Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry hums along to the song on the radio, swaying a little as he balances Sienna on his hip. The nightie he threw on earlier swishes around his thighs when he moves, and he sings the chorus right into her tiny face. She squeals, gummy smile spreading wide, and he kisses her cheek like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

“You like that, huh?” he laughs, bouncing her as he checks the roast in the oven. “Mummy’s got pipes, don’t tell anyone.”

Sienna kicks her little feet, making grabby hands toward his curls, and Harry’s chest aches with how much he loves her.

He always knew he wanted this—kids, a home, to be a mummy. For years he imagined a house full of tiny feet, full of voices. At thirty-three, he finally has it. Or at least one piece of it. He thought by now there’d be at least four little ones underfoot, but he’s grateful for his perfect girl. His Sienna.

He kisses her soft head, lets her fist his nightie as he stirs the gravy. “You’re all I ever wanted.” he whispers against her hair.

It isn’t exactly the life he dreamed in every detail, but it’s close. Greg provides for them, works hard, always makes sure Harry and Sienna are comfortable. That’s what matters. A husband who’s good, respectful, handsome. A safe, steady home. That’s what Harry wanted for his children. And that’s what Sienna has.

Still, things aren’t always simple.

Greg is thirty-seven, raised on tradition. He never touched Harry before the wedding night, said he wouldn’t disrespect his omega like that. And Harry had been grateful. It felt romantic, almost. But when it finally happened… well, it wasn’t exactly what he expected. Fast, routine, always missionary. Over before Harry could even catch his breath.

Sometimes Greg would reward him, a little extra touch, a finger if he’d been especially sweet. Harry thought it was nice, still thinks it’s nice, because what else does he know? Greg’s always been a little distant, but lately, it’s worse.

Ever since Sienna was born, Greg hasn’t touched him much at all. Asked him to cover up when Harry nursed in bed. Made passing comments about his body. About diets. About whether he thought of the gym. Harry told him, gently, that it’s just a post-pregnancy body. Give it a few months and everything would settle back, but it still hurt because Greg works so hard for them, and Harry can’t give him much in return. He wants to at least look good for his Alpha. And hearing that he doesn’t… it stings.

Harry shakes the thought off, brushing a curl out of his face as he bounces Sienna once more. He glances at the clock. Greg will be home soon. Dinner smells perfect, Sienna’s all giggles, the kitchen is warm.

He smiles, pressing another kiss to his daughter’s cheek. “Daddy’s coming home any minute now, love. Let’s be good for him, yeah?”

Sienna beams up at the words, and Harry can’t help grinning right back. He peppers her cheeks with kisses, soft and quick, until she’s squealing again. Happiness swells in his chest, warm and full, as he sets her in the baby swinger by the counter. She grabs at the dangling toys immediately, gurgling like they’re the most fascinating things in the world.

“Good girl.” Harry says fondly, smoothing a hand over her little head before turning back to the roast. He plates everything carefully, no meat for him, just veg and potatoes, and sets the dishes out on the table.

The front door clicks open. Harry’s heart lifts automatically.

Greg steps inside, loosening his tie as he shuts the door with his shoulder. He’s still in his work suit, hair swept back neatly, handsome as ever in that clean, businesslike way. Harry takes him in, warmth spreading through his chest just at the sight.

“Hi, love,” Greg says absently, dropping his briefcase. He leans down first to Sienna, brushing a quick kiss against her head as she coos at him. Then he glances at Harry. “Evenin’.”

Harry smiles. “Hi. Dinner’s ready.”

They sit. Greg digs in straight away, and Harry follows, ignoring the small twist of hurt that he hasn’t been kissed hello in weeks. Maybe Greg’s just tired. Work’s a lot. Harry shouldn’t think too much of it.

“How was work?” Harry asks gently.

Greg exhales hard through his nose. “Bloody nightmare. Johnson dropped the report again, useless idiot. I swear, I’m surrounded by fucking idiots.”

Harry winces. “Not in front of Essie.” he murmurs.

“Right. Sorry,” Greg says it flat, no real weight to it, and goes on. “Anyway, I had to stay late fixing everything myself, of course. Nobody knows how to pull their own weight.” he pushes his food around as he talks, venting, sharp with every word.

Harry nods, listening quietly, letting him get it out. He eats in small bites, trying to keep the air light.

Greg looks over suddenly, gaze dropping to Harry’s plate. “You’re gonna eat all that?”

Harry blinks. “Um. Yeah? I mean, I don’t have the meat, so I just put a bit more of everything else. It’s the same portion as yours, really.”

Greg scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I’m an Alpha. You’re an Omega. You’re supposed to be smaller, that’s the point.”

Harry’s stomach twists. He ducks his head quickly. “Oh. Right.” he pushes at his potatoes, appetite gone in an instant.

He keeps eating anyway, because he doesn’t want to make it a thing, doesn’t want to upset him.

Greg chews a moment longer, then brightens. “Oh, right babe, I’ve got a little something for you.”

Harry’s head lifts at once, heart skipping. “Yeah? What is it?”

Greg wipes his mouth, stands, and disappears into the other room. Harry sits straighter, excitement buzzing faint in his chest. Maybe it’s a holiday. Maybe just the two of them, finally. Or a spa day? God, he’d kill for a back massage.

Greg returns with a small envelope. Harry smiles, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek as he takes it. “Thank you, love.”

He opens it quickly, eager, and inside, he finds a gym membership card for a whole year.

His heart sinks, stomach dropping low. His Alpha thinks he’s unattractive. He’s failed him. His body isn’t enough, even now.

Before the ache can turn to tears, Greg is already talking. “I did my research, you know. Picked the best trainer they had, really recommended. His name’s Louis, he’s twenty-four and he was the best one they had. You’re gonna look amazing in no time. Hot as ever.”

Harry forces a small smile, his voice thin. “Thanks, Greg.”

He looks down at the card again, fingers tight around it. If this is what he can do in return for his husband who works so hard, who gives them so much, then he’ll do it.

༄

Harry pulls at the hem of his sports bra for the tenth time since leaving the house. The matching shorts squeeze tighter than he expected. He ordered his usual size online, but now the fabric clings to every dip and curve, highlighting things Greg always mentions. The softness at his stomach. The way his thighs press together.

Maybe Greg’s right. Maybe this will be good for him.

He smooths a palm over his bun, takes a deep breath, and steps into the gym.

The air smells faintly of rubber mats and something sharp-clean, and everywhere there are bodies moving, weights clanking, machines humming. Harry hovers uncertainly, clutching his membership card.

He makes his way to the desk at the reception. The girl behind it smiles, scans his card, and points him toward the training area. “Your personal trainer should meet you there.”

Harry thanks her softly, heart thumping. He tugs his top down again, shoulders tight, and follows her directions.

Then he sees him, wearing a black tank top, arms tattooed from shoulder to wrist, tanned skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat. A jagged scar cuts across his bicep, and somehow it only makes him hotter. His shorts hang loose on his hips, legs strong, hair ruffled but annoyingly perfect. There’s stubble on his jaw, catching the light, framing a smile that’s warm and easy.

But it’s the scent that hits Harry hardest.

Tobacco and mint. Sharp and rich and Alpha. It’s heady, dizzying, and Harry has to grip the strap of his gym bag tighter as something in him flutters low and hot. For a moment it’s overwhelming, almost too much.

Louis smiles at him, stepping closer, voice smooth. “Harry, right? I’m Louis. Good to finally meet you.”

Harry nods quickly. “Yeah. Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“Perfect,” Louis says, clapping his hands lightly. “So, I’ve got your program here. Figured we’ll start with basics and then build up, since we’ve got the whole year ahead.”

Harry blinks. “My… program?”

Louis lifts a sheet of paper from his clipboard, brows lifting. “Yeah, the options you chose. It says here you picked cardio endurance, interval training, and high-intensity circuits.”

Harry frowns, shaking his head. “I didn’t… I didn’t choose anything.”

Louis tilts his head, confused. “Really? That’s weird. Usually new clients tick their preferences when they sign up. Helps me tailor everything.”

“Oh,” Harry fiddles with his bracelet, cheeks warm. “My Alpha got me the membership. I didn’t… um. I didn’t pick anything.”

Louis pauses, then nods slowly. “Got it. Well, if he signed you up, maybe he told them what you wanted to focus on?” he glances back at the page. “Cardio, interval, circuits, pretty much all geared toward weight loss, honestly.”

Harry’s throat tightens. He tucks a curl behind his ear, staring down at his shoes. “It wasn’t… necessarily my idea.”

Louis frowns slightly. “What do you mean?”

Harry swallows, voice small. “Well, I’ve gained some weight after having my daughter a couple months ago and I don’t really look attractive for my husband. So… yeah.”

Louis’ smile drops, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Wait. I’m sorry, tell me I got it wrong,” his voice is calm but sharp, the kind of tone that makes Harry straighten instinctively. “Your Alpha bought you a membership to lose weight because he wants you to look ‘better’ after you just gave birth? To his child?”

Harry swallows, cheeks heating. “Well… yeah.”

Louis lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Harry blinks at him, nerves skittering. “What?”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Louis says, still shaking his head, “but I don’t think I can continue our partnership.”

Harry’s stomach twists. “What? Why? Is it… do I look that bad?”his voice cracks slightly, panic flickering in his eyes. “I mean, I know I gained weight, but is it really so bad you can’t do anything with it?”

Louis’s head snaps up. “What? No. Absolutely not,” his tone is firm, almost offended. “That’s not it at all.”

Harry stares at him, lips parted.

“I can’t train you if you don’t want to be here,” Louis continues, voice softer now but no less intense. “If you’re being forced into it. That’s not how this works.”

“I’m not forced,” Harry insists quickly, fiddling with the hem of his shorts. “I came here because I wanted to.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “You came here because your Alpha wanted you to. And you want to be good for him. That’s not the same thing.”

Harry’s cheeks burn hotter. “That’s not... He works really hard for us. I just want to look good for him. What’s wrong with that?”

Louis exhales slowly, crossing his arms. His tattooed muscles flex, and Harry swallows hard.

“It’s messed up,” Louis says finally, “because you’re doing it for someone else. Not for yourself. And if you don’t own this, if you’re not here because you want it, then it won’t work. That’s the base of everything. Training, growth, confidence. It has to come from you.”

Harry shifts uncomfortably, the words sitting heavy and strange in his stomach. Something flutters low, something he doesn’t want to name. It’s just biology. A handsome Alpha being protective of an Omega. Nothing more.

“I do want it,” Harry says finally, quietly but steady. “It was his idea, but he’s not wrong. I want to feel better in my body. Healthier, stronger” he hesitates. “I want it.”

Louis studies him, sharp blue eyes searching. “Harry, are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not just saying that because you don’t want to upset me?”

Harry huffs out a nervous laugh. “Why would I care about upsetting you? I barely know you.”

Louis’ lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile. “Fair point. But I mean it. If you’re only here to please your Alpha, I won’t do this.”

Harry lifts his chin a little, meeting his gaze. “I’m here because I want to be here. Even if it started with him, I’m saying yes now. To you.”

Louis holds his stare for a long moment, then sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Fine,” his tone is reluctant, but his eyes soften. “We’ll start slow. Just… promise me, if you ever feel like you’re doing this for someone else instead of you, you’ll tell me. Deal?”

Harry nods quickly. “Deal.”

“Good,” Louis gestures toward a hallway. “Lockers are down there. Leave your stuff, get comfortable, and meet me back on the floor.”

Harry’s heart is still fluttering weirdly as he walks toward the locker room. He sets his bag into an empty locker, shuts the door gently, and rests his forehead against the cool metal for a second. One breath in, one breath out. He straightens, adjusts the strap of his sports bra, and heads back out.

Louis is waiting by the mats, still holding those papers, a pen tucked behind his ear. When he spots Harry, he offers a warm, easy smile, not intimidating at all, despite the way he looks.

“Alright,” Louis says, tapping the page, “so I’ve got your data here. Weight, height, all that stuff. And just so you know, your weight is normal. Completely healthy. You don’t need to lose or gain anything. So what we’ll do is focus on toning and strength. If you want to shed a bit of extra fat, we can, but nothing extreme. I’m not letting you cross the line between ‘just enough’ and ‘too little,’ yeah?”

