fragile Pheromones

The Arrival At Birds Beacon Academy

It seemed like no time at all before the twins arrived— like a divine dream, totally otherworldly, and dressed in matching obsidian silks that shimmered like midnight oil. They pulled up in their limousine, a sleek black-and-gold marvel straight from the borderlands of the North Pack. They pulled up to the iron gates of Birds Beacon Academy with the silent confidence of royalty returning from exile.

Heads turned. Conversations died. The atmosphere shifted.

Kemp, the ever-faithful chauffeur, secretary, business assistant, event manager, his titles keep increasing anyway he silently adjusted his gloves before announcing with a theatrical sweep of his hand, “We have arrived.”

The twins did not answer. They were still scrolling through their curated playlist, searching for a track loud enough to drown out the infernal buzz of mortals. Kemp, ever patient, stepped out and slid both passenger doors open with a reverent flourish.

Only then did the twins look up.

They then stepped out in perfect unison. Every movement was slow, intentional, fluid—each step whispering a visual of pristine elegance and power. Their immense frames, cloaked in luxury and confidence, defied the world’s fragile standards. Four hundred pounds of beauty and unapologetic wit, and yet, they moved with the poise of celestial swans.

“Young Hopkins,” Kemp inquired with a respectful tilt of his head, “Shall the limo remain on academy grounds during your stay?”

Kole’s honey-golden eyes narrowed slowly, his expression a subtle blend of insult and disbelief. Are you serious, or should I slap you? the look said.

Kemp immediately bowed. “Never mind, sir. I spoke out of turn. Do call me should you need anything.” He offered a deep, dignified bow to both twins. “Sir. Miss. I bid you a good and fulfilling stay. I’ve not forgotten your things—just send me your dorm numbers.

Good day.”

With that, Kemp disappeared into the limo, and like a well-written ending, it glided away.

The silence left behind was thunderous.

People stared like they were witnessing the rare emergence of two mythological creatures long thought extinct.

Lola raised her gaze first, honey-golden eyes glinting beneath thick lashes. It was like watching a statue come to life. The crowd leaned forward unconsciously, waiting—hoping—for something bizarre and magnificent to happen.

Kole followed a moment later, only looking up when he realized his sister’s gaze hadn’t fallen again. When he saw the crowd, he smirked. Not his real smile— not the one that carved adorable dimples into his cheeks—but the public one: the dangerous, polished, untouchable.

Lola’s eyes smiled too, but to those who knew her, it looked like sarcasm dressed in silk. To everyone else, it was simply divine.

Whispers rippled like heatwaves across the courtyard.

Are they really the Northland Twins?

They’re omegas? one asked as if in complete disbelief

They’re—beautiful. another coed.

No. They’re—“Gods,” someone whispered, not even bothering to hide it.

yes. The “Gods of the Northern Pack,” said another. Even “More famous than their alpha.”

Lola finally spoke, her voice as smooth as golden syrup, “Haven’t any of you seen successful omegas before? Or are you just completely lost in the forest of our unrivaled beauty?”

Kole laughed softly, delighted. “You’re terrible,” he murmured.

They ignored the stares. The whispers. The longing. The judgment. And kept walking like they owned not just the academy but time itself.

“Don’t you feel that?” Lola whispered, linking her arm with her brother’s.

“What—their judgment?” he replied, amused.

“No, silly.” Her lips curled into a sly grin. “Their desperation.”

Kole chuckled. “Yes. It’s practically oozing from the walls.”

They moved down the hallway like they’d been here before in some past life—like they’d built this place with their own hands and returned to watch the residents squabble.

Then Lola’s gaze shifted towards her left. “Left side,” she said under her breath.

“Right side,” Kole echoed as they both crouched in expectant anticipation.

they felt like they were watching

Two rivers about to collide.

On the left: Alpha Justin Shrubered and his braided cord or you can just call them his friends —Gilbert "Gil Zero" the beta, Howard Kingsley the gamma, and Gordon Fitchburg the delta. They stood like polished statues carved from ego and combat training justin looked as if he hadn't seen a good night's sleep since he was born.

On the right: Alpha Connor Fullion and his trio of friends —Lucas Alistair the beta, James Harrison the delta, and Laben Frost the gamma. Cool, calculating, ready to draw blood with a glance. Conner may have appeared calm cool and collected but he was honestly uncertain about this stand off.

But the two groups still locked eyes. It wasn’t tension. It was a clash. Their wolves threatening to rip from beneath their flesh. Frenzy coiled beneath their skin like smoke waiting for a spark.

But then they noticed the twins.

And the twins were already watching, drooling, anxiously awaiting the much anticipated rip and collision.

Lola and Kole crouched low to the marble floor, their luxurious bodies folding with the elegance of dancers. They looked on, expressions filled with delight, as if they were front row at the opera about to witness a divine tragedy.

Please, their eyes begged, tear each other apart, with ripping and shredding, they were ready for it.

But when the alphas froze confused —caught staring at the twins—the tension snapped. There would be no explosion. Not yet.

The twins’ joy vanished. Their expressions fell in unison, like expensive glass sculptures tipped over by a breeze.

Disappointed, they stood—no strain, no struggle, rising like smoke from fire.

And walked away, gliding effortlessly through the crowd of stunned students who suddenly felt like they’d all just failed a test they didn’t know they were taking.

Because the northland twins had arrived.

And they all knew the academy would never be the same.