Chapter Text
When the messenger came, Louis was out by the lake, trying to give his infant sister a bath while the little menace made her disapproval known loud and clear.
“Doris! Stop moving!” Louis said for what had to be the hundredth time, scrubbing at her filthy arms. “It’s not my fault you thought jumping into a muddy puddle was a great idea! Mum nearly fainted just looking at you—said you looked like a cursed potato!”
Doris blinked up at him with enormous blue eyes and a frown that could curdle milk. Louis knew that look. That was the I’m-about-to-scream-so-loud-someone-will-come-to-rescue-me look.
“Don’t you dare,” he warned, pointing the washcloth like a weapon.
She dared.
A wail echoed across the lake. Louis closed his eyes. “Brilliant. Just brilliant. Another successful day in the glamorous life of the eldest sibling.”
Of all his five sisters, little Doris was the undisputed chaos gremlin. And she was only eighteen months. Mum always said Louis had been the same at her age, but Louis seriously doubted that. He refused to believe he’d ever been this destructive, this sticky, or this opinionated.
“I was an angel,” he told Doris firmly, who responded by splashing lake water right into his face.
Louis wiped his cheek with all the dignity of a drenched cat. “Right. Must’ve skipped a generation then.”
Louis dipped the cloth in the cold lake water again, muttering under his breath like a martyr. “You know, Doris, when I said I wanted to spend more time with you, this isn’t what I meant. I was thinking tea parties, not swamp wrestling.”
Doris gurgled, splashed water right in his face again, and laughed like a tiny villain.
Louis blinked through the droplets, sighed deeply, and said, “Lovely. You’ve inherited Mum’s sense of humor. Tragic.”
He sat back on the grass, one hand still keeping Doris from launching herself headfirst into the lake. Around them, the pack buzzed lazily—the summer heat thick, the fields behind their cottage humming with bees. Somewhere in the distance, two of his sisters were already shouting at each other, voices carrying clear across the meadow. Louis sighed, long and dramatic.
Typical Tomlinson household harmony.
He looked down at Doris, who was now chewing on a reed like she was auditioning for “Local Frog No. 1.” “You are the reason Mum’s got grey hair at fourty, you know that?” Louis told her. “You and me both, probably.”
The infant sneezed, splashing herself again, and Louis instinctively covered her head with his palm. Despite himself, his lips softened. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t give me that face. You’re cute, I get it. It’s your only defense mechanism.”
He wrung out the cloth, glancing toward the line of trees that hid their cottage from view. With five younger sisters and a brother, being the eldest meant he was drafted into every crisis, every errand, every tantrum that needed diffusing. His mother liked to call him “her right hand.” Louis thought “unpaid assistant” was more accurate.
Still, he wouldn’t trade them. Most days.
He leaned down to rinse the last bit of mud from Doris’s hair, then added, “You know, if you sit still for two minutes, I’ll tell you a secret. You ready? The secret is—”
But she squealed, kicked the bucket over, and the rest of the bathwater went straight onto Louis’s lap.
He froze, dripping, then muttered darkly, “—that I’m never having children.”
Doris only giggled, pure mischief in her tiny grin, like she knew exactly what she’d done and was quite proud of it.
_______
Thirty minutes later, Louis returned to the cottage with a freshly washed—and thoroughly smug—Doris on his hip.
Inside was the usual picture of domestic chaos. Daisy and Phoebe looked like they’d just finished another round of their never-ending war, while Lottie stood at the stove stirring something that smelled suspiciously like burnt stew. Fizzy sat by the window with little Ernest, Doris’s twin, perched quietly in her lap—his entire world currently revolving around the colorful picture book she held open.
Such a good boy, Louis thought wistfully. Truly proof that balance exists in nature.
“Where’s Mum?” he asked, setting Doris down and reaching for the clean clothes his mother had left folded on the chair.
“Someone came,” Lottie said from the stove without looking up. “She and Dad are in a meeting with him.”
Louis frowned. “Who is it?”
“Someone from some other pack,” Phoebe answered, still scowling. “I wanted to eavesdrop, but little Saint Daisy here said she’d tell on me.”
“It was important!” Daisy snapped back. “He looked serious! You know Mum and Dad will be angry if they catch you spying!”
“They never are!” Phoebe huffed. “Remember that other messenger who came months ago? The one who asked if Louis would marry that old alpha—what was he, seventy-eight? If I hadn’t told Louis straight away, Mum and Dad might’ve considered it!”
“No, they wouldn’t!” Daisy said, clutching her apron in righteous indignation. “Mum and Dad would never let Louis leave! Not for an alpha!”
“They might,” Lottie mused with a grin, finally turning from the stove. “He’s the omega son of Mark Tomlinson’s pack. He has to marry someone eventually. If not from here, then from another pack—right, Lou?”
Louis, who had just finished buttoning Doris’s tiny shirt, froze mid-motion. His expression suggested he was weighing his chances of faking his own death.
“Right,” he said flatly. “And maybe next week we’ll marry off the chickens too, since we’re so big on family alliances now.”
The twins giggled, and even Doris smiled up at Louis like she understood his sarcasm perfectly.
“Seriously, Lou,” Lottie said, turning off the fire and reaching for the plates. “You’re twenty already, which is basically old for an omega. But for a pack omega? That’s ancient. If you don’t decide on a mate soon, Mum and Dad won’t have a choice.”
Louis huffed, finally finishing with Doris’s buttons before scooping her into his arms. It wasn’t that Lottie was exaggerating—she wasn’t. His recent talks with their parents had been the exact same argument, just said with softer smiles.
He was twenty, and as the eldest omega of the Tomlinson pack, he was expected to think about marriage before all the good options were gone. The problem was, none of the so-called options had been remotely appealing.
A few had tried, of course. But they were all either boring, too alpha, or full-on knotheads. Some couldn’t handle his humor, others looked personally offended by his sarcasm, and one even flinched when he’d called him “darling” sarcastically. Honestly, how was Louis supposed to spend his life with someone who didn’t get basic banter?
His father, bless him, had tried to make it sound gentle. If you don’t find someone suitable here, he’d said in that soft, careful tone of his, someone who can lead the pack with you after I retire, then you’ll have to look elsewhere.
The thought made Louis’s stomach twist.
Leave his family? His friends? The only place where everyone already knew what brand of chaos “Louis Tomlinson” meant?
Absolutely not.
He’d told his parents so, too—flat-out no. His mother gave him a look for that, and reminded him that she was from another pack once, before she met his father, and look how beautifully that had turned out.
Louis wasn’t convinced. Love might be all sweet smiles and fate for her, but for him? It sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.
“We’ll see,” Louis said to Lottie, ending the conversation before it could spiral further. “Let’s eat, yeah?”
Lottie nodded, already pouring the stew into the waiting bowls. One by one, the Tomlinson siblings gathered around the table, passing bread and clinking spoons against mismatched plates. For once, the cottage was quiet—eerily so—as if everyone sensed Louis had enough on his mind already.
It wouldn’t last, of course. It never did. But for that brief moment, with the smell of fresh bread and the sound of gentle chewing, it almost felt like peace.
_______
It was four hours later, just when Louis had finally gotten the twins to bed, that the cottage door creaked open quietly. His parents stepped inside, their faces shadowed with unreadable looks.
Louis straightened from where he was folding a blanket. “Everything alright?” he asked, but his father only motioned toward the door, a silent gesture that made Louis’s stomach twist.
They stepped outside into the cool night air, where the old wooden bench waited—one the pack had built years ago, worn smooth by countless evenings of laughter and stories. Louis sat, heart thudding.
That was when his father finally spoke, voice low and careful. “Lou,” he began, not quite meeting his eyes, “a messenger came today. From the Styles pack.”
Louis frowned. The Styles pack was the largest in the region—powerful, respected, and, if rumor was to be believed, trained to the bone. He’d only ever heard about them in passing, tucked into history lessons about dominance, territory lines, and the way their influence seemed to bleed into every corner of the region.
“Okay…” Louis said slowly, wary. “What did he want?”
His father shared a brief look with his mum before answering. “They’re having some kind of… gathering. And they’ve invited you to participate.”
“Gathering?” Louis frowned. “What kind of gathering needs me there?” It was a fair question—he wasn’t anyone important. Not yet. Not until he he’s mated and officially became a pack omega.
Another shared look passed between his parents, and Louis’s stomach sank. He could feel where this was heading, and it made his hackles rise.
“The Styles alpha is looking for a mate,” his mum said at last, meeting his eyes with a seriousness that made his stomach drop. “They’ve sent messengers to all the educated pack alphas, asking them to send their omega children who’ve reached age to participate—”
“Participate in what? Mating rituals?” Louis snapped, incredulous. “What, I’m supposed to go there and show him my belly? Let him sniff me like some prize pig?”
His father winced. “No, Louis, nothing like that,” he said quickly, hands raised in defense. “It’s just… an opportunity to meet him. To see the pack. To find out if you have a connection.”
Louis stared at them, deadpan. “So basically… royal speed dating. With wolves. Fantastic.”
His mum gave him a warning look. “It’s an honor, Louis.”
“Oh, sure,” Louis said. “An honor to be paraded in front of some big-shot alpha and see if my body is what he likes.”
“Louis!” his mum snapped, finally losing her patience. Louis instantly straightened, shrinking a little under her glare. His father might’ve been the pack alpha, but everyone knew who really ruled the house—and it wasn’t him.
“Stop being a child,” she said firmly. “You don’t have to do anything with him. You just have to go and participate. It’s only two months.”
“Two months?!” Louis’s face drained of color. “What, is he planning to sniff-test us one by one? How long does it take to decide if you’ve got a ‘connection’? I can tell in the first minute if someone’s boring or not!”
His father coughed into his hand, the sound suspiciously close to a smothered smile. His mum didn’t even try to hide her stern expression.
“Louis,” she said through gritted teeth, “you are going. That’s final.”
“No, I’m not! You can’t make me—”
“We can, and we will!” his mum cut in sharply. “And again, nothing will happen to you. It’s just to see, to explore. You can’t stay here for the rest of eternity without even trying to find someone. That’s not what we want for you.”
“But—” Louis tried, scrambling for something—anything—to argue with. “But I’ll miss Phoebe and Daisy’s birthdays!”
“They’ll manage,” his mum said, perfectly unfazed. “And if you come back after the two months, we’ll throw another party. They’ll understand.”
Louis didn’t miss the ‘if’ in her words, but he ignored it. He stared between his parents, desperate for an escape route. Think, Louis. Think. There had to be something that would make them change their minds.
He snapped his fingers. “How old is he? He’s not, like, fifty, is he? Please tell me he’s not one of those old, wrinkly alphas with a cane and opinions about ‘the good old days.’”
His father shook his head, amused despite himself. “No. The current alpha’s only twenty-five. You might remember his father, Des—he died a few years back. His son, Harry, took over the reins after that.”
Louis blinked. “Harry.”
“Yes,” his father said, clearly expecting him to take it seriously.
Louis snorted. “Oh, great. Even his name sounds smug.”
His mum groaned. “Please, Louis. Try to behave when you meet him. The last thing we need is the Tomlinson name dragged through the mud because our son couldn’t stop being a smart-arse.”
Louis gasped dramatically. “Me? A nuisance? I am a delight! You should be paying me to represent this family.”
“Wonderful,” she said dryly. “We’ll carve that on your gravestone after the Styles pack murders you for sarcasm.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “So it’s better if you just don’t send me, then. I can’t promise to keep my mouth shut. You know I get hives when I try.”
His father perked up hopefully. “So you’ll go?”
Louis threw his hands up. “Do I even have a choice? Mum’s two seconds away from locking me outside with a note saying ‘collect at dawn.’”
His mum chuckled. “So dramatic, pup. It’ll be fine. You might even have fun.”
Louis gave her a flat look. “Mum, your definition of fun includes cleaning the coop and listening to Auntie June complain about her hip.”
Desperate, he switched tactics. “Can I at least take one of my friends? You know—so I don’t end up talking to a tree? Maybe Niall could come.”
His mum shook her head, though she looked sympathetic. “We asked. No. You’re to arrive alone—with the messenger. That’s it.”
Louis groaned. “Fantastic. Can’t wait to be kidnapped and sold for my winning personality.”
“If they try,” his father said mildly, “I’ll kill them. No one’s touching my baby boy.”
“Your baby boy is twenty,” his mum pointed out, smirking. “At his age, I already had him and a handful of regrets.”
“Hey!” Louis cried, clutching his chest in mock horror. “You said I was a blessing!”
“I lied,” she said sweetly.
His father laughed, shaking his head. “And that’s where you get your sassiness from.”
Louis rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the small, soft smile tugging at his face. God — he was going to miss them while he was out there, stuck in an unfamiliar pack, forced to be polite to an alpha he already wanted to throttle for making him leave home.
_______
That night, Louis couldn’t sleep.
His parents had told him he was expected to leave in two days, and ever since, his stomach had been doing somersaults worthy of a medal. Every time he closed his eyes, his brain whispered what if on repeat, followed by the occasional I don’t want to go! for dramatic effect. By the time morning rolled around, Louis hadn’t slept a wink, his pillow was somewhere on the floor, and he’d mentally rewritten his will twice.
He got up before his siblings woke and marched straight to Niall’s house, because if there was one person who could listen to a full-blown rant before breakfast, it was Niall.
They’d been friends since forever. Their mothers were close, which naturally meant their sons had to be too — though in this case, “too” meant inseparable and occasionally banned from public places. Two peas in a pod, partners in chaos, co-founders of the “Strong Independent Omega” mindset.
The only difference was that Niall wasn’t the future pack omega, which meant his parents didn’t plan on shipping him off to some strange territory like a diplomatic fruit basket.
“Isn’t it dangerous?” Niall asked, already halfway through his breakfast while Louis clutched his mug of tea like it contained the will to live. “They could kidnap you!”
“That’s what I said!” Louis gave him a flat look. “Honestly, I hope they try. They’ll bring me back within the hour — I’m very high-maintenance.”
Niall snorted. “You’re actually going?”
Louis sighed, slumping dramatically in his chair. “Apparently, yes. Because when my mum says ‘you’re going,’ what she really means is ‘start packing, or I’ll pack for you — and you won’t like what I choose.’”
He took another sip of tea, misery in every motion. “I didn’t even get to choose who I’m being emotionally blackmailed by. All I know is his name’s Harry — which already sounds like someone who takes himself way too seriously.”
Niall grinned. “You hate him already, don’t you?”
“With every fibre of my being,” Louis said primly. “And we haven’t even met.”
Niall chuckled. “He might be nice, Lou. Give him a chance.”
Louis frowned at him, scandalized. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? He’s been summoning every eligible omega in the territories like some royal buffet. How charming can he be if he can’t find a mate on his own?”
Niall smirked, one brow lifting. “We didn’t find any alphas on our own either, and I’d say we’re perfect.”
“Of course we are,” Louis shot back. “It’s not our fault every alpha here is either a moron or already taken. Honestly, we deserve a prize for surviving among them this long.”
Niall cackled. “That’s evil, Lou! They weren’t that bad.”
Louis squinted at him suspiciously, studying his face. Then he gasped. “Oh my god. Are you seeing someone from the pack?!”
And to Louis’s absolute amazement, Niall blushed.
Niall never blushed. Not when they got caught stealing apples from the kitchen and claimed they were “saving them from emotional neglect.” Not when they accidentally flooded the training yard trying to build a “small pond.” Niall didn’t blush then—and Louis had even talked their way out of both.
But now? Bright red. Avoiding eye contact. Suspicious as hell.
“Well?” Louis demanded, leaning forward like a bloodhound who’d caught a scent. “Spill it, Horan. It’s written all over your face.”
“What? No! We were talking about you,” Niall said quickly, waving a hand.
“Oh, nice try,” Louis said, unimpressed. “You’re not wriggling out of this one. I invented deflection. Niall.”
Niall sighed like a man being marched to his doom. “Fine. I might have been seeing… Jake.”
Louis blinked. “Jake?”
Niall winced.
Louis’s eyes widened. “Jake the Ripper?! The one who ripped off all his clothes like a lunatic during our first group transformation?!”
Niall groaned. “He’s gotten better since then!”
Louis gasped, clutching his chest. “Better how? He wears half a shirt now? Oh my god, Niall, you’re dating the village hazard sign!”
Niall didn’t even deny it. “People change, Louis. And it’s not like I’ve got the same options as you,” he said quietly. “My parents aren’t sending me off on some grand quest to find a mate. And I can’t just… wait forever, can I? We’re twenty, mate.”
Louis blinked, the teasing draining just a little as he looked at his friend properly. For a moment, he saw Niall in a different light—less chaos and mischief, more heart.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said finally, voice softer. “I just… didn’t expect it. Maybe Jake’s fine. We haven’t really hung out with him since pup school.”
Niall’s lips quirked into a small smile. “He’s nice, Lou. And—” he smirked, “he’s got perfect kissing skills.”
Louis made a strangled noise, dramatically recoiling. “Oh my god. Did your leg pop in the air, Niall?!”
Niall grinned, utterly unbothered. “Maybe it did.”
Louis groaned and covered his face with both hands. “I take it back. Kidnap me, Styles pack. Anything’s better than this conversation.”
Niall laughed so hard his breakfast nearly flew out of his mouth, wheezing between bites. “You’re such a drama queen,” he managed, wiping his eyes.
Louis peeked at him through his fingers, pretending to glare, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him with a smile. He watched his best friend—bright, messy, laughing like the world was easy—and felt that quiet tug in his chest.
Two months away. Two whole months without Niall’s cackling and their shared idiocy. He was already missing him, and he hadn’t even left yet.
He sighed, dropping his hands in mock despair. “Can’t believe I’m going along with this. If I come back mated to some broody alpha with a superiority complex, I’m blaming you.”
Niall grinned. “Deal. Just make sure he’s hot enough to justify the emotional damage.”
Louis snorted. “I hate that you understand me.”
_______
The rest of Louis’s day passed in a blur of goodbyes, as if he were off to war instead of a glorified matchmaking retreat. Everyone insisted on hugging him like he might vanish forever. His sisters even made him a gift to “remember them by,” which turned out to be a lumpy, glitter-covered… something.
Louis held it up between two fingers. “Is it a scarf? A weapon? Should I be emotionally moved or concerned for my safety?”
“It’s art, Louis,” Lottie said proudly.
“Right,” Louis deadpanned. “Because nothing says ‘love’ like accidental glue fumes. I can practically feel the affection seeping into my bloodstream.”
Then, after a beat, he added, “I’ll be back in two months, stop being dramatic.”
“We don’t know that,” Lottie said, crossing her arms like a judgmental heroine. “You might find your mate there.”
Louis snorted. “Sure. And I might also grow wings and open a bakery on the moon. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Fizzy giggled from where she was brushing Daisy’s hair. The lake shimmered in the afternoon light, and for once, everyone was quiet—watching him like he might dissolve if they blinked too long.
Phoebe broke it first, voice small. “You promise you’ll be back, Lou? They can’t make you stay there, right? Not without saying goodbye to your pack first?”
Louis pressed a hand to his chest. “Darling, they’d have to tranq me, chain me, and hire a professional babysitter. And even then, I’d still escape out of spite.”
That got them laughing—exactly what he wanted.
“See?” Louis said, smirking as he leaned back on his elbows, sun catching on the water behind him. “You’ll all be fine. I’ll be gone five minutes, and suddenly the place will smell better, the kitchen will be on fire, and someone will blame me from miles away. Business as usual.”
“Liar!” Daisy called, indignant.
Louis tilted his head. “Bold words from the girl who once boiled water wrong.”
That set them all off again, giggles and snorts echoing through the field. Louis smiled, pretending not to feel the pinch in his chest—the weight of how much he was going to miss this.
But instead of saying that, he sighed dramatically and said, “Alright, fine, maybe I’ll find a mate. Maybe he’ll be rich, and gorgeous, and have a fancy kitchen that doesn’t explode when someone blinks at it.”
“Then don’t come back!” Fizzy teased.
“Oh, I will,” Louis said, smirking. “Just to make you jealous.”
_______
The Styles pack messenger looked like an alpha who’d never smiled a day in his life—one of those painfully serious types who probably frowned in their sleep. He was a few years older than Louis, taller (but only barely, thank you very much), with black hair, warm brown skin, and an expression that screamed, I deeply regret volunteering for this mission.
Louis didn’t bother meeting him before the day of departure—or even asking his name. He couldn’t tell if the man’s look of suffering was directed at him personally, or simply the result of half the Tomlinson pack crowding outside like they were sending him off to be sacrificed to the moon gods.
There were hugs, there were tears, there were snacks being rammed into his bag, and someone—almost definitely Lottie—was trying to make a speech.
His parents were the last to reach him. His father pulled him into a tight hug and said quietly, “Be good, okay, pup?”
Louis smirked, patting his dad’s shoulder. “I’ll make him regret this.”
Mark laughed, shaking his head but still smiling fondly. “Somehow, that’s what worries me.”
Then his mum swept him up in her arms. For all her earlier bravado about “needing to go” and “honor for the pack,” she was two minutes away from climbing into his backpack herself.
Louis grinned into her shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to come, Mum? I could use someone to glare intimidatingly on my behalf.”
She swatted the back of his head lightly. “You’ll be fine. Try not to terrorize the alpha.”
“No promises,” Louis said, grinning.
The messenger cleared his throat, clearly itching to get on the road before Louis decided to perform a farewell musical number.
Louis sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright. Let’s go before this turns into a funeral procession.”
He stepped off to the side to undress and shift, white fur rippling in the morning light as his wolf form settled over him. He’d barely finished shaking out his coat before his mum swooped in, fussing like she was prepping him for a week-long expedition to the Arctic, securing the tiny pack of belongings around his neck with grim determination.
“Mum,” he tried to say, but it came out as a disgruntled huff. She still kissed the top of his head anyway.
With one last pat and a final round of sniffling goodbyes, Louis followed the stoic alpha messenger toward the forest path. His paws sank softly into the earth, the familiar scent of home fading behind him with every step.
For someone who’d spent all of yesterday cracking jokes and keeping everyone’s spirits up, his chest felt far too heavy now.
Still, as the wind ruffled his fur, Louis thought wryly, Well, Styles Pack, ready or not—prepare to regret inviting me.
_______
Alphas were built for endurance — fast, strong, annoyingly tireless. Omegas, on the other hand, were smaller, lighter, and significantly less enthusiastic about running for hours without food, water, or a good reason.
So really, no one could blame Louis for being utterly done after two straight hours of running. His only company was his own mind, and unfortunately, his mind had a lot to say about the big, silent alpha leading the way.
The man — the not-smiling, probably-professionally-grim messenger — ran like this was a light morning jog through the daisies. Meanwhile, Louis was back there gasping for divine intervention, every muscle screaming mutiny.
He swore the alpha hadn’t panted once. Not once. It was unnatural. Probably dark magic.
It was supposed to be a full day’s journey to the Styles pack, but at this rate, Louis feared they’d arrive by noon — or worse, he’d die halfway there and the alpha wouldn’t even notice until the smell caught up.
Honestly, he thought between ragged breaths, if this is how the Styles pack shows hospitality, I’m rejecting my invitation on arrival.
Finally, when only pure stubbornness kept him moving, Louis let out a pitiful whine to the alpha to stop.
The wolf turned his head, gave him a look that very clearly said “Really?” — so unimpressed Louis could practically see the eye-roll — but, mercifully, he slowed to a halt.
God help him, Louis thought.
Louis stopped beside him, immediately shifting back to his human form and collapsing onto the grass like a man on his deathbed. “Oh thank the moon,” he wheezed, sprawled dramatically, limbs everywhere.
The alpha shifted too, pulling on a pair of trousers with the quiet efficiency of someone who’d done this a thousand times before. Louis, meanwhile, was still naked and dying.
“Water?” the man asked, his voice deep, calm — the kind that clearly didn’t belong to someone about to expire.
Louis looked up at him from the ground, panting. “Do you know how to revive the dead? Because congratulations, you killed me, mate.”
The alpha blinked, unamused. “We’ve been running two hours.”
“Exactly!” Louis snapped weakly. “Normal people take breaks. Snack breaks. Gossip breaks. Heart-attack prevention breaks!”
The alpha just sighed. “We still have half a day to go.”
Louis groaned, flopping backward onto the grass. “Then bury me here. Tell my mum I died beautifully.”
To Louis’s surprise, the man actually smiled — just a small curve of his mouth, but still. A miracle.
“So dramatic,” he muttered, shaking his head before handing Louis his water bottle. It was blessedly cold, and Louis drank like he’d just crawled out of the desert after a particularly emotional pilgrimage.
When he finally came up for air, he turned to the side to pull his clothes back on, then squinted up at the alpha. “What’s your name, anyway? I can’t keep calling you ‘Unsmiling Alpha’ in my head for the rest of this bizarre trip.”
“Zayn,” he replied easily.
Louis nodded, still panting. “Right. Zayn. Lovely name. You should consider matching it with a personality sometime.”
That earned him another one of those tiny, almost secret smiles.
Louis frowned at him. “Stop that. You’re ruining your brand.”
“No way, mate,” Zayn said easily, pulling a sandwich from his pack. “This brand’s famous where I come from. Even Harry couldn’t crack it—so you’re a lost cause.”
Louis’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Challenge accepted.”
He plopped down properly, unwrapping the cheese sandwich his mum had packed and talking around his first bite. “So—Harry, yeah? That’s the pack alpha who decided to summon every omega in the territories like we’re raffle prizes, right? Sounds absolutely delightful to be around.”
Zayn gave him an unimpressed look. “Harry’s the best leader there is. And it’s not his fault.”
Louis arched a brow, biting into his sandwich again. “Oh? Then whose fault is it that I’m being shipped halfway across the country like a particularly mouthy care package?”
Zayn shook his head, his expression going flat in that conversation over kind of way. “The council,” he said shortly.
The tone said don’t push it, and even Louis—armed with a lifetime of sass and poor impulse control—knew when to pick his battles. He took the hint.
He glanced sideways at Zayn, who was already finishing his sandwich with quiet efficiency. If Louis was going to survive this trip, it might be smart not to annoy the one person who could potentially stop him from getting lost or eaten.
For now, he’d behave. Mostly.
_______
Two hours later, when Louis was seriously considering throwing up his lunch just for the drama of it, Zayn finally stopped near a river.
Louis flopped down beside him with a groan, immediately deciding silence was overrated. He wasn’t built for quiet — he was fairly sure he’d been born mid-monologue and never stopped talking since.
“So, do you do this often?” he asked as Zayn sat across from him, both of them munching on fruit from Zayn’s pack.
“What, escorting omegas to the pack? No,” Zayn said dryly. “Not exactly my dream job.”
The delivery was so flat that Louis snorted into his apple. “You’re a natural at that tone — very world-weary hero forced into babysitting duty.”
Zayn side-eyed him, unimpressed but faintly amused.
“So what do you actually do around the pack?” Louis pressed on. “Walk around giving people that look? Because if so, you’re excellent at it.”
That earned him a low chuckle, the kind of sound that made Louis beam like he’d just scored a point.
“I’m actually the pack beta,” Zayn said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal.
Louis nearly choked. “What?! Styles sent his beta to pick up omegas? Are you joking? Our beta wouldn’t even fetch bread if my dad asked nicely!”
Zayn smirked. “Yeah, well. Harry trusts me.”
Louis gaped. “That’s either a massive compliment or a tragic lack of options.”
Zayn actually snorted. “I’m loyal, and I’ve known him since he was a baby. Plus, Harry sent me to the closest pack. The others got weeks of travel in the rain. I was spared. Miracles do happen.”
Louis grinned. “See? You were spared — and look at you, stuck with me. Lucky man.”
Zayn smirked. “Lucky isn’t the word I’d use.”
Louis gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me? I’m delightful company. I bring personality, entertainment, and unsolicited opinions. What more could anyone want?”
Zayn raised an eyebrow. “Peace and quiet?”
Louis pointed at him with his half-eaten fruit. “Rude. You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
Zayn just hummed, clearly not denying it, and then asked, “Were you always like this? I bet your father tried to discipline you, being the oldest and all.”
Louis barked a laugh. “Tried being the key word. He gave up ages ago. He taught me to be decent and fight for what’s right — the mouth came free of charge.”
Zayn gave him a long look, lips twitching. “Harry’s going to love that.”
Louis frowned. “Love what? My charm?”
“The mouth.”
“Oh fantastic,” Louis muttered. “He can put it on display right next to his giant ego.”
Zayn chuckled — an honest, low laugh that Louis immediately pointed at. “Aha! There it is. I knew you had human emotions.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Zayn warned.
“Too late,” Louis said smugly. “I’m adding it to my list of personal achievements — right between ‘survived the run’ and ‘didn’t bite an alpha before lunch.’”
_______
As they got closer to the Styles pack, Louis — to his absolute horror — started feeling nervous.
It wasn’t like he’d grown up sheltered. He’d met plenty of visiting alphas, their mates, and their overly dramatic entourages. He knew how to smile politely, make small talk, even charm a few if needed. But traveling alone to a strange pack? That was new.
He wasn’t used to doing this without his parents around — his mum to glare anyone into behaving, and his dad to give him that steady, grounding look that said you’ve got this, pup. Without them, Louis suddenly felt about twelve years old again.