Harry nods quickly, grateful but unsure what to say. “Okay.”

Louis scribbles something down, then glances up again. “It says here you don’t follow any diet?”

Harry shakes his head. “Uh, no, not really. I mean, I don’t eat meat, but that’s it.”

“Got it.” Louis writes that down too, quick and neat. Then he sets the papers aside and looks at Harry directly. His gaze is steady, but soft. “Last thing.”

Harry tilts his head. “What’s that?”

Louis rests his arms over his chest, tattoos flexing. “Are you gonna be comfortable?”

Harry blinks at him. “…Comfortable?”

“Yeah,” Louis shrugs, like it’ s obvious. “I’m an Alpha. Some Omegas don’t feel right having an Alpha this close, correcting posture, spotting them, touching if needed. I get it, it’s totally fine. I just need to make sure everyone I work with feels safe. That they’re okay with me.”

Harry hesitates. He thinks about it honestly. Louis doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. Not in the slightest. The only thing that’s wrong is how stupidly handsome he is, and the way Harry’s belly keeps flipping whenever Louis looks at him. But that’s not discomfort. That’s… well. That’s something else entirely.

“Oh. No, it’s fine,” Harry says quickly. “I’ll be fine.”

Louis studies him for a beat, eyes searching. “You’re sure?”

Harry nods firmly. “Yeah. Really.”

Louis claps his hands together. “Alright then, first session. What do you want to start with?”

Harry blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Louis tilts his head, blue eyes twinkling. “This is your body, your choice. What sounds fun?”

Harry laughs nervously. “Fun? At the gym?”

“Exactly,” Louis grins. “Shock me.”

Harry bites his lip, fidgeting. “I… don’t know. I’ve never done this before. Maybe you should just pick.”

“Ohhh, dangerous words,” Louis wags his finger, mock serious. “When you leave it up to me, I get to choose the torture.”

Harry laughs in spite of himself, covering his mouth with his hand. “Alright then. Torture me.”

Louis’ grin widens. “Careful, darling, I just might” he gestures toward the row of treadmills. “Let’s start simple. Intervals. Walk, jog, walk. Easy.”

Harry eyes the machine like it might bite him. “That looks… complicated.”

“It’s a treadmill, Harry. You literally just walk.”

Harry snorts. “Yeah, until you crank it up and I fly off the back like a cartoon.”

Louis laughs, deep and warm. “Promise I’ll catch you if you do.”

Harry climbs on, adjusting his bun nervously. “Don’t you dare laugh if I fall.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Louis taps the screen, setting it up. “Okay, start walking. Nice and easy.”

Harry starts walking, shoulders tight. “This isn’t so bad.”

“See? Natural,” Louis leans on the side rails, close enough Harry can smell the tobacco-mint scent again. “Alright, jog time. Ready?”

Harry frowns. “Define jog.”

“Little faster. Nothing wild. Go on.”

Harry presses the button, speed climbing. He jogs awkwardly, arms stiff.

Louis bites back a laugh. “You look like you’re being chased by a bee.”

Harry gasps out a laugh. “Don’t make me laugh, I’ll trip!”

“That’s the point!” Louis teases. “Relax your arms, you’re not punching anyone.”

Harry groans, trying to loosen up. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You look great,” Louis says, voice dropping softer for a moment, then he smirks again. “Like Bambi on ice.”

Harry squeals out a laugh, nearly tripping. “Stop it!”

Louis chuckles, steadying the rail with one hand just in case. “Alright, alright, back to walk. Slow it down.”

Harry slaps the button with relief, chest heaving. “I’m dying.”

“That was sixty seconds.”

Harry glares at him. “I am dying.”

Louis grins, scribbling something on his paper. “Note: client has a flair for the dramatic.”

Harry pants, tugging at his bra strap. “Client is reconsidering this torture.”

“Client’s doing brilliant,” Louis says firmly, but his eyes are amused. “And if you keep at it, you’ll surprise yourself. Promise.”

Harry meets his gaze, cheeks flushed from more than just running. Louis nudges the clipboard under his arm and says casually, “So. Tell me about your everyday life.”

Harry blinks at him. “My what?”

“Your day-to-day,” Louis shrugs, fiddling with the treadmill controls to reset. “What you get up to. What a typical Harry day looks like.”

Harry frowns, confused. “What does that have to do with our training sessions?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Louis grins. “I just think it’s nice to befriend my clients. Makes everything easier when there’s no tension. But hey, if you’d rather keep it strictly professional…” he raises his brows, feigning seriousness. “We can. Just warning you, it’s gonna be boring as hell.”

Harry bites his lip, trying not to smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Not denying it.”

Harry exhales, still pink in the cheeks. “…You’re right though. Fine. Everyday life,” he thinks for a second, eyes flicking to the moving belts before stepping off the treadmill. “Well… I’m a stay-at-home mum.”

Louis nods, motioning for him to follow to another corner of the gym. “That’s a full-time workout in itself.”

Harry laughs softly. “Tell me about it. My daughter’s four months old. She’s my everything.”

Louis stops by a mat, dropping the clipboard to the floor. “Four months. Damn. How’re you holding up?”

Harry kneels onto the mat, stretching his legs out awkwardly. “Tired. Happy, though. She’s perfect. Smiles all the time, even when I’m so exhausted I could cry. She makes it worth it.”

Louis leans against the wall, watching him. “Sounds like you’re smitten.”

Harry grins, glowing. “Completely.”

“Name?” Louis crouches down to adjust the mat under Harry’s foot.

“Sienna.”

Louis hums, smiling. “Pretty. Like her Mum.”

Harry blinks, heat crawling up his neck. He looks down quickly, fiddling with his laces. “Thanks.”

Louis clears his throat, moving back into trainer mode. “Alright. Let’s switch it up. We’ll do some bodyweight squats. Good for building strength without equipment. Stand up, feet shoulder-width.”

Harry rises, mimicking Louis’ stance as best he can. “Like this?”

“Little wider. Good,” Louis steps closer, tapping his knee lightly. “Push them out, don’t let them cave in.”

Harry obeys, cheeks warm, but keeps talking. “Anyway, my days are mostly nappies, bottles, and lullabies. Greg—my Alpha—works long hours, so I’m the one home all day.”

Louis nods, watching his form. “And you’re okay with that?”

Harry shrugs, lowering into the squat and groaning. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. To be a mum, to raise lots of babies.” he exhales, rising back up. “It’s not quite like that yet. But…” he trails off, eyes flicking to the mirror.

Louis’ gaze softens. “You’ve got time.”

Harry smiles faintly, adjusting his stance. “That’s what I tell myself.”

Louis straightens, clapping his hands. “Alright, give me ten more. Then we’ll talk babies again.”

Harry groans dramatically, sinking down. “This is cruel.”

“Cruel but effective,” Louis smirks. “C’mon, darling. Show me what you’ve got.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but his chest feels light, and does what he’s told.

When he wobbles back up from his squat, his legs shaking. “Okay, I’m dying again.”

Louis smirks. “You’ve got five more.”

Harry gapes at him. “No. Absolutely not. Water, please. Or I’ll collapse right here and you’ll have to explain to the receptionist why there’s a dead Omega on your mat.”

Louis chuckles, shaking his head. “Fine. Water break. But only because I don’t want the paperwork.”

Harry sighs in relief, grabbing his bottle and taking a long gulp. “Bless you.”

Louis leans back against the wall, arms folded. “Dramatic and stubborn. Dangerous combo.”

Harry wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still catching his breath. “So, since I’m on break… tell me about your everyday life.”

Louis quirks a brow. “My everyday life?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugs. “Fair’s fair. You asked me.”

Louis pushes off the wall, glancing around the gym. “This. This is my everyday life” he gestures at the machines, the mats, the clang of weights. “I train clients, I clean up after them, I repeat. Day in, day out.”

Harry tilts his head, curious. “You never wanted to do something else?”

“I thought I did,” Louis scratches the back of his neck, thoughtful. “Was planning on uni, but… I like it here. I like pushing people, seeing them grow. Think this is what I’ll do for a long while.”

Harry smiles softly. “That’s nice.”

Louis smirks, tipping his head. “Nice, huh? That’s all you’ve got?”

Harry rolls his eyes, sipping his water again. “Sorry, should I throw confetti?”

Louis chuckles. “You’re stalling.”

Harry blinks. “What?”

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” Louis’ grin widens, playful. “Trying to distract me with small talk so I forget to make you finish your set. Classic move.”

Harry gasps, feigning innocence. “Me? Never.”

“Uh-huh,” Louis picks up the clipboard, tapping it with his pen. “Break’s over, sweetheart. Back on your feet.”

Harry groans, dragging himself upright. “You’re evil.”

“Thank you,” Louis shoots back with a wink. “Now let’s see those five squats.”

Harry mutters under his breath as he gets into position, but his lips twitch at the corners all the same.

Harry grunts through the last squat, legs burning, and straightens up with a dramatic sigh.

“There,” he pants. “Happy?”

Louis claps him on the back, firm but friendly. “Not so bad after all, huh?”

Harry rolls his eyes, but the smile breaks through anyway. “I’ll regret this tomorrow.”

“Good regret,” Louis says with a grin. He gestures toward another mat space. “Alright, let’s move on. I want to check your posture with some hip hinges, good for back strength, helps with lifting. C’mon.”

Harry groans, dragging his feet, but follows. Louis demonstrates quickly, feet planted, knees soft, hinging forward at the hips while keeping his back flat. “You try.”

Harry mimics the movement, sticking his bum out more than he probably should.

Louis chuckles low. “Close, but not quite.”

Harry straightens, embarrassed. “What’d I do wrong?”

“Too much bend in your back,” Louis steps behind him, voice easy. “Get back into position. I’ll fix it.”

Harry hesitates, then obeys, bending forward again.

Louis’ hands settle lightly at his waist, warm through the fabric. “Alright. Core tight,” he slides one hand up between Harry’s shoulder blades, guiding. “Flatten here. That’s it.”

Harry’s breath hitches. Louis is close, too close, his chest brushing lightly against Harry’s back as he leans in. “Better,” Louis murmurs near his ear, low and calm. “Now push your hips back. More. Good.”

Harry swallows hard, the sound loud to his own ears. He can feel the heat of Louis’ body pressed just behind his, the faint scrape of stubble near his cheek. If Louis doesn’t move soon, if he keeps this up, he’s going to get wet. Harry panics silently.

“Good,” Louis says again, stepping back at last. “That’s the position. Try again, keep the line straight.”

Harry exhales shakily, forcing himself through another rep. His cheeks burn, but Louis just watches, nodding.

“Perfect. Nailed it.”

Harry manages a tight smile. “Thanks.”

“See? Natural,” Louis says, scribbling a note on his sheet. “You’ll be deadlifting in no time.”

Harry forces a laugh, relief flooding him that Louis moved away when he did. Because for a terrifying second, he thought his body was going to betray him completely, slick pooling, scent giving him away.

He pushes through the reps, nodding absently at Louis’ chatter about form and consistency. But in his head, panic spins. He almost got wet for another Alpha. His trainer.

He tells himself it’s not about Louis. It’s just biology. That’s all. A body that hasn’t had an orgasm in too long, reacting to proximity, touch, voice. Nothing more. Nothing he can’t control.

At least, that’s what he keeps insisting.

By the time Louis finally calls it, Harry’s legs feel like jelly and his hair is sticking to his temples. His sports bra is damp, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“Alright,” Louis says, scribbling the last note onto his clipboard. “That’s it for today. You survived.”

Harry collapses onto the mat, gulping from his bottle. “Barely.”

Louis chuckles, crouching down. “Don’t be dramatic. We actually make a pretty good team.”

Harry shoots him a look but can’t help smiling faintly. It’s true. For all the pain, Louis had been steady, watching him closely, adjusting when he needed to, asking how he felt after every new movement. Not just pushing him for the sake of it. Caring, in his own brusque way.

Louis leans on one knee. “Today was just a bunch of small things, so I could get to know your body more.”

