Without it, your body starts to function differently, almost like a reflex."

Megs doesn’t press further on the isolation, instead moving to his chest, her hands testing the range of motion in his ribs. She’s methodical as she works but there’s a level of care in her touch that puts him at ease…at least, on the surface.

"Your rib cage is tight. It’s not just from the tension; there’s some residual stress here. This could be from the emotional strain you’ve been under. It’s not uncommon for someone who's been alone for an extended period to suffer from this kind of tightness."

Louis remains silent, his mind racing as his wolf shifts restlessly beneath his skin. 

Megs moves down his body, gently placing her hands on his abdomen and legs, checking for any additional signs of strain. She takes notes as she goes, making small comments about his body’s responses but Louis hardly pays attention.

Finally, after several minutes, Megs steps back with thoughtful eyes. 

"I’m going to recommend some herbal remedies to help relax you, but I’m more concerned about your emotional state. The most important thing right now is the upcoming heat.” Megs continued, as if sensing his unease. “Because you’re unmated and have been suppressing your instincts, it’s likely your heat will hit soon, and it will be intense. We need to prepare your body for it.

"It’s common for someone in your situation to experience a more powerful heat when it hits, especially without prior preparation. We’ll help you through it, but you’ll need to take some suppressants to manage the initial phase. And once it begins, Harry will likely be the one to help you through it. As the pack alpha, he’s the one who will mate with you during your heat to ensure everything is in balance. It’s part of the pack’s structure, and it’s necessary for you."

The knot in his lungs tightens. There’s a desire to protest, to argue that he didn’t belong in this role but the words stay stuck in his throat. What could he say? That he’s an alpha, not an omega? That he doesn’t want to be mated with Harry? He can’t.

"Do you understand?" Megs asks gently, her eyes searching his face for any sign of clarity after he’s been silent for too long.

Louis nods stiffly, "Yes, I understand."

Megs gives him a small, reassuring smile. But Louis didn’t feel comforted. His wolf growls low within him, a reminder that the truth would always be there, clawing at him from the inside.

🤱🐺⏱️

The days slipped by like honey, warm and slow, and dangerously too easy to savor. Every day is a careful balancing act, his wolf constantly prowling at the edges of his mind, while he carefully maintains the illusion of being an omega. The herbs are suppressing his natural alpha traits but they also made him feel sluggish and disconnected from his wolf. Every action has to be calculated, every word chosen with care.

Louis is careful; he’s always careful.

He spends most of his time with Liam, who’s full of warmth and kindness. His presence is inherently comforting, and in the evenings, they sit together chatting about their days or sharing the quiet together. The smell of Liam’s rose scent fills the room more often than not, the scent the herbs give him more mint cherry like. 

Despite how much he’d consider Liam a friend as the days go by, he has no idea Louis isn’t actually an omega. The omega had taken the act as truth, never questioning it. 

The pack has been kind to Louis, offering him support, and in return he’s given them nothing to suspect that he isn’t who he claims to be. 

It’s almost perfect except for his supposed upcoming heat. Except for Megs.

She never says anything, but Louis feels her considering eyes on him, her gaze often catching him at odd moments. He’d seen the way she observes him when she runs her tests and has no idea if she truly suspects something or if it was just her role as healer to be so vigilant.

Still, she keeps to herself.

Louis spends the majority of his days in the pack’s main hall, walking among the omegas and betas, trying to keep a low profile. He’s learned about the pack's structure over time. 

Harry, as expected, is the driving force behind the pack. He provides for everyone, focusing on the strength and well-being of his pack. Meticulous, running everything with an iron hand yet there is a softness in his care for his pack members, a tenderness that they all can see.

Louis finds himself watching the alpha often; how he carries himself, how he interacts with the pack, how there is always an air of authority around him. Harry has been nothing but kind to Louis, but there’s something else in those moments that make his heart beat a little faster whenever Harry’s gaze lingers on him.

It starts small. Fleeting moments Louis feels completely puzzled by.

The way Harry always seems to know where Louis is, the way his gaze lingers when they cross paths in the gardens or near the training fields. There’s nothing overtly possessive about it, the alpha isn’t like that. He’s calm and sweet but his presence is still consuming even when he isn’t  saying a word.

And then there are the touches.

A hand on Louis’ shoulder during a shared meal, fingers grazing his wrist when passing him a bowl. A quiet moment in the hallway when Harry had stopped him, just to ask how he was settling in, and had brushed a stray curl from Louis’ forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Louis didn’t know how to respond to that. Not with the way his breath stuttered or how his wolf reared up inside him, uncertain and eager.

Harry is just a wonderful pack alpha. Attentive in a way that feels dangerous. And Louis can’t discern if it’s for show. Does Harry touch all the omegas like that? Is it because of his alleged heat coming up? Or if it was something else.

Something neither him or his wolf could afford to believe in.

He doesn’t mention any of it to Liam, though his roommate has clearly picked up on the tension.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Liam questioned one night as they folded linens together. “Things okay?”

“Yeah,” Louis had answered quickly. “Just tired.”

The omega hadn’t pushed. Just gave him a soft look and nodded.

And then, there’s Niall.

Niall and Louis have developed a quiet but noticeable bond, a bond that grows stronger with each passing day. It’s through Niall that he had met Amelia, another omega in the pack.

It was her who pulled him back into the world a bit.

Amelia easily became his first real friend in the pack. She’s sharp-witted, sarcastic in the best way, and doesn’t tiptoe around Louis like some of the others do. A tall, willowy omega with dark eyes and a soft mischievous smile, she had taken a liking to him almost immediately. 

They’d fallen into an easy rhythm of eating together, walking the trails behind the dens, sometimes staying up late in the common room talking about things that don’t hurt.

Through Amelia, Louis met Cam.

Cam is an omega too, taller than Amelia with honey-blonde hair and a breathy way of speaking that draws people in. She’s kind and a little dreamy, always lost in some thought or memory. The three of them quickly formed a sort of odd pack-within-the-pack.

Today though, it’s mid afternoon that the three of them are stretched out on a blanket near the gardens, sunlight streaming down between the trees.

Louis has been half-listening to Amelia tease Cam about her obsession with Violet’s stick figure art when Cam suddenly turns toward him, smiling shyly. “Has anyone talked to you about heat protocols yet?”

Louis nearly chokes on the berry he was chewing. Amelia raises a brow. 

“Smooth, C.”

Cam giggles, unbothered. “What? It’s important.”

“Sort of. Megs said I’d get more info soon. I guess I just haven’t... really thought about it yet.” Louis clears his throat, masking his reaction with a shrug.

“It can be scary the first time. Especially if you don’t have a mate.” Cam gives him a look of understanding.

He nods slowly, heart pounding. “Have you…?”

“I’ve gone through two here. And both times, Harry took care of me.”

Louis blinks. “Harry?”

The omega flushes but nods excitedly. “He helped me through my last one. It wasn’t just breeding, he’s gentle. Stayed with me the whole time. Fed me. Held me after. It wasn’t… transactional. He makes it feel like you’re wanted. Like your body isn’t just a function of the pack, but something to be cared for.”

Louis looks away, not wanting to imagine Harry like that. He doesn’t want to think of soft touches and whispered reassurances, of mouths pressed to bare skin in the dark. Not when he knows it would be a lie if he ever let himself get that close.

“Do you think he’s like that with everyone?” He blurts before he could stop himself.

Amelia shrugs, sitting up and brushing grass from her arms. “He’s not possessive like other alphas. It’s not about control for him. He just wants to make sure the pack thrives and that omegas are cared for, respected. And yeah, breeding’s part of that, but he doesn’t treat anyone like they’re just a means to an end.”

“Unless you want to be,” Cam added with a suggestive lift of her brows and a little laugh.

Louis manages a smile but his chest aches. Slowly he tries to figure out what’s worse; the way they spoke of Harry like he was something sacred or the part of him that wants to believe it. That wants to feel it for himself. 