Now the idea of spending two whole months surrounded by strangers, trying to make a decent impression on people who probably judged omegas like they were at a livestock auction… yeah, that felt impossible.
Louis hated having the lower hand — hated feeling vulnerable — so for the rest of the trip, between breaks and long stretches of running, he made it his mission to interrogate Zayn about the Styles pack. Not rudely (well, a little), but enough to disguise his nerves as “strategic research.”
He figured if he knew something about them — anything beyond the terrifying stories — maybe he’d stop imagining them as muscle-brained warriors who howled in unison before breakfast.
And to his surprise, he actually learned quite a bit.
The Styles pack wasn’t the ruthless army people whispered about. They mostly lived off their own land, hunting and foraging fruit instead of trading for resources. The pups had some lessons directly with the alpha himself — not just fighting and hunting, but leadership, fairness, and what Zayn called “pack balance.”
Even their training culture was nothing like Louis imagined. Every wolf went through the same grueling physical conditioning and mental preparation — warriors, hunters, caretakers, all of them. And the omegas weren’t tucked away or treated like fragile ornaments.
They had their own disciplines: diplomacy, healing, conflict mediation, emotional grounding. They were trained to calm tense wolves, resolve disputes before they escalated, tend to the injured, and organize recovery teams after hunts.
Louis blinked. “Wait — omegas actually get to do stuff? Like, on purpose?”
Zayn shot him a sideways look, faintly amused. “Of course. Everyone carries weight here.”
That was… new. Packs didn’t usually trust omegas with anything important, certainly not leadership or responsibility. And here, they were not only useful — they were respected.
Louis looked ahead at the distant ridge where the forest began to thin, thoughtful for once. Maybe this pack wasn’t just a bunch of arrogant alphas after all.
Still, he wasn’t about to admit that out loud. “Interesting,” he muttered instead. “But if they try to make me do push-ups, I’m running home.”
Zayn chuckled under his breath. “Noted.”
_______
When they finally reached the Styles pack, the first thing Louis noticed was the wall — a single, towering structure that surrounded the entire territory like a fortress. Solid stone, impossibly high, with watchtowers spaced along the top where wolves kept silent, steady guard.
It didn’t look paranoid. It looked prepared.
A low chorus of howls rose from inside the walls, not threatening exactly, but powerful — a unified greeting that thrummed through the air.
Louis tried very, very hard not to tuck his tail between his legs.
Zayn shifted first, giving Louis a nod of permission. Louis changed too, grateful for the excuse to pull on clothes and at least pretend to have some dignity left.
As they walked by foot through the settlement inside, Louis couldn’t help but stare. The small huts stretched endlessly across the clearing — not fancy, but sturdy, alive, full of sound and movement. His own pack felt tiny in comparison. Everywhere he looked, wolves were talking, laughing, working… and a lot of them were looking right at him.
Louis forced a smile, the polite kind that said yes, hello, please don’t eat me, and tried not to gag from nerves.
It was already evening, the air cooling around them, when Zayn told him the formal introductions would wait until tomorrow.
“Harry will meet the visiting omegas in the morning,” he said. “Tonight, you’ll eat and get settled. You’ve earned a rest.”
Louis nodded mutely — a rare event, and probably a sign of impending doom — following quietly as they approached a long wooden hut, warm light spilling through the windows. The smell of food drifted out, rich and earthy, wrapping around him like a promise.
He startled a little when Zayn looked at him — softer than before, less the stoic beta and more the unexpected friend he’d somehow collected along the way.
“It’s going to be okay, Louis,” Zayn said quietly.
Louis nodded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, I know. Just… not used to all this.”
Zayn hummed in understanding, then smirked. “Who knew bringing you here would finally make you shut up? Guess I didn’t need to stop for breaks after all.”
Louis shot him a glare as they each grabbed plates. “Shut up,” he muttered, piling food on his like he was preparing for hibernation. “It’s the first day. Let me have my moment of silence. I’ll recharge overnight and come back in the morning with fresh material to complain about.”
Zayn chuckled, following him down the line. “Can’t wait.”
Louis smirked, lifting his plate. “You should. My complaining is a cultural experience.”
_______
Louis didn’t talk to anyone else that evening, though plenty of wolves stared at him like he’d shown up as the evening’s traveling circus act. He kept his head down, focused on inhaling his food, grateful no one bothered Zayn either — probably because Zayn’s resting face could make a brick wall apologize.
When they were done, Zayn led him across the pack, the soft dirt path lit by torches. “It’s not luxury,” Zayn said as they stopped by one of the huts, “but it’s one of the bigger ones. Thought you’d be more comfortable here.”
Louis nodded and stepped inside. The hut wasn’t fancy, but it was… cozy. Warm, even. A double-sized bed sat in the center, covered in thick woven blankets that looked handmade. A tiny kitchenette hugged the left wall, stocked with simple clay dishes and bundles of dried herbs hanging overhead. Near the window sat a small washing bowl and a narrow wooden shelf filled with neatly folded towels.
Opposite the bed stood a small wooden closet — slightly crooked, clearly old, but lovingly maintained. Its doors had little carved patterns, and Louis had the sudden, absurd urge to open it just to see if someone had left extra blankets inside.
The timber walls creaked softly, as if welcoming him, and a lantern on the table washed the room in warm golden light.
It actually reminded him of home — enough to make his chest ache in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
He set his bag down and immediately collapsed onto the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable. He could already imagine arranging his own scents here — bits of his family, his pack — making a temporary nest to help keep the nerves at bay.
Zayn lingered by the door, awkwardly shifting his weight. Louis arched an eyebrow. “Anything else for today, or are you just going to stand there menacingly?”
Zayn huffed a quiet laugh. “No. Someone will wake you in the morning for breakfast. The gathering starts around ten — after that, you’ll meet the rest.”
Louis nodded, then hesitated. “Is there… a place to wash up? Privately?”
Zayn nodded toward the back of the hut. “There’s a spring a few steps behind here. No one will bother you.”
Louis gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Zayn. For… you know. Not letting me die of dehydration or panic.”
Zayn smirked. “Anytime.”
Louis yawned. “Careful, I might actually start liking you.”
“Perish the thought,” Zayn said, shaking his head as he stepped out.
_______
Louis fell asleep almost immediately after washing up, exhaustion knocking him out cold.
Apparently, that was a mistake, because when he woke, the sun was barely rising — and his body decided that was plenty of rest. He tried to fall back asleep, he really did, but his nerves were wide awake and throwing a rave.
At this rate, he was going to give himself digestive issues purely from overthinking.
He groaned, rolling his eyes at himself. “Brilliant. Stress-induced stomach disaster. How elegant of me.”
Resigned, he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and got dressed. He wasn’t about to prance around in anything fancy, so he pulled on his most comfortable clothes — soft trousers and a plain shirt. No gowns, no frills. If the Styles pack expected him to show up looking like some prim little royal omega, they’d have to manage their disappointment privately.
When he stepped outside, the cold morning air hit his face, sharp and fresh. The pack was still quiet, most wolves likely asleep or starting their day slowly.
For the first time, Louis had a proper look at the place in daylight — without bodies crowding the paths or noise filling every corner.
It was… beautiful. Cozy, even. The huts were wrapped in flowers and wild greenery, soft trails weaving between them and leading toward the woods. Thin ribbons of smoke curled from chimneys, carrying the faint scent of pine and fresh bread.
And the size of it all finally registered.
This wasn’t just a pack. It was a community — a living, breathing city of wolves.
Louis wandered without meaning to, letting curiosity tug him along until he somehow ended up back by the food hall from last night. He recognized the building instantly — the big wooden doors still slightly ajar.
And then he heard voices. Loud ones. Echoing through the quiet morning like gossip gremlins at full volume.
“No way!” an alpha barked — deep, incredulous. “That’s what she said?!”
“Listen, mate,” another replied dryly. “If my loyalty to Harry and the promise to bring her in one piece weren’t ironclad, I’d have left her on the road.”
Louis froze mid-step, brows shooting up.
“God,” the first one groaned, “if Harry doesn’t choose a mate soon from these impossible omegas, I swear I’m starting a mutiny.”
They both laughed, low and exhausted.
“Did you hear what Lena Chives asked for last night?” one added.
The other alpha practically wheezed. “You mean the one who demanded a private bathtub? Yeah, I heard. Zayn said no so fast she nearly fainted — said there was ‘no respect for her delicate omega sensibilities.’”
They burst into another round of laughter.
Louis stood there, wide-eyed.
Oh no.
Apparently, the other visiting omegas were even worse than him. Dramatic. Entitled. Probably competing to out-suffer each other in tragic beauty and soft-spoken misery.
And here he’d been worried he’d be the problem.
As Louis kept listening, the stories got more ridiculous — complaints about the food, demands for scented candles, someone allegedly crying because their pillow was “too emotionally cold.” He nearly laughed out loud. Nearly.
But then, somewhere between the laughter and the gossip, something unpleasant twisted in his chest.
Because these were the people he was supposed to spend the next two months with.
He could already picture it — a group of picture-perfect omegas with pastel dresses and delicate voices, talking in polite whispers and batting their lashes while he tripped over his sarcasm. They’d probably start meditating before breakfast or form a club called The Graceful Ones.
Louis swallowed hard. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t be that.
And suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore.
His stomach turned, that same sick feeling from the day before flooding back. He didn’t want this — not the pack, not the alpha, not the stupid “gathering.”
He wanted home. His sisters. Niall. His mum yelling at him to “stop dripping mud on the floor.”
By the time he realized what he was doing, he was already halfway back to his hut, jaw set.
He grabbed his bag and started shoving his things inside — shirt, brush, the awful glittery “souvenir” from his sisters. His hands were shaking, but he didn’t stop.
He’d run. He’d tell his parents he’d tried, that it just wasn’t right. They’d understand. Probably. Maybe.
“Right,” he muttered to himself, hoisting the bag over his shoulder. “Ten hours here and I’m already done. That must be a record.”
_______
Louis crept up to the outer wall as quietly as he could — which, to be fair, wasn’t very quietly. The thing was massive, towering above him like it had personally been built to ruin his day.
He eyed it critically. “Alright,” he muttered. “Big, solid, intimidating. Just like every alpha I’ve ever met. Still climbable.”
A few meters away, he spotted a tall tree leaning just close enough to be promising. Perfect. He grinned to himself, remembering the time he and Niall had a tree-climbing contest as kids. Louis had won, obviously. Niall had broken his wrist, also obviously.
So, yes. He could do this.
“Alright, Louis,” he whispered, rubbing his hands together like a man about to commit a noble crime. “It’s just wood and gravity. You’ve handled worse.”
Then he took a deep breath and started climbing — muttering encouragement to himself as he went. “You’re graceful. You’re agile. You’re— oh bloody hell, this bark is sharp— you’re fine! Still elegant!”
Halfway up, he looked down. Mistake.
“Right,” he said aloud. “Don’t look down. Looking down is for people who value logic and survival. We are beyond that.”
He hauled himself onto the highest branch, balancing precariously as the wall loomed just ahead. His heart pounded, but he grinned.
“Look at me, Niall,” he whispered dramatically. “I’m escaping destiny, one splinter at a time.”
Louis had just swung one leg over the wall, ready to make his grand escape into freedom (or the woods, whichever came first), when a voice stopped him cold.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He froze.
Thank the moon he was sitting down, because if he’d been halfway up that tree when that voice came through — deep, commanding, very much alpha — he would’ve fallen off and died on the spot.
Slowly, Louis turned.
Standing a few paces away was an alpha he’d never seen before. Which, considering Louis had only met Zayn so far, wasn’t saying much — but still, this one was… different.
He was tall, built entirely out of muscle and poor decisions, with curls that looked unfairly soft for someone holding a weapon like it was an accessory. His green eyes were sharp, cutting right through Louis, and his mouth — firm, serious, annoyingly kissable — didn’t help the situation at all.
Oh, brilliant. A guard. A very armed, very attractive guard.
Because of course the pack that kidnapped him by invitation had to also be filled with men who looked like they were sculpted out of sin and cardio.
Louis, being Louis, decided charm was his best (and only) weapon.
So he smiled at the alpha — big, bright, and entirely unapologetic. “Escaping, darling,” he said simply, as if announcing a morning walk.
The man blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “Escaping from what?”
“From here,” Louis replied, swinging his legs casually over the wall. “I’m not staying around to be paraded with a bunch of swan omegas in front of some frowny alpha like it’s a livestock fair.”
The alpha stared at him, utterly baffled. His brow furrowed, muscles tensing — either from disbelief or the superhuman effort of not laughing.
“Frowny,” he repeated slowly. “And how exactly do you know he’s frowny?”
Louis tilted his head, squinting at him like the answer was obvious. “Because he’s an alpha in charge of this many people. You can’t run a whole empire and still have laugh lines, can you?”
The man’s lips twitched — just barely. “You think you’ve got him all figured out then?”
Louis grinned, leaning back on his palms. “Oh, absolutely. Miserable, broody, and one emotional crisis away from writing manifestos about leadership.”
“Sounds like you’ve given it a lot of thought,” the alpha said, tone unreadable.
“Not much,” Louis replied with a shrug. “Just enough to recognize the type.”
That actually earned him a real smile — small, quick, but definitely there, and Louis caught the faintest hint of dimples.
Beautiful. Absolutely illegal. Unfair.
The alpha tilted his head, looking far too entertained for someone allegedly guarding a wall.
“Can you please get down?” the alpha asked, voice smooth and teasing. “I’d rather not have my frowny pack alpha find out an omega’s gone missing. He might blame me.”
“Nuh-uh,” Louis said easily, swinging his legs over the wall. “He can only blame himself. You bring a bunch of omegas here like it’s a farmer’s market, one of us is bound to rebel.”
The alpha’s mouth quirked. “Maybe he didn’t have a choice.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “He’s the pack alpha. If he doesn’t have a choice, who does? Sounds like someone’s being handled, not leading.”
The man arched a brow, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “You seem to know a lot about leadership.”
“Of course I do,” Louis said proudly. “Comes with the last name.”
The alpha tilted his head. “Smith pack, then?”
Louis gasped, deeply offended. “Excuse me? Do I look like a Smith to you?”
“Should I answer that?”
“I’m a Tomlinson, dear guard,” Louis said with theatrical indignation. “Show some respect. We invented sarcasm and moderate chaos.”
That earned him another grin — small, crooked, and dangerous in a way Louis did not appreciate. He found himself weirdly mesmerized by that boyish smile.
“Noted,” the alpha said. “Remind me not to underestimate a Tomlinson.”
Louis grinned right back. “Good boy.”
The man shook his head, amusement tugging at his mouth. “You know I can’t let you leave now, right? Your father wouldn’t exactly approve of us letting you wander off alone. There are dangerous things out there.”
Louis snorted. “More dangerous than a pack of vengeful omegas arguing about who’s the prettiest? Please. I’m doing your alpha a public service by skipping this circus.”
The alpha’s brows lifted. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”
“Because I’ll only insult him,” Louis said matter-of-factly, ticking it off on his fingers. “Make at least one omega cry, and deliver sarcastic commentary for two months straight. By the end of it, he’ll ship me home in a box labeled ‘return to sender.’”
The man laughed — a real one this time, low and warm. “I highly doubt it. Sounds like exactly what he needs. A bit of drama and chaos.”
Louis smirked. “Then he must be leading a really boring life.”
“I think you’re right,” the alpha said easily — and there was something in his tone, a warmth, like he was actually enjoying this. He looked at Louis the way someone might look at the first breeze after a long, heavy summer — surprised, a little amused, and not quite ready to let it go.
Louis didn’t know what kind of omegas they had in this pack, but if this man was staring at him like that after five minutes of conversation, things here must be grim.
“So, if you’ll excuse me,” Louis said with his brightest, most charming smile, “I’ll be going now.”
The alpha grinned, dimples appearing in a way that felt personally offensive. “You’ll just make me chase after you.”
Louis huffed, crossing his arms. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”
“Just doing my duty, little omega.”
Louis’s smile vanished instantly. “Louis,” he corrected, frowning. “Not ‘little omega.’ Louis. You know, like a person.”
The alpha chuckled, entirely unbothered. “Noted.”
“Good,” Louis said crisply, “Because I bite when I’m offended.”
“Somehow,” the alpha murmured, still smiling, “that doesn’t surprise me.”
Louis rolled his eyes but grabbed a branch overhead, getting ready to hop down. The man’s expression immediately changed — alarm flickering across his features as Louis swung a leg over the edge.
“Stop worrying,” Louis called down, grinning. “I’ve done this a million times.”
A total lie, but confidence was nine-tenths of survival.
The alpha shook his head, stepping closer, his arms half-raised like he might actually try to catch him. “It’s high,” he muttered, disbelief in his tone. “Can’t believe you climbed this.”
Louis scoffed. “Have some courage, alpha. It’s peaceful up here. Quiet. Well, it was—until you showed up.”
That earned him another exasperated look. The man still lingered beneath him, muscles tense like a safety net in human form, while Louis carefully started down.
He wasn’t exactly graceful — a few slips, a few muttered curses — but he made it. The moment his feet hit the ground, the alpha exhaled hard, like he’d been holding his breath the entire time.
Louis smirked. “See? Perfectly fine. Not a single bone broken. You can relax now, darling.”
The alpha’s mouth curved, amusement tugging at the corners. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?”
Louis winked. “The best ones usually are.”
“I’m starting to realize that,” he said, voice low and just a bit rough.
Louis grinned, smug and thoroughly pleased with himself. First day here, he thought, and I’ve already made one alpha laugh. Not bad statistics.
_______
The guard escorted Louis back toward the food hall, smiling faintly as Louis talked his ear off about every single reason he’d tried to escape.
“You see me, right?” Louis said, not waiting for an answer. “I can’t actually get along with those kinds of omegas — the demanding ones, the spoiled ones. They’ll eat me alive.”
The alpha chuckled. “I think it’s the other way around. If you talk this sassy to an alpha you don’t even know, I can only imagine how you talk to omegas.”
“The same,” Louis replied easily. “But they’re usually not as annoying as alphas.”
That earned another laugh. The man stopped when they reached the clearing, turning to face him with a grin that made Louis’s pulse stutter — just a bit.
“We’re annoying, are we?”
Louis huffed, glaring up at him — which only made the alpha’s green eyes sparkle even more. “Please. Half of you spend your free time comparing knot sizes, and the other half are too stupid to understand jokes.”
The alpha laughed outright this time, the sound rich and amused. “We can’t all be bad.”
“Oh, you are,” Louis insisted, deadly serious. “One sassy omega refuses to bow at your feet and suddenly it’s like I’ve insulted your ancestors.”
The alpha grinned down at him, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “You might be right about that. Most of us aren’t used to someone like you.”
Louis tilted his head, smirking. “Then it’s about time you upgraded your standards.”
The man laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “I’m not that bad compared to the rest of my kind, right?”
Louis squinted at him. “The council's still in deliberation. We don’t know you well enough to issue a verdict.”
That earned another grin—dimples and all, the kind that should’ve been illegal before breakfast. “Then I look forward to you getting to know me,” he said, with an infuriating wink.
Louis froze.
For half a second, his brain short-circuited. Because no. Absolutely not. He couldn’t actually get to know him.
He was here for one reason — to meet the pack alpha, the big scary Harry himself. This man wasn’t him. Probably a guard, maybe some warrior. Definitely trouble.
And if the pack alpha caught wind of Louis chatting up one of his alphas before the first official meeting? Yeah, that would go brilliantly.
Louis swallowed, forcing a smile that felt a bit too tight. “Oh, I don’t think that’s on the agenda,” he said lightly. “I’ve got a very full schedule of regretting life choices.”
The alpha chuckled, clearly not sensing the internal crisis he’d just triggered. “Shame. I think you’d be good at multitasking.”
Louis groaned under his breath. “Of course he flirts well. Because why wouldn’t the universe make my problems attractive?”
The man smiled at that — properly smiled — and Louis could swear he looked a little delighted that Louis thought he was attractive. Which was rude, frankly. How dare an alpha have dimples and an emotional range?
Louis might’ve actually said something else—something dangerously close to flirting again—if not for the sudden noise from the food hall. Voices. Soft laughter. The sound of other omegas arriving.
Oh, fantastic. His time to shine.
The guard glanced toward the hall too, his expression slipping into something unreadable before he looked back at Louis. “I have to go,” he said quietly. “Have fun, yeah? Don’t let them intimidate you.” A small pause. “And please don’t run again.”
Louis crossed his arms, pretending to huff but not quite hiding his disappointment.
It was strange — he’d talked to plenty of alphas before, but never one who actually listened. Never one he could hold a conversation with without wanting to throttle them on sight. Never one who looked at him like what he said actually mattered.
“I can’t promise,” Louis said finally, lips twitching. “You might need to come save me when I make someone cry and have to run before your alpha hears about it.”
The man smiled again, soft this time. “I think he wouldn’t mind.”
Louis raised a brow. “Really? What, he’s into chaos?”
The alpha’s grin deepened. “Maybe just your kind.”
Before Louis could respond, he turned to leave, tossing a casual, “Bye, Louis. It was a pleasure.”
Louis stood there, mouth slightly open, watching him walk away.
A pleasure.
Bloody hell. What kind of guard talked like that?
_______
Louis entered the food hall with the kind of bravado only sheer panic could produce. Because it’s one thing to feel intimidated and another to let people know you’re intimidated — and no Tomlinson worth their salt was going to cower in public.
He grabbed a plate and joined the line behind two omegas who were chatting loud enough to be heard in the next pack.
“How did you sleep, Lena?” one of them asked, in a tone that somehow managed to sound both delicate and judgmental. “My bed was lumpy.”
“It was fine,” Lena sighed dramatically. “Not as big as home, but at least I couldn’t hear nature plotting my death like on the journey here.”
Louis raised an eyebrow. Nature plotting your death? Goddess forbid a leaf touched them.
“I don’t know why Harry couldn’t send a carriage to escort us,” the first omega continued. “If he’s looking for a mate, he shouldn’t expect us to run like common wolves.”
Louis snorted before he could stop himself. The sound was sharp enough that both omegas turned around in unison, identical scowls on their perfectly powdered faces.
“Tomlinson, right?” the nameless one said, her tone dripping with disdain.
Louis smiled sweetly. “One and only. So happy you’ve heard of me.”
“It’s hard not to,” Lena said, wrinkling her nose like she’d caught a whiff of something foul. “You’re the only male omega here. Well—besides Gabe, but he’s practically one of us.”
Louis followed her glance to where Gabe was sitting — perfectly poised, manicured nails sparkling, and wearing a matching skirt-and-top set that looked so good Louis almost felt personally attacked. He even had a delicate braid woven through his hair, like he woke up thinking, today I will humble everyone around me.
Louis blinked. Okay, rude. Gabe was gorgeous.
It wasn’t like Louis didn’t know male omegas were rare — most males were alphas, and besides him and Niall (a cosmic accident more than anything), the few male omegas he’d met over the years behaved like delicate court ladies anyway. He was used to standing out.
But standing out here, among the silk-and-perfume brigade, felt like showing up to a royal ball in mud boots.
He disguised it with a shrug. “Pleasure to meet you both,” he said cheerfully, flashing a smile so aggressively bright it could blind a small village.
The two of them looked him up and down like he’d tracked dirt into their shared vanity mirror. And to be fair, he did look a bit rumpled — his shirt was half-tucked, his hair still wild from the morning’s tree-climbing escapade. He could practically feel their judgment peeling the layers off him.
Louis itched to fix his hair but refused to give them the satisfaction. Instead, he grabbed a piece of bread with unnecessary force and muttered, “Don’t all talk at once.”
They turned away, whispering and snickering behind their hands, and Louis resisted the urge to yeet his bread roll at their perfectly styled skulls. Instead, he took a savage bite, thinking, I should’ve jumped that wall. Green-Eyes Alpha Guard had NO right ruining my jailbreak.
The room smelled like ten perfumes fighting for dominance and the unmistakable stench of freshly baked judgment. Every omega looked like they’d been handcrafted by a bored goddess with too much time — all stiff posture, fluttering lashes, and dramatic sighs like they were auditioning for a tragedy.
Louis took one look around and decided that if this was the competition, he’d rather walk directly into the nearest forest and let a bear settle things quickly.
_______
He was just finishing his food, sitting alone and trying to ignore the perfume-fogged chatter while plotting yet another escape plan, when someone called his name.
“Louis?”
He turned — and nearly dropped his spoon.
“Sophie?!”
Sophie’s face broke into a bright grin as she hurried over. “Thank the moon you’re here!” she said, collapsing onto the chair beside him. “I was terrified I’d be stuck with no one I actually like.”
Louis laughed, warmth blooming in his chest. “Likewise! I was two minutes from starting a conversation with my spoon just to feel less alone.”
Sophie groaned dramatically, resting her elbows on the table. “What are you doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same!” Louis said, smiling wide.
Sophie was the omega daughter of Pack Alpha Edward Brighton. Their families were close, which meant every summer when their packs met, she and Louis (and Niall, when he wasn’t grounded) caused enough chaos to make their parents go pale the second they started whispering.
Which was exactly why Louis frowned now. “Wait. What about your alpha?”
Last time they’d met, she wouldn’t shut up about Liam — the quiet, puppy-eyed warrior assigned to guard her who somehow tripped and fell face-first into love. Louis had been obnoxiously happy for her.
Sophie’s smile dimmed. “He’s still around,” she said quietly. “But my parents don’t really approve. He’s just a common alpha to them — never mind that he’s one of our best warriors. They moved him to gate duty. Apparently, the thought of him leading the pack as my mate was too ‘absurd.’”
Louis winced, his chest aching for her. “So they sent you here?”
She gave a small, sad smile. “No one says no to the Styles pack. My parents took it as their ‘grand opportunity’—maybe I’ll find someone of proper standing, someone who could make me a decent pack omega, like I was born to be.”
Louis sighed, rolling his eyes affectionately. “Ah yes, the classic parental dream — marry rich, breed stability.”
That earned him a laugh, soft but real. “What about you? How’d they rope you into this?”
“Didn’t have a choice,” Louis said with a shrug. “Mum said if I didn’t go, I’d ‘decay in her home forever alone.’ Which was dramatic, even for her. I told her I could decay somewhere cheaper, but she wasn’t having it.”
Sophie snorted, leaning her shoulder against his. “Same old Louis.”
Louis grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Same old parents.”
As they kept talking, the heaviness in his chest began to ease. They fell back into their old rhythm easily — teasing, laughing, trading stories like no time had passed at all.
For the first time since arriving, Louis felt something warm and real unfurl inside him. He could actually breathe. Sophie’s familiar laughter cut through the tension, and suddenly this strange pack didn’t feel quite so terrifying.
If he was going to survive the next two months — the alpha, the omegas, the rules, the dreadful “gathering” — it would be because Sophie was here.
_______
They were escorted to a large hall after breakfast — all twelve omegas in one shiny, nervous little herd. It felt less like a meeting and more like they were being paraded to their coronation.
They were supposed to finally meet the infamous Alpha Harry and discuss “the next two months,” whatever that meant. Louis was mostly planning to behave himself… ish.
Except he couldn’t stop laughing with Sophie when one by one, the omegas started tripping over their own ridiculous heeled boots.
Who wears heels to a pack gathering? Who wakes up and thinks, Yes, I’ll impress my future alpha by snapping an ankle before lunch.
Sophie elbowed him, trying to stifle a giggle. Louis leaned in and whispered, “At this rate, we’ll have half the competition down before he even walks in. Natural selection, darling.”
One omega gave him a death glare after nearly falling, and Louis smiled sweetly back. “You’re doing amazing, love. Graceful as a newborn deer.”
Sophie snorted so loudly the nearest guard flinched, and Louis decided he’d already peaked for the day.
When they finally arrived at the hall, it was mostly empty — just Zayn, looking perpetually unimpressed, and an elegant older omega woman wearing the tribe’s symbols. She smiled at them warmly, dimples flashing in a way that tugged at Louis’s memory, though he couldn’t quite place why.
“Zaynie!” Louis called, far too cheerfully.
Zayn’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing into pure warning.
“Don’t call me that,” he said flatly.
Louis ignored him, striding forward with Sophie at his side. “Oh, come on. Is that any way to greet your long-lost travel companion? We shared trauma, you and I.”
Sophie giggled. “So you’re the unlucky one who had to drag him here?”
“Unfortunately,” Zayn muttered, rolling his eyes in the universal language of “I’ve given up.”
Louis gasped dramatically. “Rude! You could at least pretend you enjoyed my company. I brought life to your endless silence!”
“You brought noise,” Zayn corrected dryly.
“Semantics,” Louis said with a wave of his hand. “Anyway, you look good. Less murder-y.”
“I was hoping for peace this morning,” Zayn sighed. “Silly me.”
The elegant omega woman chuckled softly behind them, clearly amused.
Louis turned to her, instantly deciding she was one of the good ones — she had kind eyes, soft dimples, and that vaguely mom energy that made him want to behave… almost.
“Hello!” Louis said brightly. “I’m Louis Tomlinson, and this disaster next to me is Sophie Brighton. Lovely to meet you, ma’am.”
The woman smiled warmly. “I’m Anne Styles. Harry’s mother. Nice to meet you two — and please don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel ancient.”