Harry flushes immediately, choking on his sip of water.

Louis grins, cheeky. “Relax. Strictly professional.”

Harry rolls his eyes, hiding behind his bottle.

“Anyway,” Louis continues, “you’re already in good shape. Probably all that running around after a four-month-old.”

Harry giggles tiredly. “Feels like a workout most days.”

“Exactly. So we’re gonna take advantage of this year you’ve got booked. You’re gonna love the results.” Louis smirks knowingly.

Harry swallows, cheeks pink, and nods. “If you say so.”

Louis pushes to his feet, clapping his hands together. “But before I let you crawl home, you’ve got homework.”

Harry groans. “You’re joking.”

“Don’t worry,” Louis tilts his head. “Nothing crazy. Just something you can do at home, between bottles and nappies. Ten bodyweight squats a day. Whenever you can squeeze them in. Kitchen, nursery, whatever. Easy, right?”

Harry stares at him. “Easy for you maybe. You’re cruel.”

Louis grins. “I’m effective.”

Harry huffs, draining the last of his water. “Fine. Ten a day.”

“Good Omega,” Louis teases, scribbling one last note. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Harry pushes himself up, gathering his bag. “Thanks for today. I didn’t think I’d enjoy it, but… it was actually nice.”

Louis flashes him a smile, warm and a little too smug. “Told you so.”

Harry shakes his head, turning toward the lockers.

“Oh, and Harry?”

Harry glances back, hand on his strap. “Yeah?”

Louis’ eyes glint, playful but firm. “Tell your Alpha to mind his business for me, yeah?”

Harry freezes, flushing hot. “I—” he bites his lip, looking away quickly. “It’s not fair. You don’t even know him.”

“Maybe not,” Louis says, softer now, “but I know you deserve better than to feel like shit.”

Harry swallows, heart pounding. He mumbles a quiet, “Goodnight.” and leaves before Louis can say anything else.

In the quiet of the changing room, Harry exhales shakily. Louis had been rude. He didn’t know Greg. He shouldn’t assume.

Still, as Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out into the evening air, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe this year wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought.

༄

Sienna unlatches with a soft sigh, milk-drunk and warm against Harry’s chest. He smiles down at her, kissing her fine curls before easing her into the crib.

“Good girl.” he whispers, tucking the blanket snug around her little body. He waits, still and patient, until her eyelids flutter shut. The monitor hums quietly on the dresser, and only then does he slip out.

The bedroom is dim, just the glow of Greg’s laptop lighting up his broad shoulders. He’s sprawled on the bed in nothing but boxers, phone to his ear, voice clipped and annoyed.

“No, no, listen— I told you to check it twice.”

Harry closes the door gently and doesn’t say a word. He twists his hair into a bun and smooths his nightie down, getting ready to do the squats he promised Louis.

He steps into position by the dresser, inhaling, lowering himself down slowly. His thighs burn, still sore from earlier, but he pushes through it.

By the time he’s on number six, Greg snaps his laptop shut and ends the call. The silence makes Harry glance over, cheeks flushed.

Greg chuckles suddenly.

Harry blinks, pausing mid-squat. “What’s funny?”

Greg shakes his head, smirking. “You. You look funny.”

Harry straightens up, panting softly. “I’m just, uh… Louis gave me some homework. To make sure I stay in shape between sessions.”

Greg lets out another laugh, louder this time. “Christ. Homework?” he shakes his head again, amused. “That guy’s got you squatting in your nightie now?”

The words are light, meant like a joke, but they hit sharp in Harry’s chest. He swallows, nodding quickly, and goes back down for number seven.

Harry finishes the last squat in silence, chest tight, and climbs into bed. He slips under the covers carefully, keeping to his side.

Greg glances over, closing his laptop. “So. How was the session?”

Harry tucks the blanket around his legs. “It was nice. Louis was kind. I’m sore already, but it’s a good sore.”

Greg nods, satisfied. “That means it’s working. You’ll end up extremely fit, I’m telling you.”

Harry forces a small smile. “If you say so.”

Greg shifts closer, brushing a kiss against Harry’s lips. “Told you it would be a good idea,” he kisses him again, firmer this time. “You’re such a good omega to me.”

Harry hums, soft and obedient, when Greg mouths at his jaw.

Greg’s hand slips under the hem of Harry’s nightie, warm against his thigh. It’s the first time he’s touched him like this since before Sienna was born. Harry’s breath catches in relief.

The sessions are going to do him good, he tells himself, clinging to the thought. If this is what Greg wants, if this is what it takes for his Alpha to want him again, then it’s worth it.

Greg’s mouth drifts lower, down the slope of Harry’s throat, until his lips hover at the curve between shoulder and neck. The place every Omega knows by instinct. The place where the mark belongs.

Greg lingers there, murmuring against his skin. “Soon. Right here. You’ll carry me here,” he presses a kiss into the spot, rougher than the ones before. “Everyone will know you’re mine.”

Harry shivers, eyes fluttering shut.

They aren’t mated yet. Greg’s family traditions had drawn a line in the sand—no bonding before marriage, no marking a pregnant Omega. One by one, those rules pushed the moment further and further away.

Harry had accepted it. He’d smiled, nodded, told himself it was fine. But deep down, his Omega had been aching for it for years. To be claimed fully, to wear Greg’s mark proudly, to feel the tie that meant belonging. His body longs for it, every nerve tuned to the absence.

He had dreamed of that bond since he was young, dreamed of the certainty, the safety, the intimacy of it. To be wholly his Alpha’s, no questions, no distance. To have the proof pressed into his skin.

He’s still waiting.

Greg kisses the spot again, humming low, and Harry lets himself melt into it. Lets himself pretend this is the beginning of that promise. Lets himself feel the heat of his Alpha’s mouth. He hasn’t felt that in a while.

He closes his eyes, sighs softly, and lets himself believe.

Chapter Text

Wednesday afternoon, the living room is alive with soft giggles.

On the playmat in the middle of the rug, Sienna kicks her legs and squeals as three Omega voices coo down at her.

“Look at those little toes!” Maeve gasps, scooping up one pudgy foot and pretending to nibble at it.

“She’s smiling, she loves it,” laughs Isla, brushing a curl off the baby’s forehead. “Oh, Sienna, you’re too precious.”

“Say my name, c’mon,” Teagan teases, wiggling her fingers over the baby’s tummy. “Tee-gan. Forget mummy, I should be your first word.”

“Look at those chubby cheeks. She’s literally edible.” Isla coos, reaching down to boop Sienna’s nose. Sienna squeals like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened.

“Don’t tempt me, I will steal her,” Teagan says dramatically, sipping from her tea and leaning down to kiss Sienna’s forehead. “Harry, lock your doors at night.”

“Excuse me, you’re both wrong,” Maeve cuts in, twirling her spoon in her cup. “She looks just like me. That’s basically my baby. We should have shared custody.”

Harry laughs from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the mat, tea in one hand and his daughter’s foot in the other. “Shared custody? Should’ve thought of that before I went through thirty hours of labor.”

They all laugh, Sienna kicks harder, and the room feels warm and full, like the family Harry’s always wanted.

He sighs a little as he strokes a hand over Sienna’s belly. “Thanks again for agreeing to watch her for me today. I know it was so last minute. Greg said he’d be home early, and then he had to stay at work after all, so…” he shrugs, apologetic.

“Harry,” Teagan gives him a look. “Stop. You don’t need to thank us. We’d watch her every day if you asked. She’s literally our angel.”

“Yeah,” Isla adds, tickling Sienna under the chin until she giggles. “It’s not like Greg’s around more than us.”

Harry blinks, smile faltering. “Hey, don’t say that. He works hard for us.”

Maeve arches a brow, unconvinced. “Sure. But when’s the last time he even put her to bed?”

Harry opens his mouth, ready to answer, but nothing comes out. Because the truth is, Greg usually gets home late. Later than Sienna’s bedtime. And even when he’s on time, he’s tired, already sinking into the sofa, loosening his tie and rubbing at his eyes. Harry never presses , he knows Greg’s days are long, that he carries the weight of their comfort on his shoulders. So Harry just smiles and rocks the baby himself, whispering lullabies until she drifts off.

His silence is enough. The girls exchange looks. Isla smirks knowingly. “Thought so.”

Harry sighs, defensive. “He provides for us. He’s a good Alpha. He doesn’t have to do every single thing—”

“Harry,” Maeve cuts him off gently, her tone softer than her words. “We’re not saying he’s a monster. We’re just saying… you deserve more. You both do.”

Before Harry can argue, Isla glances at the clock on the wall and gasps. “Anyway, don’t you need to leave? You’re gonna be late.”

Harry groans, tipping his head back against the sofa dramatically. “I don’t wanna go. I’d rather just stay here with you lot and drink tea.”

Maeve, leaning down to scoop Sienna into her arms. “Oh, please. You’re telling me you’d rather sit here than go stretch with your fit trainer?”

Harry shoots up, cheeks going red. “I told you guys his fit as in ‘in shape’! Fit as in good at his job! Not fit as in… attractive fit.”

“Sure,” Maeve says, bouncing Sienna gently. “Blue eyes, tattoos, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass… totally not your type.”

“My Alpha is my type.” Harry insists, pointing at them with his half-finished teacup like he’s winning the debate.

Teagan raises her brows. “Last time I checked, your Alpha is a green-eyed, clean-shaven, suit-wearing, rule-following, by-the-book kind of man.”

“And Louis, considering what you told us,” Isla adds sweetly, “is a messy-haired, tattooed, stubbly Alpha with eyes so blue you nearly tripped over your words the first time you mentioned him.”

Harry’s mouth falls open. “I did not trip over my words!”

Maeve grins knowingly. “That’s funny, because you’ve been dating guys who look suspiciously like Louis since high school. Remember that Beta you brought to prom? Practically his clone.”

“I— people change!” Harry protests, flustered, tugging at the hem of his shirt like it might swallow him whole. “What I liked in high school doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Mm-hm,” Isla hums. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not!”

Teagan snorts. “Whatever you say, Harry. Now go.”

Harry heaves a little sigh, setting his teacup down before pushing himself up off the sofa. “Alright then,” he mutters, still reluctant, but knowing he has to go. He pads over to the play mat where Sienna’s happily kicking at a dangling toy, and crouches down to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Mummy loves you, baby.” he whispers, and Sienna coos like she understands, grabbing a fistful of his hair before letting it go. Harry laughs softly, kissing her again.

He stands, brushing off his knees. “Okay, so the pumped milk is in the fridge. Just warm it up, not too hot, she’ll spit it back out if it’s too warm. And don’t even try the formula, she hates it. Makes faces at me like I’ve poisoned her.”

“Diva already.” Teagan murmurs fondly, tickling Sienna’s tummy.

“She’ll want the bunny when she naps, it’s in her crib already. And,” Harry continues, wagging his finger like he’s conducting a very serious lecture, “if she gets fussy, just walk her around the kitchen and put on Beyoncé. Always works.”

“Noted,” Maeve says through her giggles. “Bottle, no formula, and Queen B on standby.”

“She basically is ours, Harry,” Isla adds with a roll of her eyes. “We know what to do. You’ve trained us better than you think.”

He presses his lips together, nodding, but his chest still aches.

Ever since she was born, he hadn’t been away from Sienna for more than an hour at a time. Every sound, every breath, every soft cry—he knew them all. Leaving her behind still felt wrong, like part of him was being tugged the opposite direction.

“I just… want to make sure.”

Teagan leans her head against his shoulder with a grin. “Go on. We’ve got her. Honestly, sometimes I think she likes us more than you.”

Harry gasps, pressing his hand to his chest. “Rude!“

Sienna squeals like she’s in on the joke, and the girls cackle.

Harry shakes his head but he’s smiling. “Alright, alright. Thank you, really. I don’t know what I’d do without you lot.”

Maeve waves him toward the door. “You’d be late to the gym, that’s what. Go. We’ll see you after.”

༄

Harry pushes open the door to the training room, the bass of Run the World (Girls) pulsing faintly from the speakers.

He blinks surprised, then bites down on a smile when he notices Louis standing in front of the mirror, casually curling dumbbells while humming along.