“It’s not for everyone,” Amelia tells him lazily. “But it works for a lot of us. Harry doesn’t claim lightly, and if you’re unmated, you’re safer going through it with someone experienced. He’s... responsible. Intense, but in a good way.”

Time is ticking faster, nearly breathing down his neck. 

Soft. Omega. 

Have to be.

📚🐺🌡️

It’s late, long after most of the pack has settled down for the night. The den is quiet and mostly dark, only shadows stretching wide across the walls from the flickering light of a lantern Louis had snuck into the small corner library.

He sits cross-legged on the floor, a few worn books spread around him, heart pounding as he flips through their pages. Most are hand-bound by Megs or transcribed from older texts. The ones he’s looking through contain detailed notes on cycles, scents, bonding, and the subtle emotional patterns of omegas during heat. None of it makes him feel any better.

The words blur in his head. He doesn’t know the specifics he’s looking for exactly. Just anything to help him fake it better, something to keep the lie intact when his body inevitably tries to betray him.

A creak of floorboards behind him make him freeze.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

Louis doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Megs.

She walks forward barefoot, the hem of her soft robe skimming the floor. Her scent is calm and grounding, a mix of herbs and rain. When she reaches him, she crouches beside him without asking then glances down at the open books.

“Studying up?”

He hesitates, instincts jumbled and overshadowed by the intensity of his emotions now that he’s been caught.

She looks at him, really looks with the kind of gaze that makes hiding pointless. “How long were you planning to keep this up?”

Louis keeps his hands in his lap, his nails digging into his palm. “As long as I have to.”

Megs sighs, frowning so deeply that he’s sorry to have upset her. “You know I could’ve exposed you already. I haven’t.”

“I know,” he whispers, sniffing.

“Then why not tell Harry? He’s not cruel, Louis.”

“I can’t.” Embarrassingly, his voice cracks. “He’d send me away. Maybe not out of spite, but to protect the others. I’m not one of them. I don’t belong here.”

“You think being an alpha makes you a threat?”

“It makes me different,” Louis says tightly. “It makes me someone they’d never accept. I wouldn’t even have made it through the gate.”

There’s a long silence. Megs shifts the way she sits. “You’re not wrong. This pack doesn’t take in unmated alphas. Especially not ones with a lost past like yours.” She gives him a sideways look. “But pretending to go into heat… faking it. Louis, that’s dangerous. Your wolf’s already pulling against the lie. If he snaps when your body can’t deliver what Harry expects—”

“I’ll make it work.”

“Even if it hurts?”

Louis nods determinedly, still feeling shaken. “This place is the only home I’ve had in years.”

That leaves her silent for a longer time than before. It’s odd… to sit next to someone with your fate in their hands. 

When she finally speaks, her tone is firm, serious. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

He shakes his head. That much he’s sure of. 

“Alright,” she murmurs. “Then I’ll help you do it right.”

“You will?”

“I don’t want to see you suffer through this. If you’re going to play the part of an omega in heat, you need to understand what that means. How to prepare your body, how to regulate your scent, how to manage touch. You’ve suppressed yourself so long, your instincts don’t even know what direction they’re facing anymore.”

A rush of something sharp and grateful floods his chest. Megs stands, extending her hand. 

“Come with me. I’ll show you what the others are taught before their first guided heat.”

He takes her hand, following her through the narrow halls toward her private healing den. It’s warm inside, the air heavy with sage and dried lavender. She gestures for him to sit on the padded bench as she moves around the small room with practiced ease. 

A soft brush of cloth, a few more vials, something wrapped in linen that she unfolds carefully, and a warmed compress steeped in scent-drawing herbs.

“Your body will need help adjusting. Your scent’s close enough. The herbs you’ve taken are strong but it’s too flat. Omegas in pre-heat have subtle shifts. Musk, bloom, vulnerability. I’ll give you an oil to mimic it.”

Louis nods, watching intensely as she hands him a small vial.

“You’ll need to practice touch,” she adds. “Let yourself be held. You’ve been shrinking away from physical closeness… Harry notices.”

“I haven’t meant to—”

“You’re not used to it,” she finishes. “That’s not your fault. But you can’t hide from it much longer. You’re not going to get through a heat, even a fake one, without being touched, Louis.”

His face burns with embarrassment but Louis sits still, watching her hands work while his heart still pounds beneath his ribs. Every part of him wants to retreat or snarl and run. His wolf paces along the edge of his skin, bristling with discomfort.

“You’re going to have to learn to quiet him,” Megs murmurs, not looking at him.

“I don’t understand?”

“Your wolf,” she clarifies, pouring a bit of oil into her hands. “He’s still fighting this. You haven’t let him breathe since you came here.”

“I can’t…he’ll give me away.”

Megs finally turns back toward him. “He’s not the enemy. He’s just confused. You’re putting him through hell by pretending to be something he’s not.”

No answer comes to him. He’s doing this for them both, so they can have a pack. It’s not like he’s purposely torturing his wolf without a good reason. 

The omega comes to sit beside him again, her warm palms cupping the small linen bundle. The heat from it soaks into his skin when she presses it gently against his lower belly.

“This is one of the ways we help omegas settle. It draws the heat forward. You’ll need to do this nightly, and just before your meeting with Harry. Keep your body warm. Soft. You’ll also want to finger yourself open beforehand with oil so you’ll appear wet.”

Louis flinches involuntarily at that word. Open. Open enough to take a knot. Fingering himself open? Wet? He tries not to shrink under her hand, but the word sparks something inside him…half fear, half heat.

Pack.

Stay.

Soft omega.

Bad alpha.

“You’re allowed to be afraid. But if you go into this with resistance all over your body, he’ll sense it.”

“Harry’s not cruel… but he’s still… strong. Focused. If he finds out—”

“He won’t,” Megs interrupts firmly. “Not unless you tell him.”

He nods silently, letting her continue. Next, she opens a pale amber bottle and dabs a bit of the oil behind his ears and at the hollow of his throat. The scent is soft and floral yet not overwhelming. Definitely different from the herbs he’s been using.

“This will enhance what the suppressants are already doing. Make you more… approachable,” she explains, smiling faintly. “More touchable. You’ll need to learn how to lean into it. Even if it’s only pretend. Do you let anyone touch you, Louis?”

“No.”

“No one?” She exhales harshly through her nose. “That’s going to make this harder. But I’ll give you a crash course.” Megs moves behind him, her hands careful as they settle on his shoulders. “First rule: don’t brace.”

Louis tenses, already having messed up. 

“Second rule,” the omega adds with a wry chuckle, “is don’t panic when you break the first one.”

“I’m not panicking,” he grits out tightly.

“You’re trembling.”

Defeated, his shoulder slump underneath her grasp. 

“Alright. Just breathe. Feel my hands. That’s it. I’m not pushing, just holding.”

Attempting to follow instructions, he lets his eyes flutter shut to focus on the touch. She’s warm and steady. Her hands press along his shoulders, down the curve of his arms, applying only the lightest pressure. His wolf bristles but doesn’t pull away.

Louis blinks quickly, his eyes stinging with unshed tears when he opens them. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you remind me of someone I used to love,” Megs looks at him, smiling sadly at the tears threatening to fall. “Someone who didn’t have a place to go, either.”

She pulls back slightly, and hands him a second vial with darker, thicker liquid. 

“Use this on your skin in the next few days. The scent reacts with your body heat. It’ll make you smell like you’re nearing your cycle. If you feel yourself overheating or dizzy, come find me. It can push things too far if you use too much.”

Louis holds the vial carefully, as if it might shatter in his palm.

“Prepare your room. You’ll want privacy soon, especially if Harry starts checking in more often.”

He nods, brain whirring with all the new information he’s gotten. Maybe he could do this. Maybe it doesn’t have to end.

