#reader oc

For the first time in your life, you understand the appeal of sex. While you were a virgin who couldn’t even get a boy to hold your hand, your peers were sneaking off in pairs to dark corners and risking getting caught feeling each other up anywwhere they could steal away a private moment. Some of the girls you knew always seemed to be flushed and grinning shyly, straw in their hair and their skirts rumpled, carefully avoiding eye-contact with a similarly disheviled young man.

You suspect that this is better than a clumsy tumble with a village boy, however. John is in no hurry to sink his cock into you like an over-eager boy. He slides his thick fingers inside you, pressing against a spot that makes you tremble in his hold and pulls back to circle your pearl with surprisingly clever fingers. He kisses you breathless, swallowing your moans and whimpers greedily, coaxing you to dizzying heights and crashes that break like water over you.

He ends the kiss as he removes his fingers from your puffy, over-sensitive cunt. You feel boneless, utterly limp in his arms, but your body seems reluctant to let him go. You’re achingly aware of how empty you feel, and it’s only your sense of pride that keeps you from begging for more. You don’t need to beg— You may be a virgin, but you know from overheard conversations that men rarely forgo their own pleasure, and certainly never for long.

“How do you feel?” he asks, offering slick fingers to your lips. You open your mouth without thinking, letting him press the sour-sweet taste of your own arousal against your tongue. When you hum contentedly around his fingers in response, his eyes spark, sending another trembling thrill through you. “You want more?”

You nod. This is it. He’s finally going to— A confused whine escapes your throat when he settles you against the cushions and slides off the side of the couch, lowering himself to his knees before you.

“Shh, don’t worry, Sweetpea. You’ll like this.” His promise is followed quickly by action, his mouth pressing to your cunt in an open mouth sort of kiss. It’s all you can do to hold your skirts up out of the way, meeting his laughing blue eyes while he sucks and swirls his tongue around your pearl, his fingers pressing back inside you insistently, the movement now less focused on the spots that make you see stars, and more on stretching your cunt more open, the two fingers becoming three by the time the tides of pleasure come crashing back in.

He moves up to kiss you again, his beard soaked and his cheeks flushed pink, an uncharacteristic shyness peering out from behind his eyes, his hands hesitant in the way they spread out against your waist. “We should move to the bed,” he suggested. “Let me make you feel good.”

You can’t help but laugh breathlessly, cupping his face between your hands. “Was all of this not supposed to feel good?” you tease. “Because if so, I think you’ve done it wrong.”

“It’s just the beginning, love. I want to give you everything. My queen.”

Your hands drift to the back of his neck as you kiss him back. You aren’t surrendering quite yet, but you’re willing to let him think that yu’re letting him have everything he wants. He’s so eager to make up for the deciet, as if hungry kisses and electric touch could fix the breach of trust so easily, and you don’t mind taking what he offers you for the moment. This part of marriage is not negotiable— You know the importance of quickly securing an heir. There is stability in a strong bloodline, anything to make your cousin’s claim more and more dubious.

In the end, you’re the one to stand first, breaking the kiss and taking his hands, leading him to his bed. He looks almost tormented as you smooth your hands over his chest and undo the buttons of his shirt, the deep blue of his eyes turning hazy when you unbutton his cuffs and press a kiss to one wrist and then the other.

“Sweetpea,” he rumbles. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“Perhaps,” you admit, smiling up at him. “I have been told as much by very reliable sources.”

He hurries to shed his clothes, kissing you clumsily while he does, groaning when you rake your nails down his neck, and then across his chest. He takes your hands and wraps your fingers around his cock, pulling your attention downwards. He’s thick, so much so that you worry that his three fingers weren’t sufficient to prepare you for what comes next. As you gingerly stroke him, the wrinkled fold of skin at the head pulls back, revealing a flushed red tip, a pearly bead of liquid forming at the slit there. His breath catches when you touch your fingertip to the viscous droplet, his lips brushing against your ear. “You see what you do to me?” he asks, the puff of his warm breath stirring the fine hairs that are too short to be caught in your braids. “Every time I see you, all I can think about is finally getting on top of you.”

“That’s all you can think about? Seems a dangerous preoccupation.”