Louis looks maddeningly good like that, with his forearms roped with muscle, veins visible even from here, shoulders broad and steady under the strain. His shirt stretches across his chest every time he lifts, fabric clinging in all the right places.

Harry can’t help thinking how unfair it is that Louis isn’t in a tank top this time. He wants to see the muscles tense, the sharp lines of his arms working, the play of his tattoos moving with each flex. Instead, the plain t-shirt hides too much, leaving Harry’s imagination to fill in the rest, and that’s almost worse.

He swallows hard, cheeks warming. He shouldn’t be thinking about his trainer’s arms. Or shoulders. Or the way the hem of his shirt lifts just slightly with the motion, flashing a strip of tan skin.

It’s still such a ridiculous picture, Louis, looking like the definition of an Alpha, but mouthing who run the world? under his breath. Harry’s giggle slips out before he can stop it.

Louis glances up, catching him. Instantly, his mouth curves into that smug grin Harry’s already starting to recognize.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my absolute ray of sunshine, Harry Styles,” Louis drawls, setting the dumbbells down with a controlled thud. “So full of enthusiasm last time, I thought you’d be camped outside waiting for me.”

Harry flushes, tucking a curl behind his ear. “Shut up.”

Louis smirks. “Seriously though, what’s got you grinning like that? Can’t just be me.”

Harry shrugs, trying to play it cool, but he’s still smiling. “It’s nothing. Just… my daughter. She loves Beyoncé, this song especially. I play it for her when she’s fussy, it’s like magic.”

Louis raises his brows. “Four months old and already a Beyhive?”

Harry giggles, surprised. “You actually know what her fans are called?”

Louis snorts, wiping his palms on his shirt. “Darling, I grew up with four sisters. Trust me, I know more about Beyoncé than the average bloke. I can do the Single Ladies choreo in my sleep.”

Harry bursts out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “Oh my god, I need to see that someday.”

Louis winks. “Earn it, love. Maybe once you survive a month of training without begging me for water breaks, I’ll treat you.”

Harry huffs, but the corner of his mouth is twitching. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Louis gestures toward the mats. “Come on then, warm-ups. Let’s loosen you up before I put you through hell.”

Harry groans dramatically but pads over anyway, starting to stretch alongside Louis. Louis watches, sharp eyes taking in every move, and Harry pointedly ignores the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

After he’s warmed up, Louis leans on the treadmill with that lazy grin of his.

“Alright, you remember this.”

Harry groans. “Ugh, not that again. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Louis smirks, pressing a few buttons on the machine. “Harry, we’ve got a whole year together. You don’t think I’m gonna let you avoid cardio, do you?”

“I hate cardio.” Harry mutters, crossing his arms.

“You hate cardio,” Louis repeats mockingly, then tilts his head, voice playful. “Fine then. We’ll make it fair; if you get on, I’ll get on too. We’ll suffer together, yeah?”

Harry blinks at him, half-annoyed, half-relieved. “You’ll run with me?”

“Course I will. What kind of trainer would I be if I just stood here watching? C’mon, deal?” Louis holds out his hand like they’re making some sacred pact.

Harry rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. Deal.”

They step onto the treadmills side by side, music already thumping from the speakers. The next track kicks in, Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson. Harry blinks.

“This is your playlist?”

Louis starts jogging, perfectly casual. “Yeah. What about it?”

Harry laughs, cheeks flushed from more than just the running. “I don’t know, I just… didn’t think you’d be into this kind of music.”

“Mate, I’ve probably heard every girly pop anthem under the sun. And they’re damn good,” he shrugs, flashing a grin. “You can’t tell me this chorus doesn’t make you feel like you could run a marathon.”

Harry tries to hold back his giggle but fails. “Alright, fair. Sienna’s obsessed with Beyoncé, maybe I’ll raise her on Kelly too.”

“Good taste clearly runs in the family.” Louis says, adjusting his pace, sweat already starting to dampen his shirt.

It’ s oddly comfortable, like they’re just two friends hanging out instead of one trying desperately not to stare at the other’s chest straining against thin fabric.

Suddenly Louis clears his throat, glancing over. “Sorry, babe, mind if I take my shirt off? I’m sweating my tits off over here.”

Harry stumbles for half a second. Normally, the answer would be yes, I do mind, actually. Because why is it fair that Alphas can strip down in public while Omegas showing the same amount of skin is considered scandalous, even indecent? But also… most Alphas wouldn’t bother to ask. They’d just do it.

And well… it’s not like he’d mind seeing Louis without a shirt.

He forces his voice steady, aiming for casual, like it’s nothing. “Go ahead. S’fine.”

Louis gives him a grateful nod, then reaches for the hem of his shirt.

Harry instantly regrets agreeing.

Because Louis doesn’t just whip it off. No, he teases. Slowly drags the fabric up over his torso, inch by inch, like a scene from a film. First, the damp cotton lifts enough to reveal the firm plane of his lower stomach, a faint trail of hair disappearing into his shorts. Then higher, the sharp cut of his abs glistening with sweat under the fluorescent gym lights. Harry’s mouth goes dry.

The tattoos follow, black ink curling over golden-tan skin, alive with the stretch and pull of muscle. Louis tugs the shirt higher still, over his chest, over his strong arms, flexing without meaning to as he peels it off.

Finally, it gets tossed somewhere behind them, forgotten.

Harry’s eyes dart everywhere, drinking in the sculpted lines of Louis’ shoulders, the curve of his biceps, the way his chest rises and falls with each easy breath.

He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to focus on the treadmill’s steady rhythm instead of the way his entire body feels like it’s heating from the inside out.

Louis wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, breath steady even as Harry feels like he’s gonna pass out.

“Sorry,” he says suddenly, glancing at Harry. “I’ve just been getting really fucking hot lately. My rut’s coming up soon, body’s already reacting to it.”

Harry nearly trips again, heat rushing to his cheeks. Ruts and heats are normal everyday things, but still, hearing it so casually from Louis made his stomach swoop.

“Oh, it’s fine. I get it. I get hot close to my heat too.”

Louis nods like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. “You could take yours off too, if you’re hot. I don’t mind.”

The words hang there.

Harry blinks, blush exploding across his face. Louis suddenly looks horrified, eyes going wide.

“Wait, fuck, no— I didn’t mean it like that. I swear. That sounded… God. That sounded so inappropriate” he groans, running a hand through his damp hair, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “I just meant, last time you wore that sports bra, and I figured you had it under your shirt now, and if you were hot you could take your shirt off and… fuck, be more comfortable. Not— not anything else. Christ.” he actually puts his face in his hands while still jogging. “I sound like a creep. Kill me.”

Harry’s giggles bubble out before he can stop them. The sight of this big tattooed Alpha flustered and rambling like a schoolboy is too much. “Don’t worry. I know what you meant.”

Louis peeks at him between his fingers, groaning again. “You’re laughing at me.”

“A little,” Harry admits, still giggling. Then his smile softens. “But really, I get it. I actually was supposed to wear the set today, but it didn’t look good on me. Since I’ve gained weight, I’ve gone up a size, so I just threw this on. I’ll go shopping for a new set soon.”

Louis frowns immediately. “Didn’t look good on you?”

Harry shrugs, eyes fixed on the numbers ticking up on his treadmill. “Yeah. It was showing a lot of what I’ve gained.”

Louis gives him a sharp look.

“Don’t look at me like that. Omegas shouldn’t be bigger, Louis. It’s always been my insecurity. I’m already taller than average, and I can’t wear heels with Greg because it looks funny, me towering over him. I can’t change my height, so I just… I want to at least lose this weight. Then maybe I’ll feel more… Omega.”

Louis stares at him like Harry just sprouted a second head. “What are we, in the fucking 1900s?”

Harry startles, almost laughing at the outrage in his tone. “What?”

“Harry, listen to yourself,” Louis shakes his head, incredulous. “If your Alpha can’t appreciate you exactly the way you are, then that’s his problem, not yours. You’re already more than enough.”

Harry snorts, looking away to hide his blush.“Oh, don’t act like you wouldn’t be embarrassed if you went out with your Omega and they were taller and bigger than you.”

“Embarrassed?” Louis lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Babe, I don’t know what kind of Alphas you’ve been around—and honestly, I don’t know who I feel more sorry for, you or them—but I can tell you this, my pride isn’t paper-thin. I might look fragile when I cry every time I watch The Fox and the Hound, but my ego is not fragile. If my Omega were taller than me, bigger than me, whatever, why the hell would I ever talk them down for it? That’s insane.”

Harry chews on his lip, half-flustered, half-defensive. “Some Alphas just have a preference, it’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with wanting smaller Omegas.”

Louis’ voice drops, more serious now. “There’s nothing wrong with preferences, no. But there’s everything wrong with making your Omega feel less-than because they don’t fit into some tiny box you built in your head. And you,” his eyes flick over Harry, sharp then soft, and it makes Harry’s stomach flip. “Anyone would be fucking lucky to have an Omega with a body like yours. You’re gorgeous, Harry. Not in spite of anything. Because of it.”

Harry stumbles again, barely catching himself, ears flaming red. “You can’t just say things like that,” he mutters.

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

Harry flushes, trying to school his expression, but his cheeks are on fire. “Louis, I have a husband. You can’t just say stuff like that. It’s not appropriate.”

Louis glances at him, still jogging easily. “You know I’m not saying it in that way, Harry. I just…” he shakes his head like he genuinely can’t fathom it. “I can’t believe that man managed to bag an absolute goddess and doesn’t even appreciate what he’s got.”

Harry nearly chokes on his own breath. “I am not a goddess.”

“Excuse me?” Louis barks a laugh. “You absolutely are. You’re beautiful, Harry. And if your Alpha doesn’t treat you like it’s the eighth wonder of the world every time you walk into a room, then I’m sorry, but that says more about him than you.”

Harry frowns, embarrassed. “Don’t talk about Greg like that.”

“I’m just calling it as I see it,” Louis says, tone sharper now. “Your Alpha is probably jealous. You’re not this small, dainty stereotype of an Omega. You’re tall, you’re strong, you’re powerful. That kind of power makes a weak Alpha’s masculinity shrivel up. And instead of owning that, instead of being proud, he probably talks you down to make himself feel taller.”

Harry bites his lip, struggling for words. “…You don’t know him.”

“No, but I know you.” Louis’ eyes flick over him boldly. “And I see that body. Do you have any idea how gorgeous it is?”

Harry practically squeaks, tripping over his own feet. His heart is hammering, not just from the jogging. He stares straight ahead, ears blazing red. And then, of course, his toe catches the treadmill belt and he stumbles hard, arms pinwheeling.

“Shit!” he gasps.

Louis reacts instantly, reaching over to steady him with one hand firm on his elbow, the other darting to Harry’s treadmill console. “Whoa, easy there, Bambi.”

He quickly slams the stop button on Harry’s machine, then his own. Both treadmills whir down to a halt, belts slowin g.

Harry is panting, mortified. “God, kill me now. That was so embarrassing.”

Louis throws his head back and laughs, bright and full. “Bloody hell, Harry, you almost face-planted. And here I was just trying to give you a compliment.”

Harry groans, covering his face.

Louis’ thumb brushes lightly against Harry’s arm before he pulls back. “I think that’s enough cardio then. Let’s do something else. Something that doesn’t risk you breaking your nose.”

Harry glares weakly. “Ha, ha.”

Louis grins. “Come on. How about resistance bands today? Good for strength, low risk of dramatic wipeouts.”

He leads Harry over to a corner where colorful bands are stacked. Harry follows, still trying to calm his racing heart, but Louis’ scent, spiked hotter now with his rut creeping close, is overwhelming. Harry feels like it’s sinking under his skin, tugging at something deep in his chest.

Louis demonstrates the move, anchoring a band under his foot, pulling it upward with slow precision, muscles flexing deliciously. “Your turn.” he says, handing Harry one.

Harry fumbles, and Louis steps in close. “Here, like this,” his hands adjust Harry’s grip. His voice dips, casual but low. “So did you do the homework I gave you?”