“And Louis? You’re not faking being part of this pack. That’s real, even if the rest isn’t. Let yourself feel that. Let yourself be cared for.”

Megs leaves after that, the scent of herbs and comfort lingering behind her but Louis stays frozen on the bench. The oil soaks into his skin, the warm cloth is still pressed into his stomach, and a tiny aching part of him wishes that the rest of it was real.

💐🐺👀

It had rained earlier that morning, the earth still damp and fragrant as Louis makes his way down the garden path, boots soft in the mud. His skin is warm and tight beneath his clothes, the oil Megs gave him clinging like a second scent. Not overpowering, but stronger than usual. It causes the faintest shift in the way passing wolves glance his way, more curious than before.

His heart beats unsteadily in his chest.

He’d come to the gathering center to help organize the new supplies, an act that would keep his hands busy. Hopefully also able to quiet his wolf, who’s occasionally trying to remind his body that it doesn’t belong to anyone.

Realistically, he should have expected the pack alpha to be there but it still surprises him when they lock eyes.

The alpha is bent over one of the piles with his sleeves rolled up, curls damp from the misty morning. He looks up as Louis steps inside, and the emotion in his expression shifts. His wolf recognizes it faster than his brain can try to make sense of it. 

Alert. Hungry. Gentle.

“Hey,” Harry greets, a smile quirking his lips up. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Harry’s gaze drops for a beat…to Louis’ throat, his hands, the subtle flush over his cheeks… then returned, unreadable but softer.

“Come give me a hand?” he asks, stepping aside so Louis could join him.

They work in silence at first, side by side as they reorganize supplies alongside a few others. Louis can feel the heat rolling beneath his skin, low and steady, like a slow boil. Megs had said the oils would build gradually, especially with elevated heart rate and body heat.

He hadn't expected it to feel like this. Not bad. Just... tender. A little too real.

“You’ve been settling in alright?” The alpha asks after a while, glancing at him as they pause between loads.

Louis nods distractedly, flexing his fingers. “Everyone’s been kind.”

“That’s good,” Harry grins, eyes lingering for a moment longer. “You smell different.”

Louis stills, different instincts reacting to the statement. “Do I?”

“Not bad. Just closer.” Harry looks at him fully now. “You’ve been around a while, but you’ve never let me near you this much.”

Panic curls in his stomach bright and hot. “It’s not personal.”

Harry’s mouth quirks again in amusement. “You sure? Because it feels personal.”

Louis doesn’t respond, eyeing anything but the alpha who’s searching for his gaze. 

“I’m not trying to corner you but I’ve been doing this a long time. And I know the way a body changes when it’s preparing. Your cycle’s close, isn’t it?” 

It’s asked so casually. The way someone might ask if you’d eaten.

Good alpha. 

“I think so.”

Harry tilts his head slightly. “You nervous?”

“A little.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

The words make Louis’ skin buzz. He finally meets Harry’s gaze, startled by how genuine it is. The alpha isn’t trying to seduce him, isn’t even flirting. He’s just… stating a fact. 

A promise.

“I don’t—” Louis licks his lips. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Harry smiles then, soft and warm. “No one in this pack is a burden, Lou. Especially not you.”

The reassurance combined with the nickname breaks him.

Louis turns back to the task at hand before Harry can see too much. Before the oil can push his scent any sharper or his wolf can claw forward and ruin it all.

Harry doesn’t press. Just works beside him for a while longer, humming a quiet tune under his breath. Before he leaves, though, he pauses by the door and glances back.

“If you need anything,” he says, “if it gets too intense, you come find me. You don’t wait. Understood?”

Louis shivers at the authority in his voice.

“Yes, Alpha.”

The word slips out before he can stop it. And Harry’s eyes flare, just slightly. Not possessive but… pleased?

Then he’s gone, leaving Louis standing in the quiet with his hands trembling and his heart beating too hard against a body that isn’t entirely his anymore.

-

Louis doesn’t mean to end up at Harry’s door that evening. He’d been walking…trying to walk off the warmth under his skin, the ache blooming low in his belly, the scent curling sharper with every step. It isn’t real heat, he keeps reminding himself. Just the herbs, just the body mimicking, just chemistry reacting.

But the wind carries his scent now, clinging to his skin. His thoughts have become slow, limbs heavy with that strange false pull.

And somehow his feet had led him here.

He hovers outside Harry’s quarters for a moment, uncertain, until he realizes the door is cracked open. Warmth and firelight spill out from behind the door. A quiet beat of music drifts out, a tune that’s slow and wordless.

Louis pushes the door gently, just enough to knock.

“Come in,” the alpha calls, measured and a little tired. He steps inside.

Harry sits on the floor by the fireplace, long legs stretched out, a book resting on his knee. His head lifts when he sees Louis, and the smile that touched his lips is breathtaking.

“I wasn’t expecting you.” He looks pleased if anything, genuinely surprised.

Louis shifts awkwardly in the doorway. “I was just walking. Megs said I should… stay warm. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not,” Harry soothes immediately, closing the book and setting it aside. “You okay?”

Louis nods instinctively, then hesitates as he actually thinks about the answer to the question. Is he okay? 

“It’s getting harder to ignore. The symptoms.”

“Do you want to sit?”

Louis does. He sits across from him on the rug, tucking his legs close. For a few breaths, they sit in silence just the fire crackling softly between them.

Harry leans back slightly against the couch, his gaze never leaving Louis. “You smell… sweet,” he says, the words tinged with a soft, teasing note. “It’s nice.”

Louis flushes, a sort of fluttering happening within him. “I think it’s the oils.”

“Yeah, I figured. Megs always goes for the gentle ones.”

There’s a pause but the look on the alpha’s face tells him that the next words out his mouth might worry him. 

“Have you ever gone through heat before?”

“I don’t remember. If I have… it must’ve been when I was younger. It’s all a blur.”

“That explains some things. You’ve got that look like you don’t know what’s coming and you’re trying not to be afraid of it.”

“I’m not afraid.” Louis’ throat bobs as Harry studies him for a long moment. 

“You’re brave, then. Most omegas feel like the world’s tipping sideways the first time. I did my best to be gentle when Cam went through hers. And she still bit my shoulder,” he adds with a giggly type of laugh.

Louis’ mouth lifts despite himself. “She said you were kind. The whole time.”

“I was.” Harry’s voice drops a little, a sudden intensity sparking in his eye. “Because she trusted me. That matters most.”

The fire throws warm light across Harry’s face, catching in the curve of his jaw and the green of his eyes. He’s beautiful in a way Louis hasn’t let himself acknowledge. Not until now.

Harry’s gaze softens. “May I?” he asks, already reaching slow, deliberate.

Louis gives a tiny nod anyway. 

The alpha’s hand settles lightly on his cheek, just a touch. The heat of his palm and the steady weight of it, grounding.

“You’re burning up.” Harry’s thumb brushes along the edge of his cheekbone. “If this gets to be too much… you come to me. Alright?”

Louis stares at him, unsure what to say. His wolf is restless, tangled in confusion. Wanting touch, wanting safety. Wanting Harry.

And that’s a dangerous want.

Harry leans forward a little, until their foreheads nearly touch. “If you want to stay for a bit, I won’t ask anything more of you.”

Louis breathes out slowly. “Just to be still?”

“Just to be held, if that’s what you want.”

Biting his lip, he leans forward, resting his brow against Harry’s shoulder. The alpha wraps an arm around him. A quiet, steady hold.

Warm, solid, nothing more.

Louis stays there, eyes fluttering closed. His wolf finally stops its pacing. This isn’t safe…lying to everyone, especially this man who holds him like something precious.

But he wants to let himself have it. So he stays there for too long in Harry’s scent and lets himself be wanted.