Louis grinned. “Understood. Anne it is. And for the record, you look extremely not ancient. Honestly, I’m offended on your behalf.”
Sophie elbowed him, whispering, “You’re flirting with someone’s mum.”
Louis whispered back, “She started it with the dimples.”
Before Anne could laugh, Zayn cut in with a sigh. “You two might want to sit down. Harry will be here any minute.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “Oh, heaven forbid the prince catches us standing. We might be executed for insufficient reverence.”
Sophie giggled, dragging him toward the last row. “Behave.”
“Never,” Louis muttered, but followed anyway.
They sat beside Gabe — the other male omega — who looked like he’d been carved out of elegance and lavender perfume. Louis shot him a friendly smile, hoping for some brotherly solidarity.
Gabe looked him up and down, made a small, polite noise that might’ve been “hm,” and turned away.
Louis blinked, unimpressed. Rude.
He was about to make a snarky comment to Sophie when the air in the room shifted.
A tall figure stepped through the doors — calm, confident, the kind of quiet that made everyone else instantly shut up.
Louis blinked. Then blinked again.
No. Fucking. Way.
It was the guard. The guard from this morning.
There he was, strolling in like he owned the place — greeting Zayn and Anne with a casual nod, that same serene look on his face like he hadn’t spent this morning watching Louis try to escape over a wall.
The room went eerily quiet, thick with nerves and awe. Louis could practically hear hearts fluttering all around him. His own heart, however, was doing its best impression of a small explosion.
No. No, no, no. Absolutely not.
Louis’s entire omega instincts were having a meltdown — half wanting to hide, half wanting to scream. He sank a little lower behind the tall omega seating infront of him, praying the ground would open up and eat him.
But then — of course — the bastard’s green eyes found him.
Their gazes locked.
The man smirked — slow, deliberate, like he’d just heard the world’s best joke and Louis was the punchline.
Louis’s jaw dropped. “Fucking hell,” he blurted, loud enough to make half the omegas turn and offer scandalized expressions that said how dare you speak like that in public. Louis didn’t care. He was incandescent.
He’d been played. The bastard had lied. Louis was absolutely certain of it now, even if he couldn’t remember asking the man if he was the pack alpha — who would? You don’t ask a suspiciously handsome warrior-sorta-guy if he’s the big boss while you’re mid-escape. You assume he isn’t.
But of course he was. Of course he’d be the one to stroll in looking like he’d been carved from smugness and authority. Louis wanted to stab him — figuratively. Maybe literally if he could find a fork and the courage. Honestly, he’d settle for telling one of the omegas to bump into him dramatically.
He glared. He fumed. He plotted petty revenge in the form of sass. This was personal.
“Hi everyone,” Harry said, still smirking, his voice smooth and confident. “Thank you all for coming.”
“Like we had a choice,” Louis muttered loudly enough for half the room to hear.
A few gasps rippled through the crowd. Sophie elbowed him immediately, hissing, “Shh!” and smiling sweetly like she hadn’t just threatened him under her breath.
Harry’s eyes flicked in Louis’s direction — a brief pause, that damned smirk widening just a fraction — but he pretended not to hear.
“This must be a little strange for all of you,” he continued, tone calm, like he didn’t have an omega in the back plotting his murder. “As it is for me, standing here before you. But please remember — there are no expectations. You’re here to relax, to enjoy the pack, enjoy each other’s company…”
He let the smallest pause hang in the air, his gaze sliding deliberately across the room — stopping, of course, on Louis.
“…and maybe even enjoy my company.”
Louis snorted. “Sure. I’ll put it on my to-do list. It’s between ‘cry in the woods’ and ‘fake my own death.’”
Sophie groaned into her hands.
Harry, to his credit, carried on like he hadn’t just been heckled. His voice shifted into business mode — confident, steady, annoyingly pleasant.
“The agenda for this gathering is simple,” he said. “I want you to get to know the pack — the people, the land — and make sure it’s the right fit for you. You’ll spend time with my pack members. In a few weeks, we’ll have our full moon run—”
“Do we need to run?” an omega in front of Louis asked, horrified. “How dreadful.”
Louis muttered, “Oh no, physical activity. The horror.”
Harry’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t comment. “You’ll also spend some time with my lovely mother,” he continued smoothly, gaturing for Anne besides him, “to learn about the expectations and responsibilities of a pack omega. And you’ll spend some time with me, in between.”
Louis muttered again, quieter this time. “Lucky us. I should’ve faked rabies.”
Sophie’s elbow found his ribs.
Harry kept going, like the universe itself hadn’t sent him a personal test of patience. “There will be dinners every evening — with music, food, and the whole pack gathered. The goal here is simple: enjoy yourselves.”
Louis snorted. “So basically summer camp, but with more fur and emotional damage.”
A few omegas gasped; one giggled before catching herself.
Harry’s lips curved just enough for Louis to see it — that tiny, infuriating smirk that said game on.
_______
The first thing on the agenda was something Harry called a “pack discovery stroll.” Which, if you asked Louis, was just polite alpha-speak for everyone get up, we’re wandering in a circle.
Their guide? Zayn — who looked like he’d been personally betrayed by the universe. His expression screamed “I could be doing literally anything else,” and his tone carried the weary resignation of a man calmly narrating his own tragic demise.
“If I thought I was miserable,” Louis whispered to Sophie, “he looks like he’s choosing between leading us and faking his death.”
Zayn trudged ahead like a very stylish ghost. “This,” he droned, waving half-heartedly at a tree, “is where the pack meets for hunting prep. Over there’s the training grounds. Any questions?”
One omega raised a delicate hand. “Do the omegas here actually have to hunt?”
Zayn blinked at her, painfully slow. “No. But you’re welcome to volunteer as bait.”
Louis lost it. He had to bite his lip to keep from snorting like a deranged piglet. Sophie elbowed him, but she was giggling too hard to scold him properly.
Since he’d already had his little morning adventure (and emotionally combusted over it), Louis tuned out halfway through the tour and leaned toward Sophie to debrief her.
He started whispering — fast, furious, and definitely not quiet enough. By the time he finished, Sophie’s jaw was on the ground like she’d just heard a murder confession.
“No way,” she screeched, eyes wide. “Harry was the guard?!”
“SHH!” Louis hissed. “Not so loud, woman! Do you want me to die?”
“Oh my god,” she whispered, gasping for breath between laughs. “This is iconic!”
“Iconic?!” Louis whisper-yelled. “I flirted with him like an escaped lunatic! I called him darling! I told him I bite when I’m offended!”
Sophie clutched her stomach, crying with laughter. “Oh my god—you bitched at the pack alpha!”
Louis dragged a hand down his face. “I sassed him. Aggressively. Multiple times. I called him boring.”
Sophie absolutely lost it, laughing so loud Zayn stopped mid-tour. He turned to them slowly, dead-eyed and done.
“Are you finding our sacred prayer hall amusing?” he asked, in the tone of a man who had given up on joy.
Louis flashed him his sweetest smile. “No, Zaynie. Just your devastatingly handsome face.”
Zayn blinked once. “Thrilling.”
Without even sighing, he turned back to the group and said in a tone that suggested he’d been dead inside for years, “This is where we ask our gods for guidance. Personally, I’m asking why I’m giving this tour instead of doing my actual job. Or sleeping. Preferably sleeping.”
Sophie wheezed so hard she nearly tripped over a rock.
When Zayn was safely out of earshot again, she leaned toward Louis, eyes alight with glee. “So what’s the plan, Lou? You going to yell at him? Throw wine in his face like a dramatic omega? Or just ignore him until he collapses from unfulfilled yearning?”
Louis gave her a look that could kill crops. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Sophie said brightly. “I came here expecting two months of boredom and emotional repression, and instead I got front-row seats to the Louis Tomlinson Accidentally Flirts With the pack Alpha drama series.”
Louis groaned. “You’re a menace.”
“I’m an invested audience member, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, well, you can invest in my funeral when I die of humiliation.”
_______
At dinner, Louis pretended the incident with the pack alpha never happened. Total denial.
He was thriving in it. He grabbed a plate, loaded it with food, and focused on pretending he couldn’t feel several dozen eyes sneaking glances at him.
Everything was fine—until a familiar voice purred right behind him.
“Hello again.”
Louis almost dropped his plate. That voice was smooth as sin, and when he turned, there he was. The walking catastrophe himself. Harry Styles, all dimples and charm, smiling like he hadn’t emotionally ruined Louis’s morning.
Louis’s instincts screamed throw the meat. But sadly, they were surrounded by witnesses. Entire pack, communal dinner, no plausible deniability.
So he did the next best thing. He ignored him.
He turned right back to the food table like he’d just discovered a deep, life-changing connection with the roast potatoes.
Behind him, Harry chuckled softly. “What, no hello back? That’s rude, Lou.”
Louis groaned, shoveling potatoes onto his plate like they were stress therapy. “Lou my ass,” he muttered. “You lying douchebag.”
Harry didn’t even flinch. He just smiled wider — like he’d been waiting all day to annoy him. “I didn’t lie. You made assumptions.”
Louis spun around, eyes blazing. “Oh, sorry! I’ll remember next time to ask every passing guard if they’re secretly the pack alpha in disguise!”
Harry laughed — big, bright, delighted. The sound of a man who knew he was hot and winning. “I wasn’t in disguise! I was keeping the walls safe. You just surprised me during my shift.”
Louis rolled his eyes so hard they nearly left orbit. “You could’ve stopped me before I humiliated myself, you know. Said something. Anything. Maybe, ‘Hi, I’m your temporary overlord.’”
Harry tilted his head, grinning like the world’s most irritating angel. “But then I would’ve missed the best part — you listing all the reasons I must be annoying, unqualified, and… what was it? Frowny? Excellent points, by the way.”
Louis groaned loudly. “You’re insufferable. Go away. Go smile at the fainting omegas or something.”
Harry blinked innocently. “Fainting? Someone fainted?”
Louis stabbed a piece of meat like it owed him money. “If you smile at them, they will.”
Harry leaned in, voice low and teasing. “And you won’t?”
Louis turned to glare at him, deadpan. “No. But I will choke you with this meat.”
Harry’s grin was instant. “So violent, Lou. Is this how you flirt?”
Louis’s jaw dropped. “Flirt?! You wish! You’re lucky I haven’t shoved your smug head into the soup pot!”
Harry chuckled, eyes glinting. “Ah, the chemistry’s palpable.”
Louis threw his napkin onto the table. “You know what’s palpable? My rage.”
Harry smirked, completely unbothered. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like you like me.”
Louis stared at him, dead serious. “I have never wanted to commit a hate crime more in my life.”
Harry just winked. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”
Before Louis could actually launch a piece of meat at his head and deal with the consequences later, a breathy voice interrupted.
Lena — Miss “nature attacked me” herself — appeared beside Harry like a swan princess. She rested one manicured hand on his arm. “Harry,” she cooed, “come sit with us. I saved you a place next to me.”
Louis arched a brow. Of course she did.
Harry, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “Hmm. Thank you,” he said smoothly, “but I was just talking to Louis here. We’re in the middle of something.”
Lena turned to Louis with a look that could only be described as pure distaste. “Anything important?” she asked, suddenly ditching the breathy act.
Louis smiled sweetly — sweet enough to rot teeth on sight. “No,” he said brightly. “All yours, darling. Please give him extra attention — he’s starved for it.”
The look on Harry’s face was art — somewhere between offended, amused, and oh god, what have I done?
Lena beamed triumphantly, linked her arm through Harry’s, and dragged him off toward the flock of overdressed omegas like a prize she’d just won.
Louis watched them go, smiling into his drink as he goes back to where Sophie sits — smug, unbothered, and enjoying the chaos he’d just unleashed.
Across the table, Sophie snorted. “Someone get this man a medal. That was pure fire.”
Louis waved her off. “You’re delusional. The only fire here is the burning hatred I have for him.”
“Mmm,” Sophie hummed, propping her chin on her hand. “Hatred, lust — same pantry, babe. The tension between you two was so thick you could’ve toasted bread on it.”
Louis scowled. “Shut up. I’m trying to eat and ignore my life choices.”
But Sophie was still grinning like a cat with a secret. “He’s looking at you, by the way.”
Louis froze, then casually glanced over — and of course, Harry was staring straight at him from across the hall. Lena was still talking animatedly beside him, all smiles and hair flips, but Harry’s eyes were fixed on Louis.
When their gazes met, Harry smiled. Small. Knowing. Dangerous.
Louis immediately looked away, stabbing his potatoes. “Nope,” he muttered. “Absolutely not. I’m not starring in whatever romance novel he thinks this is.”
And yet, for the rest of the night, he could feel those stupid green eyes on him — smug, steady, and way too pleased.
_______
Louis woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept in a week.
His body ached, his brain felt fuzzy, and his soul? Deeply offended by the concept of mornings.
He lay there in his nest for a good minute, staring at the ceiling and trying to decide which was worse — another day stuck with the flock of judgmental omegas (minus Sophie, his one source of sanity), or another day breathing the same air as him.
Harry bloody Styles. The smug alpha who lied by omission and had the audacity to be attractive while doing it.
Louis groaned into his pillow. Fifty-nine days left. He was definitely counting.
When sulking stopped being productive, he got up, splashed his face, and decided to take a walk before breakfast and before Anne’s “duties of a pack omega” lecture — which Louis was already mentally titling How to Smile Through Oppression, Vol. 1.
The air outside was crisp and cool, the kind that made you breathe deeper and almost forget you were trapped in a mating experiment. Louis followed the path past the fields until laughter caught his attention.
Down the hill, a line of tiny pups — maybe five or six years old — marched toward a small school hut in the most chaotic single-file Louis had ever seen. Their teacher trailed beside them, looking like she’d seen things.
Louis stopped, grinning. He loved pups. They were tiny balls of honesty and rage — his favorite combo.
He crouched a little, watching as one small omega pup (adorable curls, huge eyes, clear menace) turned to the alpha behind him and shoved him square in the chest.
“Darren!” the teacher barked, sounding two seconds from howling. “Stop that right now!”
“He pushed me first!” Darren shouted, crossing his tiny arms with the drama of a seasoned performer. “He deserved it!”
Louis bit his lip, already charmed. God, I love this kid.
“I didn’t push you!” the alpha pup protested, brushing dirt off his tunic. “You just walk slow!”
The teacher sighed, “If you two don’t stop, I’ll make you hold hands the rest of the walk!”
That worked for about five seconds — until she turned her head, and Darren immediately shoved the alpha pup again, sending him face-first into the grass.
The little omega snickered, whispering, “you think you’re bigger, huh? Still fall like a potato sack.”
Louis lost it. A loud, full laugh burst out before he could stop himself. Every head turned. The teacher blinked, startled, while Louis waved like a cheerful idiot.
“Morning!” he said brightly. “Don’t mind me — just enjoying the show!”
The teacher chuckled despite herself. “You’re one of the visiting omegas, right?”
“Guilty,” Louis said. “Louis Tomlinson. You’ve got quite the squad here — future troublemakers of tomorrow.”
“You have no idea,” she said with a laugh. “I’m Mary. Want to join us for a bit? They like new faces — might even behave.”
Louis beamed. “Behave? Oh, don’t ruin my fun. But yes, I’d love to.”
He followed them toward the little school hut, the pups sneaking glances at him like he was the most exciting thing they’d seen all week. One brave alpha pup tugged on his sleeve.
“Are you one of the omegas here for Alpha Harry?” the boy asked, big eyes curious.
Louis blinked, then said solemnly, “Unfortunately, yes. I was tricked.”
The pup gasped dramatically, and Louis grinned. “Exactly. Let this be a lesson — never trust an alpha with dimples.”
Mary sighed, half laughing, half praying. “Maybe don’t start with that lesson, Louis.”
But Louis was already sitting down among the pups, helping Darren tie his shoelaces while whispering, “Next time, aim lower. Knees are good targets.”
The pups giggled. Mary muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, I should’ve taken the day off.
And just like that, Louis’s morning was infinitely better.
_______
It was about an hour later, and somehow Louis had become art instructor extraordinaire.
He was surrounded by a sea of tiny wolves, helping them draw something that vaguely resembled the sun. (Half of them had drawn what looked like angry oranges, but Louis wasn’t about to crush creative spirits.)
Mary was taking her well-earned break, and Louis was in his element — humming, laughing, mediating crayon disputes like a pro.
And then the door opened.
“Oh, great,” Louis muttered, because of course. Of course it had to be him.
“Alpha Harry!” half a dozen tiny voices squealed, abandoning their drawings and running straight into the arms of the man Louis had been working very hard to ignore.
Harry crouched down, all easy charm and soft smiles, greeting each pup like they were the highlight of his day. He ruffled their hair, listened to their babbling stories, called them by names and warm familiarity.
Louis sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching a handful of colored pencils and trying very hard not to look like he was melting.
Because it was unfair. Rude, even — for a man to look like a smug idiot one minute and a literal saint the next.
Harry’s sleeves were rolled up, the corners of his mouth gentle, his voice low as he asked each pup how their morning was.
Louis told himself it was fine. He was fine. Totally not staring. Just… casually observing. Appreciating local leadership culture.
Harry looked up just in time to catch him. His mouth quirked. “Was looking for you. You almost missed breakfast. Thought you were escaping again,” he said, tone light — amused, of course. Always amused.
Louis sighed, dramatically. “Not today, unfortunately. I was too busy providing art therapy to your youth division.”
Harry’s smile widened — dimples on full offense. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you gave them lessons. Next thing I know, they’ll be climbing walls and verbally assassinating me.”
Louis grinned. “Maybe they should. Pups are honest, you know. They say what everyone else’s thinking.”
Harry laughed under his breath, shaking his head — and Louis hated how fond the sound was.
Before he could fire back, a small voice piped up from the floor.
“Alpha Harry!” Darren called, beaming. “Are you giving us a lesson today?”
Harry’s entire face softened, and Louis felt something traitorous twist in his chest. “Can’t, little one,” Harry said gently. “I’ve got boring alpha duties today. I was just coming to escort Louis to the food hall.”
“Boring?” Darren repeated, scandalized. “You’re the alpha! You’re supposed to do fun stuff!”
Harry chuckled, crouching again. “Exactly why you should never grow up. Stay tiny, eat snacks, cause chaos. That’s the dream.”
Darren nodded sagely like he’d just been given the meaning of life. Louis couldn’t help it — a laugh slipped out, bright and unguarded.
Mary appeared then, looking delightfully exasperated. “Oh, wonderful! Two teachers now. Perfect. I can finally retire.”
Harry straightened up, still smiling. “Not today, Mar. Need to steal your assistant back — his agenda awaits.”
Louis rolled his eyes, standing and brushing crayon dust off his trousers. “Oh yes, the grand omega itinerary: eat, smile, and try not to murder anyone before noon.”
Harry chuckled again, and Louis glared at him just to balance the scales.
“Come on,” Harry said softly, nodding toward the door. “You’ll miss the food.”
Louis sighed and followed, giving Darren a wink on his way out. “Remember what I told you, yeah? Knees are weak points.”
“Louis!” Mary called after him, half horrified, half laughing.
Harry glanced sideways, utterly entertained. “You’re corrupting my pack.”
Louis smirked. “Consider it community service.”
Harry just laughed, shaking his head as they walked out into the sunlight.
Louis blinked, surprised by how bright it was. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been in the classroom — but then again, time always slipped when he was around pups. They filled every corner of space, every second of quiet.
“You do that a lot back in your pack?” Harry asked beside him. His tone was casual, but his eyes were curious. “Spending time with pups?”
Louis sighed softly, feeling that familiar ache tug at his chest. “Whenever I have time, yeah. I’ve got six siblings — the little twins are just 18 months. So, half the time I’m helping Mum wrangle the lot of them before they start a small-scale revolution.”
Harry chuckled. “That explains a lot.”
“About what?” Louis asked, arching a brow.
Harry’s mouth twitched. “Why you’re good with kids. You talk to them like they’re people.”
Louis snorted. “They are people. Small, loud, sticky people.”
Harry smiled, eyes soft. “I like pups too. Want a bunch of my own someday.”
Louis nearly tripped over his own feet. Oh, no. No, we’re not doing this. We are not walking into the ‘adorable alpha wants family’ territory.
He cleared his throat and schooled his face into something appropriately unimpressed. “Well, lucky you — there’s an entire buffet of willing omegas waiting in the food hall. Take your pick, start a litter.”
Harry laughed quietly. “It’s not that easy.”
Louis shot him a look. “It’s not hard either. Everyone and their mothers would kill to be the pack omega. All you have to do is pick one and pray they don’t faint when you smile.”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Again — not that easy.”
Louis arched an eyebrow. “You keep saying that like you’re not the one holding the audition list.”
Harry’s smile turned thoughtful. “I didn’t find anyone I liked from my own people. And besides leading the pack, I want my mate to actually want to be here. To connect with my wolves, love the place, help when it matters.”
Louis blinked at him, thrown for a moment by the sincerity. He wasn’t expecting that answer.
Harry glanced at him, softer now. “Also,” he added lightly, “it’d be nice if they liked me. You know. Not just the title.”
Louis snorted before he could stop himself. “Oh, how tragic. The powerful alpha, adored by all, just wants someone who ‘gets him.’ I might cry, held up a ceremony for praying for you.”
Harry laughed, eyes crinkling, sunlight catching in the curls that fell across his forehead. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” Louis said, chin tipping up, a faint smirk ghosting his lips, “still more grounded than half the omegas in that hall.”
Harry hummed, voice low and amused. “So you’re the realistic type, then?”
Louis’s mouth curved. “I’m the not-fainting type. Rare breed, apparently.”
Harry grinned, dimples in full effect. “One of a kind, then.”
“Tragic for you,” Louis said, side-eyeing him as they walked. “You’ll never survive me.”
Harry’s dimple deepened, a flicker of challenge in his eyes. “Oh, I plan to try.”
Louis groaned, tossing his head back with theatrical despair. “You really don’t have an off switch, do you?”
“Not when I’m making progress,” Harry said easily, flashing him a wink that could probably level buildings.
Louis snorted, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, tugging upward. “The only thing you’re making is me hungry for breakfast.”
Harry chuckled, that low, satisfied sound that made something in Louis’s chest tighten. “I’ll take that as a win.”
Louis shook his head, pretending not to notice how close they’d wandered—how the tips of Harry’s fingers brushed his sleeve when he gestured toward the food hall, or how the air between them felt just a little too warm.
_______
“The first thing you should know about this pack,” Anne began, her voice smooth and calm, “is that community is everything.”
They sat in a circle, sunlight spilling through the open windows, warming the wooden floor beneath them. Even the more restless omegas were quiet, listening.
“There are no real titles here,” she continued. “I’m the pack omega, yes — but that doesn’t make me higher than anyone else. My wolves aren’t beneath me; they’re beside me. My role is to keep them safe, cared for, happy. If anything, I’m the one in debt to them — not the other way around.”
Silence followed. A thoughtful one.
Louis felt something twist in his chest — the good kind. That quiet sense of recognition, of home. It reminded him of how his parents led — firm, but kind. Of how his father always said that strength wasn’t about dominance, but about who you carried with you.
He smiled before he could stop himself.
“But…” one of the visiting omegas piped up, brow furrowed. “If you treat them like equals — how do they respect you?”
Anne’s mouth curved in that knowing, patient way only mothers seemed to manage. “Respect,” she said softly, “doesn’t come from fear. It comes from trust. If your pack knows you’ll bleed for them, they’ll move mountains for you.”
Louis could feel the quiet awe ripple through the room — even from the ones too proud to show it.
Yeah, Louis thought, watching her. No wonder Harry turned out how he did.
Then, immediately: Not that I care. Just saying. Observation.
“But,” Gabe said suddenly, voice dripping with practiced disdain “you can’t really do common omega work, can you?”
Anne tilted her head, inviting him to continue.
Gabe did, of course. “I mean, a pack omega can’t be a healer or a teacher or anything like that. Your focus should be on your alpha — keeping the home clean, raising pups, attending diplomatic meetings. You know. Real responsibilities.”
Louis blinked at him slowly, because wow. Someone actually said it out loud.
Anne, graceful as ever, didn’t so much as flinch. But Louis could feel his own jaw tightening. Gabe said it like omegas couldn’t do more than look pretty and produce heirs — and Louis had half a mind to educate him using a crayon to the eye.
“My mum’s a healer,” Sophie piped up, voice bright but firm. “And she’s still our pack omega.”
Gabe gave her a patronizing little smile — the kind that made Louis’s hand twitch.
Before Louis could deliver the verbal slap Gabe so clearly deserved, Anne cut in gently. “You can be whatever you want to be, Gabriel. Truly. That’s the only thing an alpha should ask of their omega — to live honestly, in a way that fulfills them.”
Gabe frowned slightly, not used to being corrected so calmly.
“In this pack, you choose your path. You can have a profession or not. You can teach, heal, hunt, run a trade, or stay home — that’s between you and your partner. We want you to express your desires and how you’d like to contribute to the community. But above everything else, choice is what matters.”
Louis leaned back, impressed. Now that’s an omega who runs the show.
He shot Gabe a pleasant smile. “You hear that? Choice. Revolutionary concept, I know — but we’re all very proud of you for keeping up.”
A couple of the omegas stifled laughter. Gabe glared.
Anne pretended not to notice, though Louis caught the tiny smirk she tried to hide.
_______
The rest of the day passed in a blur of movement and chatter.
After the morning session, Anne handed out a list of tasks for everyone to choose from — part of her plan, she explained, to help them mingle with the pack. “A good omega knows the heartbeat of their community,” she said, smiling. “And the only way to learn it is to walk in its rhythm.”
Louis had barely skimmed the list before Sophie looped her arm through his. “Medicine delivery,” she announced. “You and me. We’re doing good deeds and gossiping at the same time.”
“Efficient,” Louis said approvingly. “Very us.”
They were sent off with a small basket of herbal remedies from the pack healer, along with a list of names and cottages spread across the territory. And honestly — Louis didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as he did.
Their first stop was an elderly wolf named Greta, who opened the door with her walking stick like it was a weapon.
“You’re late,” she barked.
Louis blinked. “It’s noon.”
“Exactly. I’ve been awake since five.”
“Congratulations,” Louis said sweetly, “and condolences.”
Sophie nearly dropped the medicine basket trying not to laugh.
Greta sniffed, unimpressed. “You one of the new omegas? Don’t see many of your kind running errands.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Louis said, handing her the jar. “I’m also available for home critiques and unsolicited fashion advice. Full service.”
For a terrifying second she glared—then burst out laughing, shaking her head. “You’re cheeky.”
“I’ve been called worse.” Louis winked. “By family.”
Each home they visited was different: a young mother with twin pups who immediately climbed Louis like he was a forest tree; a group of hunters nursing bruises who tried (and failed) not to laugh when Louis scolded them for “acting tough when they clearly needed arnica and better life choices.”
By the fifth stop, Sophie was doubled over laughing, her braid falling loose as she tried to keep up with his commentary.
“I swear,” she wheezed, “you could charm the fangs off a vampire.”
Louis shrugged modestly. “Just doing my civic duty. Making the sick feel better, emotionally and physically.”
“By roasting them?”
“It’s a proven medical technique,” he said primly. “Humor therapy.”
And it worked. Every wolf they met seemed lighter when they left — laughing, shaking their heads, fond.
Louis didn’t miss the way a few called after them, “You should stay, Tomlinson! The pack could use your mouth!”
He grinned over his shoulder. “Flattery will get you everywhere!”
By the time the sun dipped low, both he and Sophie were exhausted, but Louis’s chest felt oddly warm.
It wasn’t just about being useful — it was the connection. The easy laughter, the kindness, the shared stories that wrapped around him like something familiar. It reminded him of home, in a way he hadn’t expected.
When Sophie nudged him on their walk back, she said softly, “You’re actually liking it here, aren’t you?”
Louis rolled his eyes, because she was way too smug for someone who’d nearly tripped over a chicken ten minutes ago. “I like me here. There’s a difference.”
“Sure there is,” Sophie teased, grinning. “Tell that to your face next time it smiles at a stranger.”
Louis groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Ugh. You sound like my mum.”
“Your mum sounds right.”
He pointed at her without looking. “You’re on thin ice, Brighton.”
She only laughed, looping her arm through his as they made their way toward the food hall. Louis’s heart felt full — annoyingly full — and his stomach was growling loud enough to scare the local wildlife, but he still found himself smiling.
Sophie was babbling beside him about something — dinner, or gossip, or both — and he let her voice wash over him, the kind of comforting noise that made everything feel steady.
He could get used to this, his omega murmured somewhere deep inside him.
Two months, Louis thought, maybe won’t be so bad after all.
_______
Louis and Sophie had barely sat down with their plates when Harry appeared out of nowhere — like some smug, curly-haired apparition.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, smiling that infuriatingly perfect smile.
Louis looked him up and down, very deliberately, before settling on a tone that could curdle milk. “Why?”
Harry blinked, caught off guard. “Hmm… because I want to?”
Louis hummed, unimpressed. “Don’t you have a fan club somewhere else to entertain?”
“I do, actually,” Harry said easily, setting his plate down right beside Louis’s like he owned the seat. “Thanks to you, they’re quite fond of me now. You did push me to sit with them yesterday.”