Harry swallows hard, too aware of the way Louis’ chest is practically brushing his shoulder, of the hot scent curling around him. “Y-yeah,” he stammers. “I did.”

Louis smirks, approving, and lets the words roll out smooth as velvet. “Good lad.”

Harry’s knees nearly buckle. If Louis weren’t holding his hands steady on the band, he might’ve actually dropped to the floor. His cheeks flame, his stomach flips, and all he can do is nod quickly, because if he opens his mouth he’s not sure what sound will come out.

He tugs the band up awkwardly, trying to mimic Louis’ perfect form, but it looks more like he’s swatting at flies. Louis chuckles under his breath, stepping behind him.

“Alright, gorgeous, let me help.”

Before Harry can protest, Louis’ palms are sliding over his arms, repositioning them. He’s so close, chest brushing Harry’s back lightly, heat seeping right through Harry’s thin shirt. Louis leans in, murmuring by his ear. “Relax your shoulders. That’s good.”

Harry inhales sharply, stomach swooping. He’s suddenly way too aware of every point of contact; Louis’ fingertips grazing his wrist, the warm press of his chest, the soft puff of his breath against his temple. His Omega whines inside him, needy, and Harry prays it doesn’t slip out.

Louis pulls the band with him, guiding Harry into a slow, controlled stretch. “Look at you,stretching all the way without even straining. Flexible little thing, aren’t you?”

The comment goes straight to Harry’s gut. He flushes violently, grateful Louis can’t see his face right now.

Louis hums like he’s considering something. “You do yoga, don’t you? That’s why.”

Harry shakes his head quickly. “Used to, Before Sienna. Haven’t had time since.”

“That’s a shame,” Louis’ hands adjust Harry’s stance one more time before finally letting go, leaving Harry’s skin buzzing in their absence. “We should do it together sometime. It’d be good for you, and fun.”

Harry lets out a breathy laugh, trying to downplay the way his pulse is hammering. “I— I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it.”

“Then think about it now,” Louis says easily, grabbing his water bottle. He takes a swig, then glances back at Harry with a grin that’s just a bit too cheeky. “Matter of fact… we should swap numbers. That way when I find a good class, I can drag you along.”

Harry nearly chokes. “Swap numbers?”

“Yeah,” Louis shrugs like it’s the most casual thing in the world, even though his smirk says otherwise. “Trainer’s job, isn’t it? Make sure my client does the work. Even if it’s yoga.”

Harry bites his lip, heart thumping. He tells himself it’s harmless, professional… but it doesn’t feel like that. Not with Louis’ scent in his nose and that wicked glint in his eyes.

Louis tucks his phone into Harry’s hand and Harry, flustered and pink-cheeked, does it without overthinking, adding his name with a little flower emoji before handing it back. Louis just grins when he sees it, and Harry nearly combusts.

They move through more exercises together—weights, stretches, even a bit of core work. Louis insists on doing a few of the moves alongside Harry, “to show proper form.” Harry’s secretly grateful; watching Louis’ body move makes it easier to copy, less awkward to be the only one struggling. Still, every time Louis bends, stretches, or flexes, Harry’s eyes betray him, lingering on the ripple of his biceps, the tattoos shifting over tan skin, the sweat sliding down the hollow of his throat.

Louis doesn’t even notice… or maybe he does. He sways a little to the music, humming along to a bright pop track pulsing through the gym speakers. His hips roll lazily when he’s catching his breath between sets, shorts clinging to his skin with sweat. He’s radiant in that effortless way, glistening and alive, and Harry feels like he’s being punished just for looking.

His Omega is restless, clawing at him from the inside. The scent of Louis’ sweat mixed with the faint, heady edge of rut coming on is like gasoline to his already frayed nerves. Harry keeps reminding himself that this is just biology. He hasn’t been knotted in so long, hasn’t had his need softened by his Alpha in months. His body’s starved, that’s all. If Greg’s in a good mood tonight, maybe he’ll finally take the edge off.

But as they finish up, Louis claps Harry on the back with a bright, “Good work, darling. You did more than last time, see? Progress.”

Harry has to hold back a whine, knees weak from both exertion and the sound of Louis’ voice.

By the time he’s leaving, gym bag slung over his shoulder and Louis’ number glowing in his contacts, there’s a dampness in his underwear that has nothing to do with sweat. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and the realization makes his face burn as he hurries out the doors, whispering to himself that it’s just hormones. Just lack of a knot.

༄

By the time Harry comes home, the house is quiet. His girls have left him a little note on the counter.

Sienna fed, burped, changed, tucked in. Don’t worry. Have a good night, mama xoxo.

He smiles, his heart soft and grateful.

He showers, shaves until his skin is smooth, lotions every inch until he glows, and takes his time. And when he slides into the lingerie set he’s been saving—the one he bought on a whim during a late-night scroll imagining a day when he’d feel bold enough to wear it—he almost doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror.

Baby pink lace so delicate it looks like it could tear under a breath. The bra lifts his chest in a way that makes him look soft, decadent. The panties sit snug on his hips, high-cut to show off his thighs and bum, a little bow at the front.

He stares at his reflection. For once, he doesn’t immediately want to hide. Louis’ words echo in his mind. Anyone would be lucky to have an omega with a body like you. Harry tilts his head, and sees what Louis has seen.

Still, he pulls on a robe, tying it loosely around himself. He wants this to be a surprise for his Alpha.

When he pads into the living room, Greg’s already on the couch, beer in hand, eyes locked on the football match. Harry sways his hips a little, even though Greg doesn’t notice him yet. Not until Harry stops in front of him, blocking the screen.

“C’mon, babe,” Greg mutters, annoyed. “I’m watching that.”

Harry’s lips curve. He shrugs the robe from his shoulders, lets it slide to the floor. He climbs into Greg’s lap, straddling him, arms slipping around his neck. He leans close, lips brushing along Greg’s jaw.

“Been waiting all day for you,” Harry murmurs, voice sweet and low. “Want you to fuck me, to knot me. Please, Alpha.” he grinds his hips down, coaxing, teasing.

Greg’s hand lands on his waist, holding him still. “Harry. Stop.”

Harry freezes. “What?” he pulls back, blinking. “Why?”

Greg exhales, jaw tight. “We can’t tonight.”

Harry smiles nervously, searching his face. “Why not? Did something happen? Are you tired? You don’t feel well?”

“No, Harry it’s not that, it’s…” Greg shakes his head, looks away. His voice drops, sharp and flat. “I won’t get hard.”

Harry stares. “What? Why?”

Greg hesitates, then sighs heavily, like the words are dragging themselves out of him. “It’s your body. It doesn’t… it doesn’t turn me on enough. I can’t get aroused.”

It’s like ice water poured down Harry’s spine. He goes still, breath caught in his throat. The fabric suddenly feels too tight, too revealing.

“My… body?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

Greg doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, babe. You’ve just… changed since the baby. And I—” he cuts himself off, running a hand over his face. “I just can’t.”

Not because Greg isn’f in the mood. Not because he’s tired. But because Harry’s body—the one that carried Greg’s child, the one Louis had just told him was gorgeous—isn’t enough to turn his Alpha on.

Harry’s chest aches, pressure building behind his ribs. “Greg…” his voice cracks. “I dressed up for you,” his hands tremble where they rest on Greg’s shoulders. “I… I shaved, I put lotion on, I—” he lets out a small whine, broken. “I thought I looked good.”

“You do look good,” Greg says quickly, but it sounds forced. Hollow. “You’re just… not what gets me going right now. That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Harry repeats, breath hitching. His eyes sting, but he blinks fast, swallowing hard. “You’re saying your Omega’s body isn’t enough for you and it’s not a big deal?”

Greg sighs, impatient. “Harry, don’t make this into something it’s not. I’ve had a long day, I don’t want to fight. Just… let’s not.”

Harry’s lips part, but no sound comes. His chest burns, humiliation clawing up his throat. He slides off Greg’s lap, the lace suddenly suffocating, like a cruel joke he played on himself. Like it’s mocking him.

His chest aches, throat tightening as he swallows down the lump forming there. He’s done all that—shaved, lotioned, dressed up, worked up the courage to feel sexy again—only to be told he isn’t attractive enough.

He slips off Greg’s lap. He feels ridiculous. Stupid. His chest tightens as he tries to stand, but Greg’s arms come around him, tugging him back down into his side.

“Hey, hey,” Greg murmurs, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple. “Don’t go sulking, yeah? I’m sorry.”

Harry swallows hard, blinking at the TV screen rather than at his husband.

Greg turns Harry’s face toward him with a finger under his chin, kisses his forehead, softer this time. “If you want, I can finger you? Make you feel good another way?”

Harry shakes his head quickly. “No. It’s fine.” his voice is flat. The rejection still stings too sharp for him to even think about being touched again.

Greg sighs, arms tightening around him. “I’m sorry, babe. I am. When you start showing results, when all this pays off… we’ll make up for it. Yeah? We’ll go crazy. I’ll make it up to you.”

Harry forces a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Okay.”

Greg kisses his hair, rubbing his arm like that somehow makes up for the slap Harry just took to his pride. Harry just curls into him, pretending he’s not burning on the inside. He doesn’t want to fight. Greg’s had a long day.

Greg hums low, breaking the quiet. “Where’d this come from, anyway? You don’t usually pull the lingerie out unless you’ve got something on your mind.”

Harry’s heart jumps. His thoughts are sharp and bitter. Oh, nothing, just my super hot Alpha trainer told me my body’s gorgeous and touched me like he meant it, and his scent almost trigged my heat. He presses his lips together, swallowing the truth down.

Instead, he breathes out softly. “I think my heat’s coming soon.”

Greg frowns, pulls back a little to look at him. “Your heat?” he blinks. “But… Harry, you just gave birth a few months ago. I thought it takes at least a year before it comes back?”

Harry stares at him, tired. Annoyance scratches under his ribs. You married an Omega, you have a literal pup, and you still don’t know this? But he doesn’t have the strength to explain every nuance of Omega biology right now. Not when he already feels so raw.

“Sometimes it comes earlier,” he says simply. “When the body heals fast. When it’s ready for another pup.”

Greg nods slowly, as if that’s news to him. “Huh. Guess I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs, resting his head back on Greg’s shoulder.

Greg kisses the top of his head again, murmuring, “We’ll be alright. Don’t stress, babe.”

Harry just closes his eyes, letting Greg hold him. On the outside, he looks calm, content even, but inside, he’s aching, the sting of rejection still burning hot in his chest, his robe still lying on the floor where he dropped it, like evidence of how foolish he’d been to hope.

He curls closer, pretending he’s not hurt. Pretending it’s enough.

Chapter Text

Harry loves Greg.

And maybe it isn’t the kind of love he once dreamed about, the kind that sweeps you off your feet, dizzying and wild but it’s steady. It’s safe. It’s good. And good has to be enough.

They met in the rain. Harry remembers it like it was yesterday; his thirty-year-old self, hair plastered to his cheeks, coat forgotten at home, stumbling down the street with a paper bag of groceries already ruined by the downpour.

And then there was Greg. Tall, broad-shouldered, holding an umbrella big enough to cover them both. He smiled, warm and easy, and said, “You’ll catch your death out here, love. Let me walk you.” Harry had laughed, cheeks flushed, heart hammering in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He let Greg tuck him close under the umbrella, let himself believe in the magic of it. For once, he wasn’t the one shielding everyone else. Someone was shielding him.

Greg bought him tea that night, insisted on drying Harry’s coat by his fire. He was gentle, chivalrous even, opening doors, pulling out chairs, listening intently. It felt old-fashioned, like something out of a novel. And Harry, who had spent his twenties waiting for the perfect knight in shining armour who never came, thought, maybe this is it. Maybe I’ve finally found him.

The relationship took off easily. Greg called when he said he would, showed up on time, charmed Harry’s friends. Soon came traditions—Greg’s family dinners every Sunday, his regimented routines, his precise way of living. It drove Harry a little mad sometimes, the lack of spontaneity, the sharp edges of Greg’s world that didn’t quite fit with Harry’s softer ones. But Greg was reliable. He didn’t leave.