Chapter Text

Louis lies in the bed, trying to ignore the way the sheets feel too warm, clinging to his skin like a reminder of everything he’s been avoiding. Outside, the night air is cool, but the fire from earlier still lingers in the walls, and his body unnaturally feels hot. Not from heat of his own making but from the lingering effects of Megs' oils and the promise of what tomorrow might bring.

Tomorrow. 

The herbs she’d mixed for him that afternoon have their effect, dulling his senses, clouding his mind like a real omega would experience. The false pull of heat teases at the edges of his thoughts. 

He breathes in, tries to focus on anything but the tight coil of tension in his chest. It’s not real, he reminds himself, his voice a quiet echo in the dark. None of it’s real.

But it’s getting harder to ignore.

Megs had spent hours with him earlier, guiding him through the process, making sure he understood what would happen tomorrow. She’d been kind, careful, and so thoroughly professional. She’d watched him with her sharp eyes, noting every detail of his body, assessing the rhythm of his pulse, the signs of his condition.

And tomorrow, when the heat supposedly arrives, he will be expected to play along. The thought gnaws at him, and he shifts uncomfortably in bed. He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The herbs are still making him feel... wrong. Everything about this feels wrong.

It isn’t the heat that’s the problem, it’s the lie he’s told. The deeper he gets into this pack, into Harry’s world, the more difficult it becomes to keep pretending. Harry’s charm, his careful attention, the quiet kindness all feels real. And that terrifies Louis. Because he hasn’t told him anything, not the truth. Not about what he really is, or why he’s pretending to be someone he’s not.

Louis draws in a shaky breath, the tension in his chest tightening until it feels like there’s no room to breathe. He wants to be honest. He wants to be honest before the moment of no return comes, before he’s caught in the throes of something he can’t control. He wants to tell Harry the truth about the herbs, beg him to understand that all he wanted was to be welcomed into the pack like anyone else.

But how can he? How can he stand there and explain it all without shattering the peace that’s settled between them?

He rolls onto his side, staring out at the dark, the shadows thick without any light. The quiet is like a presence, and for a moment, he almost convinces himself that it doesn’t matter. That he can continue pretending. That tomorrow, he’ll just follow through, let the heat come and go, and then… what? Disappear again? He could leave, walk out of Harry’s life without a trace, without ever explaining the truth.

But his wolf inside him, the alpha he’s tried to ignore, won’t let him.

We can’t leave like that. 

Stay. Pack.

He pulls the blankets higher around his shoulders, trying to hold onto the moment before everything changes. It would be easier if he could just keep up the pretense, let Harry believe what he wants to believe. But it won’t work.

He can’t let Harry touch him tomorrow.  Because if he does, there’s no turning back.

The worst part has to be not knowing what to expect when he finally admits the truth. Not knowing how Harry will react, or how the pack will take it. But staying silent, staying hidden, isn’t an option anymore.

The decision feels final, anxiety unrelenting until he’s suffocating, until the only thing he can think of is how desperately he needs to make it right. He needs to tell Harry.

And if he’s being honest with himself…if he dares to admit it, he needs to do it before Harry becomes something more than just a man he admires from a distance.

Tomorrow, Louis thinks, closing his eyes, I’ll tell him everything.

But the thought of what might happen next fills him with a mix of dread and longing that twists in his chest, and he wonders if he can really go through with it. If he can truly open himself up and trust someone…especially someone like Harry, who has been nothing but kind, nothing but understanding.

Sleep is fitful, practically nonexistent but he takes what he can get.

🛏️ 🐺 ♨️

The moment Harry's scent hits him, Louis knows his world is about to be turned upside down. The alpha's musky aroma fills the air immediately, sending a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the chill rushing in from outside. The universe must have it out for him: Harry’s clearly starting his rut. Belatedly he’s thankful that Liam has vacated the space for his alleged heat, just in the off case that Louis has severely underestimated how forgiving Harry seems.

Maybe he should have let Megs intervene. 

Hindsight is 20/20.

Fuck.

"Alpha," Louis greets, trying to keep his voice steady. All of the thought he put into what he was going to say disappears from his head like a traitor, leaving him standing there flushed. His heart races like a rabbit's in the face of a predator. Harry looks as commanding as ever, his eyes intentionally scanning the room, his broad shoulders squared in a show of dominance. 

After his apparent inspection is over, his eyes snap to Louis’ like headlights. 

"You smell ripe, Omega," Harry sighs, his voice a lot deeper than Louis has ever heard it before. The way he says it, gruff with a heavy edge of desire makes Louis' knees wobble. Shit. His stomach swirls and he can’t decipher if it’s fear or not. Especially with the way Harry’s nose is flaring, his brow making his gaze look all the more intimidating. 

Megs had come over earlier this morning, helping him learn how to disguise his true nature with a stronger cocktail of herbs that would make him smell like a fertile omega in heat. But now with Harry so close, his heartbeat thuds in his ears.

"Thank you," Louis murmurs, his cheeks flushing. "I...I hope I'm to your liking." 

As Harry approaches, the alpha's gaze rakes over him, taking in every detail of his form. The fabric of his shirt is sticking to his skin, his nipples pebbled and sensitive, begging to be touched. His breath hitches when the alpha reaches out to trace a calloused finger along his jawline.

"Your scent is... different," he comments, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But it's incredible."

Louis' heart skips unevenly, his hope that the potent herbs would be enough to mask his scent faltering. The alpha’s nose had still caught something. Panic flutters in his stomach like a caged bird, but he manages to keep his expression neutral.

"Is... is something wrong?" he asks, voice small and strained. Harry's gaze peers into him, searching. 

"No, not at all.” There’s a knowing smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, invading Louis' personal space in a way that made him want to both melt and flee. "In fact, your scent is more appealing than any omega I've ever encountered. I can't wait to taste you.” 

"Alpha... Harry," he manages to choke out, "There's something I need to... to explain."

Louis' knees buckle, his resolve crumbling like a cookie in a wolf's jaws. He knows he has to tell Harry the truth, but the words catch in his throat like a furball.

But it didn’t even matter because his next attempt at coming clean has Harry cutting him off with a searing kiss. The alpha's arms wrap around him, pulling him tight against the muscle of his chest, Louis’ body responding to the need subconsciously. Harry's tongue pushes into his mouth, and he can’t help but whimper as his hands come up to grip the alpha's shirt.

The alpha's hands slid down his body, one gripping his hip with a bruising force, the other delving beneath the fabric of his shirt to tease his stomach. Louis gasped, his body arching into the touch despite his racing thoughts. Harry's thumb brushed his nipple, and a jolt of pure pleasure shot through him, making his cock throb.

Louis breaks the kiss, panting. “Stop, just stop. I need to tell you something.”

Harry's teeth scrape his lower lip, and the pain only sharpens his desire. He has never wanted anything more than to submit to this alpha, to give him everything he has to offer. And yet, the fear of what it’ll all mean lurks in the back of his mind, a dark shadow threatening to swallow the moment whole.

But Harry isn’t listening to him. Or he is, and he doesn’t care.

“Whatever it is,” the alpha whispers, lips trailing down Louis’ throat, “you can tell me after. Your scent is driving me mad, Louis. I need to be inside you."

Louis tries again, hands on his chest now but not pushing. “Harry. I’m not—” He couldn’t get the words out. The pressure of Harry’s mouth, the way he was being touched, handled like an omega… it’s messing with his head.

“Shh,” Harry soothes, sliding Louis’ shirt over his head. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“It can’t—” But the alpha’s mouth was on his collarbone now, warm and hungry. Every cell in him wanted to scream, I’m an alpha, I’m lying to you, I don’t belong here, but Harry’s hands map his ribs, his waist, and he can’t find the air, let alone the words for his confession. 

“You always look like you’re on the edge of running. I want you to stay. You can relax, Lou.”

Louis knows he’s running out of options. He has to tell Harry the truth, but the words just won’t come out. Instead, he finds himself blurting, "Just... don't look at my cock, alpha." 