“You are, but I have you now.” John noses down to the junction of your neck and shoulder, lips ghosting over your skin. “Perhaps knowing you’ll be waiting for me in our bed each night will be enough to allow me to think about matters of state once in a while.”

You turn so he can unfasten your bodice, but he pushes you so that you fold over the bed, your cheek pressed to the mattress and your legs splayed out. His palms smooth over the back of your thighs as he pushes your skirts up and out of the way, notching his cock against your sex. The thought of him mounting you like this makes your belly hot, molten shame and desire mixing into something exciting. Different than before, when his focus was on your pleasure alone. He means to take you like this, undignified, rutting into you like a beast, chasing his own satisfaction down with his hands gripping your hips.

He slides into you with one smooth thrust, and your breath leaves you in a rush, taking every thought in your head along with it.

“Sweetpea,” he groans. “Fuck. All mine now, aren’t you?”

All you can do is whimper something that sounds more or less like agreement. He chuckles, the sound dark and a little mean as he begins to fuck you, drawing himself out slow and driving in fast, the rythym torturous. His patient effort to work you open, melting you with one climax after another was for this, so he could claim you, fill you completely, the slick sound of his skin colliding with yours filling the room along with the bullish panting of his breath. His grip on your hips is not painful, but it is immotile. You couldn’t shake him even if you wanted to.

You don’t want to.

There’s no risk of you going anywhere. You claw at the sheets and push back against his thrusts, mewling. His cock drags against every sensitive spot that he’d already discovered, friction sparking more and more heat in your belly. The force of his movements within you make you shake, but you remain rooted in place, hips held up by his hands. Your knees wouldn’t support your weight even if you could get your feet under you.

John grunts, pushing one of your legs up onto the bed as he leans over you, one hand coming down next to your head. “You feel like heaven, Sweetpea. Gonna give you a baby.”

“John,” you gasp, the change in angle making you melt into the mattress beneath him.

You knew that this was the point of sex, knew that he would sow his heir into your womb, but you hadn’t really thought about the fact that you would be pregnant, or that you’d have a baby. The natural order of things had become disconnected in your mind, your involvement in the process obscured. John intends to breed you, and if he succeeds, you’ll become a mother.

It’s too big a concept to fully wrap your mind around in the moment, especially when one of John’s hands worms its way beneath you and finds your pearl again. You press your face into the sheets to muffle yourself, nearly sobbing from the overwhelm of it all.

John has given up on trying to speak, communication devolved into grunts and groans in your ear. His strokes into you grow erratic, his fingers on your pearl twitching slightly. He’s trying not to come before you, but everything is so much, your body thrumming with energy, that crescendo unreachable but maddeningly close. You’re not sure you can take much more, so you give him a nudge. “John, please,” you beg. “Fill me up. Give me a baby.”

The sound he makes is filthy, and his hips slam into yours roughly a few more times before he stills, hilted inside you. You can feel the hot pulse of his seed pouring into the deepest part of you, and the feeling finally peaks again, your cunt fluttering around his cock as you crash along with him. You clench and unclench your walls around him, drawing the feeling out as long as possibly, even if it’s greedy and makes him choke on his own breath.

His body sags against you for a moment, his considerable weight tethering you to the earth when you feel as though you could float away. He’s careful not to crush you beneath him for more than a few panting moments before he rolls over and takes you along with him as he moves toward the head of the bed. He unlaces your dress and helps you wiggle out of it, exchanging laughing kisses with you all the while until you’re down to your shift, the beautiful dress tossed to the floor unceremoniously. He tucks you against his chest, his lips pressed to your hairline. “Just give me a moment, lovee,” he murmurs. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“There’s more?” you ask. You already feel limp, a tender green thing wilting under the full scorch of John’s intensity. How does he intend to do more?

“Plenty more. I want you facing me next time. I’d like to watch you come. Twice I think. Once with you on top so I can touch you more.”

“I’m not sure I’d be able to hold myself up.”

“There’s no need. Still want you close, Sweetpea.” He curls his arm around you a little tighter.

Your fingers trace through the whorls of his chest hair idly, until he catches your hand and lifts it to his mouth. For a moment, you let go of the anger that simmers in the back of your mind and settle into the feeling of of right now. Some part of you doesn’t mind laying here in John’s arms. Perhaps a larger part than you’d like to admit.