Louis gestured toward the other table, where the group of omegas were giggling loud enough to be heard over the clatter of cutlery. “You could do that again. They might even let you talk this time.”
Harry chuckled, unbothered. “You’re mean, you know that?”
“No,” Louis said sweetly. “I just care about your love life. I’m a supportive omega in your little matchmaking circus.”
Sophie nearly choked on her drink. “Someone grab me popcorn, this is getting good.”
Harry ignored her entirely, his focus still locked on Louis — smiling like he found him fascinating instead of impossible. “I am meeting everyone, you know. You’re just next in line. Gotta show the council I have range — equal opportunity charm.”
“Pass,” Louis said flatly, stabbing a piece of bread with unnecessary force.
Sophie leaned in, grinning. “What he means is that he doesn’t like competition.”
Harry turned to her with a grin that could melt steel. “He doesn’t? That’s shocking. He seems excellent at it — ten out of ten for grabbing my attention with nothing but sass.”
Louis gave them both a look. “If I were really competing, Styles, you’d know. Because you wouldn’t even look at another omega.”
Sophie hummed with a wicked little smile. “Oh, he already doesn’t. Haven’t you noticed?”
Louis snapped his head toward her, scandalized. “Sophie!”
But Harry didn’t deny it — didn’t even try to. His smirk only deepened, his eyes fixed on Louis like he was the only thing in the room worth looking at.
“Yeah?” he said softly. “Then tell me, Louis… what would you do if you were competing? How would you make me forget the other ten completely?”
Louis pretended to think, twirling his fork lazily between his fingers. “Hmm. First, I’d flirt just enough to make you laugh. Not too much — just enough for you to think I’m charming. Then I’d let you think you were getting close — stroll with you under the stars, for atmosphere of course, talk about my pack, make you believe you actually knew me.”
Harry tilted his head, fascinated, a dimple appearing. “Go on.”
Louis’s voice dipped lower, smooth as silk. “Then I’d let you kiss me,” he murmured. “Just the cheek… maybe the jaw. Close enough to make you want more. I’d even let you scent me.”
He leaned in slightly as he said it, eyes glinting, lips curling into a small, knowing smile.
“And once you’re hooked—completely gone for me…”
He paused, noticing the way Harry’s gaze dropped to his mouth, drinking in every word.
Louis whispered the final blow:
“I’ll run.”
Harry’s breath caught — just a small hitch, but Louis noticed. His voice came out rougher now. “You’d run? For me to chase you?”
Louis shrugged one shoulder, gaze flicking down to Harry’s mouth before meeting his eyes again. “Or maybe just to make you ache for me. That way, I’d be the only thing you’d think about for the rest of your life.”
Harry leaned in too, so close Louis could feel the warmth of him, smell the faint spice and rain on his skin. Everything else disappeared — the chatter, the clinking dishes, even Sophie’s snicker somewhere to the side.
Harry’s voice was quiet, dangerous. “And what makes you think I’d ever let you get away?”
Louis smiled — slow, wicked, inviting. “Because you’d want to see how far I’d go before you caught me.”
Harry’s grin turned lazy, predatory. “Careful, love. I always catch what I chase.”
Louis smirked, pulse racing, pretending he wasn’t affected at all. “Then I guess we’ll see how good your stamina is, Alpha.”
Harry’s smile turned downright sinful. “Oh, I can promise it’s very good.”
Louis—tragically, fatally—laughed. He didn’t mean to. It just slipped out, breathless and nervous and way too flirtatious for someone allegedly not flirting.
Across the table, Sophie was grinning like the devil herself.
“What?” Louis snapped, glaring at her.
“Nothing,” she said, all false innocence. “Just wondering if I should remind you both that knotting in public is frowned upon.”
Louis nearly choked on his drink. “SOPHIE!”
Harry didn’t even blink. Just calmly speared another bite of food, eyes still glittering with amusement.
“Nothing like that was happening,” Louis insisted, waving a hand frantically. “I was just answering what he asked me!”
“Uh-huh,” Sophie said sweetly. “And I’m sure your omega side was just answering too.”
Louis groaned and dragged both hands down his face. “Brilliant. Publicly psychoanalyzed by my best friend. Love that for me.”
Harry chuckled beside him, that deep, lazy sound that made Louis’s stomach do something illegal.
“Stop laughing!” Louis hissed, glaring at him between his fingers. “You’re encouraging her!”
“I don’t think she needs encouragement,” Harry said, voice warm with amusement.
Sophie smirked. “Oh, I really don’t. This is the best entertainment I’ve had since we got here.”
Louis shot her a withering look. “Glad my social downfall brings you joy, Soph.”
Harry grinned. “It brings me joy too.”
Louis pointed his fork at him. “Don’t make me use this, Harry. I’ve stabbed bigger men for less.”
Harry only leaned closer, eyes twinkling. “I don’t doubt it, love.”
_______
The rest of the week passed in a blur of chaos, questionable decisions, and—tragically—accidental character development.
Louis had started settling in, much to his own horror. His morning strolls were now routine; he helped Mary with the pups, who had decided “Lou!” was their favorite battle cry, joined Sophie in her endless gossip sessions with the pack healer, and even learned the vital difference between “a real medical emergency” and “someone demanding attention because they stubbed a toe.”
He checked in on the injured wolves, made tea for Greta the ancient wolf because she claimed his sarcasm improved her circulation, and sat through endless sessions about pack customs and omega duties. Some he liked, some he survived purely out of spite, and some he slept through with his eyes open like a seasoned professional.
And annoyingly… he could feel it.: the pack’s essence — the community, the warmth, the irritating amount of care — and worst of all? He was starting to love it.
It started to feel almost like a vacation — if vacations came with a persistent alpha who kept showing up everywhere like a very handsome mosquito.
To Harry’s defense, after their flirty dinner incident, he really did make an effort to check in on everyone. Louis caught him chatting with the omegas, actually listening, smiling politely — even taking them on little strolls around the pack, letting them talk while he just nodded along like a very patient saint.
Louis even spotted him with Gabe, who was giggling like Harry had personally invented laughter.
Louis stared for a solid five seconds before muttering under his breath, “He’s not that funny.”
Still, it had been a good week. Productive, easy, annoyingly pleasant. So when the weekend rolled around all sunshine and good vibes, Louis decided they were ending it with a bang. He and Sophie packed towels, snacks, and enough sarcasm to last the afternoon, then headed to the river for what Louis dramatically declared a “well-earned mental health swim.”
They’d just finished swimming and were sprawled on the grass, munching on fruit like civilized wolves, when the sound of multiple pairs of shoes clacking toward them broke the peace. Louis looked up—and oh, perfect. The Ten Omegas of Doom, marching in perfect formation like they’d rehearsed it in the mirror — all giggles, fake lashes, and weaponized elegance.
Louis didn’t think much of it at first—until Gabe, gleaming like a smug little sunbeam, dropped down beside them and announced, loud enough for the birds to file complaints, “Guess who scheduled a private full date with the pack alpha?”
The collective gasp that followed could’ve powered a windmill. Louis just blinked, biting into his apple like a man who had absolutely zero interest in participating in their theatrics.
Of course, Gabe was glowing in the sunlight — radiant, ethereal, unfairly gorgeous — and Louis hated that on principle.
“How did you manage that?” Maya, one of the omegas, asked, voice dripping with awe.
Louis muttered under his breath, “Probably threatened to cry prettily.”
Sophie snorted so hard she nearly choked on a grape. Louis patted her back like a supportive friend while glaring at Gabe, who was already giving him the kind of look reserved for bugs that dared to exist near expensive shoes.
“No, actually,” Gabe said primly, flipping his hair like it had its own agent. “I just asked if he’d like to show me the pups’ school. I adore children and thought it would be sweet to see how they’re doing.”
Louis, internally: Dear Moon Goddess, please let Darren throw a paintbrush at him.
“So it’s not really a date,” Maya said, smiling like she’d just smelled gossip. “He’s just taking you around.”
Gabe’s voice turned syrupy and condescending all at once. “You have to trust the process, darling. An alpha wanting to see his future mate with pups? That’s instinct. I’ll charm the little brats, he’ll be smitten, and by sunset I’ll be fielding a proposal offer.”
Louis snorted before he could stop himself, while Sophie pressed her lips together like she was physically restraining a laugh. “Have you ever actually interacted with an alpha?”
Gabe blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Louis said, leaning back on his elbows, “you’re describing a storybook alpha — all soulful eyes and tragic mating destiny. Real ones are a bit less… poetic.”
“Oh, and you’d know?” Lena cut in, voice dripping honey and venom both.
“It’s just basic logic, darling,” Louis replied sweetly, tossing the apple core aside. “Real alphas are simple creatures. They want to feel admired, knot someone who laughs at their jokes, and be told they’re special for doing the bare minimum. Show a little skin, nod at the right times, and congratulations — second date achieved.”
Sophie turned to him, brow arched. “Why are you even talking to them?” she whispered.
Louis ignored her, smiling innocently as Gabe gawked at him. “Why are you telling me this? Don’t you want him for yourself?”
Louis shrugged. “Nah. I’m not really into the whole ‘find your fated mate’ circus.”
Lena scoffed loudly. “Why? Are you defective or something? Don’t you want to be mated and loved?”
Louis blinked, then grinned — slow and dangerous. “Oh, I do want to be loved. I just have taste.”
The omegas reacted like synchronized parrots, a chorus of scandalized gasps echoing around them. Louis almost applauded.
Gabe, of course, recovered first, arms crossing like he’d just won something. “Well, you were never really competition anyway, so that’s fine.”
Louis arched a brow. “And why’s that?”
Gabe’s smirk was villain-level evil. “Look at you,” he purred. “You’re not really pack omega material, are you? Not dainty, not graceful, you never shut up, and—no offense—you’ve got a little belly. Alphas don’t go for that. Especially pack alphas. Be serious, Louis. You had no chance.”
Louis’ jaw clenched, a low growl curling in his throat before he could stop it — but Sophie was faster.
“I think Louis is perfect,” she snapped, eyes sharp as claws. “And you, Gabe? Try not to suffocate on your own ego. Because when Harry actually looks at you, he’ll see what the rest of us already know — that you’re too vile to be anyone’s mate.”
Then she stood, chin high. “Come on, Lou. Let’s go before I forget my manners.”
Louis followed without a word, though inside he was boiling.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard it before — the quiet jabs, the not-so-quiet ones. That his sass made him “unmanageable,” that he wasn’t soft enough, polite enough, omega enough. But hearing it here, surrounded by omegas who looked like they’d stepped out of a handbook for “perfect mate material,” being judged so cruelly by them, when they didn’t even try to know him? Yeah. That stung worse.
Because the truth was, Louis didn’t want to change. He didn’t want to wear some polite, perfect little mask. He just wanted to stop feeling like he had to — like that was the only way people would accept him.
_______
The walk back was quiet between them, until Sophie finally broke it.
“You’re not taking what those mean wolves said to heart, right?” she asked gently, eyeing him like he was a wounded puppy she was ready to punch someone for.
Louis plastered on his best mask of indifference and shrugged. “Not really.”
“Good,” Sophie said, perking up. “Because honestly? That was pure, ugly jealousy.”
Louis blinked at her. “Why would they be jealous?” The thought alone was hysterical.
Sophie gave him a look — the soft, fond one she reserved for when he was being an idiot. “Because you’re special, Lou. Loud, sarcastic, unpredictable — the whole package. And even if not everyone can appreciate that? This pack does. Their wolves do. And the pack alpha? Completely smitten.”
Louis groaned like she’d stabbed him. “Please don’t. And Harry is not smitten. They were just trying to get a reaction.”
“Maybe,” Sophie hummed. “But you’re delusional if you think there wasn’t a little ‘let me poke the one the alpha keeps staring at’ energy behind it.”
Louis shook his head, denying everything with great conviction — and absolutely refusing to say another word.
They split at the path, Sophie announcing she needed a nap like she’d just survived a war. Louis smiled, waved her off… and stayed there a moment longer, the smile fading the second she was out of sight.
The walk back felt quieter than usual. His mind wouldn’t stop circling the same stupid words — “not pack omega material.”
He remembered being nine, sitting in the corner of his old classroom, red-faced and furious because his teacher had told him — right in front of everyone — “If you keep being obnoxious, you’ll end up alone.”
He’d gone home crying, insulted and gutted by her words, and his mum — the unshakable miracle that she was — had pulled him close and said softly, “People can be old-fashioned and judgey about things they don’t understand, darling. Especially things that don’t fit into their tiny little boxes. Don’t take it to heart — just feel sorry for them, and laugh at them in your head.”
Louis had sniffled and mumbled, “But what if no one really likes me, Momma? What if my mate doesn’t?”
His mum had smiled then, warm and certain. “Whoever’s lucky enough to be your mate will adore you. Just like we do. You hear me? We don’t compromise for less.”
The next day, his father had walked him to school and had a “little talk” with the teacher. Louis remembered the quiet power in his voice as he told her — politely, quietly but firmly — to never say something like that to a young pup again. Not because Louis was his son, but because no little pup should ever feel like they’re “too much” for being themselves.
The teacher didn’t look Louis in the eyes again.
He could still feel his mother’s hug, his father’s fierce support — like a small ghost of comfort he carried everywhere.
So when he reached the main fireplace in the pack center, Louis took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and muttered to himself, “Right. Time to laugh at them in my head. Maybe set their hair on fire in my imagination… but mostly laugh.”
Then he smiled again, small but real, and went to warm his hands by the fire.
He sat there for a while, watching the flames dance, mind blissfully empty for once — until voices drifted from the path behind him. Familiar ones.
Anne and Zayn, walking side by side, deep in conversation.
Louis froze immediately, because if there was one thing he loved more than peace and quiet, it was quality gossip. He sank lower where he sat, arranging himself like a tortured poet staring into the flames — as if he wasn’t absolutely eavesdropping with every cell in his body.
“So he hasn’t said anything about anyone?” Anne asked, sounding both curious and mildly exasperated.
“Stop gossiping, Anne,” Zayn said, smirking. “You’re starting to sound like my mum.”
Anne sighed dramatically. “I just— it’s been a week! I thought he’d have picked someone by now. Or at least hinted if someone caught his eye! But that boy—honestly—he just smiles at me and says everything will be fine. Who raised him to be so emotionally constipated?!”
“Unfortunately, you,” Zayn teased, fondness dripping from his voice. “You know Harry. He keeps his cards close. He needs time. He set this whole thing for two months — I think we all know he’s not making a snap decision.”
Anne groaned. “Seriously, when I met Des, I knew in the first week there was something there. A hunch! But you lot—your generation takes its sweet time.”
Zayn laughed. “Yeah, that’s what my grandparents said about your generation. My nan swore she knew the same day, and she still complained that my mum ‘took forever’ deciding.”
Anne sighed dramatically.
Then Zayn smirked. “But having said that… I think he already knows what he wants, actually.”
Louis’s ears practically perked. He leaned forward slightly, pretending to poke at the fire, every cell in his body focused on who they meant.
Anne’s tone turned eager. “Oh? And who do you think that is?”
Zayn’s smirk deepened. “Who do you think?”
Anne smiled — and it was so unmistakably Harry’s smile that Louis nearly leaned straight into the fire. He jerked upright at the last second, yelping a little, but it was too late. Both of them were already looking right at him.
“Oh! Louis, darling, didn’t see you there,” Anne said cheerfully, the very picture of innocence.
Louis forced his most casual grin. “Oh hey! Same. Didn’t see you either. I was just… you know… contemplating life. Might’ve accidentally dove into the fire in the process.”
“Something important?” Zayn asked, and Louis swore the man could smell guilt like a bloodhound.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Louis said breezily. “Makeup shades, fashion crises, what to wear for tomorrow’s hunt — all the deep, complicated things an omega worries about.”
Zayn snorted. “If I hadn’t spent a full day with you on the road, I might’ve believed that. But sorry, not buying it. Every other omega here, maybe — but not you.”
It was meant to sound teasing, Louis could tell. But the words still landed wrong. Maybe it was Gabe’s earlier jab still echoing in his head, or maybe he was just tired, but Louis’s smile slipped before he could catch it.
Anne must’ve seen it, because she turned to Zayn and said sweetly, “Zayn, dear, why don’t you go check on Bruce? I heard he twisted something in training.”
Zayn blinked, clearly clocking the dismissal, but nodded and left.
When he was gone, Anne walked over and sat beside Louis, the firelight soft on her face. “Don’t mind him, love. Alphas can be thoughtless sometimes.”
Louis shrugged, trying to sound indifferent. “It’s fine. Heard worse. Don’t really care.”
Anne hummed knowingly. “Mmm. You say that like someone who’s been practicing.”
Louis huffed a laugh, one corner of his mouth twitching. “Practice makes perfect.”
Anne smiled at that, thinking for a moment before saying, “You know, when I met Des — Harry’s father — I wasn’t exactly what you’d call a role-model omega.”
Louis blinked, genuinely surprised. In his mind, Anne was the definition of an exemplary pack omega — all grace and kindness. She reminded him a bit of his own mum, just… without the built-in snark that made his mother beloved by his father and occasionally the sworn enemy of every old-fashioned wolf in their pack.
But Anne? She didn’t seem like someone who ever wasn’t perfect.
“You weren’t?” he asked, stunned.
“Oh no,” Anne said, laughing softly. “He was older, serious, intimidating — all that classic alpha charm. And I was… well, shy, yes, but also an absolute menace outdoors. I’d come home covered in mud to my mother’s despair. I spent half my childhood in the woods, climbing trees, chasing birds, falling out of trees while chasing birds… I never thought I’d find an alpha who’d let me be wild and free — and still love me for it.”
Louis smiled faintly. “But you did.”
“I did,” she agreed. “Not without a few battles, though.” Her eyes sparkled with memory. “I met Des when I was hunting in the woods. He scared off the deer I’d been stalking for hours, and I nearly bit his head off. I was furious — yelling, waving my bow around like a madwoman — and he just stood there, smiling at me like I’d given him a gift.”
Louis snorted. “Sounds familiar.”
Anne chuckled. “Yes, Harry takes after him that way. Anyway, Des came back the next day… and the next… until I finally realized he wasn’t there for the deer anymore. I thought he’d lost his mind — a future pack alpha chasing me? I made him work for it, though. Made him grovel every time he ruined my hunt.”
Louis grinned, leaning in. “Good. I hope you made him suffer.”
“Oh, I did, dear,” she said with a wink. “By the end of that summer, he was completely whipped.”
Louis laughed, and for a moment the weight in his chest eased.
Then Anne reached out, taking his hand in both of hers. “Not everyone’s meant to fit one mold, Louis. Not alphas, not omegas. What matters is who you are — your kindness, your courage, the way you care.”
Louis squeezed her hand, voice softer. “I know. I just… sometimes wish I fit in easier, you know? Be a little less different. It’s one thing being a male omega — rare enough — but a mouthy one?”
Anne’s eyes warmed, proud and steady.
“I think ‘normal’ is terribly overrated. And all those things you worry about? They’re what make you you — what make you special. And if my pup is anything like his father and me… he’s thinking the exact same thing.”
Louis let out a quiet laugh, his gaze drifting back to the flames. He didn’t answer — didn’t trust himself not to give away how deeply her words landed. He wasn’t thinking about Harry. Not really.
He was just letting himself glow a little — because being accepted by a pack omega, Harry’s mother no less, someone powerful and steady and kind, felt… big. It felt validating in a way he hadn’t known he needed.
That settled warm and startlingly soft in his chest.
_______
The hunt trip the next morning was scheduled at a frankly criminal hour. Five a.m. sharp. Louis was not built for five a.m. exercise. Or five a.m. thinking. Or five a.m. existing. Anything that happened before sunlight should be illegal, punishable by immediate exile.
He trudged to the edge of the forest with Sophie beside him, clutching his mug of tea like a lifeline. Sophie yawned so wide it looked painful.
“Why the hell are we doing this now?” she groaned. “What’s wrong with a noon hunt? Or a polite afternoon stroll with snacks?”
Louis snorted. “Because apparently we’re all feral now.”
When they reached the clearing, Zayn was already there, looking disgustingly awake. He was flanked by a few other alphas, all of whom seemed far too pleased about being vertical. Harry, notably, was not there.
Louis sipped his tea, unimpressed. “Oh, so he gets to be late,” he announced loudly. “While the rest of us peasants freeze our asses off waiting for His Highness to rise from his silk sheets.”
Sophie choked on a laugh. The alphas glanced over, and for once, even the omegas stayed quiet — probably united in silent agreement.
But then, of course, Harry appeared. Fresh from a run, a little sweaty, curls messy, and wearing that bright, easy grin that should’ve been illegal at this hour.
“Hey!” he called cheerfully. “Sorry I’m late—”
“Oh look, here he is!” Louis announced loudly. “Tell us, Your Highness — did you get stuck admiring yourself in the mirror? Blink twice if your beauty held you hostage.”
Laughter rippled through the clearing — Zayn shaking his head, Sophie practically crying, and even a few alphas biting back grins.
Harry just stood there, hands on his hips, smiling like Louis had personally made his morning.
“No, really,” Harry said, still catching his breath, “I was out on a run—”
Louis waved him off. “Not good enough. You need something epic.”
Harry blinked, amused. “Epic?”
“Yes,” Louis said, gesturing dramatically with his mug. “Say you wrestled a bear. Or single-handedly fought off a rogue wolf. Maybe bring us a corpse next time so we can all gasp and applaud your masculine glory.”
The alphas around them snorted, Zayn muttered something like “why do I even try,” and Harry’s grin only widened.
“Alright,” Harry said, stepping closer. “Next time, I’ll make sure to bring proof.”
Louis sipped his tea, unbothered. “Do. I’ll need something to admire while I’m slowly dying of hypothermia out here.”
Harry’s eyes twinkled. “You could just look at me.”
Sophie groaned so loudly a bird took off from a nearby tree.
“NO. Absolutely not. I refuse to witness whatever… thing you two are doing at five in the morning. I want my bed!”
Louis gave her a sympathetic look and patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, Soph. If it gets unbearable, we can always shoot him. Purely by accident.” He leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “I’ll even scream, ‘OH NO, THE ALPHA HAS FALLEN!’ and you can hold the rifle and look distraught. Very convincing. No one will know.”
A silence fell.
Harry blinked. “…I’m right here.”
Louis didn’t even turn, just sipped his tea. “Yes, unfortunately.”
Sophie cackled, and Louis heard Zayn mutter to the other alphas, “Make sure Louis gets the non-killing rifle. Rubber bullets only. The kind we give the pups.”
Louis just smiled into his mug. This morning was getting better and better.
_______
An hour later, Louis had decided this was the dumbest idea anyone had ever had — and that included the time Niall tried to make non-alcoholic moonshine and accidentally poisoned half the pack because he added “just a little bit” of toxic berries for flavor.
The official reason for this “hunt” was to “help the omegas connect with nature and understand the pack’s way of life.” Translation: make them suffer for team bonding.
Louis was not connecting with nature. Louis was connecting with a mosquito. Repeatedly.
It didn’t help that every alpha around them looked like they’d stepped straight out of a heroic mural — all sharp eyes, bulging muscles, and “I wrestle mountains for fun” energy — while the omegas looked two minutes from fainting. One even clutched her pearls. Actual pearls. In a forest.
Then came the trap-setting lesson, led by a very muscular alpha whose tone was so serious Louis instinctively took a step back like the man was about to yell at him personally. He still managed to knot a net big enough to capture a medium-sized bear.
Some omegas tied knots like they’d never seen rope before. Others — Lena and Gabe — tied theirs so theatrically perfect they both looked at Harry like he should throw roses at their feet.
Louis leaned over to Harry and muttered, “Careful. They look one knot away from tying you to a bed and calling it training.”
Harry chuckled, low and teasing. “Are you jealous? I wouldn’t mind a little suspension.”
Louis physically recoiled. “EW. Absolutely not. Horrifying.”
Then spun around and walked away before Harry could witness him blushing at the unholy mental image of Harry tied down like the world’s prettiest hostage.
Shirin, the flirtiest of the bunch, took things a dramatic step further.
Their next session was target practice, with Harry demonstrating how to properly aim — all intense focus and perfect posture, because of course he was built for dramatic lighting.
The moment he picked up a rifle, Shirin gasped, clutched her chest, and swayed like a tragic heroine straight out of one of Lottie’s overly dramatic novels — before collapsing in a graceful heap right at his feet.
Harry blinked. “Did she just—?”
“Fainted,” Louis said flatly. “Classic move. My condolences.”
Harry called Zayn over to escort her to the infirmary while Shirin cracked one eye open like, is he watching me yet?
He was not.
Louis snorted so hard he nearly swallowed air.
By the time the rest of them were actually sent “into the wild,” Louis had mentally checked out. Harry had said, in his stupidly inspiring alpha voice, “The best hunter will win a one-on-one session with me.”
Louis immediately decided he was not catching so much as a bug.
Let the others crawl through the mud for glory; he was not about to personally murder his lunch. It was one thing to eat the poor deer once it was cooked, seasoned, and politely anonymous on a plate — it was another thing entirely to go full predator.
So instead, Louis devoted himself to a higher cause: warning the wildlife.
He crouched behind a bush, whispering urgently to a small, twitchy deer. “Take cover, Bambi. They’re coming. I can’t stop them. Save yourself.”
The deer bolted, and Louis felt a burst of pride. “Atta boy,” he whispered. “Live free, my brother.”
Every growl or snap of twigs made him flinch like he was in a horror film. “Oh great,” he muttered, “someone’s probably gutting something. Love that for me.”
“Having fun?”
Louis nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to find Harry beside him, all relaxed grin and obnoxiously radiant in the sunlight — the kind of man who somehow made dirt look like an accessory.
“Define fun,” Louis said flatly, clutching his tea thermos like a holy relic.
Harry smirked, eyes glinting. “You look very… engaged.”
“Oh, I’m engaged, alright. To my own survival.”
Harry’s low laugh rumbled out, unfairly nice for someone about to commit woodland homicide. “You’re supposed to be hunting, Louis. Not hiding. The winner gets a private session with me, remember?”
Louis scoffed. “Yeah, because nothing screams romance like stabbing wildlife for a prize.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You could always try to win.”
“I’d rather keep the moral high ground,” Louis said primly. “Someone’s got to stop you from murdering Winnie-the-bloody-Pooh.”
Harry tilted his head, smirking. “Pooh the—?”
But before he could finish, Louis froze.
Because right there, between the trees, a tiny bear cub had toddled into view — all chubby legs and blinking eyes, soft as a cloud and absolutely doomed if Harry saw it.
Oh no. Nope. Not today. Not on my watch.
Louis immediately spun on his heel and took two very casual, very suspicious steps to Harry’s side — positioning himself so that if Harry followed his movement, his back would be turned to the cub.
Harry did, frowning down at him. “What are you—?”
“Question,” Louis blurted. “How was your date with Gabe?”
Harry blinked, thrown. “My what?”
“Your date,” Louis said quickly, waving a hand like it was obvious. “You know, romantic tour of the classroom? He hasn’t shut up about it. Practically swooning. Says he loves pups. And you. In that order.”
Harry looked halfway between puzzled and entertained. “He asked to visit the pups’ school, but I sent Zayn instead. I was stuck in a meeting with the council.”
“Oh!” Louis said — far too loud — still shifting left every time Harry tried to peek around him. “Well. Tragic. Truly heartbreaking for his… uh… failed attempt. Devastation everywhere.”
He kept moving, blocking Harry like a tiny, panicked bodyguard with zero coordination.
Harry folded his arms, amusement sharpening. “Louis,” he said slowly, “why are you standing in front of me like a very small, very suspicious wall?”
Louis smiled innocently. “No reason!”
Harry arched a brow. “No reason.”
“None!” Louis said, voice an octave too high. “I just like—uh—proximity! Builds trust.”
Harry turned slowly, only for Louis to launch himself into his path like a very determined squirrel.
Harry stepped left. Louis stepped left.
Harry stepped right. Louis blocked him again, arms spread like a tiny, panicked shield.
Now Harry was outright laughing. “You’re terrible at this.”
“Terrible at what?” Louis said, voice an octave too high, eyes darting everywhere except the baby bear behind him currently chewing a flower like it was living its best life.
Harry leaned a little to the side.
Louis side-stepped so fast he nearly tripped. “Stop moving. Gods, Harry, stand still. Enjoy the moment. Breathe. Reflect. Meditate.”
Harry blinked, amused. “What are you—”
He looked over Louis’s shoulder.
Louis saw the exact second recognition dawned — the way Harry’s eyes locked onto the tiny, fluffy creature behind him. Tiny. Harmless. Adorable.
Harry’s body went still, instincts snapping into place. “…That’s a bear cub.”
Louis groaned. “Yes, congratulations, Captain Obvious. Gold star. Now can we not kill it, please?”
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Harry said calmly. “You’re the one acting like we stumbled into a murder scene.”
“Because we DID!” Louis hissed. “Where there’s a cub, there’s a mum! And I am not getting mauled to death over your stupid pack-bonding scavenger hunt!”
Harry’s mouth twitched. “Relax. She’s probably far—”
A low, unmistakable growl rumbled through the trees.
“—or maybe not,” Harry corrected instantly.