The desperation in his voice is palpable, but Harry seems to mistake it for shyness.

"As you wish, my sweet omega," he hums, his eyes gleaming with soft understanding. "Your modesty is endearing."

With a gentle touch that belies his size and power, Harry scoops Louis up into his arms and carries him over to the fur-covered bed Louis points to. The alpha lays him down with care, his rough hands stroking over the soft curves of his body. Louis’ wolf confusingly sends a thrill of excitement as Harry hovers over him, his broad chest blocking out the light from the flickering candles. The alpha's eyes are filled with a primal hunger that make him feel both terrified and exhilarated.

"I've been waiting for this moment. You're going to give me the strongest pup our pack has ever seen."

His words settle heavily on Louis, and for a brief moment he allows himself to imagine it: a pup, a mix of the two of them, a creature of strength and power that would one day rise to take his place as the new alpha.

But reality crashes down on him like a meteor. He’s no omega. He has no right to carry a pup, especially not one sired by Harry.

"Please," he tries to protest again but Harry's mouth silences him. As his palms skim his bare skin, Louis’ own scent intensifies, the herbs' potent aroma mixing with his natural musk. The alpha's eyes darken with lust, his nostrils flaring as he takes a greedy inhale of the heady blend.

With a tremble in his limbs, Louis rolls onto his stomach, presenting his arched ass to Harry in the expected mating pose. A pleased rumble feels the air, Harry’s alpha likely proud of the display of submissiveness and desire. 

He’s relieved that the position is accepted, his choice a desperate bid to hide the one part of him that would give away his secret. The part that is distinctly not omega. Harry doesn’t seem to notice his haste, too lost in the throes of desire to question the sudden eagerness. The alpha's hands roam over his back, tracing the contours of his spine with a possessive hunger that makes his cock twitch.

"Perfect," Harry compliments, kissing his shoulder delicately. He feels the warmth of Harry's body as the alpha settles between his legs, the brush of skin full of heat. His hands grip his hips, and Louis braces himself for the inevitable. He’s heard the stories, the whispers of what happened between alphas and omegas during heat. 

He knows the intensity that awaits him, and the fear of the oncoming feeling clings to the edges of his mind, only heightening his anticipation.

But as he positions himself, the alpha pauses…his hand hovering over the swell of Louis' ass. "Your scent... it's changed again," Harry frowns, his voice tight with confusion.

Louis freezes, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been so careful, so meticulous with his preparations. How could Harry suspect anything? "It... it's just the intensity of the heat.”

But Harry leans closer, his nose nuzzling against the base of Louis' spine. The alpha's warm breath tickles the fine hairs, sending goosebumps racing across his skin. Terrified, Louis fears the jig is up, that Harry will realize his secret and cast him out of the pack in disgust.

Or worse.

And then without warning, Harry's cock is there pressing insistently against the slick entrance to his body. The alpha's grip on his hips tightens and with a powerful thrust, Harry buries himself to the hilt in one swift movement. An undercurrent of pain stings intensely, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by a flood of pleasure that makes Louis' eyes roll back in his head. He bits his lip to stifle a scream, his body instinctively clenching around the length.

"Oh, fuck. Harry," Louis whimpers, as the alpha’s hips drag his cock teasingly out before snapping back in. 

“Shit. You’re so tight. I-,” Harry gasps, embarrassment and arousal leaving Louis sputtering out a groan underneath him. His hips keep moving, each thrust back inside sapping Louis’ strength in his arms to hold himself up. 

Already he feels the alpha's knot swelling inside him, the pressure building with every thrust. The heat is nearly unbearable, but this is only the beginning. Harry’s going to fill him, knot him, and keep him pinned to the bed until he’s fully claimed.

The alpha's rhythm grows more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants. Harry's hands are everywhere, kneading his flesh, gripping his hips, and sliding up to cup his chest. Every touch sends an electric shower of pleasurable sparks through him, making him arch and beg for more.

"Fuck, Harry," he moans, the words spilling from his lips unbidden. His own cock is trapped between his stomach and the bed, throbbing and dripping with the wetness running from the tip. 

As Harry drives into him, Louis feels the alpha's rut begin to take over. The air thickens with the scent of mating musk, and the alpha's thrusts grow more primal, more possessive. 

The knot is swelling as it’s pushed inside, filling him to the brink of pain, yet the pleasure is so intense that Louis couldn't help but push back, urging Harry deeper. He feels Harry's breath against his neck hot and ragged as the alpha fights to keep his fangs sheathed. The need to mark him has to be strong but Harry holds bac, his teeth grazing the sweaty skin without breaking it.

Louis' body is a mess of sensations, each stroke of Harry's cock sending waves of ecstasy crashing through him. He had never felt so full, so cared for, so alive. The alpha's rut almost a wildfire burning out of control and Louis is the kindling that had sparked the inferno. 

His arms collapse underneath him, his head turning to the side to look back at Harry. From his vantage point with half his face buried in the fur of the bed, he sees the alpha's muscles flex and ripple with every thrust. Harry's eyes are half-lidded with pleasure, his jaw clenched and nose flared as his thrusts get sloppier. The alpha's knot popped with a devastating gorgeous moan from them both, locking them together in the most intimate sense.

"Mine," Harry asserts, a declaration that has Louis’ wolf howling inside him. A  shiver of pleasure runs down his spine. Louis knows the reality of what’s happening, the primal instincts that rule during rut taking over Harry's mind. But instead of fear like he should be feeling, all he feels is fierce pride. He triggered this in the alpha, brought him to this peak of desire.

"You're going to give me such strong pups.” Fingers reach around to cup his stomach, the brief nudge against his cock almost enough to have hin screaming out with how heavenly it feels. The pressure against his neck builds a little as Harry rocks into him, knot still huge within him.

"Harry," Louis gasps, clenching the fur underneath him. The pain of the knot is exquisite, a white-hot brand that marks him as Harry's own. "Alpha. Harry..."

The alpha's voice is a growling rumble in his ear, his teeth scraping against the tender flesh of his neck. "You're going to carry my pup, Lou. My strong, perfect pup."

The words are almost a chant, a primal mantra that brings a genuine smile to Harry’s face despite his blown pupils. He looks silly, hair ruffled with his dimples showing in his cheeks. A painful rush of fondness steals the room in his lungs. 

"P-Pups," he breathes, trying to wrap his mind around the word. From his position, pinned beneath Harry's heavy, muscled frame, Louis feels the alpha's knot twitch as it swells further, stretching him to his limits. The pressure is intense, a mix of pleasure and pain that has him moan and squirm. It was a strange, almost painful sensation, but one that was quickly becoming addictive.

The heat is feverish in his blood, making it hard to think, but the panic of Harry’s hand near his cock helps him keep a little clarity. He has to keep the alpha’s attention away from his own traitorous cock. "Yes, Alpha, your pups…"

The alpha's eyes flash with joy at the thought. "I can feel them. Strong, healthy, with your eyes... your smile."

Louis' chest swells with a strange sense of pride. His body isn’t made to truly give the alpha what he’s meant to, a pup to call his own, but he can’t help the warmth that floods him at the thought of being the one to carry it. He bits back a whine as his wolf paws incessantly for it. 

"Mm, you're so warm, so soft," Harry murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble. "Going to make me so proud. Our pup will be perfect, the envy of every pack." He nuzzles against the back of Louis' neck, inhaling deeply. 

From his position beneath Harry's heavy frame, Louis could feel the alpha's cock pulsing inside him, releasing wave after wave of hot cum. He bit his lip, fighting back the moan that threatened to spill out. The knot was still there, swollen and insistent, pressing against his prostate with every shallow thrust Harry made. He couldn't help the way his body responded, his own cock trapped and leaking against the fur of the bed.