Harry was simply tired of waiting. Thirty years old, still dreaming of being a mum with a house full of kids, still waking up alone in the middle of the night aching for something more. When Greg said he wanted a family too, Harry thought, good enough. This is good enough.

Maybe Greg isn’t his perfect prince. Maybe Harry still has sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling, wondering if there’s something more out there. But when he looks at Sienna, their perfect little girl, he knows he can’t regret any of it.

Greg is good. Maybe not right, not the once-in-a-lifetime fairytale Harry’s heart still whispers for in the quiet hours. But good is enough. It has to be.

༄

The morning is strange. Harry can feel it before the sun is even up.

At night, he barely slept. Sienna had been fussy, little fists curling and uncurling, whimpering until the cries finally came. Harry had rocked her against his chest for hours, humming lullabies with a voice that cracked, tears slipping down his cheeks when she wouldn’t settle.

He knew why. She could probably feel it. The unease in him, the bitterness of his scent seeping out despite his efforts to hold it in. Omegas and pups, so tightly wound together, so sensitive.

He didn’t want to bother Greg. Not when Greg had already been cold and distant with him lately. Work stress, Harry told himself. Always work. So Harry took the whole night, pacing the nursery, cradling his daughter until finally, at four in the morning, she sagged into sleep. He collapsed beside her crib for a moment, forehead against the bars, before crawling back to bed for barely two hours of rest.

Now it’s morning. And it’s weird.

Greg is standing in the kitchen, tie loose, briefcase by the door. His jaw is tight. Harry’s robe hangs open at the front, his curls messy, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion as he pours a glass of water.

“You didn’t make my lunch.” Greg’s voice cuts through the quiet.

Harry blinks, slow, like his brain is lagging. “What?”

“My lunch,” Greg gestures at the empty counter. “You always pack it before I leave.”

“Oh” Harry swallows. His throat burns. “‘M sorry, I was up with Sienna all night. She was crying, I couldn’t get her to sleep until four. I must’ve—”

Greg scoffs, sharp. “Harry, you’re home all day. The least you can do is make your working Alpha something to eat.”

Something in Harry’s chest twists. “Greg—”

“No, I’m serious,” Greg interrupts, voice rising. “I’m out there busting my arse every day to provide for us, and you can’t even manage lunch? What do you do all day?”

Harry flinches like he’s been slapped. His hands clutch the edge of the counter. “What do I do?” his voice wobbles. “I feed her, change her, rock her, sing to her. I clean, I cook, I do laundry, I… Greg, I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep. I—”

“Excuses,” Greg’s tone is sharp, dismissive, and worst of all—loud. “You say you’re exhausted, but you were begging to get fucked last night.”

Harry feels his eyes sting. “Don’t,” he whispers. “Please don’t. You’re gonna wake her up.” his chest heaves, breaths short.

The clock says 6:30 a.m. He’d prayed for another two hours of sleep after Greg left. Just two. But apparently, that hope is gone.

“Then do your job right, Harry!” Greg snaps, louder now.

Harry’s eyes blur with tears, frustration spilling over. “My job? She’s not just a job, Greg, she’s our daughter! And I’m trying, I’m trying so hard,” his voice breaks. “Please, you’re too loud—”

Greg grabs his briefcase. “I’m leaving.”

The front door slams, and right on cue, Sienna’s cry pierces the air. Harry’s chest squeezes at the sound of her wail. He swipes at his eyes and stumbles toward the nursery, heart already aching before he even opens the door.

“There, there, my love,” he whispers as he scoops Sienna into his arms, tucking her close to his chest. She’s warm, her tiny fists batting at his robe, face crumpled red with frustration. Harry buries his nose in her curls, scenting her gently, letting the calm pulse of his Omega pheromones wash over her. “It’s alright, baby. Mummy’s here. Always here.”

Her cries soften but don’t stop completely. She fusses against his chest, mouth rooting at the thin cotton of his robe. Harry sighs, tired bones aching.

“You’re hungry, hmm?” he murmurs, swaying as he carries her down the hall. “Of course you are. You’ve got quite the appetite, just like your daddy, huh?” he tries to joke, but his voice cracks, and his chest feels too tight.

The kitchen light is too bright when he flips it on. He balances her on his hip while he pulls one of the bottles of pumped milk from the fridge. His breasts are sore, still heavy and aching from the night before. He rubs his side with his free hand, hissing quietly.

“Let’s do the bottle today, yeah? Mummy’s a bit sore, but I promise it’s still the good stuff.” he kisses her damp cheek, her cries easing just enough to let him set the bottle into the warmer.

As the machine hums, Harry rocks her against him, humming softly. His phone lights up on the counter. It’s Louis. The name makes his heart skip.

Harry bites his lip, unlocking it with a thumb.

louis
hey gorgeous, thought of u. you up for trying that yoga thing today??

A little laugh leaves Harry, breathless and small. His eyes sting, but this time not from exhaustion. Warmth blooms in his chest, chasing off some of the bitterness from earlier.

He looks down at Sienna, still fussing, fists rubbing at her eyes. “Oh, baby girl. Not today, huh?”

Thumbs tapping slowly, he types.

harry
i’d love to but sienna’s really fussy today :( i don’t feel right leaving her with anyone like this

He rocks her while waiting, rubbing her tiny back. A few seconds later, the phone buzzes again.

louis
studio’s pup friendly love, new mums bring their babies all the time. she can come with you i’ll make sure you both are comfortable

louis
no pressure tho!!

Harry’s mouth falls open, soft smile tugging at his lips. He presses his cheek against Sienna’s head.

“You hear that, angel? You get to come with Mummy.”

He texts back, cheeks warm:

harry
okay… let’s try :)

The bottle dings. Harry exhales, relief flooding him. He kisses Sienna’s forehead again, whispering against her skin.

“See? Things are looking up. Just you, me, and the handsome trainer.” he laughs weakly at himself, quickly shoving the thought away as he tests the milk on his wrist.

༄

Harry wrestles with the car seat straps, cheeks warm from frustration and from Sienna’s squeals echoing through the parking lot.

“Please, baby, hold still,” he begs, fumbling with the buckle as she kicks her tiny legs, fussing, her cries high-pitched and relentless. “I know, I know, it’s been a long morning. Mummy’s trying, I promise.”

The drive had been torture. Even Beyoncé blasting through the radio hadn’t soothed her, and now Harry’s nerves buzz as he finally manages to free her. He lets out a sigh of relief, lifting her into his arms. She squirms, face red and scrunched.

He shuts the car door gently with his hip and freezes as he hears a voice.

“Harry.”

Harry looks up and sees Louis walking toward them, gym bag slung over his shoulder, hair messy from the slight wind. His lips pull into a smile, but when his eyes flick down to the wriggling baby in Harry’s arms, they brighten like the sun.

“Hi.” Harry says, a little breathless.

Louis’ gaze lingers on Sienna, then he glances back up at Harry, almost as if asking silently, may I?

Harry swallows, nods just once.

Louis crouches slightly, voice soft as he says, “This must be Sienna, then? Hi, I’m Louis. Nice to meet you, little miss.”

Harry can’t help it; the corners of his mouth lift, a laugh spilling out despite the morning he’s had. “Sorry, she’s been fussy all day. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but…” he shrugs helplessly.

Louis shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. The studio was opened with mums like you in mind, so you can actually enjoy yoga and not worry about your pups too much. Trust me, you’re in the right place.”

He brushes a careful hand against Sienna’s back, murmuring something low and soothing. To Harry’s shock, her cries falter, softening into little whimpers. Her little body stills in Harry’s arms.

Then, unbelievably, she stretches her arms out toward Louis.

Harry’s jaw drops. Louis blinks, stunned. He looks up at Harry again, silently asking for permission.

Harry’s still floored, but he nods, easing Sienna into Louis’ waiting arms.

Louis holds her like she’s made of glass, one large hand supporting her head, the other pressed gently to her back. He pulls her against his chest.

And just like that, silence. No wails, no fussing. Just a tiny sniffle and the sound of her breathing evening out.

Harry stares. Louis stares back. Neither of them can seem to believe it.

“Um,” Louis finally says, clearing his throat though his voice is still hushed. “Shall we?”

Harry nods, heart thudding so loud he swears Louis must hear it. “Yeah. Let’s… let’s go.”

Together, they walk toward the studio doors. The studio glows in soft colors, pale creams and muted greens, light spilling in from high windows. Potted plants line the corners, filling the air with something fresh and alive. There’s a low hum of music coming from hidden speakers—something slow, all strings and gentle chimes—that seems to settle right into Harry’s bones.

He exhales without meaning to. God, it’s nice here.

At the reception desk, a woman in a loose, flowy top and warm smile looks up immediately. “Louis!”

Louis grins, adjusting Sienna slightly in his arms. “Hey, Amara. Long time no see.”

Her gaze flicks down, widening when she spots the bundle of pink in his hold. “Oh my goodness, you had a pup?”

Harry chokes on a laugh, shaking his head. Louis’ eyes go wide as he blurts, “What? No! No, she’s not mine, just helping out a friend,” his voice softens as he adds, “This is Sienna.”

Amara melts instantly. “She’s precious. Hi, Sienna.”

Harry’s cheeks warm. He murmurs, “She’s mine” a little shyly, but Amara only beams at him.

“Lucky girl,” she says warmly, then glances between them. “So, which room today?”

Harry looks at Louis, brows raised in question. Louis answers smoothly, like he’s done this a hundred times.

“There’s separate rooms,” he explains. “One for Omegas, one for mums with pups, another for Alphas, and then a family room too. Keeps everyone comfortable, y’know?”

Harry nods, his chest unclenching at the thought of not having to force himself into a space where he doesn’t belong. “Family room sounds best, then. Since we’re… together.”

Louis’ eyes flick toward him briefly, something unreadable sparking there, before he nods. “Family room it is.”

He slides a card from his wallet without hesitation, paying before Harry can even reach for his bag.

“Perfect,” Amara says, checking something on her screen. “That gives you a full hour,” she stands to lead them down the hall, pointing out the way. “Mats are inside, the instructor will come in soon. Just relax.”

Louis gestures for Harry to walk ahead, though Sienna stays cradled safe in his arms the whole way.

The family room is quiet when they enter, and the hush is immediate. A handful of omegas sit on mats with their alphas nearby, pups tucked into a padded corner space filled with toys and blankets. There’s soft golden light spilling across the hardwood floor, and the same calm music thrums lowly in the background.

Harry feels his shoulders sag. It’s so peaceful here, so easy.

Louis lowers his voice, leaning a little closer to him as they step inside. “Not bad, huh?”

Harry’s lips curve into the smallest smile. “Not bad at all.”

Louis crouches down near the play corner, easing Sienna out of his arms and onto the padded mat. For a moment she’s fine, until she realizes she isn’t pressed against his chest anymore. Her little face scrunches, her arms flail, and the whining starts again, rising into fussy squeals.

Harry instantly winces, guilt curling in his chest. He bends down, whispering fast, “I’m so sorry, she’s been like this all day. I don’t want her disturbing everyone—”

But Louis doesn’t answer. Instead, he scoops her back up, pressing her small body against his chest again like he’s testing something.

The cries cut off instantly. She exhales a shaky little sigh, cheek flattening against his hoodie, calm as if nothing happened.

Harry blinks, stunned. “What the…?”

Louis looks just as surprised, brows lifting as he glances down at her. But then he turns, holding Sienna out toward Harry. “Here.”

Harry takes her without thinking, settling her against his chest. Almost immediately, she starts fussing again, making unhappy little noises and kicking. Harry bounces her gently, murmuring against her hair, “Shh, baby, it’s alright, Mummy’s here…”

She doesn’t settle.

Louis watches for a moment, then shrugs off his hoodie in one smooth motion. “Alright, let’s try something else.” he takes Sienna back, lays his hoodie down on the mat, then places her carefully on top of it.

Harry holds his breath.

Sienna squirms, her tiny fists grabbing at the fabric until she clutches it close. She tucks her nose into the folds of it, inhaling, and just like that, she goes quiet. Only the tiniest sniffles remain.

Harry’s mouth falls open. “Oh my god.”