Louis gripped his arm tight. “Right. Plan B. We back away slowly, no eye contact, and if anyone asks, we were valiantly saving nature. Not screaming.”
Harry’s smile turned wicked. “You scream?”
“Only if you die first,” Louis snapped.
They backed up together, slow and tense, until the trees thinned and the sound of the river returned. Only then did Louis drop his death grip, exhaling loudly.
Harry looked at him, still smiling faintly. “You do realize I wasn’t going to attack a bear cub, right?”
Louis crossed his arms. “I realize you’re a man, and men do stupid things when they’re showing off.”
Harry laughed softly. “So you were protecting the cub… or me?”
Louis glared at him. “Both, apparently.”
“Heroic,” Harry murmured, grinning. “You’re something else, Lou.”
Louis huffed, turning away before Harry saw the smile tugging at his lips. “You can thank me later with lunch. And a lifetime of therapy.”
_______
By the time the hunt ended, Louis was utterly done with life. His muscles ached, his hair smelled like dirt and regret, and if one more person said the word bonding, he was going to bite them. Hard.
Lena, of course, was declared the winner — which was hilarious. Louis would’ve bet his entire inheritance that she hadn’t stepped on a single twig. She definitely convinced some poor alpha to do the killing for her with a pout and a flutter of lashes, then posed dramatically beside the body like a warrior princess. Classic Lena: zero effort, maximum presentation.
The alphas cooked what they hunted, and Louis dragged himself to sit with Sophie, eating and watching Lena and Harry do their little one-on-one moment — sitting close, talking softly, Lena clearly reenacting some heroic deer battle she definitely stole from a romance novel.
Harry looked… amused. Too amused.
Sophie chuckled. “If looks could kill—”
Louis groaned. “Sophie, please. If I hear the word kill again, I’m going to start sobbing.”
Sophie patted his thigh. “Relax, darling. No one’s killing anything.”
Then, sweet as spun sugar, she added: “Except your dignity. You’ve been staring at them like a jealous wolfdog guarding a chew toy.”
Louis choked on his meat. “I— EXCUSE YOU—”
Sophie took a long, leisurely sip of her drink. “Mm-hmm. Keep howling, sweetheart.”
The moment they were finally released from the day’s torture, Louis trudged toward the spring behind his hut like a man walking to his freedom. He stripped off his filthy clothes and stepped straight into the water before he could think twice. The shock of cold nearly sent him into cardiac arrest, but at least it woke him up. He scrubbed at his arms and hair until the water turned murky, muttering under his breath about “nature’s vengeance.”
By the time he stumbled back to his hut, hair dripping and towel hanging crookedly around his waist, the sun was already low, and Louis’s energy reserves had been officially declared dead on arrival.
Louis collapsed stright on his bed, not even bothering to pull the blanket up. He was asleep before he could roll onto his side.
Sophie shook him awake at some point, whispering about dinner. Louis mumbled something that sounded like “bury me” and went straight back to sleep.
Hours later, his stomach woke him up. Loudly.
The room was dim, lit only by a slice of moonlight across the floorboards, and for a minute Louis didn’t know where he was. Then the ache in his shoulders reminded him. The woods. The idiotic hunt. The loss to Princess Lena the Deer Slayer. He groaned, pressing a hand over his stomach. “Fantastic. Starving in exile,” he muttered. “Tragic end for a legend.”
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, genuinely debating whether to go wake some poor kitchen omega for a midnight sandwich or simply perish dramatically and let the moon claim him. Honestly, both options had their appeal. His stomach, however, chose violence — groaning loudly like a wounded moose.
Just as Louis decided he might actually die here, the faint crunch of footsteps broke the silence outside. Not frantic. Not clumsy. Not Sophie’s exhausted “I’m basically a corpse” shuffle. And definitely not the light, nosy patter of a wandering omega.
No — these footsteps were steady, purposeful… the kind of footsteps belonging to someone who made decisions for a living. Curious, suspicious, and extremely hungry, Louis swung his legs off the bed, tugged on his pants, and opened the door.
Harry stood on his doorstep, looking like the universe was playing a cruel joke. His curls were damp around the edges, his sleeves pushed up, and in his hands was a plate of food — steaming, actual food — like some domestic fantasy that had no business happening in Louis’s life.
For a second Louis just stared, certain he was hallucinating. Harry turned his head at the sound, lips quirking into that unfairly warm smile. “Hey,” he said softly, voice low like the whole world was asleep except them. “Didn’t think you were awake. Sophie said you were out cold.”
Louis blinked, taking in the absurdity of the sight — the pack alpha, standing on his doorstep at nearly midnight with dinner. “You brought me food?”
Harry smiled, the corners of his mouth curling in that calm, infuriatingly confident way. “You skipped dinner,” he said, shrugging like it was nothing. “Couldn’t let you starve.”
Louis opened his mouth to argue, ready with something sarcastic, but his stomach betrayed him with a low, miserable growl. He sighed in defeat. “Fine. Come on in before my dinner instincts take over and I bite your hand.”
Harry chuckled quietly, stepping inside. The small hut felt even smaller with him in it — warm, filled with the faint smell of pine and rain that clung to his skin. Louis took the plate with a muttered “thanks,” sinking onto the bed and immediately digging in. There was meat, potatoes, roasted vegetables, and — oh, divine mercy — pie. Actual pie.
He looked up mid-bite, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “Did you bribe the cooks?”
Harry leaned against the wall, arms crossed, all smug ease. “No need,” he said with a wink. “I’m their pack alpha.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “How could I possibly forget.”
“Is it good?” Harry asked, that knowing smile tugging at his lips.
Louis didn’t even hesitate, his mouth full, dignity long gone. “So good I could eat a thousand and die happy.”
Harry laughed, low and soft. “Please don’t. I’d have to explain that to your father, and he’d definitely kill me.”
Louis swallowed, smirking. “He would. I’m his bright and shining jewel, after all.”
Harry tilted his head, eyes glinting in amusement. “Oh, that’s what they call you?”
Louis licked a bit of gravy from his thumb, too tired to be humble. “Among other flattering things.”
“Such as?”
Louis smirked. “National treasure. Miracle of personality. Walking headache — that one’s from Niall, but I think it still counts.”
Harry laughed again, and for a quiet, dangerous moment, Louis realized he could get used to that sound — the way it softened the air, the way it made even the lonely night feel less empty.
“Who’s Niall?” Harry asked after a beat, voice warm and teasing. “Do I have competition waiting back home?”
Louis shot him a dry look over his plate. “Don’t be ridiculous. Niall’s my omega best friend — the kind who eats all your food and still complains he’s starving.”
Harry chuckled. “Good to know you’ve got friends back home. For a moment, with all that talk about omegas when we first met, I thought maybe you didn’t like your own kind.”
Louis paused, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “I don’t really think about it like that,” he said finally. “People are people. Some I like, some I can’t stand. Doesn’t matter if they’re alpha or omega — stupidity and charm come in both flavors.”
Harry grinned, dimples showing. “That’s fair. Some of my favorite wolves are omegas — the bold ones, anyway. Most of the alphas could use a bit of their spine.”
Louis snorted. “Please. Omegas have to be clever to survive all the growling and chest-beating. Alphas just get to roar and call it leadership.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, amused. “Careful. You’re talking to one.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” Louis said, eyes glinting. “But you don’t seem like the chest-beating type. More the smug-and-smiling-while-everyone-else-panics type.”
Harry laughed softly, the sound warm in the quiet room. “You’ve got me there.”
Louis smirked, stabbing another bite of pie. “Thought so. You’re dangerous in an entirely different way.”
Harry tilted his head, curious. “And what way is that?”
Louis shrugged, pretending to think. “The kind that makes people forget you’re trouble until it’s far too late.”
Harry’s smile turned slow and knowing. “You talk like you’re warning yourself.”
Louis met his gaze, unflinching. “Maybe I am.”
The silence that followed was soft, edged with something neither of them dared name — a spark hovering just between the air and the firelight.
_______
Harry stayed longer than Louis expected.
After Louis finished eating, he asked if Harry wanted tea, and the alpha nodded eagerly — almost too quickly, like he didn’t want to leave either.
They ended up sitting outside, Louis wrapped in a blanket, and Harry settled on the step beside him. The night was quiet; the kind that hummed softly with crickets and calm. Louis found himself smiling as he told Harry about the ridiculous things he and Niall used to do back home.
“No way! And your father didn’t even scold you for that?” Harry asked, laughter bursting from him, bright and unrestrained.
Louis shook his head, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “That alpha had it coming. Talking about my best friend’s body like it was his right. He got diarrhea for three days.”
Harry laughed again, boyish and carefree — so much that Louis caught himself staring, fondness warming his chest.
“You’re a menace,” Harry said, still chuckling. “What about just telling him off instead of poisoning his food?”
Louis shrugged, unbothered. “Could’ve done that, sure. But then I’d have to sit through a lecture about how omegas should ‘mind their place’ in social gatherings.”
Harry blinked, his amusement fading into disbelief. “Alphas actually do that? Scold omegas for speaking their mind?”
Louis nodded somberly. “Unfortunately, yes. My father never allows it in our pack, but visitors… they bring their own habits.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. “I wouldn’t tolerate it in mine either. If anyone spoke to my wolves like that — tried to silence them because of their secondary gender — I’d make an example out of them.”
Louis smiled softly at him. Something inside him — maybe his omega — purred in quiet approval. It wasn’t just the words, but the conviction in Harry’s voice, the way he said it like a promise. Like he’d defend any wolf who faced that kind of mistreatment.
“Your future mate will be very fortunate then,” Louis said before he could stop himself.
And, strangely, he didn’t want to take it back. Not when Harry turned to him with that look — soft and fond, eyes warm as embers. Louis could almost picture it then: Harry standing beside his mate, protective and proud, making sure their voice was always heard.
He wasn’t stupid; he knew where his mind was wandering. He could see it too easily — himself standing next to Harry, hand in hand during pack gatherings, a quiet balance of strength and calm between them. Harry’s rock, and Harry his.
But another part of him rejected the thought as quickly as it came. It was fantasy. A dangerous, beautiful fantasy. Someone like Harry would never choose him — not for long. Maybe for a night. Maybe a few weeks. But sooner or later, they always grew tired. Tired of Louis’s sharp tongue, his need to push back, to challenge.
So Louis dropped his gaze, forcing a small smile as if to shake it off. And just as the ache began to settle, Harry surprised him by changing the subject.
Harry cleared his throat softly, gaze flicking toward the mug in Louis’s hands.
“Is there jasmine in this tea?” he asked, voice lighter now — like he’d sensed Louis retreating into his thoughts and decided to tug him back gently.
Louis blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah. My favorite. Why?”
Harry hummed. “Tastes like something my mum used to make. You brew it stronger, though.”
Louis arched a brow. “Are you saying I don’t know how to make tea properly?”
Harry’s grin widened. “I’m saying you’re trying to kill me with caffeine.”
Louis laughed, the sound slipping out before he could stop it. “Please, you’d survive worse. I saw you eat two plates of roast chicken like a starving bear.”
“Fair point,” Harry said, chuckling. “Still. You should warn your future mate before you hand them a cup like that.”
Louis tilted his head, the warmth returning to his cheeks. “You offering to be my test subject?”
Harry’s grin widened — slow, deliberate. “Maybe I already am.”
Louis rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed this time. The night had grown colder, but somehow, with Harry sitting beside him, the air didn’t feel so sharp anymore.
_______
Louis liked the harvest festivals back home.
He liked the noise — the kind that filled every corner of the pack grounds until it felt like the whole world was laughing with them. He liked the celebration itself: long tables covered in food everyone had helped prepare, music rising from drums and flutes, pups running wild between the adults’ legs, bonfires crackling high enough to send sparks into the dark sky.
He liked the feeling of togetherness, the way the pack swelled with pride after months of hard work. Wolves danced, ate, teased each other, shared stories about the season’s hunts and harvests. It was messy and loud and imperfect in all the ways Louis adored.
And he smiled softly at the memory — his father standing on one side, Lottie on the other, both tucked under his dad’s arms as the three of them watched their pack sing and cheer and eat themselves silly. Warm. Safe. Home.
But this wasn’t his pack, and he didn’t know their customs, so when Anne started explaining the evening’s expectations, Louis sat up straight and listened like a very well-behaved wolf.
“In our pack festival,” Anne said warmly, “beyond the usual party and the grand meal, we also exchange gifts. Each wolf pulls a name — families gift other families, pups gift their peers. It’s our way of reminding everyone that they matter, and that every wolf’s hard work is seen and appreciated.”
A few rows over, Maya piped up, “What kind of gift? Like… something we buy?”
Anne shook her head, smiling. “No, something you make. A dish, a piece of art, jewelry — anything handmade that shows appreciation. Our pack is very accepting, so don’t worry about being mocked. It’s the thought that counts.”
Louis gulped so loudly he was sure the gods heard it. A handmade gift? With his hands? Perfect. Wonderful. A fresh opportunity to humiliate himself in front of strangers. The last handmade thing he’d created was a clay wolf pup in first grade that looked like a melted potato. His mum had displayed it proudly for years because she had no shame and too much love.
“So,” Anne continued cheerfully — too cheerfully for Louis’s comfort — holding out a bowl of folded names, “each of you will draw a name. The card has their name and age, and then we’ll spend this time making the gifts. Let’s begin!”
Louis stared at the bowl like it was a live grenade. A handmade gift. In public. With witnesses. Amazing. Just amazing. Exactly what he needed — an arts and crafts apocalypse right here in front of Harry Styles and his pack. He silently braced for impact.
Don’t be Harry, please don’t be Harry, Louis thought grimly, staring into the bowl like it was capable of personal betrayal.
Next to him, Sophie pulled a slip, opened it, and immediately groaned. “Zayn Malik? Oh no. He won’t even smile when I give it to him. He’ll just stand there looking all stoic and mysterious.”
Anne giggled. “So make something epic, dear,” she said with a wink, before offering the bowl to Louis.
Louis reached in, already suspicious of his own luck. The moment he opened the slip, he groaned even louder than Sophie.
Of course. Because why would the universe ever make things easy for him?
Harry. Of all wolves. Harry.
Louis closed his eyes. Brilliant. Fantastic. Exactly what he needed — the pack’s alpha, the prettiest, most annoyingly composed wolf in a five-pack radius, expecting a thoughtful gift. Why couldn’t he get someone simple? Someone who’d be delighted by a shiny rock? Why Harry?!
He slid the paper across the table like it had personally insulted him. Sophie snatched it up, giggling. “Oh, Lou… you got the joker card.”
Next to him, Lena perked up suspiciously. “Who did you get?”
Louis shook his head, very much Not Discussing This. But Sophie, traitor that she was, sing-songed, “The pack alpha himself.”
Lena’s face soured instantly. “Of course.”
Louis turned to her, absolutely done, dignity long gone. “Want to exchange?”
Lena snorted. “No. I’m keeping mine. Distance makes an alpha want you more.”
Louis rolled his eyes so hard he nearly strained something, then raised his voice. “Does anyone want to exchange names?! Anyone at all?”
The other omegas all shook their heads like a synchronized dance routine. Anne looked over, curious. “Who did you get, Lou?”
“Your son,” Louis answered, defeated beyond measure.
Anne beamed. “Oh, how lovely. Harry will absolutely love that.” And she simply moved on, handing out more names like Louis wasn’t actively suffering.
Louis stared at Sophie, who was already smirking. “Please, Soph. I’ll take Zayn. I’ll take anyone. Just exchange with me.”
Sophie shook her head, all faux-serious. “Sorry, Lou. I can’t interfere with the gods’ decision.”
Louis groaned like she’d personally doomed him. “You’re evil. Truly. And I hope Zayn throws your gift straight into the bushes. In front of everyone.”
Sophie only laughed, delighted by his suffering. “Please. He’ll probably just blink at me.”
“Exactly,” Louis muttered. “Humiliation in slow motion.”
_______
An hour later, Louis was convinced he had reached the lowest point of his entire existence. He was not a craftsman — not in talent, not in patience, not even in blind optimism — and watching everyone else work only made him want to quietly excuse himself and go lie face-down in the forest.
Apparently every omega in the room had been born with a fully functional crafting gene… except him. Gabe was hunched over a beaded bracelet, looking like he resented the task but was somehow annoyingly good at it.
“I got an eighty-seven-year-old wolf,” he explained to Lena as he slid another bead on. “I’m putting his initials so he won’t forget them. It’s community service and thoughtful. Two birds, one bracelet.”
Across the room, a group of omegas were stirring soups and stews like serene woodland healers. They looked peaceful. Graceful. Intolerably pleased with themselves.
Sophie, of course, had already finished sculpting a huge wooden box shaped suspiciously like a coffin.
“So Zayn can keep his seriousness inside. Or nap. Either way,” she announced with the proud enthusiasm of someone unveiling modern art to critics who absolutely weren’t ready.
Louis blinked at her. “You made that in an hour.”
Sophie shrugged, wiping clay from her fingers. “What can I say? Years of emotional repression build skill.”
And Louis… Louis had absolutely nothing. Not a clue. Not a spark. His brain had packed a suitcase and left the territory.
He tried to think what Harry — a pack alpha — would even want. Something meaningful? Practical? Symbolic? But all Louis could come up with was “a good mate” and “a mirror.”
And unfortunately, he was terrible with romance and even worse with glass.
Another hour crawled by as Louis doodled in his notebook, trying very hard not to panic. He kept hoping that if he stared blankly at a page long enough, some brilliant idea would magically appear. It didn’t. His brain remained aggressively empty.
One by one, the omegas packed up and left the hall to get ready for the festival, but Louis stayed behind, stubbornly clinging to the hope that something — anything — would come to him.
Anne approached once he was the last one there, her smile soft and warm. “Are you making a drawing?”
Louis glanced down at the notebook. For a split second he considered lying, pretending he was some hidden artistic genius. But Anne looked at him so kindly he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“No,” he sighed, defeated. “Still thinking.”
Anne took his hand gently. “Lou, darling, this isn’t supposed to stress you. Harry will like anything you give him. You just need to think with your heart. How would you show someone appreciation? That’s all.”
Louis stared at her in pure despair. “I don’t have a heart. I think I’m heartless.”
Anne laughed, bright and warm. “Oh sweetheart, you have a beautiful heart.”
“Do I?” Louis asked, fully unconvinced.
“Absolutely. Now come on. Think about it. You’ve got two hours until the festival, and you can’t show up empty-handed.”
Louis groaned dramatically. “Maybe I’ll think better in my hut.”
Anne nodded kindly. “Of course, honey. Let’s go. Inspiration will strike you.”
Louis hoped so — because right now, inspiration felt like it had blocked him on every platform.
_______
Louis lay in his nest, pure dread settling into his bones like an unwelcome guest.
Maybe he just… shouldn’t show up. Fake an illness. Collapse dramatically. Crawl into Sophie’s handmade coffin and claim he’d passed away peacefully from “creative exhaustion.” Honestly, very tempting.
But then he thought of Harry not getting his gift — of Harry maybe expecting something, wondering what the designated name-pulling wolf made for him — and a bolt of guilt hit Louis so hard he winced.
He couldn’t let Harry down. Or worse, embarrass him. Harry didn’t deserve that.
With a sigh that belonged in a tragic play, Louis dragged himself to his closet and dug through the chaos, praying for a miracle. He eventually unearthed a hand-made, sparkly… object… his sisters had gifted him before he left home. A star? A bird? A weapon? Hard to say. It looked vaguely dangerous.
He considered giving it to Harry. Briefly. But the moment he pictured trying to explain what it was, he could practically hear Harry’s gentle, worried voice asking if Louis had recently fallen and hit his head.
So Louis tossed it aside like evidence from a crime.
And then — finally — inspiration struck.
His clothes.
He could give Harry something from his wardrobe, pretend he’d made it specially. A shirt, a scarf, anything that didn’t require actual crafting. A harmless lie. A white lie. A tiny, innocent, nobody-needs-to-know-Louis-didn’t-sew-this lie.
Louis scanned his closet for something that might plausibly fit Harry — and something Harry had never seen him wear, so he wouldn’t immediately get suspicious. Eventually, he spotted a plain white T-shirt he’d once found hanging with the pack clothes and quietly claimed as his own. It wasn’t special. At all. But it existed. And right now, that was more than enough.
All he needed now was to wrap it in something. His eyes drifted back to the sparkly, handmade object his sisters had given him. The confusing star-bird-weapon thing. He could use that. Repurpose it. Pretend it was intentional.
Louis smiled for the first time that day.
_______
An hour later, Louis found himself helping Sophie carry the ridiculous, coffin-shaped masterpiece she’d made for Zayn. They got plenty of looks — a few raised eyebrows, a couple confused stares, and one pup asking loudly, “Mama, why are they bringing a tiny house for squirrels?”
Sophie only beamed, proud as ever. Louis, on the other hand, was just relieved no one questioned the aggressively pink wrapping paper clutched to his chest. He knew it looked awful. But Anne had said, “The thought counts,” and honestly, if Harry dared laugh at it, Louis would not hesitate to hit him with the gift itself.
The main square was stunning — soft candlelight everywhere, handmade decorations he was 80% sure were made by pups (the glue stains were a dead giveaway), and pack members in white looking serene, almost holy.
They set the coffin down. Sophie wiped her hands. Louis wiped his entire face. Not because it was heavy — it wasn’t — but because he was sweating out of sheer, bone-deep panic.
“Come on, Lou, sit,” Sophie ordered, pushing him into a seat next to the mother of twins he’d met on a herb-gathering trip. She greeted him warmly. Louis tried to smile back without looking like someone about to commit arson out of stress.
In his peripheral vision, the ten visiting omegas sat together, already gossiping gleefully, their gifts displayed around them like a art board titled ‘Aesthetic Wolf Vibes.’ Louis hated how put-together they all looked.
Then he made the mistake of looking forward.
Harry, in an open white shirt, curls soft under the candlelight, green eyes sparkling as he chatted with Anne and Zayn. He looked gorgeous and eternal, like a painting come to life — and Louis prayed to every spirit he knew that he would survive this night.
When Harry finally turned to face the pack, conversation died instantly, the entire square going silent in that instinctive way packs did when their alpha was ready to speak.
And Louis’s heart… promptly attempted to claw its way out of his chest. Drama queen.
Harry stepped forward, shoulders relaxed, expression soft with pride — the kind that made every wolf in the square straighten instinctively. His voice carried easily in the warm evening air.
“Hello, my wolves… and our dearest visitors,” he said, smiling like he truly meant it. “Tonight we celebrate another harvest. Another year of growing, building, and surviving together.”
The crowd settled, the quiet shifting into something attentive, gentle. Even Louis felt it — like the whole pack breathed as one.
“This season was a hard one,” Harry continued, letting his gaze drift over the familiar faces gathered before him. “The storms, the heat waves, the long nights in the fields… and still, you met every challenge. Together.”
He paused, letting the quiet settle, catching the eyes of his pack one by one.
“From tomatoes we somehow managed to invent—things we didn’t even know were possible—to strawberries so sweet they tasted like pure summer. From our farmers racing the weather, to our gardeners coaxing life out of the most stubborn soil”
He gestured to Charlie while the old wolf blushed. Harry grinned fondly at him.
“And our cooks,” Harry said, turning toward Josaline, “who turned those harvests into meals that warmed us. I’m still thinking about that carrot pie.”
Josaline’s smile could’ve powered the village.
“And our hunters,” Harry added, “who give us a harvest of their own every single day — whether the land cooperates or not.”
Louis watched the hunters straighten, pride flickering through them like sparks.
Then Harry paused, taking in the candlelit square — the soft glow, the decorations clearly made by pups, the families standing close. When he spoke again, his voice dipped into something deeper.
“You make this pack a home,” he said. “You show up for one another, share what you have, and work as one. You make sure no one is ever alone in the dark. That is what a pack is. And I am honored — truly honored — to lead you.”
A warm hush settled over everyone, soft and steady. Louis felt it too — that quiet, collective glow of belonging, even if he didn’t like admitting it.
Harry’s eyes swept the square one last time, fond and bright.
“So,” he said lightly, smile returning, “let’s eat. Later at the bonfire, feel free to give your gifts to the wolf you drew. Visitors, if you’re unsure who yours is, ask any of us — we’ll help you find them. May this be our best harvest festival yet.”
The pack cheered softly, warm and united.
Louis clutched his aggressively pink-wrapped disaster and thought, Beautiful speech. Stunning. Inspirational. Fantastic.
I am absolutely doomed.
_______
Louis planned to give Harry’s gift as late as physically possible — ideally when half the pack was distracted, the bonfire low, and Harry maybe busy with an urgent alpha crisis like “someone misplaced the berry pies.”
The bonfire was already in full swing when a shy alpha pup approached him, holding something behind his back and smiling up at him with that soft, hopeful look pups seemed to reserve only for Louis.
Louis accepted the gift and opened it carefully. Inside was a drawing — clearly made by small hands — of Louis smiling and happy, sitting beside the pups like he belonged there.
His heart flipped.
“Thank you, Ralphie,” Louis said warmly, crouching so he could meet the pup at eye level. And he meant every word. “It’s the best drawing I’ve ever seen. I’m going to hang it on my wall.”
Ralphie blushed bright red, threw his arms around Louis in a fast, fierce hug, then ran back to his parents to hide behind their legs. Louis chuckled, touched despite himself.
He stood up — and immediately heard Sophie.
“Lou! Let’s go give them this thing,” she hissed. “The pups are trying to steal it.”
Louis looked over.
Three pups were climbing the coffin like it was a pirate ship. One was already halfway inside. Another was tapping on it like testing a melon.
“Oh moon,” Louis muttered, gulping hard as he helped Sophie pry it out of the pups’ tiny, grabby hands.
Together they carried it toward the cluster of alphas — Harry, Zayn, and a few others. Harry spotted Louis immediately, which was deeply unfair. His whole face lit up, like Louis was the highlight of his year, and Louis panicked so hard he pretended to study the ground. Fascinating dirt. Truly riveting.
“Here you go,” Sophie announced proudly to Zayn, presenting the coffin like it was the crown jewel. “For your gloomy aesthetic. I figured it suited you.”
Zayn blinked… and then laughed. Out loud.
The entire bonfire collectively gasped. Somewhere, a spoon clattered.
“Oh my god! I’m totally gonna use this,” Zayn said, excited, already crouching. “Can I get inside?”
“Please do,” Sophie said, hands clasped. “It would make my night.”
Louis stared as Zayn began testing the coffin’s weight distribution like he was buying a new mattress.
Meanwhile, Harry was still watching Louis. With twinkly eyes, a soft smile, and intention.
Louis wished Ralphie’s drawing had included a hole he could crawl into and never emerge from.
He inhaled, braced for humiliation, and held out the pink-wrapped disaster.
“For you, Harry,” he said quietly — so quietly he wasn’t sure sound even came out. Hopefully no one noticed the full-body blush happening under his skin.
Harry blinked, surprised, and Louis could practically feel the fondness radiating off him like a space heater. It was unfair. Completely illegal. He should report it.
Louis had the sudden urge to grab his own present back and sprint into the woods.
“Thank you, Lou,” Harry said, dimples on full display, smiling like Louis had handed him an actual priceless artifact instead of a shirt stolen from his own closet and wrapped in emotional panic.
Louis glanced around and immediately regretted it — half the alphas nearby were looking at them with open curiosity, like they were watching a romantic subplot unfold in real time.
He snapped his gaze to the floor so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.
Harry began unwrapping the gift — gently, mercifully, and without a single comment about the wrapping paper looking like it had been crafted by a toddler with glue.
Louis clenched his hands behind his back.
He was going to vomit. Or ascend. Hard to tell which. Both felt equally likely.
“Oh—did you make it?” Harry asked, eyes wide with honest wonder, like Louis had just presented him with a rare artifact from an ancient wolf civilization. Louis panicked for a full three seconds, convinced he must’ve handed over the wrong gift bag — but no. Still the same plain white T-shirt he’d fished out of the communal laundry pile.
Louis forced a nod. “Yep. Thought it fit your whole… um… white aesthetic you’ve got going on.”
Harry looked delighted. Like genuinely thrilled. “This is gorgeous, Lou. I didn’t know you knew how to sew.”
Louis nodded again, fighting the urge to pass out. “Yeah. Sometimes.” He said it like a man who had absolutely never touched a needle in his life.
“Thank you, Lou,” Harry said warmly, looking between the shirt and Louis like he’d been given the crown jewels.
Then Harry lifted the shirt closer… and smelled it.
Louis’s brain shut down. Just—static noise.
Harry inhaled softly, a shiver running through him. His voice dropped to something low and sinful. “Fuck… it even smells like you.”
He stepped into Louis’s space, close enough that Louis felt the warmth of his breath. Harry leaned in, lips brushing the air near Louis’s ear as he whispered, “Did you scent it?”
Louis’s soul attempted to flee his body like it was evacuating a burning cottage.
He choked on air, on panic, on existence.
Because no — he absolutely did not scent it. It had just been sitting in his closet, absorbing Essence of Louis like a damn sponge.
And now Harry was looking at him like he’d done it on purpose. But Louis can’t say no, because it will too obvious, so he nodded, “ Hmm thought it will be nice if you smell me while wearing it…you know, as a memory lane thing”
Harry leaned in again, far too close for Louis’s ability to stay alive with dignity. “That’s good,” he said quietly, his voice warm. “Because you have the best scent I’ve ever smelled. My favorite, really.”