This is, afterall, your home. You’ve always belonged to this place.

“I’ll be a good husband,” he promises. “I think there’s a good chance that you’ll even grow to love me.”

He’s probably right. It’s difficult to deny his charm when his seed still drips from your swollen cunt, your whole body pleasantly sore from his touch. You can almost feel him still, as if he imprinted himself into you. You wonder if that feeling is permanent.

“Maybe,” you concede, “but you’ll have a lot of work to do.”

“I’m not afraid of work.” John tucks your hand under his, against his beating heart, his thumb playing with the ring he’d placed there just a few hours earlier. “I would have liked to give us more time, convince you to stay, but I couldn’t risk you saying no.”

The more forgiving, warm feelings you’d let take over for a moment dissolve in an instant. You sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand. Your legs are wobbly, but you’re far too stubborn to let it show. You might have said much the same earlier to keep him from trying to talk about things earlier, but hearing it from him, in such a casual tone, makes you angry all over again. How little he must think of you.

“Are you going somewhere?” John asks, looking surprised.

You pull his housecoat off of the back of his chair and shrug it on, belting it around your middle. “I’m going to bed, John.”

Confusion flashes across his face, followed closely by hurt. “What do you mean— You’re not staying?”

“No. I’ve done my duty, and I will continue to do so. We can have sex again tomorrow night. I suspect it’ll be a few tries before it takes.” You head for the door, chin held high. He tumbles out of bed and dashes after you, catching your arm before you get there.

“Before it— Sweetpea, what are you talking about? You’re my wife. I want you here.” He grips your shoulders firmly, blue eyes dark with worry, boring into your own.

“John, haven’t you already gotten everything you want? You have your claim to the throne solidified through marriage. You remain king. I’ve let you rut into me, and in time I will bear you a son or daughter. Are you not satisfied?”

“Sweetpea, I— I love you.”

You knock his hands away. “No you don’t.”

You yank the door open, rolling your eyes when you find Ghost, Kyle and Johnny on the other side, casually arranged by the far wall as though they just happened by. John follows you out into the hallway, not the least bit concerned about his lack of clothes, and reaches for you again. You glance toward Ghost, but he’s already moving, putting himself between you and John.

“Leave ‘er be, John,” he rumbles.

“Simon,” John says, his voice all angry grit. “Sweetpea and I need to talk.”

“Maybe leave it for the mornin’, sir.” Kyle smiles in a placating way, stepping forward from his lean against the wall. “Don’t think the two of you gettin’ into a fight in the hallway’ll do anyone any good.”

“Thank you,” you say. “Johnny, would you like to join me?”

“Course. ‘Scuse me, gents—”

“Absolutely not,” John protests. “Sweetpea, you’re my wife.”

“No one is disputing that fact, John. I am simply going to bed, and Johnny is going to sleep next to me, just as he did last night and the night before. Now go back to bed. We can talk in the morning.”

You march into your room, Johnny close behind you, and lock the door, turning the tumbler extra hard so it clicks audibly. You can hear the rumble of John’s voice through the door, but you can’t make out the words, and it’s only a moment before the door across the hall thuds shut as well.

“Weel, he was that bad, was he?” Johnny asks, his tone cheerful and teasing.

You laugh, and the laughter turns into a sob. The door is reassuringly solid behind you, the only thing that’s keeping you upright as your knees shake. You press your hands to your mouth, letting yourself slide to the floor, but Johnny catches you and pulls you into a tight hug.

“Sorry, bonnie, I didnae think my joke was that bad,” he says, petting a hand over your head carefully.

You laugh and cry at the same time, clinging to his shirt. “I hate him,” you sob. “I hate him.”

“Ah, no, ye dinnae hate him. He’s a right bastart, but yer too sweet t’hate him, bonnie.” Johnny gently guides you over to your bed and sits at the edge, pulling you gently into his lap. “None of this was fair t’ye.”

You grind the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to stem the tide of emotion. He's not worth your tears. "He took my whole life away from me," you manage to get the words out past the lump in your throat, but it hurts. "I never wanted to come back here."

"Ah cannae blame ye," Johnny says soothingly, a note of guilty misery in his own voice. "Ye looked happy before. Even when ye smile, Ah can see somethin's gone cold in ye since ye go' here."