Louis lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Well, that’s new,” he crouches down, resting his arms on his knees as he watches her. “Guess she really likes the material. It’s 100% cotton, can’t say I don’t get it.”

Harry shakes his head, dazed. “No, it’s… it’s your scent.”

Louis glances at him, curious.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Harry sighs, brushing his hair back nervously. “Me and Greg… things have been… stressful. Arguments, tension. Our scents haven’t exactly been calming. Pups pick up on that, don’t they? She probably found comfort in yours.” his voice drops softer at the end, almost ashamed.

Louis opens his mouth, like he wants to say more, but just then the door opens and the instructor, a calm-looking Beta with soft features, comes in. She clap their hands together lightly, her voice smooth and warm.

“Alright everyone, time to get started. Find a mat next to your partner.”

Harry blinks, glancing back at Sienna. She’s nestled into the hoodie, tiny hand still clutching the fabric tight, her nose buried deep like she never wants to let go. The sight sends a pang through him in jealousy. Oh, to be four months old and get away with clinging to it.

He stands slowly, brushing his palms over his leggings, and joins Louis at one of the mats.

The instructor begins guiding everyone through simple stretches, her voice soft over the quiet music.

Harry hesitates, shoulders curling slightly as he bends. His mind flashes with Greg’s old remarks about how it “wasn’t flattering anymore,” how he “shouldn’t bother if it didn’t look good.” That had been enough to make Harry roll up his mat and shove it into the back of the closet months ago.

But when he glances around, his chest tightens for another reason. Most of the Alphas aren’t even trying. They stand stiffly, arms crossed, eyes fixed on their Omegas instead of bothering with the movements.

And then there’s Louis.

Louis is mirroring the instructor with focus, his long arms stretching, his body folding into each pose without hesitation. There’s nothing self-conscious about it, no trace of that toxic Alpha pride that would sneer at something “meant for Omegas.”

Harry swallows, watching the fluid way Louis moves, the quiet steadiness in his expression.

A thought whispers in Harry’s chest like a secret: If Louis can do this without caring what anyone thinks, why can’t I?

So he lets himself move, just a little deeper into the stretch, the burn sweet and familiar in his muscles. It’s awkward at first, his body stiff from lack of practice, but after a few minutes, something loosens. His muscles remember. His breath evens out. His confidence grows.

Louis leans closer on his mat, voice low so only Harry hears. “See? Knew you could still move like that.”

Harry huffs a breathless laugh, cheeks flushed from both the stretches and Louis’ attention. “I’m rusty.”

“Rusty looks pretty damn good on you.” Louis says, grinning.

Harry shakes his head, ducking down into the next pose to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He shouldn’t like this encouragement as much as he does, but god, it feels good to be seen, not criticized.

By the end of class, his body aches in the best way, and for the first time in ages, he feels lighter. He scoops Sienna up from the mat, where she’s still tangled in Louis’ hoodie, and presses a kiss to her temple. She smells faintly of him now, calm and content.

They step outside into the cooler air, and Louis falls into step beside him. “So? Verdict?”

Harry hugs Sienna closer, beaming. “It was amazing. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I…” he pauses, eyes soft. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“You can,” Louis nods at Sienna, tucked up with his hoodie. “By letting her keep that.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “No, I can’t, it’s yours.”

“The best gift for me,” Louis interrupts, voice gentle, “would be knowing you two actually get a good night’s sleep. If she needs my hoodie for that, then so be it.”

Harry stares at him for a second, throat tight. “You’re way too generous.”

Louis just shrugs with a crooked smile. “You’ll see me at training tomorrow. That’s thank you enough.”

They trade goodbyes, heading toward their cars. Harry carefully buckles Sienna into her seat, brushing her curls back from her face, then slides into the driver’s seat with a little sigh of contentment. He turns the key.

The engine coughs. Splutters. Falls silent.

Harry frowns and tries again. Nothing. A third time, just a few choking noises before it dies.

He groans, forehead dropping against the steering wheel. “Of course. Of bloody course.”

A sharp rap at his window makes him jump. He lifts his head to see Louis standing there, brow quirked in concern.

Rolling the window down, Harry blinks. “Louis?”

“Hey,” Louis says, sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I think we accidentally swapped phones.” he hands Harry his.

Harry fumbles, digging through his bag and passing Louis the one he’d grabbed by mistake. “Oh, right. God, sorry.”

Louis glances past him at Sienna, then back. “Why are you still here?”

Harry lets out a weak laugh. “Car won’t start. Perfect timing, yeah?”

Louis tilts his head, thoughtful. “C’mon. I’ll drive you.”

Harry blinks. “Louis, you already did so much today, I can’t—”

“It’s a pleasure,” Louis cuts in, smiling at him like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “C’mon, let me.”

Harry stares at him for a beat, torn between guilt and relief. Then he exhales, nods, and unbuckles Sienna. She squirms, rubbing her sleepy face against Harry’s shoulder, but when she sees Louis she lets out a soft, drowsy coo.

Harry can’t help but smile at that. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Louis opens the back door for him, waiting while Harry settles Sienna into the car seat he brought from his car. She’s still clutching his hoodie tight in her tiny fists, the picture of contentment.

Louis closes the door softly, catches Harry’s eye, and gives him that easy grin again before they both climb in.

Louis’ car hums gently as they pull out of the studio parking lot. Harry keeps sneaking glances at Sienna in the rearview, her tiny fingers still curled in Louis’ hoodie like she’s guarding it.

Louis clears his throat, one hand relaxed on the wheel. “I’ll ring my mate later, he’s a mechanic. He’ll take a look at your car, don’t worry.”

Harry whips his head to look at him. “Louis, no. You’ve already done, like, everything today. That’s too generous.”

Louis flashes him a sideways grin. “Harry, come on. It’s not generous, it’s just… helping a friend. You’ve had a rough morning, your pup’s knackered, your car’s being a pain. Let me sort this one.”

Harry folds his hands in his lap, trying not to blush. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is,” Louis says lightly. Then he glances at Harry, voice softening. “You don’t always have to do everything yourself, y’know?”

Harry swallows, heart squeezing at the words. “…Thank you.”

By the time Louis pulls up outside Harry’s little house, dusk has softened the sky, painting everything warm and gold. Harry unbuckles Sienna carefully, murmuring to her as she stirs against his chest. Louis comes round to open the gate for him, easy and thoughtful.

At the door, Harry hesitates before blurting, “Do you, um… Do you want to come in for tea?”

Louis lifts his brows. “Oh, I shouldn’t. You’ve had enough on your plate today.”

Harry shakes his head quickly. “C’mon. You paid for the class, you gave her your hoodie, you drove us home… let me give something back. Just a cup of tea.”

Louis’ mouth twitches into that grin again, softer this time. “When you put it like that…” he nods. “Alright. I’ll never say no to tea.”

Inside, Harry leads him into the living room. “You can wait here,” Harry says, rocking Sienna a little. “I’ll just put her down for a nap.”

Louis nods, settling onto the couch while Harry disappears down the hall.

In the nursery, Harry lowers Sienna gently into her crib. She stirs, whimpering, until he tucks Louis’ hoodie close to her cheek. She grabs it instantly, little fist curling into the fabric, and sighs. Within moments, her lashes flutter shut.

Harry brushes a kiss to her forehead, whispering, “I love you, baby.” before slipping out quietly.

He pauses in the hall, heart still racing from the day, then heads downstairs. Padding into the kitchen, he runs a hand through his curls, exhales, and flicks the kettle on. The faint click and low hum fill the silence. He raises his voice so it carries into the living room.

“How do you take your tea, Louis?”

From the sofa, Louis calls back, easy and casual, “Splash of milk, one sugar if you’ve got it.”

Harry smiles faintly at the answer, reaching up for the sugar jar and the little tin of teabags.

“You sound like my mum.” he says lightly, spooning sugar into the cup.

“Good woman then.” Louis answers, amusement clear in his tone.

Harry chuckles under his breath, pouring the hot water and watching the dark color seep into the cups. The scent of tea fills the kitchen, warm and grounding.

Mugs in hand, he walks back toward the living room. Louis is standing now, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the fireplace mantel. Harry’s stomach dips when he sees what Louis is looking at—the framed wedding photo. Him and Greg, all smiles, flowers everywhere. The kind of picture that says happily ever after, whether it’s true or not.

Harry clears his throat gently and sets the mugs down on the coffee table. “Here you go.”

Louis takes his cup with a nod of thanks, but his eyes flick back toward the photo once more before he finally asks, voice careful but blunt.

“No offence, Harry, but how does an Alpha that cranky and ungrateful manage to bag an Omega like you?”

Harry nearly chokes on his own tea. His cheeks flush hot, and he laughs nervously, sinking down onto the sofa. “Wow, straight in, yeah? Don’t hold back or anything.”

Louis sits beside him, leaning an elbow on the armrest, mug balanced in one hand. His eyes don’t waver, though there’s a playful glint in them. “I mean it. You’re… you. Beautiful, kind, strong. And from what I’ve seen, you’re also the one holding everything together. Doesn’t make sense to me.”

Harry toys with the handle of his cup, the words stinging and soothing all at once. “Love is not supposed to make sense. Maybe some things just… happen.”

“Come on,” Louis shakes his head. “Things don’t just happen. There’s always a reason.”

Harry huffs a quiet laugh, staring into his tea. “Well, I guess when we met, Greg was perfect. I was thirty, Louis. All my friends had their happily-ever-afters, pups and perfect houses, and I thought that finally this is it. Maybe he’s not perfect, but he’s good.”

Louis’ brows furrow, his tone softer now. “Good isn’t the same as right.”

Harry swallows, blinking quickly because he refuses to cry over this in front of Louis. “Good was enough at the time.”

Louis takes a sip of his tea, then leans forward, elbows on his knees. His voice is lower when he says, “Still doesn’t answer my question. You know you deserve more than someone who makes you feel small, yeah?”

Harry lets out a humorless laugh. “Do I? Cause sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”

Louis turns to him fully now, his gaze intense but steady. “Yeah, H. You do. And I’ll say it again and again until you believe it.”

Harry bites his lip, looking away, heart thudding harder than he wants to admit.

Harry tucks his feet up on the sofa, legs curled under him, shoulders slightly hunched like he’s bracing for something. Louis leans back into the corner, one arm draped casually along the back of the couch, but his eyes are trained on Harry, sharp and soft all at once.

“You said something earlier,” Louis starts, voice careful but steady. “About arguing? D’you… wanna talk about it? Might help to just say it out loud to someone who can listen.”

Harry lets out a low groan, burying his face briefly into his hands before peeking at Louis through his fingers. “Why does it feel like every time we talk, I’m just going on about Greg? You’re gonna start charging me for therapy.”

Louis cracks a small grin. “Nah. Think of me as a nosy mate with good ears. No fee required,” his tone softens. “I just want you to know I’m here, H. If you want someone to listen, I will.”

Harry sighs, long and heavy, staring at the mug in his lap. He traces a finger around the rim, avoiding Louis’ eyes. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope.”

It takes a few more beats, Louis watching patiently, before Harry finally exhales through his nose and says quietly, “It’s stupid. Just… the same things, over and over.”

Louis tilts his head, encouraging.

“Constant comments about my body. Like… I told you already, you know how he is. And then this morning, Sienna was up half the night, I barely slept. I forgot to sort lunch before he left for work and boom. Argument. Again,” Harry shrugs one shoulder, but his voice wavers. “And it makes me feel like I’m just… a shitty Omega. Can’t keep him happy, can’t even remember a bloody sandwich…”

Louis sits forward, mug set down, his face incredulous. “Harry, are you hearing yourself right now? You’re not a shitty Omega. You’re literally raising a baby, on no sleep, doing it all, and you’re still here, smiling through our sessions like you’re not about to collapse.” he shakes his head, jaw tight. “You’re amazing. Inside and out. You can’t let someone like him treat you like shit.”

Harry’s throat tightens. “He doesn’t treat me like shit, Louis. Lots of Alphas are abusive. They… they hurt their Omegas, lock them down, worse things. Greg doesn’t do that. I’m—” he swallows, forcing the words out. “I’m lucky to have him.”