Louis felt his face heat fast enough to rival the bonfire. “Oh… hmm… really?”
Harry nodded, soft and sure, as if he wasn’t casually ending Louis’s life. “You smell like strawberries. And if you listened to my speech…” His smile deepened, slow and devastating. “…I absolutely love strawberries.”
Oh fuck.
Louis gulped loudly—too loudly—and immediately realized how close they were standing. Their arms nearly brushed, their breaths practically mingled, and several nearby alphas had stopped pretending they weren’t watching.
Panic fried his brain, burning through every reasonable response it could’ve offered, and what finally came out of his mouth was, “Good. Good. Good lad.”
He froze. Good lad? What in the moon’s name was that?
Desperate to escape, Louis turned to Sophie, who was staring at them with the open delight of someone who’d just stumbled into a romance novel. He grabbed her hand before she could say a single incriminating word. “We should go,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Sophie’s not feeling well. Hope you all liked your gifts!”
He dragged her away from the group without waiting for anyone to question the world’s least convincing excuse.
Sophie didn’t resist. In fact, she practically vibrated with excitement beside him, bouncing on her toes like she was physically holding in a scream. Once they were finally out of earshot, she leaned in, eyes wide and shining. “Louis,” she whispered, almost giddy, “he said you smell like his favorite thing in the world.”
Louis made a sound that could only be described as a dying groan. “We’re not talking about it,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I think I’m the one not feeling well. Let’s just go home.”
Sophie giggled, absolutely delighted, but she didn’t argue. Together, they slipped away from the bonfire, weaving through the crowd. Louis kept his head down, refusing—absolutely refusing—to glance back.
Because if he did, he was pretty sure he’d see green eyes following him. And he couldn’t survive that twice in one night.
_______
Louis did his best to forget the entire disaster from the night before. And honestly? He almost managed it. When he woke up warm in his nest, everything felt calm, normal, pleasantly un-strawberry-related.
Nothing happened. Truly. Not a thing, he told himself as he got dressed.
So Harry liked his scent. Fine. Plenty of wolves appreciated a nice smell. Louis just happened to be more fruity than floral. Totally normal. Nothing worth thinking about for more than three seconds.
He kept repeating that to himself as he headed to breakfast.
Right up until he walked into the dining hall and saw Harry at the table, spoon in hand, completely relaxed… wearing Louis’s shirt.
Louis stopped mid-step.
It should have been sweet. Maybe even flattering. But the shirt was absolutely too small on Harry’s stupidly broad body, clinging in ways that felt personally offensive to Louis’s morning peace. It looked good—sinfully good. Honestly, Louis thought mothers should be warned to cover their pups’ eyes before letting them see Harry walk around like that.
He grabbed a plate, hoping he could quietly blend into the furniture before Harry noticed him. He almost made it too—right up until he spotted Lena approaching Harry with all the subtlety of a wolf stalking prey.
“Hey, Alpha,” she whispered.
Louis’s hand tightened around the plate like it was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.
Harry, polite as ever, smiled. “Good morning, Lena. How did you sleep?”
“Good,” she replied in a suspiciously sultry tone, placing her hand on Harry’s chest in a move that had absolutely no business happening before breakfast. “I love your shirt.”
Louis didn’t appreciate it and before he knows it he swallow a growl. A lava of possessiveness in his body. New, unwelcome, inconvenient possessiveness which translated to: hands off my… shirt.
“Thanks,” Harry said easily, glancing down. “Louis gifted it to me.”
Lena’s hand flew back like she’d touched a hot stove. “Oh! I didn’t realize he was that gifted with clothes.”
Louis tried not to look too pleased.
Then Harry added, softer and amused, as if he didn’t realize how dangerous he sounded, “Yeah. He’s full of surprises.”
Louis swallowed, feeling his whole body react in a way he absolutely did not authorize. He could practically feel his omega purr, which was unacceptable this early in the morning.
But Lena wasn’t deterred. Not even slightly. She hummed in acknowledgment, then tilted her head at Harry. “Would you like to come to my hut later? I need your help with something.”
Louis watched Harry shift his weight to his other leg, looking… almost uncomfortable. “With what?” he asked carefully.
Lena reached for a fruit from the table, turning it in her hand like it was a prop in a performance. “I want to make a piece of jewelry for your mother,” she said sweetly. “As a thank-you for welcoming us here. I thought I could use your opinion.”
Louis swore on every ancestor he had that she invented that on the spot. Right there. In front of the berries.
Harry hesitated — Louis felt it in the air — so Louis decided this was the perfect moment to intervene.
For noble reasons, of course. Not because his wolf was growling “MINE” loudly inside his skull. No. Definitely not that.
So Louis deliberately tapped his spoon against his plate — loud, pointed, and dramatic — before stepping closer with a raised brow. “Do you two care to move along, lovebirds? Some of us are trying to get breakfast before we die of old age.”
Harry’s head whipped toward him instantly, face brightening like Louis had just made his entire morning. Lena, meanwhile, fixed Louis with her usual why-are-you-like-this scowl.
Louis slid himself right into their space. “I want the fruit,” he said, reaching around them. “It’s good for your health. You know, in case either of you care about that.”
Harry’s mouth curved into a grin. “Didn’t know you were so health-conscious.”
Louis snorted. “Please. I’m the picture of wellness. I eat fruit, sleep eight hours—”
“You absolutely don’t,” Harry cut in, smirking.
Louis waved a hand. “Details. Anyway, I’m full of surprises.”
Harry’s grin widened. “You really are.”
“And you,” Louis said, pointing the pear at him like a tiny, fruity dagger, “should be arrested for wearing that shirt in public. It’s offensive.”
Harry blinked, then laughed. “Offensive?”
“Yes. There are pups around,” Louis replied, face perfectly straight. “Have some shame.”
Harry bit back another smile. “But you made it for me!”
“Yes, well,” Louis said primly, “while I’m apparently good at sewing, I may not be good at measuring. So it’s best if you sleep in it or something. Privately. So others won’t gawk.”
Harry chuckled, the sound warm. “Noted. I’ll leave this shirt for private times.”
Louis’s brain immediately supplied an intrusive mental image of Harry in “private times,” shirt stretched tight, curls messy, absolutely illegal — so he scoffed to push it away. “No, you won’t,” he said, grabbing another fruit purely to block Lena’s attempt to scoot closer. “But I appreciate the lie.”
Harry’s eyes didn’t leave him, soft and amused, as if Louis was far more interesting than breakfast. “So… are you coming to training later?”
Louis stared at him like he’d just spoken ancient prophecy. “Is that on the agenda?!”
Harry tilted his head. “Yes?”
“Fucking hell,” Louis muttered, rubbing his forehead. “What is happening in this pack?”
Harry laughed again — low, warm, hopelessly fond — and Louis immediately regretted giving him that reaction.
“We like keeping our wolves healthy,” Harry teased lightly.
Louis frowned at him, unimpressed. “Right. Health. Sure.” He sighed dramatically. “Fine. If training is on the agenda, I’ll go look for my training clothes.”
He did not own training clothes. Harry did not need that information.
Harry chuckled under his breath. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Louis tossed a peach into the air and caught it without looking, purely for dramatic effect. “Try not to faint from excitement.”
Behind them, Lena muttered something irritated under her breath — probably something about being ignored, overshadowed, or erased from existence.
Louis didn’t bother looking back. He simply walked off with his fruits, head high, leaving Harry smiling after him and Lena fuming in the dust.
And honestly? He’d call that a win.
_______
Louis ended up borrowing clothes from Sophie, mostly because he’d given Harry the last T-shirt he owned. Which was how he found himself sitting at training in a pair of tight shorts and a tank top that rode up every time he breathed, exposing a sliver of stomach he absolutely did not want on public display.
If he had planned to feel self-conscious — especially when the other omegas strolled in wearing their own training outfits like they chose to run for fun — that feeling died instantly.
Because the second Harry saw him, Louis could swear the alpha forgot how to close his mouth.
Sophie, tragically incapable of silence, leaned in and whispered, “He looks like he might get hard in his shorts for you.”
Louis stared forward, refusing to react. “Who?” he asked flatly, as if she were pointing out a stray dog and not a flustered Alpha Harry Styles mid–jaw drop.
Sophie snorted so loudly three wolves turned their heads.
“Sweetheart,” she whispered, “don’t play dumb. He’s looking at you like you’re a snack and the main course.”
Louis stiffened. “We are not discussing this.”
“We absolutely are,” Sophie said cheerfully.
Louis buried his face in his hands. He should’ve stayed in bed. Maybe never left his nest again. Maybe retired from public life entirely.
But just as Sophie inhaled for what was clearly going to be a lethal follow-up comment, a gruff alpha appeared in front of them — the kind of alpha who clearly hadn’t just been born on the training field, but possibly constructed from it.
Sophie and Louis snapped to silence instantly.
“Hello everyone,” the alpha said, voice deep enough to rattle bones. “I’m Danni. I’ll be overseeing this session.”
Louis straightened. Sophie straightened. Three omegas somewhere down the line straightened so violently they cracked.
“As you know,” Danni continued, scanning them with warrior precision, “training isn’t just for defending the territory. It’s also for our omegas — for health, confidence, and safety. Pups learn combat basics, how to protect themselves, what to do in emergencies. We prepare every wolf for the unknown. No one is left behind.”
He was so serious about it that Louis and Sophie gulped in perfect synchrony, loudly enough for two wolves ahead of them to glance back.
Danni crossed his arms — the universal sign for prepare yourselves.
“So. We’ll start with the basics. Who wants to be the first trainee?”
Every omega took a step back.
Every. Single. One.
Louis stayed rooted in place only because he was genuinely too terrified to move. If he took a step, he’d trip over his own feet, fall on his ass, and probably roll into the training pit like a loose apple.
“No one?” Danni asked, eyebrows lifting in a way that suggested deep disappointment in all their life choices. “I’m not going to hit you. This is just a demonstration.”
Louis absolutely did not believe that. Not for a second.
Danni scoffed at the group, unimpressed, and the other alphas behind him let out low chuckles — including Harry, who shot Danni a raised eyebrow as if to say, Well? What are you going to do now?
Apparently Danni caught every part of that eyebrow-sentence, because his expression shifted — just barely — a flicker of mischief in a man who looked physically incapable of smiling.
He swept his gaze over the line of omegas and declared, loud enough to echo: “The first to volunteer gets a private one-on-one session with Harry, under the stars.”
The training field went dead silent; Several looked intrigued. A few looked terrified. Shirin actually swayed.
Louis shook his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Absolutely not. No way. He’d rather drown in the lake. He’d rather dig his own grave behind the training shed. He’d rather climb into Sophie’s ridiculous Zayn-coffin and shut the lid himself than have Harry correcting his stance while breathing down his neck.
Luckily, Maya lifted her hand — trembling like she’d been drafted into battle — and stepped forward.
Danni smiled at her, something almost proud in his expression. “Good. Courage is what we value here.”
Louis, meanwhile, could not have cared less. He didn’t need courage. He needed escape routes.
_______
Apparently, the training session also included practicing on each other once they followed Danni’s demonstrations. Louis’s stomach dropped the moment the alphas began dividing them into pairs.
“Louis and Gabe,” Danni announced.
Louis turned slowly toward Gabe, who was already looking at him with the polite disdain of someone who’d just been paired with a decorative pillow. Louis could practically see the thought forming in Gabe’s eyes: free target practice.
Fantastic. Gabe was absolutely going to aim for his face.
After Sophie was dutifully paired with Shirin, Danni clapped his hands. “You may begin.”
And all hell broke loose.
Within seconds, Louis found himself dodging and blocking like his life depended on it. Gabe came at him with quick jabs, faster each time, and Louis barely managed to keep his face intact.
It felt like fighting his sisters when they were in one of their tantrum moods — wild, emotional, slightly personal. Louis whispered a quick prayer to any god listening for it to end soon, because his side was starting to ache, and Gabe was only getting more frustrated.
This wasn’t even the sequence Danni had shown them earlier. No. This was pure, focused hatred.
Louis blocked another punch, stumbled back, and thought miserably that drowning in the lake probably would have been easier. At least drowning didn’t come with bruises or Gabe’s judgmental eyebrows.
He was just about ready to give up and let Gabe punch him into a cozy, pain-medicated vacation in the infirmary when Danni finally called out, “You can stop!”
Louis sagged in relief. Gabe snarled at him—an unflattering, very unnecessary sound—but lowered his fists. He then marched away from Louis like he needed to be at least ten meters from his presence or he’d catch disappointment.
Sophie rushed over the moment the alphas turned their backs. “Are you okay?” she whispered, eyes wide.
Louis hunched over, panting. “I’m fine. Just… remind me never to sit near Gabe during meals. I value my face too much.”
He was about to flee the training field entirely, give Gabe a five-day cooling period, maybe fake a minor injury—anything—when Danni called out, “All right, now you’ll be sparring with alphas. That was just warm-up.”
Louis’s entire soul left his body.
“Are you trying to get me killed?!” he demanded.
Danni looked at him with a tiny glint of amusement that Louis deeply resented. “And you’ll be with Harry.”
Louis stared at him.
Then at Harry.
Then back at Danni.
He really, truly, wholeheartedly started to hate this pack.
_______
“Come on, Lou, try to hit me!” Harry called fifteen minutes into the session, smirking like this was the most entertaining thing he’d done all week.
Louis did want to hit him. Badly.
Not enough to cause damage—just enough to restore some dignity. And he knew Harry wouldn’t hit him back; the alpha was far too careful with him.
But every time Louis swung, Harry blocked him without even breaking a sweat. Without even breathing harder. Without even trying.
“You can do better!” Harry teased.
Louis growled under his breath, frustration curling through him. He tried to remember Danni’s lecture about fighting someone bigger than you—something about using momentum, balance, angles—but none of it mattered when Harry’s arm moved quicker than Louis’s entire soul.
Every punch? Blocked.
Every kick? Stopped.
Every attempt at surprise? Foiled by Harry’s stupid reflexes and stupid smile.
Worse, Louis could hear his omega inside him whining—actually whining—about hitting Harry. Like Louis would be committing a terrible crime. Like he should drop the fighting and roll over instead.
“Traitor,” Louis muttered at his own body, right before Harry gently dodged another punch with the ease of someone avoiding a falling leaf.
Harry laughed. “That was better!”
Louis wanted to scream. Or kiss him. Or kick him.
He wasn’t sure which would kill him faster.
So Louis changed tactics. Clearly strength wasn’t going to work. Harry was faster, taller, broader, smugger — he needed an advantage. Something Harry wouldn’t expect.
Which, apparently, meant weaponizing drama.
On his next punch, when Harry blocked him yet again, Louis let out a deep, wounded-sounding whine straight from his throat — the kind that suggested tragic injury and fainting at any second.
Harry froze instantly. His whole body went rigid.
“What is it? Did I hurt you?” Harry asked, voice panicked, hands already reaching to check Louis like he’d broken a bone.
Louis almost felt bad.
Almost.
Because the moment Harry leaned in and focused on Louis instead of the fight, Louis swept his leg out and aimed for Harry’s knees.
The alpha went down with a surprised, pained groan, hitting the ground hard.
Louis’s triumph lasted exactly one second. Then panic slammed into him as hard as he’d hit Harry.
“Oh god—Harry!” Louis yelped, scrambling to him. His instincts roared at him to check the alpha, make sure he was okay, make sure he could still walk, breathe, function, live—
“Dammit, I hate this,” Louis muttered as he helped Harry sit up. “WHY DID YOU MAKE ME HIT YOU?!”
Harry winced but chuckled, breathless. “No, no — that was good. You used your omega whining to distract me and went for a weak point.” His smile turned soft, proud. “Good job, Lou.”
Louis didn’t look convinced. At all. “You literally fell! That’s not a good job, that’s attempted murder.”
Harry laughed again, even though it clearly hurt. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Louis snapped, already rushing to grab water. “Come on, sit. Drink. Don’t move your knee, or your leg, or—anything, actually.”
Harry obeyed, sitting as Louis shoved the bottle into his hands like a worried mother hen.
All around them, wolves were still sparring, punching, tackling, doing normal training things. Louis forgot every single one of them.
His entire focus was on Harry, hovering so closely he might as well have been glued to him, checking his knee, his breathing, his expression — everything.
Harry smiled through the pain, eyes soft, absolutely glowing like Louis had gifted him a romantic injury. “I should get hit more often,” he teased, smirking despite the wince.
Louis scoffed so hard he nearly choked on air. “Don’t flirt when you’re in pain! It makes it worse.”
Harry blinked at him. “For who?”
“For ME!” Louis hissed, fanning Harry’s face like he was the one fainting. “Now sit still and stop being charming, you menace.”
Harry chuckled, the soft, fond kind that always made Louis’s wolf do embarrassing backflips.
Louis absolutely ignored it.
_______
Louis didn’t know how it happened. One second he’d just arrived here, still clutching his bag and nerves, and somehow four whole weeks were creeping up on him. Time moved strangely in this place — fast when he was distracted, slow when he overthought, and downright confusing whenever Harry smiled at him.
He sat on the steps outside his hut, a mug of warm tea in hand, staring at the stars. His thoughts drifted to his family. He’d expected the homesickness to hit harder — and some nights it did — but most days, when he kept himself busy, when he helped the pack, when Sophie dragged him into chaos, when Harry hovered nearby with that soft, steady presence… he could almost ignore the ache.
Between the pack’s endless agenda, Sophie glued to his hip, and Harry always somewhere within his orbit, Louis sometimes forgot he had a whole life outside this strange gathering.
He was lost in his thoughts when he spotted Harry walking with Maya across the field. Maya looked at him with starry, moonshine eyes, smiling up like she was ready to faint dramatically into his arms. Harry just nodded along politely — the world’s most oblivious alpha — then parted from her at her hut with nothing more than a final nod.
Louis quickly looked away before Harry could catch him staring like a nosy wolf, but of course, Harry noticed anyway.
He made his way over, smile warm and soft. “Hey, Lou.”
Louis gave him a small smile back. “Hey.”
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, settling beside him on the step like he’d always belonged there. His knee brushed Louis’s, casual and grounding.
Louis blinked. “Yes? Why?”
Harry studied his face for a moment — really studied it — like Louis was a puzzle he refused to get wrong. “You seem a bit… sad. Did something happen?” His voice held that worried softness Louis was learning to recognize — the one that said Harry absolutely did not approve of Louis feeling anything other than happy or at least vaguely content.
Louis shrugged, swirling his tea, watching the steam curl upward before answering.
“Just… thinking about home,” he said at last.
Harry didn’t push. He only nodded, slow and thoughtful, giving Louis space to find the rest of his words.
“You miss them?” he asked quietly.
Louis’s gaze drifted back to the stars, the night stretching wide and familiar above them. “Yeah. A lot,” he admitted, voice softer now. He took a long, steadying breath. “I’ve never been away this long. Not without my mom or dad nearby.”
Harry’s expression gentled, shoulders lowering as if he could absorb some of that ache himself.
“It must be hard,” he murmured. After a beat, he added, “What would you be doing right now if you were at home?”
Louis thought about it for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Hmm… by now I’d have to read the little twins a bedtime story. And I’d have to do all the voices correctly or Doris would pout and refuse to close her eyes. She’s very demanding about the giraffe one.”
Harry chuckled, eyes bright with interest.
“And when they finally fall asleep, I’d check on my other siblings, make sure they’ve actually gone to bed and aren’t sneaking snacks. Mom and Dad would come home later — they always do house visits before sleeping, checking on wolves who need them.” Louis paused, then added fondly, “And I’d probably walk over to Niall’s for tea. He always makes me laugh before bed.”
“That sounds like a nice routine,” Harry said, warm and genuine.
Louis nodded. “It is.” Then he frowned, considering. “Though… now Niall’s seeing someone, so maybe he’s with him. And my siblings might have their own routines without me. So…”
Harry smiled, soft and reassuring. “I don’t think they forget you that fast, Lou.”
Louis sighed. “Hope not. I miss the little gremlins.”
Harry chuckled, glancing down at his hands before looking back at him. “But… you like it here, right? I mean—it’s not horrible like you thought on your first day?”
Louis tilted his head at him, lips twitching with mischief. If Harry wanted honesty, he was getting Louis honesty.
“Well,” he began, deadpan, “the company is still lacking. But the frowny pack alpha does occasionally smile. And he’s… acceptable. On days he’s not being smug or breathing too attractively.”
Harry snorted. “Breathing attractively?!”
“You breathe like you’re doing it on purpose,” Louis accused, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s rude.”
Harry burst out laughing, loud and sudden, practically folding in half. “I think I’m charming. The best pack alpha out there!”
Louis made a horrified face. “Oh moon, you’re one of those alphas. Do you give yourself pep talks in the mirror? Do you say, ‘I am strong, I am beautiful, I am mighty, I moisturize’?”
Harry wheezed—an actual wheeze—then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Louis! Stop it—”
“No, no. I see it now.” Louis leaned closer, dramatic as ever. “I see you staring at your reflection whispering, ‘Smile, champ, the pack believes in you.’”
Harry made a sound between a scream and a laugh, face in his hands. “Louis—please—”
“And then you wink at yourself,” Louis continued mercilessly. “You absolutely wink.”
Harry kicked lightly at the dirt like a flustered teenager. “I do NOT wink at myself!”
Louis gasped, hand flying to his chest. “Oh my god, you do. You so do.”
Harry laughed — loud, bright, unguarded — and Louis couldn’t help the smug little smirk tugging at his mouth.
“You should laugh more,” Louis said, teasing as he lifted his mug. “It makes you look younger.”
Harry looked scandalized. “I am twenty-five!”
Louis patted his shoulder with exaggerated sympathy. “Yes, grandpa. We know.”
Harry opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I—Louis, I’m not old.”
“You have ‘old man caution’ energy,” Louis declared, sipping his tea. “You walk around like you’re protecting your lower back.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “I DO NOT—”
“You do,” Louis said solemnly. “Very ‘don’t lift that too fast, kids, daddy’s spine can’t handle it.’”
Harry threw his head back and laughed so loudly a pup peeked out of their hut.
Louis, completely unhinged, grinned into his tea.
Harry, absolutely gone for him, didn’t even bother hiding the fondness on his face. He just kept staring at Louis like Louis personally invented joy.
And yeah — almost a month had passed. Time moved weirdly here. But in moments like this, when he caught the mighty pack alpha looking at him with amusement and something undeniably warm… Louis felt that same warmth bloom right in his own chest.
He tried to pretend it was just the tea.
It definitely wasn’t.
_______
Louis didn’t know whose brilliant idea this was.
Anne had smiled far too sweetly when she announced it: “To celebrate our first month together, all the omegas will cook a dish for the pack for our communal dinner tonight!”
Which sounded lovely—if Louis knew how to cook anything that didn’t come pre-prepared or didn’t require someone standing over his shoulder saying, “No, Louis, not like that.”
He was starting to suspect this pack had something against him. First the gift exchange, then that ridiculous training session, and now cooking. It was as if they were determined to showcase every one of his omega weaknesses in front of a full, appreciative audience. Louis sighed dramatically, wondering if this was some kind of initiation… or just his terrible luck.
By noon, the kitchen was buzzing with chatter, sizzling pans, and way too much perfume. Eleven omegas flitted around like cheerful, overly ambitious birds, chopping and stirring with the confidence of seasoned chefs. Even Sophie—his usual partner in chaos—seemed mysteriously competent today, humming as she checked on her chicken like she actually knew what she was doing. Louis found it personally offensive.
Meanwhile Louis stared at the ingredients on his table as if they held the secrets of the universe. He had to make something. He couldn’t just improvise like the gift exchange—nobody here wanted to be served his sock. So, summoning a confidence he absolutely did not possess, he picked up the knife and started chopping vegetables.
Fine. Meat and potatoes. That’s reasonable. That’s safe. He could do meat cooked with potatoes. It could not possibly be that hard.
Fifteen minutes later, Louis let out a miserable whine.
He had no idea how it happened, but he’d managed to burn the meat into a charcoal puck while the potatoes stared at him from the stove with the silent accusation of, you did this to us.
To make matters worse, the other omegas kept sneaking glances at him.
Shirin passed by, took one look at the crime scene in his pan, and sighed. “You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”
Louis nodded. He didn’t even bother defending himself. “I am. God, I am.”
Sophie slid up beside him, gently plucking the pan from his hands as if he were a child holding fireworks. “Okay. Maybe… let’s start with something easier.”
“And what could that be?” Louis asked, already sounding like he was seconds from fleeing the kitchen forever.
“Soooup,” Sophie said, drawing out the word like she was introducing him to a magical concept. She grabbed a pot, filled it with water, and placed it in front of him. “I’ll chop the vegetables, and you… guard the water. Make sure it doesn’t run away. Then we’ll put the veggies in, and you can season it.”
Louis had never seasoned anything in his life. At home, his mother did that because she didn't trust him to “follow his instincts,” which—fair—had led to a cinnamon disaster once.
But he straightened, nodded with the solemnity of a warrior heading into his first mission. “I can do that.”
“Great,” Sophie said brightly, patting his shoulder. “Try not to set the water on fire.”
Louis shot her a glare but nodded anyway. At this point, he had no dignity left to defend.
For a little while, everything actually seemed… okay. The water stayed exactly where water was meant to be. The vegetables Sophie chopped looked like respectable, edible things. Nothing sizzled ominously or tried to escape the pot. Louis allowed himself a tiny breath of hope.
He sprinkled in some salt, then pepper. It looked bland, so he added a bit more salt. Still bland. He tossed in a handful of herbs. Still dull. More herbs. Then garlic powder because garlic fixes everything. And then more garlic, because—well, why stop now? By the time he put the spoon down, the soup looked like something bubbling in a wizard’s cauldron, but Louis chose optimism.
An hour later, he dipped the spoon in for a taste… and immediately choked, coughing hard enough that Sophie spun around in alarm. His eyes watered so violently he had to blink just to see the pot.
“Oh, shit,” he wheezed. “This isn’t edible. This isn’t even soup.”
The heat hit him like a physical attack. Not a pleasant warmth—no, this was the kind of spicy that made his soul attempt to leave his body. The kind that triggered every survival instinct he had. The kind that made him contemplate running into the woods and screaming.
Louis stared down at the pot in horror, chest still burning.
He hadn’t made dinner—he’d made a weapon. And he didn’t have time to make anything else. His fate was sealed. The pack would perish. It would be on him.
When Anne walked in to inspect everyone’s progress, the kitchen lit up with proud smiles and cheerful voices. Eleven omegas beamed proudly, while Louis just stood there, radiating pure defeat.
Anne approached him gently. “What did you make, Louis?”
He glanced bleakly at the pot, then back at her.
“Something we can use against the pack’s enemies.”
_______
When Louis carried his dish out to the tables, he made one firm decision: no one was going to eat it. Ever. Not on his watch.
Which was how he ended up standing beside the pot like an overprotective parent at a playground, smiling a little too widely and sweating through his shirt.
An older omega approached, spoon in hand.
“Oh no, sweetheart,” Louis said quickly, blocking her path with the ladle. “That one’s… marinating. Very advanced recipe. Still needs to, uh—develop emotionally.”
The omega blinked. “Develop what?”
“Flavor,” Louis said smoothly. “Deep, mature flavor. Needs another… few hours. Or years.”
She nodded politely and went to try the roasted lamb instead. Louis exhales loudly in relief.
Next came a young, pregnant omega, all smiles and appetite.
“Is this yours?” she asked, reaching for the ladle.
Louis nearly dove in front of her. “Oh no, honey, not for you! It’s—uh—a blend for the warriors. Really strong. Please, try the chicken — wonderful protein, very good for the pup inside you.”
The omega beamed, touched by his concern, and wandered off happily with a plate of chicken.
He glanced around the tables, where laughter and conversation filled the air. The other omegas were glowing with pride, basking in praise for their cooking. Even Sophie had found a seat beside Jillian, the healer, chatting like she’d been calm all her life.
Louis wanted nothing more than to join them — to sit down, laugh, pretend he hadn’t nearly poisoned the pack.
But no. He was a man on a mission. He had to protect them all from his soup.
By the time Harry walked in, Louis was sweating — guarding the pot like a dragon guarding cursed treasure. His hair stuck slightly to his forehead, his sleeves were rolled up, and there was a faint spice-scented haze around him that could probably strip paint.
Harry stopped halfway across the hall, looking between Louis and the pot. “Everything okay, Lou?”
Louis jerked upright like someone caught mid-crime. “Yes! Perfect! Everything’s absolutely perfect!”
Harry frowned, clearly unconvinced, and took a few steps closer. “You look like you’re about to arrest that soup.”
Louis gave a thin laugh. “Just… making sure it doesn’t get cold.”
Harry reached for the ladle. Louis’s stomach dropped. No. No, absolutely not. That man has a death wish.
“Don’t touch it!” he blurted out, lunging forward like a warrior defending the wall.
Harry froze mid-motion, startled. “Why?”
Louis’s brain scrambled for excuses. “Because—because you like your stomach lining, right? You value that?”
Harry tilted his head, amused now. “It looks harmless. I was actually looking forward to tasting your cooking.”