"This was a cage for a long time, Johnny. My father-- He wasn't a good man. I had to make myself so small so he wouldn't notice me, but it never worked."

"He hurt you," Johnny says quietly. "Didn't he?"

You nod, pressing your face into his shirt as a fresh wave of tears rolls down your face.

"I grew up in a cage too," Johnny says quietly, the usual burr of humour absent from his voice. "No' as fancy a cage as all this, o'course, but I ken how it feels."

"Where do you come from, Johnny?" you ask. "If it's okay to talk about."

"North. Mactavish clan. We ran a corridor from the highlands to the sea. No' all of us had wolf blood, but we were a strong clan. I cannae remember much, just bits an' pieces. We were hit by raiders, an' I was caught, alongside my cousin. We were playin' down the beach, in a tidal cave, didnae hear the commotion till it was too late. We got separated when I was sold. Ended up in some fightin' pits owned by a woman called Valeria."

Your heart aches for him. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugs lightly. "I survived. It was no' easy, but I couldnae stop fightin'. Never go' tae find out if anyone else survived. Or what happened to Con."

"Would you like me to ask Kate to see if she can find them?" you ask. "If anyone can, it would be her."

"Aye, I wouldnae mind tha'."

"How did you end up here?"

"Ghost. He doesnae approve of keepin' things in cages. Freed the whole lot of us. Just me'n' Nox tha' had nowhere else tae go, so he took us in."

"Is that why Nox doesn't like you?"

He nods. "Folks loved tae see us fight. I ken tha' it was no' personal, but Nox willna ever trust me. Dinnae blame her." He kisses the top of your head. "Come oan, Sweetpea. Ye've go tae get ready fer bed. Ye've had a long day."

You sniffle, wiping your face with your sleeve. "Y-yeah. Okay."

He manages to turn your somber mood into something feather light by the time you've cleaned your teeth and washed your face. You slide into bed and fold back the covers invitingly. "You don't have to be a wolf if you don't want to," you offer.

He grins and slides in next to you, clad in just his shirt. "Need a cuddle, do ye?"

You wiggle in close, listening to the way his heart beats, steady and reassuring.

You look up to ask him if he can reach over and turn the light off, but he tips his head down at the same time, and your eyes meet.

The next thing you know, you're pressing your lips to his, slow and inquisitive. He melts for you.

He pulls you closer, and you can feel the hesitancy in his touch, the clutch and release of his fingers when he remembers that you’re not his to take, no matter how much you both might wish that were the case right now. You both pull away at once, the guilt in his eyes a clear mirror of the guilt you feel.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nah, don’t be. I’m only sorry tha’ we have tae stop.” He sighs and twists to reach for the light without letting go of you. “Wish I was selfish enough tae ask ye tae run away with me.”

“I’m glad you’re not.” It would be hard to say no, if he did ask. Johnny’s sweet, and he was the first to speak up and say that it wasn’t right to trick you, and there’s something broken in each of you that recognizes the other. Falling in love with Johnny would take no work at all. It would be as easy as giving yourself permission to do so.

“If it were just about Price, I’d consider it,” he admits. “Auld bastart doesna deserve you, an I wouldna mind settin’ up in a cottage somewhere, just the two of us. Raise a few pups if ye want ‘em, or dogs and cats and chickens if ye dinnae. But it’s no’ about Price, is it? Ye’ve go’ a whole country that needs ye. Price is a good man, an’ a good king, but he’s no’ as good as you. He doesna always see the whole picture.”

You allow yourself a moment to mull over the romantic daydream of running off with him and living an ordinary, unremarkable life of baking bread and mending clothes and tending to a garden, and then let it go. “I know. It was a vain hope to think I could stay away. I’m just angry. Getting married was supposed to be romantic and exciting, and he ruined it.”

“Ah ken. Dinnae fash, Sweetpea. We’ll all do what we can tae make it right.”

Some combination of his promise, his low, soothing voice and his steady heart beating below your ear lulls you to sleep before long.