"Mm, Harry," he moaned, his voice breathless. The alpha's tongue is a wet heat against his skin, licking and scenting him as if to make sure every inch of him bore the alpha's mark. 

Harry's only response was a satisfied grunt, his teeth grazing the curve of Louis' ear. His knot was still swollen inside him, the gentle pressure sending bolts of pleasure through his body with every pulse. 

"You're going to be such a good omega. Raising our pups with love and care. Gonna make you come.”

Louis’ squeezes his eyes shut, unsure how much more of this he could take without giving in to the sweet oblivion that beckons him. "H-Harry, please," he whimpers, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"What's the matter, my sweet?" Harry's voice so gentle,hips stilled as he waits for a response.

"I... I don't want to," Louis pants, his body betraying him with every tremble. The need to come like a beast clawing at the gates of his self-control.

"Why not?" 

"B-Because... I'm not..." Louis grits his teeth, his body straining against the alpha's. Harry's seed had filled him up, warming him from the inside out, and his own cock was a desperate trapped thing between his stomach and the bed, leaking precious fluid onto the fur. He didn't know how much longer he could keep his secret hidden, especially when Harry's touch was so tender, so... loving.

"Not what, love?" Harry's voice is airy, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin just beneath Louis' ear. "You're everything I need, everything our pup needs."

The words, the scent, the feeling of Harry's knot pulsing inside him - it’s all too much. He felt himself teetering on the precipice of climax, his body begging for release. "Because... because..."

But Harry’s relentless. He pulls out slightly, then pushed back in, the knot sliding over that sweet spot inside him with a newfound force. Louis' eyes squeeze shut as a moan tears from his throat, his body bowing under the alpha's touch.

"You're holding back," Harry growls, his voice thick with arousal and determination. "Why?"

"I...I just..." Louis' words trail off as Harry begins to rock his hips, the knot inside him moving in a way that’s both torturous and divine.

"You can't hold back from me," Harry murmurs, "I need to feel you come around my knot, feel your warmth milk me dry."

Harry moves deeper, his knot grinding against Louis' prostate with a newfound vigor. The alpha's hands slid around his hips, gripping him tightly as he began to fuck him in earnest.

"Won’t keep this from me, Lou," Harry's voice is a gruff demand, scenting the gland on his neck. "You're mine now, body and soul. You'll come for me."

The alpha's words are spark to dry tinder. With a strangled cry, Louis’ body gives in to the overwhelming pleasure as his cock spurts cum onto the fur beneath him. As his orgasm rips  through him. intense pleasure washes over him like a tidal wave drowning out any hint of discomfort. His body convulses around the alpha's cock, his muscles clenching and releasing in a desperate bid for more.

"That's it," Harry groans, his hips snapping forward, his knot buried deep in him.

The pleasure gets so intense, so overwhelming, that for a brief moment, Louis forgets his fear. Instead he’s lost in the sensation of Harry's cock stretching him, filling him to the brim. The alpha's knot is a strange pulsing presence inside him, a constant reminder of his submission. Yet, it’s also the source of the most profound pleasure he had ever felt. He couldn't help the way his body responded, arching back into Harry's, the fingers on his stomach wrapping around his cock. 

And then, without warning, his knot pops. The sudden release of pressure feels like a dam bursting, sending a rush of sensation through him. Louis' eyes shoot open, his vision swimming with stars as his body is wracked with an orgasm that seems to go on forever.

Through the haze of pleasure, he feels Harry eventually soften enough to pull out, his cock slipping from the warm, clinging embrace of his body. Harry's hands are gentle as they turned him onto his back, his eyes filled with a hunger both feral and reverent.

"So beautiful, Lou," Harry compliments, his thumbs traced the line of his cheeks, his gaze lingering on the evidence of their mating that smears his skin.

In a daze, Louis watches as Harry leans over him, his cock still swollen and gleaming with their combined arousal. The alpha's eyes are hooded, his pupils blown wide with desire. Harry takes his cock in hand, stroking it gently as he bends down to kiss him again.

It’s tender this time, a stark contrast to the passion from before. Harry's tongue slips into his mouth, leaving him so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so cherished.

Through the fog of pleasure, when Harry slowly pulls off his mouth, his fingers trace the path of Louis’ cum on his stomach before sucking it into his mouth. Louis’ mouth falls open in surprise, his breath coming in short, ragged pants.

Again he watches as the alpha coats his fingers in the sticky mess on his stomach then with slow deliberate movement, Harry smears the cum across his own chest, marking himself with the evidence of their union. The sight is almost too much for Louis to handle, his cock twitching in response despite the recent release.

"You taste like home," Harry murmurs, eyes glistening. "Like everything I've ever wanted." He couldn't believe the depth of feeling in the alpha's voice, the way Harry looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

And then, with a look that was both hungry and loving, he dips down to take Louis' cock into his mouth. 

Harry's tongue swirls around his sensitive tip, tasting him in a way that makes his toes curl. Louis gives into the pleasure once more. The alpha's mouth hot and wet, throat closing around him as he swallows him whole. Another orgasm slams into him, his knot still recovering from the first one. 

As Harry grins and crowds in to kiss him again, a sudden realization strikes Louis like lightning: his alpha status hadn't registered yet. The potent pheromones from Harry's rut are so overpowering, so all-consuming that the alpha had been swept away in the currents of desire without a thought for the implications. Harry still saw him as an omega, ripe for breeding and claiming.

For a moment, Louis felt a flicker of panic - what would happen when Harry came out it and realized the truth? Would the alpha be furious? Disgusted? Would he reject him? But then, the haze of passion clouded his mind once more, and he pushed the fear aside. Right now, all that mattered was the feeling of Harry's body pressed against his, the alpha's hands roaming over his skin with a possessiveness that made his blood sing.

—-

Louis doesn’t remember falling asleep.

His body is too hot, breath too shallow. Even without clothes, the blanket is acting like a second skin, trapping the humid air and the scent of his own confusion. He’d dreamed in flashes of hands, a mouth, a voice in his ear…and woke to aching. His cock hard already, thick between the sheets and his stomach.

Warm fingers skim along his waist, anchoring him to the bed. Louis blinks his eyes open slowly, vision blurry with sleep. 

Harry.

Alpha.

Crouched by the bed, the alpha’s chest rises slow and heavy, like every breath is a battle. His eyes are darker than usual, ringed with gold and clouded with restraint. He says nothing at first just watches Louis, thumb brushing lightly over his hip.

The scent in the room has changed again, unmistakably sweetened, touched with the kind of edge he recognizes only dimly, instinctively.

He isn’t in heat, he knows that much. But the illusion is nearly perfect now. And Harry must be able to smell it even as it mixes with his. It hums with alpha musk, with want.

Harry is in rut.

The reminder jumpstarts his brain, knocking the sleep out of his system. Louis sucks in a breath and shifts back slightly in bed, but Harry follows carefully, silently until his knuckles brush the blanket again. He’s trying to be gentle. Trying to hold back. His skin is flushed, his jaw locked tight like he’s using every ounce of control not to touch more.

“Harry…”

The alpha’s nostrils flare. His eyes flicker up to meet his gaze, it’s dark but not mindless yet.

As the alpha pulls away, Louis watches in awe as the skin on Harry's body begins to ripple and shift. The strong, muscled alpha transforms before his eyes, his body elongating and reshaping into that of a majestic wolf. The fur was a deep, rich brown, shot through with streaks of gold that matched the alpha's eyes.

The transformation is mesmerizing, a change of bone and fur that seemed to happen in the space of a heartbeat. And then Harry’s there, crowding in with his muzzle nuzzling against his neck, his tongue lapping at the remnants of their mating. The sensation is strange, and yet it sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through him. The heat is still there, and with Harry in his wolf form; it feels more primal.

Shift. 

I want. 

Alpha.