Louis’ eyes darken. He leans in, his voice low and firm. “Harry. Just because he doesn’t put his hands on you doesn’t mean he’s good to you. You deserve more than the bare minimum.”

Harry shakes his head quickly, curls bouncing. “I don’t. I’m already failing. I can’t even make my own Alpha want me.”

Louis frowns. “What?”

The word hangs heavy in the room. Harry stares at his mug, his cheeks pink with humiliation. He sighs, defeated. “I tried last night. Wanted to… you know. Be close again. And he just said all these things,” his voice cracks, barely a whisper now “About how I look. About how I’ve changed. And he turned me down.”

The silence after that is thick, charged, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Louis’ hand flexes where it rests on the back of the sofa, like he’s stopping himself from reaching over. His voice, when it comes, is quiet but steady.

“No. No, that… that makes absolutely no sense. What kind of Alpha is he? Has to be a different bloody species, how does he not find you attractive?”

Harry blinks at him, startled.

“I mean it,” Louis says firmly, almost heated. His gaze flicks over Harry’s body in a way that makes Harry shiver. “I see you at the sessions and I swear I have to tear my eyes away before someone notices. The way you move, the way you hold yourself—” he cuts himself off, cheeks flushing. “Sorry. That sounded creepy. I don’t want to cross any lines,” he rubs his palms against his pants, restless. “But I also can’t sit here and listen to you think so little of yourself.”

Harry huffs out a humorless laugh, looking down at his lap. “You’re just saying that. My Alpha doesn’t want me. What does that say?”

Louis leans closer, his voice dropping. “Says more about him than it does about you. Because if it was me—” he stops dead, eyes widening like he’s gone too far. “Shit. Forget it. That’s too far.”

Harry’s heart pounds, his face burning, but something reckless curls in his belly. His voice comes out soft, tentative. “You would… what?”

Louis freezes. For a moment he just stares, lips parted, chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. Then answers quietly, like he’s confessing a sin “I would worship you.”

Harry’s breath catches.

“I’d tell you how beautiful you are every single chance I got. I’d make sure you never doubted it for a second,” Louis’ words tumble out now, voice rough. “You’d feel like the only omega in the world, H. The only one I could ever see. I would…” he swallows, his gaze locking with Harry’s. “I would tell you so much.”

Harry feels heat pulse under his skin, close to dizzy , the edges of his thoughts fraying. His Omega stirs, aching, greedy for every word. His voice trembles. “Tell me.”

Louis’ eyes flash. His scent sharpens, spiced with something darker, and Harry’s entire body answers, his own scent bitter-sweet and needy. Louis leans in, the space between them shrinking, his hand hovering uncertainly before lowering onto Harry’s thigh. He looks at him, waiting.

Harry’s chest heaves. He sucks in a breath, and then lays his hand over Louis’, granting permission without a word.

Louis exhales shakily, thumb stroking over the fabric of Harry’s sweats. His voice is low, thick. “You don’t even know, Harry. The way your waist curves, the line of your neck, your mouth…” his eyes drop, lingering. “I could write poems about your mouth. About every inch of you, and still not come close.”

Harry shivers, pulse racing, his Omega clawing at the inside of his ribs for more. His whole body answering before his brain fully understands. He should push away. He should remind himself who he is, what his life is, that this is wrong. But the words are climbing inside him like weather, and something in him is fragile and aching and greedy.

He kisses Louis.

It’s sudden and clumsy at first, Harry’s need spilling out, but then the kiss deepens, like they both come alive in the press of it. Louis answers with an answering hunger that is equal parts reverence and want, and the world narrows to the press of mouths, the slide of hands. It feels impossible and inevitable all at once.

Suddenly, Louis pulls away, looking at him wide-eyed “What are you doing?”

Harry’s voice is small and urgent, heat thick in it. “Show me,” he breathes. “Show me that means something. Show me you weren’t just saying words. Prove it.”

Louis stares at him, unmoving, eyes searching. Harry feels like his whole body might collapse under the weight of that look. He can’t take it, he can’t breathe.

“Please, Alpha.” he whispers.

That does it. Louis drops down onto his knees in front of him, hands braced at Harry’s hips, eyes dark and blazing. “Are you sure?”

Harry nods, quick and desperate.

Louis’ fingers find the waistband of his pants. One tug and Harry lifts his hips to help, the fabric pooling at his ankles. Louis’ eyes flicker down, catching on the white cotton panties stretched soft across him. His throat bobs.

Louis’ hands slide Harry’s t-shirt higher, exposing soft skin inch by inch. Harry tenses, instinctively wanting to tug it back down. He sucks his stomach in.

Louis frowns, shaking his head as though Harry just did the most ridiculous thing in the world. He presses a slow kiss just below Harry’s navel. “Don’t you dare,” he murmurs against his skin. “You’re stunning. Every curve, every mark—it’s all you. And I swear, H, I could stay here for hours just taking in this body.”

Harry lets out a shaky breath, his hands fluttering uselessly on the couch cushions, trying to ground himself while Louis spreads his palms firm and wide over his thighs. The heat of it makes Harry dizzy, like he’s being pinned down without even moving.

Louis trails kisses lower, across his stomach, over the softness Harry always tried to hide. “So gorgeous,” Louis keeps murmuring, his lips brushing reverently over skin. “Do you even know how much I want you like this? How insane you make me?”

Harry swallows hard, trying to catch his breath, but every word only makes it worse, better, he doesn’t even know anymore. His thighs twitch beneath Louis’ touch.

Then Louis shifts, pressing his mouth to the inside of Harry’s thigh. Harry gasps, the contrast of soft lips against sensitive skin sending a sharp pulse through him. Louis lingers there, kissing, nipping lightly, his stubble leaving a faint burn that has Harry’s breath hitching into a moan.

The sound makes Louis groan low in his chest, an almost primal rumble. The vibration of it feels like it goes straight to Harry’s spine, and his head spins.

“God, you sound…” Louis breaks off with a sharp exhale, kissing further in, his hands sliding higher on Harry’s thighs. He glances up, eyes dark. “You’re going to ruin me, Omega.”

Before Harry can even reply, Louis hooks his fingers under the waistband of his underwear and, in one fluid motion, pulls them down. Harry lifts his hips again without thinking, heart hammering.

The cotton is gone, discarded. Louis leans back in, kisses lower, everywhere but exactly where Harry aches for it, whispering into his skin like it’s scripture.

“You’re perfect,” he says again, his lips dangerously close, his voice rough with want. “And I’m going to make sure you believe it.”

And then he presses his mouth over Harry’s hole in a way that makes the Omega’s whole body jerk, breath breaking on a desperate moan.

Louis’ mouth finds him lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses right over his most sensitive spot. Harry gasps, his back arching off the couch. “Louis—” he chokes, already flushed and trembling.

Louis flicks his tongue experimentally and Harry breaks, a sound slipping out of him that’s so raw and startled he slaps a hand over his own mouth.

His chest heaves. “Wh–what are you doing?”

Louis glances up through his lashes, lips slick and glistening. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been eaten out before.”

Harry’s cheeks burn crimson, and he shakes his head.

For a second Louis just stares at him, disbelieving. Then he mutters under his breath, rough and angry, “God, what is that knothead even doing with you then?” Louder, steady, he says, “Don’t worry, Omega. I’ll make you feel so good.”

Before Harry can catch his breath, Louis lowers his mouth again, slow and deliberate. His tongue drags upward and Harry moans, helpless, toes curling. His hands, without thinking, dive into Louis’ hair, tugging.

Harry freezes, horrified at himself. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Louis pulls back just enough to speak, his voice low and wrecked. “No. No, don’t you dare apologize. Please do it. This is for you, darling. I want you to feel good. I need you to guide me through it.”

Harry bites down on his lip, eyes wide and shining, torn between insecurity and desperate need, but then Louis licks him again, slower, firmer, and Harry whimpers, hips jerking.

His fingers curl tighter into Louis’ hair, tugging harder this time, his thighs trembling around Louis’ shoulders. “Oh god…” he breathes, no longer able to stop himself.

Louis groans at the pull, the vibration sending shivers straight through Harry. “That’s it,” Louis murmurs against him. “Just like that. Show me what you need.”

And Harry does, every tug, every gasp, every broken sound giving Louis more to work with, until Harry is barely holding himself together, undone by the worship he never thought he’d deserve.

His thighs tremble as Louis buries himself between them, lips and tongue working with a hunger that makes Harry’s vision blur.

“Fuck,” Harry whimpers, head falling back against the couch. “Louis, oh god—”

Louis growls low in his chest, the sound vibrating through him. He pulls Harry closer by his thighs, locking him in place. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmurs against him, voice thick, reverent. “Pussy so perfect, can’t get enough of it.”

Harry cries out, the words hitting him almost as hard as the pleasure itself. His thighs clamp around Louis’ head instinctively, almost suffocating him, but instead of pulling away Louis moans like he’s starving, dragging him impossibly closer.

“Louis, Alpha,” Harry gasps, tugging on his hair, desperate. He can’t stop moaning, babbling nonsense between his cries. “So good, s’good, yes yes yes, right he— ohh.”

Louis’ hands tighten on his thighs, thumbs stroking gently even as his mouth works harder, hungrier. He kisses, nibbles, licks, slurps shamelessly, drinking him down like he’s been waiting his whole life for this.

Harry feels gone, floating, his body twisting under Louis’ mouth. Every nerve ending is on fire, every tug of his hair making Louis groan deeper, which only sends Harry higher.

“I… Louis— Alpha, please, I can’t—” Harry whines, his voice breaking. He’s so wet, so undone, and Louis just eats it up, relentless.

Louis lifts his eyes briefly, gaze molten, mouth glistening. “You can. Give it to me, H. Wanna feel you fall apart for me. Show me how beautiful you are when you come.”

Something in Harry snaps. His whole body bows, thighs squeezing tight around Louis’ head as he screams out, overwhelmed. It feels like he’s touching the sky, like Louis is dragging stars straight down into his bones.

Pleasure rushes through him in waves, so intense he sobs with it, his hands still clutching at Louis’ hair like an anchor. He’s never felt anything like this before. Not even close.

His whole body is trembling, toes curling, chest heaving as he sinks back into the couch. His cheeks are damp with tears, his skin still prickling from the aftershocks.

Louis’ hands stay gentle, thumbs stroking soft circles into the insides of Harry’s thighs, grounding him. He presses a kiss to Harry’s knee, then another higher up, his voice low and soothing.

“You did so good, baby. So perfect for me. Sweetest Omega. God, I wish you could see yourself right now…”

Harry whimpers softly, torn between the oversensitivity and the warmth of Louis’ words. His heart feels wide open, floaty, like he’s been lifted into a dream. He blinks down at Louis, who’s looking up at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

No one has ever looked at him like that. Not even Greg.

And that thought slams into him like ice water.

Greg. His husband. His Alpha.

Harry’s chest seizes. He jerks back, tugging his shirt down, curling away as panic claws at his ribs. “Oh fuck.”

“Harry?” Louis’ voice sharpens with concern. He leans forward, reaching for him. “Darling, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Harry shakes his head frantically, tears spilling all over again. “No, no, no, what did I do, oh god—”

“Hey, breathe—” Louis tries, but Harry flinches from his hand like it burns.

“Leave!” Harry gasps, voice cracking. “You have to leave, please—“

Louis freezes, hurt flickering in his eyes. “What? Harry, no, don’t do this, it’s alright—”

“It’s not alright!” Harry sobs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I— I failed him. I failed my Alpha, oh god, what did I do?”

Louis’ jaw tightens. He takes a step closer, desperate, but Harry shakes his head harder, rocking himself. “Go! Please, Louis, please just go!”

For a moment, Louis just stands there, his hand halfway out, his expression carved with something raw and pained. Then, finally, he nods, his voice breaking low.

“Okay,” he says. “’M sorry.”

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving Harry in silence.

Harry curls tighter into himself on the sofa, his tears soaking into his t-shirt. His body shakes, sobs spilling out helplessly.

“Oh fuck,” he chokes, pressing his face into his knees. “What have I done?”