When the next morning comes and Johnny goes off on his way, promising to check back in with you later, you get busy. It's not that you're intentionally avoiding John, it's just that there's so much to get caught up on. You request a report on the state of the nation from Kate, and take Farah with you while you search the archives for the last few year's annuals. They're heavy tomes full of tiny writing-- you can feel the headache already forming between your temples at the thought of parsing through them, but you know that there's alot to catch up on. You request an office, and by the time you come tottering out from between the dusty archival stacks, there's one set up for you, one floor beneath your bedroom, looking out on your courtyard. The climbing rose that spreads over the walls outside partially obscure your windows, granting privacy even with the curtains not yet hung.

Farah sets her stack of ledgers on an otherwise empty bookshelf before she prowls around the room. "It must be nice to be queen," she says wryly. "No one has ever moved so fast to follow my command."

"It's certainly one of the perks," you agree. "I'll have to make a list of the books I'd like on hand for reference. And you should add anything you'd like as well. I don't want you to be bored if you feel like you need to be here with me."

"I think you are more or less safe here," Farah says. "But until the Kastovian leaves, I do not believe I will stay far."

"At least see if Ghost or Johnny can come by to give you breaks regularly. It will be tedious work, watching me read all day."

"And who will ensure you take breaks?" Farah asks.

"I've taken a break for years now. I have to catch up."

"Knight Commander Keller asked me to run his men through some drills this afternoon. You'll come with me. You can read in the sunlight as easily as you can here."

"Good idea. I'd like to speak with the guards too-- I'll interview all the Castle staff, eventually, but I can start anywhere. If Knight Commander Keller has concerns I'd like to know."

Farah gives you a long look. “You’re planning something.”

You flash an innocent smile. “Now Farah, what would make you say that?”

She quirks an eyebrow and gestures to the stacks of books you’ve dragged up from the archive. “And I heard you and John had a fight last night.”

Castle gossip travels fast. “I wouldn’t call it a fight. John made it clear how little he respects me, and I made it clear what the price for that disrespect is. I’m not going to let him push me around. He may be under the impression that because I didn’t fuss over the wedding that I’m going to roll over for everything he asks, but he is sorely mistaken.” The steel in your voice surprises you— You’ve never been a forceful person. You’ve opted to be kind and accommodating in all matters for most of your life, but this matter with John requires niether. Handling John requires digging in your heels and showing him that he’s made a mistake, treating you like a silly little girl who doesn’t know what she wants.

You made yourself clear before, and he didn’t listen. Now your objectives have changed with your position. Becoming queen was not something you wanted, but now that you are, you’re going to remind John at every step that you were raised for this role. That this is your castle, that this is your kingdom.

If he wishes to be king, he needs to act as your partner. If he can’t handle that, you’ll show him how little power a prince consort really has.

Farah nods, eyes smiling. “I am glad to hear it, your majesty.”

“It’s just important for me to know what’s going on before I insert myself into affairs of state. I’ll let John revel in his unhappy victory for a week or two.”

Someone knocks on the door, so Farah answers it, opening it wide for a huge bouquet of flowers with a pair of legs wearing the staff uniform. “His majesty sends his regards,” a young man’s voice says through the assortment of flowers and greenery.

The bouquet is beautiful, pink and yellow roses, white lilies, purple iris and a spray of tiny blue forget-me-nots tucked into every gap. You direct him to set it on the low table set between the chairs by the window, frowning.

If John had sent flowers he’d chosen himself, you would see this as a sweet gesture, but there’s no way he did more than issue an order, and anger bubbles up in your stomach like acid. He understands you so little, and had the audacity to say he loved you last night. He has no idea what the word means.

“These are much to beautiful for me to keep all to myself,” you say diplomatically. “Would you mind fetching me a vase, once you’ve had a chance to catch your breath? I’ll take my favourites out and then the rest can go to the dining room. I’m sure John would appreciate them being somewhere we can both enjoy them.” You drift to the tray of refreshments that someone had left for you, and pour the young man a glass of water. “Sit, if you need to. This must have been quite heavy.”

He turns red, accepting the glass of water with a stumbled over string of words that approximated to a thank you, and tells you his name when you ask. “Lucas, ma’am. I mean your grace. Your majesty.”

At a stretch, he might be sixteen, but you suspect thirteen or fourteen, by the way his voice cracks. Probably the son of one of the other staff members, but it irks you to see children working. Helping around their own homes is one thing, but working for coin? It hardly seems right. Children from more affluent families would be in lessons right now, learning history and arithmetic, not running all over the castle carrying a flower arrangement that’s nearly as wide as Lucas is tall.