Louis feels his own body responding, his skin rippling and fur sprouting as he too shifts. His senses sharpen, the sound of Harry's panting breaths louder in his ears. His cock grows hard again, the alpha’s flank brushes his as they turn together, scenting one another, spiraling in close.

Harry circles wide, never breaking eye contact. His body is taut with held-back hunger but he doesn’t lunge. He comes close enough that Louis can feel his body heat, then pauses again. His nose lifts slightly as a soft chuff escapes him, questioning.

The contact sends a tremor through both of them. Lowering his head, Harry brushes his muzzle along Louis’ throat with slow reverence, scenting him deeply.

A low, rumbling growl sounds from the alpha and it’s not a threat but rather a plea. His body is shaking now, with effort, with need. But he waits.

Louis turns his head, pressing his nose to Harry’s shoulder. A signal. I trust you.

I want it.

The shift is subtle as the alpha watches Louis lower his body to the ground with a quiet exhale, tail brushing aside. His wolf yips in his chest, jumping and purring at having given in.

Alpha. 

Provide.

Harry moves over him with a low whine in his throat, the sound almost pained. He buries his nose in Louis’ ruff for a moment, holding still just to breathe, breathing him in, shaking slightly before his restraint snaps.

Harry's teeth sank into the soft flesh of Louis' neck, holding him in place as he thrust deep inside, his hips moving with a primal rhythm that feels right. Louis yelps in a mix of pain and pleasure, his body arching instinctively to meet Harry's every movement. The heat is still underneath his skin, demanding that he submit to the alpha's will but the feeling is euphoric beyond that.  It’s raw, animalistic, and utterly consuming.

The joining is instinctual but every movement is a conversation: Is this alright? Are you safe? Are you mine, and am I yours?

As a wolf, Harry's cock is thicker, longer, and more potent than any other time. Each thrust sends a new wave of pleasure through Louis' body, his inner muscles clamping down around the alpha's length as if trying to pull him deeper. Harry's knot has grown even larger in his wolf form, stretching him to the point of delicious tendrils of pain embedded in the pleasure.

Their movements get erratic quick, more primal as Harry's hind legs dig into the bed, his powerful haunches keeping the intensity of strokes. He’s driving into Louis with a force that sends them both nearly sliding across the sheets. The bedframe groans and creaks under their weight, nothing but sounds of their mating: the slap of flesh, the growls of desire, the occasional whine of pleasure that slips from Louis' throat filling the room.

His eyes roll back in his head, his mouth open with his tongue out in pants as the knot inside him grows, swelling with every thrust until he’s certain he’ll burst.

With a snarl of pure need, Harry's knot expands until it locks them together and it’s unlike anything Louis had ever experienced. A strange mix of agony and euphoria that has him writhing beneath the alpha's heavy frame. Harry's teeth sink deeper into his neck, holding him in place as he thrusts into him with a force that’s almost violent. 

But then the dam breaks, he’s flooded with Harry’s seed, filling him so completely that it was like being consumed by a warm thick river. Harry's hips stutter, his body going taut as he reaches his own climax, his knot pulsing in time with the beating of their hearts.

As a wolf, Harry's howl of triumph and pleasure echoes through the room.

❤️‍🔥🐺⛓️‍💥

Harry lays sprawled out beside him, one arm draped lazily over Louis’ waist, his breathing deep and steady. He’s coming down now, out of the feral intensity that had consumed the last two days. His scent, though still rich and possessive, has softened. His skin is warm where it presses against Louis’.

Louis stares at the ceiling, eyes wide open. Every inch of his body aches in a way that isn’t just physical.

He’d failed.

Had prepared with the truth gripped tight in his fists but Harry hadn’t given him the space. Instead overwhelmed him with touch and scent and the kind of dominance Louis has rarely felt from another alpha.

And he’d let it happen.

Now the herbs were wearing off, his scent had shifted overnight to a thicker more obvious scent then one of an omega. The ache in his bones both exhaustion and the press of his alpha reclaiming ground within. 

Turning his head slightly, Louis looks at Harry in the dim light. He looked peaceful, almost boyish in sleep. Not like the alpha who had taken him apart with his hands,  mouth, and voice. Not like the man who’d pulled every sound from him, treated him like he was fragile and needy because that’s what Louis had let him believe.

Wait until he wakes up. 

Pack will hate us.

Alpha will hate us.

The worst part, though, was how good it had felt. How easy it had been to slip into the space Harry carved out for him. How much he had wanted it.

You let him treat you like an omega. You let him claim you. You let him scent you, breed you, hold you like something precious. And you let it happen without telling him the truth.

The taste of it makes his throat close up. He turns onto his side slowly to face Harry’s back, reaching out before stopping just short of touching. He doesn’t  deserve the comfort.

Bad omega.

Bad alpha. 

Bad.

Briefly he thinks he should have snuck away from the pack before this, before he’d made the lie worse by letting the alpha have him like this. Maybe if he’s impossibly quiet, he’d be able to sneak away now though it’d break his own heart.  

No, he has to say something. Even if it ruins everything. 

“Harry,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

The arm on his waist twitches then tightens. Harry blinks awake slowly, eyes still heavy-lidded but more aware than they have been. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, rough with sleep and a bit of lingering rut. “You okay?”

Louis shakes his head, eyes casted away because he feels too close to crying. It unsettles his wolf. “No.”

That gets Harry’s attention. He pushes up on one elbow, gaze sharpening as he scrutinizes the parts of Louis’ bare skin that he can see. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

Louis sits up, wrapping the sheet around his waist like it could shield him from what he’s about to say. His body tense with the ghost of submission still close, but his mind…the part that had been buried under weeks of dampened instincts is waking up. The alpha in him isn’t roaring, but it’s pacing again. Restless. Aware.

“I should’ve told you before,” he blurts, voice getting quieter with guilt. “But I didn’t know how. I thought maybe if I waited, if I stayed quiet, if I pretended long enough I’m not…” Louis forces himself to keep going. “I’m not an omega.”

Harry exhales through his nose, eyes flicking away for a beat. The alpha in him braces for anger. Rejection. A challenge. But it doesn’t come.

Somehow the silence feels just as bad, a short howl echoing in his head. 

“I should’ve told you. Before the rut. Before I let you—before we—You didn’t consent to this.”

“What are you now?” Harry asks instead, eyes returning to him.

“What?”

“You said you were taking herbs,” Harry said. “But they’re wearing off. What are you now?”

“I—I don’t know,” Louis admits, startled and confused. Every bit of him feels like a live wire with the anxiety shooting off in different directions of his body. “Everything feels raw. My alpha instincts are crawling back, but I still don’t feel like myself. Or I don’t know who myself is anymore.”

Harry doesn’t respond. Louis presses a palm to the bed between them. 

“I didn’t come here to deceive you. At first, I just wanted to survive. I thought if I could get in, stay low, act like I belonged…maybe I’d be safe for once. Then you looked at me like I was something good. Like I mattered. And I let it go too far. I let you go too far.”

His alpha is rising now, gently, like a tide reclaiming the shore. The urges are clearer. Stronger. The guilt of betraying another alpha sits heavy on his tongue. But worse than the guilt is the undercurrent of fear. That Harry now sees him as a threat. A freak. A liar. That this warmth between them, that had developed so slowly and surely until it blinded Louis, would shatter under the harsh light of the truth.

“I understand if you want me gone.”

Harry reaches out, resting a hand lightly on Louis’ thigh. His touch is less  dominating at the moment, more steady and warm than aggressive. 

“You’re not sorry you stayed.” The way he says it is makes it clear it’s a statement, not a question.

“No.” Louis closes his eyes, his wolf growling at the vulnerable action. “I’m sorry I stayed like this. You trusted me.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment. Then he reaches out, brushing his fingers against the soft skin of Louis’ cheek. “I knew something was off.”

Heart jumping, his eyes fly open and it’s a choked, “What?”