Louis’s pulse spiked. “Be scared of what you wish for, Harry. For your own health—don’t.”
Harry’s lips curved into a teasing grin. “It can’t be that bad.”
Before Louis could stop him, Harry—stubborn, reckless, utterly infuriating Harry—scooped up a spoonful of the soup and took a gentle sip, completely unaware of the danger he was walking into.
The reaction was instant.
Harry’s eyes flew wide, his entire face flushing a brilliant, alarming red as he doubled over, coughing so hard his shoulders shook. Louis froze in horror, watching the alpha struggle like he’d just swallowed sunlight and regret.
“Oh my god, Harry—why would you drink that?” Louis sputtered, gripping his arm. “I told Anne it was a weapon, not Dinner!”
Harry tried to speak but only managed another violent cough, shoulders jerking as tears gathered in his eyes. Louis hovered helplessly beside him, torn between guilt, panic, and the urge to lecture him.
“That wasn’t soup,” Louis said, mortified. “That was—at best—an accident, and at worst, attempted murder. On accident! Harry, are you even breathing?”
Harry finally managed to straighten, still gasping for air, voice hoarse as he rasped, “It… has a kick.”
Louis stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “It has a death wish. What is wrong with you?”
Harry wheezed out a laugh, wiping at his eyes. “I thought you were… exaggerating.”
“Me?” Louis demanded. “Exaggerating? Harry, you just looked God in the eye.”
Harry coughed again, but despite the suffering, the corners of his mouth softened into something warm and ridiculous. Louis wanted to sink straight into the floor and stay there forever.
Naturally, that was the exact moment Zayn walked in — because of course he did. Perfect timing, as always. He took one look at the scene — Harry flushed red and wheezing, Louis looking pale and guilty beside a pot that seemed to radiate danger — and frowned sharply.
“What’s going on here?” he asked. “What happened to you?”
Louis threw his hands in the air, already spiraling. “I killed him! I killed the pack alpha. He can’t stop coughing. Arrest me now, Zayn. Tell my parents I’m sorry.”
Zayn blinked. “You what?”
Harry waved weakly between coughs. “I’m fine. He’s being dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” Louis echoed, outraged. “You almost combusted, Harry!”
Harry took a long, shaky breath, eyes still watering as if he’d been crying over a tragic poem. “It’s nothing—it’s an acquired flavor. People like spicy food.” He paused. “Some people.”
Louis pointed accusingly at the pot. “Not people with functioning taste buds!”
Zayn stared between them and the soup, unimpressed. “Should I be calling a healer or an exorcist?”
Harry groaned. Louis groaned louder.
Louis turned to Zayn with the gravity of someone issuing a royal decree. “Okay, that’s it. I’m announcing defeat. Please take it back to the kitchen and get rid of it. Not the garbage—wild animals might die.”
Zayn nodded solemnly, lifted the pot with both hands, and carried it out like it was a bomb he’d been tragically assigned to defuse.
When Louis looked back, Harry had finally stopped coughing. His face was still pink, his lashes damp, and his hair slightly sweaty, but at least he wasn’t dying anymore. Small mercies.
“I’m a failure,” Louis muttered into his palm. His omega whined pathetically in his chest, humiliated beyond measure.
Harry chuckled — soft, fond, annoyingly sweet. “Hey. It’s not the end of the world.”
Louis shot him a scathing look. “Says the man who just inhaled lava.”
Harry’s smile softened, eyes warm in that way that always made Louis feel like the world tilted a bit. “So you’re not the best cook in the pack. So what? You’ve got other talents. No omega needs to cook — that’s why we have professionals who actually know what they’re doing.”
Louis peeked at him through his fingers. “You’re just saying that because you’re still seeing God.”
Harry grinned, voice dipping low and teasing. “Maybe. But you’re still my favorite near-death experience.”
Louis tried to glare, truly, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him first. A stubborn little laugh escaped — soft and reluctant — and Harry’s answering smile was so bright Louis had to look away for a second. It wasn’t fair for anyone to smile like that after nearly dying.
The tension cracked. Both of them laughed quietly, the kind of warm, helpless laughter that shook the humiliation right off Louis’s shoulders. By the time it faded, Louis realized his chest didn’t feel heavy anymore. Embarrassment had shifted into something lighter, something almost… nice.
He let himself smile properly — wide, genuine, unguarded.
And Harry smiled right back, just as natural, like mirroring Louis was instinct.
_______
The pack’s full-moon run was always something to celebrate.
In his own pack, Louis had lived for nights like this — when every wolf joined the run, hearts and paws beating as one, worries melting away under the silver light. A single, moving body of fur and instinct. Freedom. Unity. Home.
And though he had started to like the Styles pack — even found himself looking forward to seeing them, learning their rhythms, their laughter — tonight, as he padded out among them, a quiet ache tugged at his chest.
He missed his father’s booming voice, calling out orders and jokes in equal measure. He missed his mother’s exasperated attempts to herd her children into some sort of order, snapping at them to stop arguing about who would run fastest. He missed the way he and Niall always ended up by the river afterward, covered in mud, laughing until they couldn’t breathe, sharing moonshine with the others under the stars.
One more month, he told himself. Then everything goes back to normal.
He didn’t let himself linger on what normal would mean without Harry. Didn’t let himself imagine how it would feel to look for that steady warmth and not find it beside him anymore.
A soft bark pulled him back. Louis turned, spotting the younger wolves from the pack’s school already lined up in formation, tails wagging, eyes bright. He padded over to greet them, his white fur catching the moonlight.
Mary, their caretaker, bowed her head in greeting, and the pups immediately swarmed him — tiny paws, wagging tails, sharp teeth.
Louis huffed, letting out a playful growl as he wrestled them back into order, pinning one gently beneath his paw when it tried to bite his ear.
The pups yipped with delight, circling him again, their small bodies warm against his fur. And despite himself, Louis laughed in his mind — a sound more instinct than thought, soft and alive beneath the full moon.
Sophie wasn’t here tonight. She’d said she wasn’t feeling well, though Louis suspected she was simply homesick — same as him. A few of the other omegas had skipped the run as well. But some, unfortunately, were very much present.
Shirin, Lena, and Gabe all looked regal even in wolf form — gleaming coats, proud postures, tails high as they waited for Harry’s signal. They stood near the front, radiant and ready to be admired.
Louis kept to the side, trying not to stare, and failed spectacularly the moment Harry stepped forward.
It was his first glimpse of the alpha in wolf form — and his whole body reacted before his mind caught up.
Harry was massive, even by alpha standards, his dark brown fur catching the silver of the moonlight like polished bronze. His green eyes gleamed — unmistakable even like this — and there was such peace in the way he surveyed his pack that Louis’s chest ached.
Something inside him, deep and old, wanted to whine.
Then Harry’s gaze found him.
For a heartbeat, everything else fell away — the rustle of paws, the hum of breath, the restless energy in the air. Just Harry, still as stone, eyes locked on him.
Louis saw the moment of recognition — the flicker of surprise, then something warmer. Appreciation, maybe. His white fur must’ve stood out like snow against the earth tones of the rest — small, bright, a soft contrast to Harry’s darkness.
Harry’s wolf tilted his head, something like curiosity and fondness in the motion.
And Louis, idiot that he was, felt his tail wag. Just once, betraying him completely.
Then Harry barked — deep, commanding, the kind of sound that rippled straight through the bones.
The whole pack shifted into a tight run formation, bodies lowering with practiced ease. The air changed — thickened — charged with anticipation and pack unity. Paws dug into the earth, muscles coiled, breaths synced like they shared a single lung between them.
Louis tried to shake himself free of the feeling, of the way that single look had set his heart tripping. He told himself to focus — on the rhythm, on the scent of soil and moonlight, on anything that wasn’t the way Harry’s gaze had felt like a touch.
And then they ran.
The forest swallowed them whole — a blur of fur and movement and breath. Branches whipped overhead, the ground cool beneath his paws, and Louis let his mind empty, instincts taking over. The pack flowed together like a single heartbeat.
For a little while, it worked. The ache, the homesickness, the confusing pull toward Harry — all of it burned away in the rush of speed and the wind through his fur.
_______
Louis didn’t know how it happened.
One moment he was running comfortably on the side of the formation — exactly where an omega who valued his continued existence should be — and the next he was shoulder to shoulder with Harry at the very front.
He could blame instinct. In his own pack, he always ran beside his father and siblings at the front — where the bond was strongest, the heartbeat of the pack loudest.
But instinct didn’t explain everything.
It didn’t explain the way Harry’s wolf turned its head, catching Louis’s eyes with a look that was warm and proud, like he was genuinely pleased to see Louis beside him.
And it didn’t explain the way something soft fluttered in Louis’s chest at that look — a deep, quiet feeling that settled inside him like it belonged there. As if his wolf already knew this was where he was supposed to be: right next to the alpha, keeping pace with him step for step.
The idea should have startled him. It should have sent him scrambling back to the safer middle of the group. Instead, it felt strangely calm, almost comforting, like slipping into a position he didn't realize he had been missing.
Louis didn’t look at Harry again — one more glance and he’d probably trip over a root and die — but he didn’t drop back either. His legs kept matching Harry’s, steady and sure.
And Harry didn’t move ahead or create space. He kept Louis right there beside him, easy and natural, like this was how they were meant to run.
Louis swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth in his chest.
The forest opened before them in streaks of silver and shadow. The pack thundered behind, a sea of paws and breath and heartbeat. Every so often, Harry lifted his head and gave a low, commanding bark, and the sound ran through Louis’s veins like current.
Because the Styles pack was large, they stopped several times along the way — to drink, to howl to the moon, to rest the younger wolves, the elders, and the mothers-to-be before they were escorted back.
Louis used those pauses to wander, his curiosity tugging him farther each time. Every new stop felt like discovery — a clearing bursting with wildflowers, a riverbank glinting like glass, a ridge that opened to the valley below.
He sniffed the air, learning the scents of this land — its damp moss, its cool streams, its lingering traces of home buried somewhere deep beneath the foreign soil.
For the first time since arriving, Louis let himself wonder — not just what it meant to visit this pack, but what it would feel like to belong to it.
_______
After their third stop, when the pack began to stir again, Harry gave a low bark — short and commanding — the sound rolling through the clearing like thunder beneath the ground. Wolves lifted their heads, tails raised, bodies aligning without question.
When the run resumed, it wasn’t wild like before; it was steady and powerful, the kind of movement that made the forest hum in answer.
Louis’s paws found the earth in perfect rhythm with Harry’s. Every leap, every shift in pace, every narrow turn — it was as though their wolves had run together for years.
Whenever the terrain grew rough, Harry moved slightly outward, placing himself between Louis and the stones or roots that cut through the path. He didn’t even seem to think about it — just did it, silent and instinctive.
Louis wanted to be annoyed — he didn’t need protecting — but his wolf didn’t agree. His wolf only felt something quiet and warm at the gesture, a hum of recognition deep in his chest.
When they crossed a stream, Harry slowed just enough for Louis to match his footing. When the forest thinned, Harry’s pace shifted again, careful but unrelenting, his presence constant and grounding beside Louis’s smaller frame.
The rest of the pack howled at one point— a long, echoing sound that rolled across the valley — and Louis joined them, lifting his head to the moon. His voice merged with theirs, but his ears were tuned only to the note that came from beside him, low and strong and unshakably familiar.
For a few heartbeats, the world felt simple. No rules, no roles, no packs — just two wolves running beneath the same moon, bound by something older than words.
And when Harry’s wolf brushed against him, a fleeting touch of fur to fur, Louis didn’t flinch away. He leaned into it, just for a breath — enough to feel the warmth, to let his wolf whisper what he couldn’t say out loud.
_______
Finally, at their last stop, Louis shifted back into his human form.
He didn’t think about the nakedness — everyone else was the same, all skin and steam in the cool night air — but he still made a beeline for the pile of clothes someone had thoughtfully gathered near the clearing. He leaned in, scenting each piece until he found the ones that felt right — soft cotton and faint traces of home — and pulled them on quickly.
Once dressed, he found himself drifting toward the trees again, drawn by curiosity and the quiet ache in his chest.
He loved the woods at night like this — when the moonlight spilled silver through the leaves and the world felt close, protective. The trees loomed tall and steady, guardians of something sacred. He followed the sound of running water until he found a creek and crouched beside it, washing his hands and face in the cold, clear stream. The chill made him gasp softly, but it felt good — grounding after hours of running, shaking the wildness from his bones.
He sensed Harry before he heard him — the warm, grounding scent that had already become familiar. When he turned, the alpha was stepping out from between the trees, a soft smile tugging at his mouth.
There was something about the night — or maybe about them — that hummed with quiet magic, like the moon itself was conspiring to draw them closer.
“You did good, Lou,” Harry said, voice low, sincere. He crouched beside the creek to wash his own hands, his reflection rippling beside Louis’s.
Louis tried to play it off, shrugging lightly. “I just ran like everyone else.”
Harry straightened, droplets of water glinting on his skin as he looked at Louis. His dimples appeared when he smiled, and his green eyes softened with something unguarded.
“No,” Harry said gently. “You didn’t just run, Louis. You belonged.”
For a second, Louis couldn’t breathe. The words sank deep — quiet, devastating, and far too kind. The forest seemed to hush around them; even the creek’s soft murmur felt like it was holding its breath.
He forced a shrug, trying to wrestle the fluttering in his chest back into something manageable. “I think you’re reading into this too much.”
Harry’s mouth curved wider, dimples flashing in the moonlight. “Sure I am, sweetheart.”
Louis blinked. “Sweetheart?” he managed, but Harry was already straightening, amusement flickering in his eyes.
“Come on,” he said, voice dipping low and fond. “Let’s go join the pack. The night tends to get a little wild after this.”
Louis chuckled despite himself, catching the playful glint of warning in Harry’s expression. They started walking together, side by side through the trees — close enough that their hands brushed once, then again, until neither of them pulled away.
And under the weight of the moon and the scent of earth and pine, Louis couldn’t tell anymore whether the warmth in his chest came from his heart… or from his wolf, finally recognizing where it wanted to stay.
_______
Harry hadn’t been kidding about his warning.
Within minutes, the clearing had transformed. Someone had already coaxed a bonfire into existence, flames leaping toward the sky, while others passed around a thousand bottles of homemade moonshine that could probably last for decades. The air buzzed with laughter, barking, and off-key singing.
Louis found himself having a genuinely good time. He joined in the songs, humming along to old childhood tunes he hadn’t thought about in years. He even let Mary drag him into a dance on the side — and, to his own surprise, didn’t fall once. At some point, he tried the moonshine everyone kept praising and immediately regretted it; the stuff nearly punctured his lungs.
And through it all, Harry stayed by his side. There was some invisible string pulling them together that night — like if one wandered off, the other automatically followed.
It didn’t escape Zayn’s notice either. When he strolled by and caught them mid-conversation, he shot them an unmistakable smirk — the kind that said I know exactly what’s going on here.
“Omegas can have a mean growl too!” Louis insisted, clutching the moonshine like a weapon, as if Harry’s grin was one more provocation away from him throwing it in his face.
Harry laughed, the sound low and teasing. “Sure they can, Lou. I even saw an alpha once get scared of an omega growl — went all whiny.”
Louis narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make fun of me! You’d whine if I growled at you.”
Harry’s smile widened, wicked and unbothered. “Whine or get hard — who knows?”
Louis gasped, scandalized. “Harry!”
“I’m funny, admit it,” Harry said, stepping closer, voice dipping low enough for only Louis to hear. “Also… I see that blush, sweetheart. Not that I mind.”
Louis did blush, his fingers tightening around the cup as if he could hide behind it. He opened his mouth to fire back — something cutting, anything — but before he could, a familiar sound cut through the air.
Zayn’s soft chuckle.
He was leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place. “You two done flirting, or should I give you privacy?”
Louis groaned into his drink. Harry just grinned wider, clearly delighted.
Neither of them bothered to deny it — which probably made it worse.
Louis huffed and slipped away toward the edge of the clearing, muttering something under his breath about “insufferable alphas.” But of course, Harry followed.
Their voices — low, playful, and full of laughter — drifted off into the trees, the banter continuing just out of earshot, leaving behind a pack full of knowing smirks and one very smug Zayn.
_______
The next few days after the full moon passed in the same manner — which was to say: mild chaos with a side of Harry.
There were more lessons from Anne, more communal dinners, more chores and pack activities… and, unfortunately, more instances of Harry just appearing. Everywhere. Like a very handsome, very distracting ghost who had absolutely no concept of personal space.
It was getting ridiculous.
Louis should’ve realized something was happening — the way his heart did that stupid flutter every time Harry smiled at him, or the way his stomach did that twisty thing whenever Harry came back from patrol, sweaty and glowing and built like some forest deity who wrestled sunshine for sport. He should have noticed how he kept expecting Harry to show up, how he wanted to hear him talk, how he found himself telling jokes just to make Harry laugh that loud, unguarded laugh he’d grown addicted to.
These were not normal behaviors — not for Louis, not for anyone.
He should’ve known. But he didn’t.
Louis had never been in love before. Not even close. He’d never glanced twice at anyone in his home pack; dating someone who’d known him since he was five felt unromantic at best and mildly cursed at worst. And whenever someone did try to get close, he always found something that put him off within minutes — the way they talked, the way they shrank under his sharp tongue, the way they never challenged him. He got bored before anything even started.
But with Harry… it was different.
Harry didn’t wilt when Louis got sassy — he lit up. He didn’t get offended when Louis roasted him — he laughed harder. Louis found himself amused by him, drawn to him, charmed by the stupidest things.
Harry could eat like an enthusiastic animal and somehow Louis didn’t feel repulsed. If anything, it just made him huff, “You can’t lead a pack and eat like that — have manners,” while Harry looked at him with that soft, amused expression that made Louis feel seen in the nicest, most infuriating way.
Harry watched him fondly when he complained about trivial things. He listened like Louis mattered. He stayed close, but never crowded.
And Louis — stubborn, oblivious Louis — didn’t recognize any of it for what it was. Not yet.
He gave himself excuses. Lots of excuses.
The heart palpitations? Probably stress. Happens to everyone.
The warmth in his chest whenever Harry looked at him? Indigestion. Maybe he ate too fast. Maybe he ate standing up. Maybe both.
The way Harry’s laugh made him want to smile like an idiot? Temporary insanity. Happens during long trips. Perfectly normal.
All very logical explanations. Completely airtight. No notes.
So Louis went about his days pretending not to notice anything at all. He told himself it was just hormones, or exhaustion, or maybe lingering side effects from that questionable moonshine he’d gulped during the full moon. Definitely not feelings. Absolutely not.
Feelings would be ridiculous. He didn’t have feelings. He had… symptoms.
_______
Louis was on his way to the food hall for lunch when raised voices made him stop. Two teenage alphas were standing in the middle of the pack square, clearly in the middle of a Very Important Argument — judging from how one was puffing his chest like an offended rooster and the other looked two seconds away from biting something that wasn’t food.
Louis sighed like a man twice his age. “Fantastic. Testosterone on parade.”
He squared his shoulders and marched toward the chaos before someone lost a limb or, worse, embarrassed the entire community. When he reached them, he clapped his hands once — sharp, loud, and judgmental — making both boys jump.
“Alright! Before one of you starts marking territory on the floor,” Louis said, glaring at them like a deeply disappointed teacher, “how about we calm down?”
Two sets of eyes snapped toward him — surprise first, then irritation sliding in like a bad attitude.
“This isn’t your business, omega,” the taller one said, voice deep and dripping with teenage confidence that had never once been tested by reality.
Louis smiled sweetly — the kind of smile that had led multiple wolves to reconsider their life choices. “Oh, darling, everything within my line of sight is my business. I’m nosy, and I thrive on chaos.”
The smaller alpha scowled. “We were just talking.”
Louis waved vaguely at their snarling faces. “Oh, talking. Is that what we’re calling growling like feral raccoons fighting over a trash can?”
A few pack members snorted behind him. The tall alpha’s ears went red.
“He called me weak,” the smaller one muttered, arms crossing dramatically.
The tall one scoffed. “Because you are weak.”
“Oh, lovely,” Louis deadpanned. “Truly Shakespearean dialogue. Someone grab me popcorn.”
“Stay out of it,” the tall one growled.
Louis tilted his head in exaggerated thought. “Hmm. No. But thanks for the offer.” Then he pointed at them like a parent discipline his own pups. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re both going to apologize like civilized mammals, or I’m calling Harry.”
Both boys stiffened instantly.
Louis continued, tone dangerously casual. “And if I call Harry, you know he’ll come marching down here with his Alpha Voice and that Serious Face — give a twenty-minute lecture about teamwork and pack unity until you wish for death. You want that?”
The smaller alpha paled. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.” Louis crossed his arms. “Now apologize and go do something productive. Wrestle a tree. Punch the air. Eat a snack. I don’t care. Just not this.”
The two boys exchanged a glance and muttered a sheepish, “Sorry.”
“Good.” Louis beamed, all false sunshine. “Now go be fine somewhere else. Preferably very far from me.”
They practically sprinted away.
Louis dusted off his hands like he’d just completed a difficult chore. “Teenagers,” he muttered. “No respect for public peace.”
That was when he heard slow, deliberate clapping from the side.
He turned, already preparing a snarky remark, and instead nearly swallowed his own tongue.
Harry was leaning against a fence post, arms moving in an exaggerated, approving clap. His grin was soft and knowing, eyes warm with amusement. His hair was still tousled from patrol, curls falling over his forehead in a way that really should’ve been illegal. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing golden skin and forearms that could probably solve international conflict. It was rude. Honestly. Completely uncalled for.
“Good job, Lou,” Harry said, still smiling. “One of them nearly pissed himself.”
Louis felt his cheeks warm. “Weak bladders, those ones. What can I say?”
Harry laughed, pushing off the fence and strolling closer. His scent hit Louis like a warm wave—rich, grounding, alpha. Louis tried not to look like he was actively inhaling it.
“How did you learn to put alphas in their place so easily?” Harry asked, amused.
Louis crossed his arms, pretending nonchalance. “May I remind you I have six siblings? If I didn’t learn to discipline them fast, I’d have been sleeping outside by the age of ten.”
Harry chuckled, eyes softening. “Must’ve been nice though—growing up in a big family.”
Louis felt a small pang in his chest. “It is,” he admitted quietly. “You’re never alone. That’s… comforting sometimes.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. I wanted a bunch of siblings when I was little, but Mum couldn’t get pregnant again. So…” He shrugged with a grin. “I got Zayn instead.”
Louis laughed. “Trust me, better one brother than five sisters. The yelling during gossip hour alone could make you want to walk straight into the river.”
Harry barked out a laugh, and together they started walking toward the food hall, steps naturally syncing.
“Do you want a big family?” Harry asked suddenly, glancing at him. “In the future, I mean.”
Louis thought for a moment, humming softly. “Hmm, I think so. Not sure how many, but more than three, I guess.”
Harry looked pleased at that, a quiet spark of something unreadable flickering across his face.
“And you?” Louis asked, looking up at him.
Harry smiled—slow, certain. “Definitely. Need to build a little pack of my own someday.”
Louis rolled his eyes, smirking. “Of course you do. Can’t survive without a fan club.”
Harry grinned. “Exactly. And I’ve already got one member.”
Louis blinked, caught the meaning, and nearly tripped over his own feet. “You’re unbelievable.”
Harry’s laughter followed him all the way to the food hall
_______
Louis was on his way back to his hut a few nights later, ready to collapse into his nest and sleep for twelve hours straight, when he spotted Harry sitting alone beneath a tall tree. The alpha was leaning back against the trunk, legs stretched out, eyes lifted to the stars above.
Louis slowed.
Harry didn’t look tense or upset exactly, but there was something in his posture — in the stillness of him, in the quiet of his face — that didn’t feel quite right. For a moment Louis considered leaving him alone. Harry deserved his private thoughts. His quiet moments.
But something tugged at Louis’s chest, soft and instinctive, pushing him toward the tree before he even fully decided to move.
When Harry heard footsteps, he turned his head, offering a small, gentle smile. It was warm, but Louis could see something underneath it — a shadow of sadness or heavy thinking.
It made his steps quicken without meaning to.
“What happened?” Louis asked, raising an eyebrow as he approached, aiming for humor because admitting he was worried was simply not on the agenda. “Did someone criticize your perfectly dramatic tree pose? Because honestly, devastating.”
Harry let out a small chuckle, but the heaviness didn’t leave his eyes. Louis picked up on it immediately. Without thinking, he lowered himself onto the grass beside him, legs tucked under him, watching Harry expectantly.
“No, just… thinking,” Harry said quietly.
Louis hummed. “Must be a hardship,” he said after a beat, leaning back on his palms. “What about? Trying to choose which omega to take on your next date? Because I know a few who’d be thrilled.”
Harry smirked, finally glancing his way. “But you wouldn’t be.”
“Of course not,” Louis replied in a breezy tone, even though something warm flickered in his chest. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
Harry shook his head with a soft laugh, but then his eyes drifted back up to the stars. When he spoke again, his voice was slower, gentler. “It’s my father’s passing date today. It’s been… a hard day.”
The warmth in Louis’s chest tightened into something else — something soft and aching. He suddenly understood why Anne hadn’t been present earlier, why the omega session had been led by someone else.
“I’m sorry,” Louis said quietly.
Harry gave him a small, gentle smile and turned his head. “For what?”
“For losing him,” Louis explained. “You must’ve been so young. That… that can’t have been easy.”
Something inside him tugged painfully at the look on Harry’s face — the sadness there, the distance in his eyes. Louis suddenly had the overwhelming urge to reach out, to take Harry’s hand, to pull him close, to do something so he wouldn’t look so alone under the stars.
Harry nodded, gaze drifting upward again. “I wasn’t ready,” he admitted softly. “Not to lose him. And definitely not to lead the pack without him.”
The sadness in his voice twisted something deep in Louis’s chest.
Before he even knew what he was doing, Louis let instinct take over — pure omega instinct that screamed go to him, comfort him, make it better.
He moved gently into Harry’s lap, sliding close. Harry startled, eyes widening in surprise, but his arms came up instantly, almost on reflex, wrapping around Louis as Louis hugged him tight. It was intimate, far more intimate than Louis intended, and he already knew he would die of embarrassment later… but right now, he couldn’t care less.
No alpha deserved to sit under a tree looking that sad. Not Harry. Not tonight.
“I think you do a really good job,” Louis whispered into the warm space between Harry’s shoulder and throat, breathing in rain and pine and something steady that was just Harry.
Harry held him closer, voice small in a way Louis had never heard before. “You think?”
Louis could hear the insecurity there — real, raw, unguarded.
“I do,” Louis murmured, fingers curling into the fabric of Harry’s shirt. “I really do.”
Harry exhaled shakily. “Sometimes I worry I’ll make the pack decay in my reign,” he admitted, voice low and trembling in honesty.
Louis pulled back just enough to see his face, brows drawn, eyes bright with certainty. “No,” he said firmly. “Not a chance.”
Harry’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “How can you be sure?” he whispered, the question so quiet it made Louis’s heart squeeze.
Louis didn’t hesitate.
He lifted both hands and framed Harry’s face between his palms, guiding his gaze back to him. “Because you care,” he said, voice steady and gentle. “And because I see how your pack looks at you. How the pups look at you. You’re their hero, Harry. Their leader. Someone who cares this much can’t fail. The moon wouldn’t allow it.”
Harry’s eyes softened — something flickered there, something hopeful — but doubt still lingered at the edges.
Louis refused to let it stay.
“Harry,” he continued, voice deepening with conviction, “you prepare your wolves for the worst. You teach your omegas to defend themselves. You show your hunters how to protect the borders. You make sure every wolf here knows they matter.” He leaned in a little closer, thumbs brushing Harry’s cheeks. “That’s what a good pack alpha does. And your people see it. Every day.”
Harry’s breath hitched, just slightly, like Louis’s words hit something fragile inside him.
“They would bleed for each other,” Louis went on softly. “And they would die for you, Harry. Not because they’re obligated. Because they believe in you.” His voice dropped, warm and certain. “Your father couldn’t have prepared his son better.”
For a long moment, Harry didn’t speak.
He just stared at Louis like he was hearing those words for the very first time. Like Louis had cracked open something he’d kept locked away since he was twenty. Like the weight he’d been carrying alone suddenly became lighter — just because Louis had touched it.
Harry’s hands tightened around Louis’s waist, grounding himself.
And Louis stayed right there, steady and warm in Harry’s lap, holding his face like he could keep him from falling apart if he just stayed close enough. Harry finally nodded, eyes still locked onto Louis’s with a tenderness that made Louis’s heart trip over itself.
“Thank you, Louis,” he murmured.
Louis gave him a small smile. “Of course.”
But then something shifted in Harry’s expression — a thought crossing his face, sharp enough that Louis felt it in his bones before Harry even spoke.
“I need to decide soon,” Harry said quietly. “About my omega.”
The words hit like a bucket of cold water.
Louis bit his lip, the reality of their closeness crashing over him. Without thinking, he slid off Harry’s lap, suddenly hyper-aware of how intimate they’d just been — how intimately he’d touched an alpha who wasn’t his. Harry let him move but still kept his hands lightly on Louis’s waist, like he wasn’t ready to lose the contact.