“Can you read and write, Lucas?” you ask.

“No ma’am. I mean your highness.”

“Ma’am is fine, Lucas. How old are you?”

“Nearly fourteen,” he says, puffing out his thin chest slightly.

“Nearly grown up then, aren’t you?” It would insult him if you called him a child. There’s a few faint hairs on his upper lip that you’re certain he’s quite proud of. “Are there a lot of others your age working here?”

“A few, ma’am. Not many. Mrs. Fanshawe won't hire anyone under sixteen unless they've got family here-- My dad works in the gardens. I help."

You nod. "Do you like it?"

He spends about ten minutes chatting about propagating roses before he remembers that you're the queen and runs off again to get the vase you asked for.

Farah gives you a funny look while you select out a few of the flowers to keep. "What?" you ask.

"You care about the people that work here," she says. "Personally, not abstractly. It's nice to see."

"Why wouldn't I? These are the people who do all the work that runs the country. The kitchens, the gardens, the cleaning staff, the clerks and archivists-- nothing John or any other head of state or lord does is possible without the assistance of everyone that works for them."

"Most do not have the ability to see things so clearly."

It's easy to see things clearly now that you've spent so much time away-- You cared before, in a way, as much as you could, but the isolation and fear kept you from forging real connections. Things are different now. You're different.

Lucas returns with the vase and carts the larger arrangement away, and you arrange the handful of flowers while you mull over how you want to approach the data before you. Starting with the latest volume will give you a grasp of the state of things more quickly, but there is a benefit to starting further back and tracking the trends through the years too. You decide to start back further, and are just cracking into the oldest volume you gathered when John walks in.

“Commander Karim, could you give us a moment?” John asks.

Farah looks to you, and when you nod, she steps out into the hall, giving John a scornful look as she passes him.

John casts about the room, his eyes landing on the vase on your desk. He frowns. “Are those the flowers I sent you?”

“I don’t know, John. You tell me.”

“You’re angry with me.”

You stand up behind the desk, pushing your chair back impatiently. “Yes. What do you want?”

“I want to make things right between us.”

“Do you? Or do you just want me to forgive you and act like nothing is wrong?”

“Sweetpea, I know I haven’t been fair to you, but it was—”

“For the greater good? To stop my cousin? Because you didn’t trust me to do what was necessary if you just had a conversation with me?”

“I couldn’t risk it. Sweetpea, it wasn’t personal—”

You have to clench your fists to keep yourself from throwing the vase at his head. “Not personal?” you snap. “John, this is my life. You took everything from me, and you have the gall to say it’s not personal?”

He holds up his hands defensively. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then say it plainly, Johnathan Price. You didn’t think about how I’d feel at all. You didn’t care. And now you reap the reward of your actions. Are you happy?”

“Of course not! I want to fix this. I want you to be happy.”

You laugh at that. “Liar. You still don’t have the guts to be honest. Now, unless you’d like me to bend over my desk so you can mount me again, I don’t think we have any further business.”

His eyes spark with anger. “Is that how you want this to be?”

“No! I wanted a husband that loves me. I wanted a husband that respects me. And you don’t. So either do the only thing I can rely on you to do and fuck me, or get out.” You haven’t raised your voice, but the silence that follows makes your ears ring.

He strides around the desk and spins you around to face him, kicking the chair out of the way. His eyes blaze with anger as he boxes you in, his whole broad body tense. He reaches out to cup your jaw with one hand, and you flinch away from the contact reflexively. You don’t think John would hurt you, not like that, but your body remembers the damage an angry man can do, and braces you for it.

He reels back a step, anger turning to confusion and guilt. “I wouldn’t—”

“I know,” you say quickly. If he tries to reassure you there’s a good chance you’ll cry, and you can’t afford the show of weakness. It would undermine everything you’re trying to prove to him. “I know. Just go, please. Tell Farah I need a moment alone.”

You wait until the door clicks shut behind him before you let yourself fall to pieces.

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 -

~October, 2015~

It was late, far too late for the two of them to be awake, and yet here they were.