“I didn’t know what exactly. But you were too careful. Too measured. Your scent was... dulled. Like you were hiding behind it but I never thought you were dangerous. You didn’t feel like a threat.”

Louis lets out a humorless breath. “I’m an alpha who let you think you’d claimed an omega. I am a threat.”

Quiet. 

Soft. 

Alpha.

“No,” Harry refuses simply. “You’re just scared.” Louis flinches at being seen. 

“You’re not angry?”

“I’m not thrilled that the pack’s safety was jeopardized or about being lied to but it brought me you… And you’re right. Maybe we would’ve been too hostile,” Harry looks angry, his brow furrowed and his eyes dark but his movements are soft as he tucks his head into the side of Louis’ neck. 

There’s a bit of guilt and sadness in the words, Harry curling tighter as if he isn’t pressed skin to skin against Louis’ back. It makes his head spin a little, especially the accompanying rumble.

He shivers from the pressure and wetness of his tongue against his scent glands, barely catching the words Harry distracted mumbles in between licks. 

“But I can smell you now. Really smell you.” His gaze drops to Louis’ neck, then back to his eyes. “And whatever you are, you’re still mine.” 

“The pack won't accept me even if we’re courting.” Shit. He didn’t mean to say that but it’s a truth he worries about. He blinks a couple of times, the mess of his emotion and the blend of instincts pushing for him to whine discontented.

“They trust me.” He’s disgruntled as he says it, nosing along his neck still. Louis closes his eyes before forcing them back open. He can’t get lost in the feeling…even if he desperately wants to throw his entire life away just to keep it. 

“And if they don’t-“

“I’ll bond you right now.”

The words die abruptly on his lips. Harry’s sitting up a little to look at the side of his face and it feels like a hand over a stove. Louis is dizzy and it takes him a moment to register the subtle grinding Harry’s cock starts to do against this ass.

Right. He’s in rut.

With an exhale, he sits up. “It’s just your rut talking.”

“You triggered it. You’re mine. I don’t get this way of breeding omegas. I enjoy it but it’s clinical. Duty. You are life.” 

Determinedly, Harry cages Louis in with one hand holding his weight above his body and the other gripping his thigh as he opens Louis’ legs up. Startled, Louis puts a hand on Harry’s chest and huffs out a breath. It does nothing to distract Harry’s cock from nudging against his wet exposed hole.

They’re both panting without anything having started. Fuck. Louis is so ruined. 

Harry’s eyes are dark and wanting, darting from where he’s almost inside of him to the flushed and dazed look on his face. 

“Tell me you don’t want it.”

“What,” Louis chokes out, back already arching a little against the bed. Harry’s leaning down to leave marks on his chest and neck, a growl rumbling against both of their chests.

“Tell me you don’t want my bite and I won’t,” Harry hisses through gritted teeth, the tip of his cock pushing in slightly. Louis’ mouth falls open on a throaty moan, his cock fat and heavy inbetween them. 

Want it. 

Want it.

You can’t want it but you do.

He doesn’t get any words out, Harry’s hips thrusting his cock back in. The moan that tears from Harry’s throat is full of relief and gratitude, heat racking through every fiber of their beings. 

“Alpha.”

The words send a shiver down Louis' spine, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. Harry's grip on his thigh tightens, his other hand sliding up to palm the back of Louis' head, tangling in his hair.

Harry's cock slides in deeper, inch by delicious inch, stretching him open with a sweet, burning ache that makes his toes curl. They're both alphas, his secret is out yet Harry’s knot starting to grow with each thrust is undeniable.

"‘s good baby?" Harry checks, his voice low and smug. He knows the answer, can see it in the way Louis' body responds to his every move. "this what you want? To be taken like this?"

"Yeah," Louis gasps, unable to form coherent sentences. He can barely think, Harry’s rut scent intensifying as if trying to sink into his very pores. It’s not enough for the alpha to be inside him, he’s truly claiming him in every way he can think of. Tears blur in Louis’ eyes, so overwhelmed that he whines as he buries his nose in Harry’s neck. 

"Good,” Harry grunts, both commanding and reassuring. He starts to move, his hips setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that makes Louis' eyes water with pleasure. The room is filled with the sound of their bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin on skin and the occasional guttural moan.

"Fuck," Louis repeats, his voice strained. He tries to push back, to meet Harry's every thrust, but the other alpha is too strong. He's forced to just take it, his body trembling under Harry's weight.

But Harry isn't cruel. He sees the desperation in Louis' eyes and adjusts his angle slightly, hitting that sweet spot that makes Louis' legs shake. A high-pitched whine escapes him, and Harry's smile widens.

"There we go," Harry murmurs, his teeth sinking into the juncture of Louis' neck and shoulder. The sting of pain sends a jolt of pleasure through Louis, making him cry out. Harry's cock swells inside him, the alpha's bite spreading and securing the bond.

Louis' eyes fly open, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly as he tries to process the overwhelming sensations. Harry's teeth are embedded in his flesh, his cock moving steadily inside him, and all he can do is whine and squirm, desperately trying to get closer. It's a strange stream of submission and need, feeling all at once.

When he’s able to return to his body a little, it takes him a few tries to make out the words Harry’s chanting into the bite mark in his neck.

Mine.

Mate.

Louis can only nod, his mouth forming a silent yes as Harry's teeth break the skin again as if Louis needs more proof that he’s owned mind, body, and soul. The pain is exquisite, a sharp contrast to the pleasure of Harry's cock sliding in and out of him. The room feels hot, the air heavy with desire and the scent of their wolves rejoicing the steady connection of their fresh bond.

"Gonna knot," Harry cries, a gruff growl cutting through that sends another shock of pleasure through Louis. "Take it like the good alpha you are."

With that, Harry's rhythm changes, becoming faster, more punishing. Each thrust hits that spot deep inside Louis that makes him feel like he's going to shatter into a million pieces. The bite on his neck sends waves of pleasure through him, mixing with the pain to create an explosive throbbing pulse that has him panting and writhing.

He can feel himself getting closer to the edge, his body begging for release. Harry seems to sense it, his own movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own orgasm.

"Come for me, Lou. Alpha. Come all over my cock."

The words are all it takes. With a shout, Louis' body tenses, his muscles tightening around Harry's cock as he comes in thick, ropy spurts. The pleasure is blinding, white-hot and intense, leaving him trembling and gasping for air. Harry's bite releases, but he doesn't stop moving, riding out the aftershocks of Louis' climax before finally stilling.

He’s rumbling again. Louis’ eyes flutter open, dazed from the overwhelming completeness that the bond radiates. As pleased as Harry’s emitting from his side of it, he fusses over him as he lays them both on their sides. He brushes the sweat damp hair from Louis’ forehead, wiping gently at the corners of his mouth and smoothing his palm over the different parts of his skin where bruises might form. Instinct and love twined together now, indistinguishable,

“Alpha,” Harry sighs, and it elicits a shiver from Louis.

The pack alpha knows him, inside and out, no way around it with the bond singing through their souls. And yet he’d mated him anyway, confident that the pack would accept Louis’ truth as easily as he had. It’s reckless, and uncertain but the pure love he’s feeling must be clear from the dopey smile forming on Harry’s face.

“Wanted you from the moment you came stumbling in, Lou. Told the council and everything. I got teased about it mercilessly.”

The alpha giggles at the utter shock on Louis’ face, nosing into his neck and rumbling when Louis makes room for him to scent.  Anybody else might have been embarrassed, angry, something that made sense but all he feels is complete and utter relief. His wolf rumbles and the joy that sparks on his mate’s face is breathtaking. He thinks about the reassurances he’d been given before they bonded.

And whatever you are, you’re still mine.

They trust me.

You’re mine.

You are life.

“Home,” Louis pushes out, the swelling of his heart forcing it out from his lungs. The sparkle in Harry’s eyes tells him he gets the double meaning.

“Welcome home, love.”