It only made Louis’s pulse jump harder.
He forced a breath, scrambling for humor the same way someone drowning reaches for a floating plank. “Well,” he said, aiming for breezy but hearing the waver, “that sounds very… official. Should I create a form? A questionnaire? ‘Do you enjoy dramatic tree sitting: yes or no’?”
Harry huffed a soft laugh — but his eyes stayed serious, focused in a way that made Louis’s skin warm. There was something searching in them, something almost curious, almost hopeful.
Then Harry smirked. “You’re deflecting,” he said casually, like he was pointing out the weather. “Were you always like that?”
Louis gasped, hand flying to his chest like he’d been shot. “I am not deflecting! I am helping you. I’m being supportive. Emotionally. Like a very mature adult.”
Harry arched an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, you just tried to distract me with a fake questionnaire about tree posing.”
“That questionnaire was brilliant,” Louis snapped. “And also accurate. You’re very dramatic.”
Harry laughed, shaking his head. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what, exactly?” Louis demanded, gesturing wildly. “Being useful? Being comforting? Being the emotional backbone of this entire pack?”
“Running away from the moment,” Harry said simply.
Louis scoffed so hard he almost sprained something. “I am not running away from the moment. I am gracefully sidestepping it like a wolf with boundaries.”
Harry’s eyes softened — warm, fond, annoyingly knowing. “Uh-huh. And the sudden escape from my lap had nothing to do with the words ‘decide on my omega,’ right?”
Louis’s entire soul left his body.
“That was called tactical repositioning,” he declared. “I wasn’t running. I was relocating myself for… ventilation.”
“For ventilation,” Harry repeated, biting back a smile.
“Yes. It was hot. You were hot. I mean—YOU WERE WARM. WARM LIKE A—like a heater. A regular heater. A completely normal, non-romantic heater.”
Harry covered his mouth to hide a laugh. “Louis.”
“No,” Louis said, pointing at him. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?” Harry asked innocently.
“Like you know things,” Louis hissed.
Harry leaned in the tiniest bit, eyes twinkling with wicked accuracy. “I know you’re flustered.”
“I’m flustered because you’re annoying!”
“I’m annoying because you’re cute when you panic.”
Louis made a sound no human language could translate. Something between a shriek, a squeak, and a dying prayer.
“Okay I’m leaving,” he announced, scrambling to his feet. “I cannot survive this conversation. This is harassment. Emotional harassment. I will be filing a complaint with Anne.”
Harry just leaned back on his hands, smirking up at him. “Sure, go ahead. Just know you look adorable when you’re lying.”
Louis froze. Turned red. And marched away like a tiny, furious storm cloud.
“You’re STILL DEFLECTING!” Harry called after him, laughing.
“AND YOU’RE STILL RUDE!” Louis yelled back, tripping over a root but pretending he meant to do it.
Harry’s laughter followed him all the way to his hut.
_______
Louis tried desperately not to think about Harry’s quiet confession — “I need to decide soon.” He’d known from the beginning that this gathering wasn’t for fun; Harry wasn’t here to lounge under trees and flirt with omegas. He was here to choose a mate. That had always been on the table. Always part of the plan.
But knowing it and feeling it were two different things.
Every time Louis tried to shove the thought away, it slithered right back in. The idea of Harry choosing someone else — sitting with them under the stars, smiling at them the way he smiled at Louis, looking at them the way he had looked at him last night — made something inside Louis twist so sharply he almost pressed a hand to his chest.
He tried to reason with himself. It wasn’t like that between them. He liked Harry as an acquaintance, maybe a friend he’d never see again after this was over. Not as a mate. Not as his alpha. That was ridiculous. Dramatic. Entirely unlike him.
But the omega curled in his chest disagreed, whining softly at the thought of Harry with someone else, pressing tight and unhappy against his ribs. Louis himself wasn’t far off — every time he closed his eyes, something inside him tugged painfully, a quiet little ache he absolutely refused to name.
He didn’t sleep a single moment that night. He tossed and turned, argued with himself, lectured himself about hormones and instincts, then buried his face in his nest and let out a silent scream that did nothing to help. By morning, he was exhausted and irritated, his patience thin enough to see through. What he needed — what he begged the universe for — was a calm, quiet, drama-free day.
Tea. Maybe a nap. Absolutely no handsome alphas.
That was all Louis wanted. A peaceful, uneventful evening.
But the universe, as usual, had other plans.
Because over dinner — peaceful, innocent, completely ordinary dinner — something spectacular happened.
Louis and Sophie were at their usual corner table, quietly eating and laughing about their morning class on omega–alpha dynamics.
“I swear,” Louis whispered, stabbing a piece of potato, “if Anne says ‘natural instincts’ one more time, I’m going to start barking. Loudly.”
Sophie snorted into her drink. “I’ll join you. Duet barking. Pack will love it.”
They were still giggling when the food hall doors slammed open with all the subtlety of a thunderclap.
Every head turned.
Danni stormed inside, dragging an alpha who was being restrained by three others — big, strong warriors struggling to hold him back as he kicked and twisted in pure panic. The hall fell silent in seconds. Louis felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.
“Harry!” Danni barked.
Louis whipped his head around just in time to see Harry stand from a table across the hall, Zayn and a group of warriors rising with him like a tidal wave. Harry’s eyes narrowed instantly at the distressed alpha.
“Who is that?” Harry demanded, voice low and sharp.
Danni tried to answer. “He tried to pass the wall, was calling for—”
But he didn’t get the chance to finish.
The restrained alpha suddenly jerked forward and screamed over the noise, voice cracking with desperation:
“SOPHIE!”
The shout echoed through the hall.
Louis’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. Sophie’s eyes widened into full moons. The entire hall turned toward her at once.
Sophie’s eyes went wide. “Liam?!”
Oh. So this is Liam, Louis thought as he took in the alpha. Good for you, Soph. He’s hot and clearly insane.
The warriors hesitated just long enough for Liam to yank himself free. He stumbled forward like a man possessed, hair wild, eyes blazing with a mix of heartbreak, adrenaline, and terrible decision-making.
“You can’t bond him!” he shouted, pointing somewhere in the general direction of Harry’s table like he wasn’t even sure who he was accusing. “You can’t do this! I love you, Soph!”
A ripple of gasps shot through the hall. Someone dropped a spoon. Someone else whispered “oh my god,” like they were watching live theater.
Louis, halfway through his soup, just froze with the spoon still in his mouth. What in the Moon Goddess’ name is happening.
Sophie stood up so fast her chair screeched across the floor. “Bond who, Liam?!”
“The alpha!” Liam said, clutching his chest like he was auditioning for a tragic opera. “You can’t bond the pack alpha!”
Louis lowered his spoon slowly, utterly transfixed. What is this — dinner or a full-blown drama production? Should I be selling tickets?
“Liam,” Sophie said in the calmest, deadliest voice Louis had ever heard — the kind of calm that meant someone was about to die. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard rumors!” Liam declared, standing in the doorway like some tragic hero. “You were the chosen one!”
Louis immediately choked on his drink, coughing once, then letting out a very unflattering snort. The entire hall turned. Sophie’s glare found him instantly — sharp enough to slice through steel.
“Are you high?” she asked Liam suspiciously. “Or just insane?”
“I’m betting on insane,” Louis said under his breath, earning a few muffled laughs nearby.
Liam frowned, completely lost. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Sophie said, voice sugar-sweet but laced with murder underneath, “I don’t have anything with the pack alpha. No offence, Harry.”
Harry — still standing, arms crossed, openly enjoying every second of the spectacle — smiled like this was the best entertainment he’d had in weeks.
“None taken,” he said smoothly, lifting his glass in a lazy salute, dimples out and full charisma.
Louis caught his eye, and that was it. Both were visibly trying — and failing — to keep straight faces. Louis pressed his fist to his mouth, shoulders shaking. Harry looked dangerously close to laughing outright.
“Oh,” Liam said finally, blinking. “Uh… okay then.”
The silence that followed was glorious. The kind of heavy quiet that begged for commentary.
Louis obliged. “Wow,” he said loudly. “That emotional arc had everything. Betrayal, confession, public humiliation— really powerful stuff.”
Harry chuckled under his breath. “Bit rushed in the third act, though.”
“Agreed,” Louis said. “Needs a rewrite. Less yelling, more communication.”
Across the table, Sophie gave both of them the kind of look that could end civilizations. She turned back to Liam, voice low and deadly.
“Liam,” she hissed, “did you seriously come all the way here, try to invade a pack, and scream at me about bonding Harry? At dinner?”
Liam opened his mouth — probably to say something heroic and stupid — but Sophie bulldozed right over him, unstoppable.
“You left your post!” she snapped. “It’s fourteenth days of run! My father is going to kill you!”
A few wolves winced. Someone muttered “May the Goddess be with him.”
Louis, still clutching his soup like a support animal, watched the unfolding disaster with wide, fascinated eyes.
Sophie wasn’t done. She marched toward Liam with the single-minded focus of someone stalking prey.
“And you—” she jabbed a finger at Liam, who flinched like he’d been physically struck, “—dared to storm into another pack’s territory, while armed guards held you, just to yell ‘I love you’ in the middle of the dining hall?”
Liam lifted a hand weakly. “I—”
“Do you have a death wish?!”
Harry drifted closer to Louis, leaning in just enough that Louis could feel the warmth of him at his side. “Oh, she’s going to eat him alive,” he whispered, eyes shining with amusement.
Louis nodded solemnly. “Tragic. Gone too soon.”
“I’ll send flowers,” Harry murmured.
“I’ll write the eulogy,” Louis replied without missing a beat. “He died doing what he loved — being wrong in public.”
Harry’s laugh burst out of him — bright, unrestrained, gorgeous — the kind of laugh Louis felt right down his spine. Louis snorted too, unable to help it. Around them, several wolves clapped hands over their mouths, near-howl laughter trembling under the surface as Sophie continued her verbal annihilation of Liam in the background.
Liam, meanwhile, looked like a puppy realizing he’d barked up the wrong tree. “I just… thought—”
“You thought wrong!” Sophie snappe, grabbing him by the sleeve and yanking him toward the door like an exasperated mother hauling her toddler from a candy aisle.
The door slammed behind them. Silence. One beat. Two.
Then the entire hall erupted in laughter.
Louis wiped tears from his eyes, shoulders shaking. “I swear to the Moon, this meal needs a standing ovation. Dinner AND a show? Bless.”
Harry snorted. “You’re impossible.”
Louis gasped dramatically. “Impossible? I just witnessed a man publicly confess love and get dragged out like a misbehaving toddler. I am delightful.”
Harry’s mouth curved. “Remind me never to make a scene around you.”
“Oh please,” Louis said, waving a hand, “you make a scene every time you walk into a room. I just narrate it.”
Harry pressed a fist to his mouth to smother a laugh. “Gods help me.”
“I won’t,” Louis said brightly. “I’m rooting for chaos.”
Harry shook his head, still grinning. “And here I thought omegas were supposed to be gentle.”
Louis scoffed. “Gentle? Look at me, Harry. Do I look gentle? I look like I came here for violence AND dessert.”
Harry laughed so hard he had to brace a hand on the table. “You’re going to kill me.”
Louis raised his cup, all faux solemnity. “To Sophie… and her bold, brave, incredibly stupid mate.”
Harry tapped his glass to Louis’s. “May he survive the week.”
“Doubtful,” Louis said cheerfully, taking a sip.
They drank together, still grinning, while the entire hall buzzed with gossip — and Louis and Harry sat right there, shoulder to shoulder, partners in crime, basking in the aftermath of world-class dinner chaos.
_______
Much to Louis’s surprise, after the whole dinner spectacle, Harry actually went over to talk to the couple.
By the end of the night, somehow — through what Louis could only assume was a mix of charm, diplomacy, and black magic — a celebratory party had been organized for them, courtesy of the ever-efficient Styles pack.
The clearing was alive again: lanterns strung between trees, laughter carrying in the night air, and someone playing an off-key tune on a guitar that was definitely older than Louis.
Louis and Sophie sat near one of the bonfires, the glow turning her hair golden as she recounted everything that happened outside.
“Harry said he’ll talk to my father,” she said, smiling wide. “Try to make him see reason about letting Liam bond me. He says he has influence, so we’ll see.”
Louis looked at her — really looked — and felt a fond warmth bloom in his chest. “You’re disgustingly happy, aren’t you?”
Sophie snorted but nodded. “What can I say? He’s a good one.”
Louis followed her gaze to the other side of the clearing. Harry was standing with Liam and Zayn, deep in conversation, laughing about something. The firelight caught on the lines of his face — relaxed, easy, confident — and Louis’s stupid heart did that thing again.
He forced his eyes away and took a sip of his drink. “You sure you want to bond this guy?” he teased. “Seems like a handful.”
Sophie grinned, leaning back on her hands. “What can I do? I’m addicted to drama.”
Louis snorted. “That explains your friendship with me.”
She laughed, then her tone softened as she looked toward Liam. “He’s loyal, Lou. Protective. Fights for what he wants. I think he’ll be good beside me — a real partner. Maybe even a great pack alpha one day.”
Louis smiled, genuine this time. “And not bad on the eyes, if I may say so.”
Sophie rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please. I’m still hotter than him.”
Louis barked a laugh, nearly spilling his drink. “Delusion looks good on you, Soph.”
“Shut up,” she said, flicking a piece of fruit at him.
Across the clearing, Harry turned at the sound of Louis’s laughter. Their eyes met — brief, warm, almost electric — and Louis immediately tore his gaze away, pretending the bonfire flames were the most fascinating sight he’d witnessed in his life.
Sophie noticed, of course. Sophie always noticed. She smirked, smug enough to be illegal. “You know,” she said, “for someone who calls me disgustingly happy, you sure stare a lot for a man living in deep-level denial.”
Louis groaned dramatically and hid behind his cup. “No. Absolutely not. Don’t go there. I refuse.”
Sophie nudged him with her elbow. “Why not? You stare at him so hard I’m shocked the man hasn’t burst into flames.”
Louis sighed — long, theatrical, tragic. “He told me he needs to choose soon.”
Sophie hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm. I wonder who he’ll choose. Such a mystery. So many options. Truly riveting suspense.”
Louis gave her a flat look. “I really don’t know, actually. Lena and Gabe have been practically stapled to his sides lately. Either could work.”
Sophie turned slowly toward him, raising one eyebrow like she was evaluating a toddler who had claimed the sky was green. “And that worries you, Lou?”
“The only thing I’m worried about,” Louis said primly, “is you murdering Liam if he embarrasses you like that again.”
Sophie grinned proudly. “Well, yes. That could happen. Maybe it’s my destiny — killing the man I love in a dramatic, poetic tragedy. Very ‘famous novel heroine with poor coping skills.’”
Louis snorted. “At least you have self-awareness.”
“Oh, I do,” she chirped. “Which is why I can also say — you’re deflecting, darling.”
Louis groaned loudly, staring up at the sky like he was asking the Moon Goddess to strike him down. “People need to stop telling me that. I’m not deflecting. I’m being realistic.”
“No,” Sophie said sweetly. “You’re being in denial. Severe denial. Terminal denial. You give him heart eyes every day and refuse to admit it. You should visit the healer, honestly. Maybe they have herbs for this.”
Louis gasped. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” Sophie sang, leaning against him with a victorious little grin.
Louis shoved her lightly with his shoulder, but he was smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Remind me to fake an illness during your mating ceremony. I’ll cough dramatically the whole time.”
Sophie laughed. “And yet I’m the dramatic one.”
Harry glanced their way again, that warm smile tugging at his lips.
Louis looked away so fast his neck popped.
_______
Louis watched as Sophie and Liam danced near the fire — slow and clumsy but all smiles, their laughter blending with the soft music drifting through the clearing. It was disgustingly sweet. Louis couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed; he was grinning like an idiot.
“Want to dance?”
Harry’s voice came from beside him, low and warm.
Louis turned — and nearly forgot how to function. The alpha looked unfairly good tonight. Maybe it was the firelight painting his skin gold, or the way his green eyes softened when he smiled. Or maybe it was just the whole love-is-in-the-air thing infecting everyone like an emotional disease.
Either way, Louis’s brain short-circuited for half a second.
He recovered quickly, raising an eyebrow. “Can you even dance?”
Harry shrugged, trying for modesty but failing with a grin. “I can sway.”
Louis snorted. “So that’s a no.”
“Teach me?” Harry suggested, eyebrows waggling in what could only be described as the least coordinated invitation ever.
Louis stared at him. “I can’t do miracles, darling.”
Harry chuckled. “I’m serious. Show me how it’s done.”
Louis sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if you step on my toes, I’m calling you out in front of your entire pack. They deserve to know their fearless leader has two left feet.”
Harry grinned, dimples out in full force. “Deal.”
He took Louis’s hand — steady, confident, too warm. Louis tried not to react as Harry guided him toward the center of the clearing, where the firelight flickered over the grass.
“Here?” Louis asked, half amused, half exasperated. “Right in the middle of everything?”
Harry’s voice was a touch softer now. “Why not?”
Louis placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders, trying to look composed, while Harry rested one hand at his waist — gentle, careful. Together, they started to sway.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t even close. But it was warm and easy, and Louis found himself laughing quietly when Harry missed the rhythm and nearly turned them both the wrong way.
“Wow,” Louis said, voice dripping with fake disappointment, “you’ve officially ruined swaying for me. Congratulations.”
Harry looked down at him with that soft, stupid, heart-ruining smile. “That’s alright,” he murmured. “I only need one partner to think I’m any good at it.”
Louis rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out. “Good luck finding one,” he shot back.
Harry chuckled — low, warm — and instead of letting go like a normal, rational person, he pulled Louis closer.
Louis tried, desperately, to maintain dignity. He really did. But his omega traitorously melted, muscles going soft like overcooked pasta, heart thudding like a drum in a parade.
He cleared his throat, trying to recover. “You know,” he said lightly, “most alphas would let go after being insulted.”
Harry’s breath brushed Louis’s cheek. “Good thing I’m not like most alphas.”
Louis absolutely did not squeak. Not outwardly, anyway.
Instead, he forced himself to look up — and immediately regretted it, because Harry was already watching him. Really watching him. His smile had softened into something quieter, deeper, the firelight catching in his eyes like they were holding a whole universe.
His heart beat a little too fast.
Louis swallowed. “You’re staring.”
Harry’s lips curved. “I know.”
Louis felt the words hit somewhere low in his stomach. His face went hot — far too hot — and he scrambled for something, anything, to say before his brain completely melted.
“Can’t believe you volunteered to meet Sophie’s dad,” he blurted. “That man is terrifying, I must warn you. And that’s coming from someone who’s spent every summer trying not to get grounded by him.”
Harry chuckled, warm and steady against Louis as they swayed. “I’ve met him a few times,” he said lightly. “He’s a good man. I’m sure I can talk to him and make him see reason.”
Louis lifted an eyebrow, smirking. “Naturally. There’s nothing you can’t do, is there?”
Harry’s grin ticked crooked, boyish and a little shy in a way that should’ve been illegal. “You’d be surprised.”
“Oh?” Louis drawled, angling his face up toward him, teasing even though his heart was doing acrobatics. “What’s the one thing the great Alpha Styles is afraid of doing?”
This time, Harry didn’t laugh. He just looked at him—really looked—eyes soft and steady, the firelight catching in the green.
“Asking you something I really want to ask,” he said quietly.
Louis blinked up at him, his breath catching for reasons he absolutely refused to examine too closely. “Me?” he scoffed, because scoffing felt safer than melting on the spot. “What on earth could asking me anything possibly intimidate you with? I’m five foot nothing and powered by spite.”
Harry’s smile deepened. “Exactly. Terrifying.”
Louis smacked his chest lightly. “Just get it out, Harry,” he said, aiming for breezy even though he was quietly experiencing a full internal meltdown. “What could you possibly want to ask that’s so dramatic you pause every two seconds like you’re in a romance play?”
Harry actually hesitated—just for a heartbeat—but Louis felt it, felt the shift in the air between them, warm and heavy and humming with something he absolutely was not prepared to face.
Then Harry leaned in just a little, the music fading around them as his voice dropped soft and careful. “I want to ask,” he murmured, “if you feel the same as me… and if you’d like us to court.”
For a moment, Louis forgot how to move. The world tilted, the air went still. He stiffened, then managed, “That’s two questions.”
Harry chuckled, cheeks tinting pink. But the humor didn’t stay long. “Lou… is it all in my mind?”
Louis swallowed hard. “I…” He looked into Harry’s eyes — this gorgeous alpha asking the most vulnerable question, terrified of being rejected. And Louis’s heart just… wouldn’t let him do that. Something inside him squeezed tight.
“You… like me?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
Harry let out a small, nervous laugh. “I think it’s beyond like, sweetheart.” He took a breath, steady but hopeful. “And I really want to try. Dating. Courting. Whatever you want to call it. I just… want it all with you.”
Louis stared at him, wide-eyed, his brain buffering like a broken radio. Somewhere behind them, someone laughed, music swelled — life went on — but Louis could only blink at the man in front of him. His Alpha. His friend. The one who’d just cracked his whole world open like it was nothing.
“I—what?” Louis managed, sounding more like a malfunctioning echo than a person.
Harry’s lips twitched. “Wow. One simple question about courting and you’re speechless. I deserve a medal. Maybe a round of applause.”
Louis swatted his shoulder. “Stop teasing. I just—” he waved a hand helplessly “—didn’t expect it.”
Harry chuckled, pulling him gently closer until Louis could feel the warmth of his chest through their clothes. “Didn’t expect it? Lou, you can’t be that blind. Everyone and their mothers know I’m interested.”
Louis blinked rapidly. “You are?”
Harry laughed. “Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
“I’m processing!” Louis hissed.
Harry’s grin softened, eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna make me suffer by thinking about it… or make me suffer by saying yes?”
Louis laughed, finally relaxing. “You’re insufferable.”
“I’ve been told,” Harry said, dimples flashing.
Louis bit his lip, his smile faltering just a little. “I’ve… never really dated before,” he admitted quietly. “What does it even entail? Because I’m going to need the full scenario before I commit to anything. Charts, diagrams, a syllabus—”
Harry tilted his head, pretending to ponder. “You? Acting shy?” His grin grew. “May I remind you, you once told me over dinner that you could make me forget everyone else?”
Louis’s ears burned instantly. “That was a joke! I didn’t mean—oh my god, you’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Harry said cheerfully. “Anyway. I was thinking we start simple. Walks around the territory—”
Louis squinted at him. “Like a tour guide? Hard pass. Zayn tried that. I thought we’d both die of boredom.”
Harry groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “No, Lou. Romantic walks. And maybe dinner — that I’ll cook.”
Louis raised an eyebrow. “Clever alpha. Not letting me within ten meters of the kitchen.”
Harry laughed, shaking his head. “It would just be… us. Spending time. Exploring this. You’d talk, I’d listen, you’d sass me—basically the same as now, but with more intention.”
Louis tried, genuinely tried, not to smile. He failed spectacularly. “So… chaos, but scheduled.”
“Exactly.” Harry beamed. “Our specialty.”
Louis didn’t stand a chance. The grin curled up before he could fight it — helpless, warm, traitorous. This man was going to be the death of him. He could feel it already: slow, smiling, dimples-first demise.
But when he glanced to the side, the grin faltered. A few of the other omegas were watching them — some whispering, some not even pretending to hide the sour twist in their expressions.
Louis cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “Harry… what about the gathering?” He nodded subtly toward the others. “They’re all here to find a match. You can’t just—”
Harry glanced over, then back at him, expression calm and sure. “I’ll send them home,” he said simply.
Louis blinked. “What?”
“I mean it,” Harry went on, tone light but steady. “Sophie can stay if she wants, since Liam’s here, but the rest? They’ve done their part. I don’t need to keep them here for another three weeks for nothing.”
Louis’s heart gave a startled kick. “Are you sure? You don’t want to… explore more?”
Harry stilled their swaying, one hand coming up to trace Louis’s cheek with the gentlest touch. His voice softened. “Lou, I was sure by the second week.”
Louis’s breath caught.
Harry smiled faintly, thumb brushing just below his eye. “I just wanted to give you time to want it too. And, well… to stop being a coward and actually ask you out.”
Louis’s lips twitched, warmth rising in his chest. “So, you’re saying I had to wait three weeks for the mighty Alpha Styles to find his spine?”
Harry laughed under his breath. “Something like that.”
Louis looked up at him — this ridiculous, confident, kind man — and rolled his eyes, smiling. “Fine,” he said at last, voice light. “I’ll give you a chance. We’ve got three weeks left. Might as well make them count.”
Harry’s grin widened, his dimples cutting deep. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
Louis swore his heart didn’t just flutter — it took off.
_______
Harry escorted him back to his hut, hand in hand — the most cliché ending imaginable. Louis would’ve minded, if it didn’t feel so… right.
There was something about them — the easy rhythm, the quiet warmth — that made it feel natural, like they’d been orbiting each other for years and had finally stopped pretending otherwise.
“You can’t tell me you never thought about finding someone here,” Harry teased, glancing sideways at him. “So why’d you accept my invitation, then?”
Louis gave him a look. “Because I had to. My mum made it sound like refusing meant eternal shame or disownment or both.”
Harry frowned. “We didn’t force anyone. The invitations were optional.” He paused, thoughtful. “Maybe some parents took liberties.”
Louis thought back to how his own parents had framed it — all soft guilt and gentle threats — and sighed. “Eh. Doesn’t matter now, right? I came, caused chaos, and now the big bad Alpha wants to date me.”
Harry laughed, quiet and low. “Something like that.”
Louis tilted his head, curious. “Have you ever thought about finding your mate here? Before… all this?”
Harry considered it, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mm, not really. The council didn’t leave me much of a choice. It was this or going the arranged marriage route.”
Louis’s face twisted. “They can do that?”
Harry deadpanned, “My mum would be the first to vote yes.”
Louis snorted, covering his mouth. “Poor man.”
Harry chuckled. “But really… I wanted to find someone naturally. A connection, you know? Someone who challenged me.” His smile turned teasing. “And of course I went and fell for the one omega who verbally abuses me for sport.”
Louis shrugged with faux modesty. “You seem to like it. I’m doing a public service, actually — keeping your ego humbled.”
Harry squeezed his hand, thumb brushing softly over Louis’s skin. “Can’t have it any other way.”
And Louis’s heart did a full, dramatic cartwheel.
They reached Louis’s hut, the night cool and still around them, firelight flickering from the distant clearing. Louis looked up at Harry — tall, relaxed, smiling — and felt that tug again, deep in his chest.
Harry stepped closer, wrapping him in a hug that felt too good, too easy. He dipped his head to scent Louis, slow and deliberate, and Louis did the same — instinctive, grounding, electric.
“Be ready tomorrow evening, okay?” Harry murmured, voice low against Louis’s hair — unfairly soft, unfairly intimate. “I’ve got a few meetings and a patrol, but after that, I’m all yours.”
Louis nodded, trying very hard not to smile like a lovesick idiot. “Okay. But make it unforgettable,” he warned lightly. “Otherwise I’ll just go home with one of the other omegas.”
Harry grinned at that — slow, dimpled, entirely too pleased. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, you won’t even think about running away.”
Louis arched a brow. “Bold of you. You should know — I am an expert at running. Professionally skilled, even.”
Harry’s smile softened into something warmer. “Then I guess I’d better make you want to stay.”
Louis’s heart did a somersault. His mouth, as usual, betrayed him first.
“Oh,” he said faintly, “that’s… rude of you.”
Harry laughed under his breath. “What is?”
“Being charming on purpose,” Louis muttered. “You’re a menace.”
“And you like me anyway,” Harry replied, eyes gleaming.
Louis scoffed, cheeks warm. “Debatable.”
Harry leaned in, brushing their hands together. “We’ll see tomorrow. Goodnight, Lou.” Then he bent forward and pressed a kiss to Louis’s cheek — warm, brief, devastating.
Louis’s heart immediately forgot how to behave. “Goodnight, Harry,” he managed, voice embarrassingly soft as he turned toward his door before he could do something foolish like collapse into a puddle.
He’d barely taken one step when Harry called, “Lou!”
Louis turned, brow arched.
Harry, without any warning or decency, pulled off his shirt — just peeled it right off — and held it out. “For the night,” he said, smiling like it wasn’t the most lethal act Louis had ever witnessed.
Louis took it automatically, lifted it to his face, and inhaled before his brain could intervene. It smelled like Harry — rain and pine and something warm that curled deep in Louis’s chest. His omega practically purred.
“You’re getting sappier by the minute,” Louis muttered, trying for unimpressed despite clutching the shirt like it was a sacred relic. “Pray you ever see it again.”
Harry laughed, taking a reluctant step back. “Keep it. If this doesn’t work, you can always burn it.”
Louis grinned, “Mm, or I could make a voodoo doll out of it. Stab it every time you annoy me.”
Harry’s grin widened. “You’d wear it out in a week.”
Louis snorted. “True. Sweet dreams, Alpha.”
Harry’s eyes softened. “Goodnight, Lou.”
And with that, Louis slipped inside — clutching the shirt to his chest, inhaling like a man starved, smiling like an idiot at a scent that already felt dangerously, stupidly, unbelievably like home.