The sound of rain was loud against the roof of the old building belonging to the company. Chris was sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the couch in the corner of the room, working diligently on his laptop with a pair of headphones sat atop his head.

Lumi stood in the middle of the room, chest heaving as she finished running through the routine for that month’s evaluation for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. Frustration coursed through her as she stripped off the loose tshirt she wore and threw it at the mirrored wall with a groan, her normally sweet rosy scent souring and smelling of fermented rose water.

The noise combined with the change of her scent caused the Aussie teen to pause his music program and slip the headphones off his head to rest around his neck. “Woah there- maybe put that back on before someone walks in and gets the wrong idea, yeah?” Lumi raised a hand to flip him off, while also walking to pick up the discarded shirt and slip it back on. “S’not like I was naked or anything I had a sports bra on-“ she grumbled, huffing as she leaned against the wall before slowly sliding down to sit against the cool hardwood floor.

Chris sat his laptop down beside him and fully took the headphones off to join her where she sat across the room from him. “Come on….what’s got you so worked up. You usually don’t stress about monthly evaluations like this. Especially dance- spill it.” Lumi sighed, hating how well the older teen could read her.

She ran her hands across her face, shaking her head hoping that it would clear her overthinking like an etchesketch. “It’s been so long, Christopher- what if they never plan to debut me? What if the second I misstep they use that as a reason to drop me all together?” She said, eyes stinging with tears as she glared defiantly at the floor in front of them.

Chris shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Geez this must be seriously bothering you to call me Christopher-“ without a second thought he grabbed hold of the girl’s ankle and pulled her so she was sat in front of him, his warm vanilla scent wrapping around the young dancer. “Chris what the-“ her eyes were wide, his strong scent causing her mind to grow slightly fuzzy around the edges. She looked at him, her cheeks beginning to heat up at the way he handled her so effortlessly.

The older placed his hands on her shoulders, locking eyes and leaning in so that Lumi could practically feel his breath fanning over her face as he spoke, she fought the urge to nuzzle her face into his neck and inhale his scent more deeply. “You aren’t going anywhere. You’re gonna do fine, you’ll be placed in a group any day now I just know it. You are too talented not to.” His words seemed to go over her head, her heartbeat racing and her mind only able to process how close he was to her face like this. “PD-nim would be absolutely idiotic not to debut you. We’ve been over this so many times before, Lumi.”

Nodding slowly, his words began to sink in as the shock of the close proximity wore off and her nerves began to settle in once more. “You’re one to talk…you’re pretty much set to debut. You’ve got it all, Chris- you can sing, dance, rap, and you’re one of the best producers here. You always ace all of your evaluations, JYP thinks you’re special.” Just as Chris was about to deny her words, she sat up on her knees in front of him and became defensive. “I’ve heard him say it! Don’t even try with me, Christopher.” The boy winced and let out an awkward laugh. “Two Christophers in less than an hour- you wound me.” He teased, poking at her chest lightly though it caused her to sit back on her heels and stare at him blankly.

The older sighed, reaching out and pulling her into a warm embrace. “Chris I’m all sweaty from practice-“ she squealed, struggling to get away though it made him hold tighter and laugh maniacally. “As if that’s bothered either of us before? Let me looovveee you~” he sing-songed the last bit, rubbing her back in soothing circles while the sweet smell of roses returned and melted together with his sugary warm vanilla as she relaxed against his chest.

The two teenagers stayed like that for a while, just listening to each others breathe, taking in the mix of their scents that had come to smell like home to the two teens. Lumi seeming to be focused on committing the older’s heartbeat to memory before she eventually pulled away, looking at him with a bitter sweet expression. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up…I just- this uncertainty is killing me.” He nodded, pulling his knees to his chest. “Me too, Lumi….trust me you aren’t alone. I know everyone around here thinks so highly of me but-“ “that just makes the possible failure that much scarier.” She finished for him, taking one of his hands into hers and giving it a soft squeeze.

~April, 2017~

Making her way down the halls to the little studio where her best friend did most of his production work, Lumi felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest.

Once face to face with the door separating herself from what she assumed would be the three young producers usually holed up in the small room, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe any longer. Quickly, before she could overthink it and run the other way, she raised her hand and knocked rapidly at the wood until her knuckles felt sore.

A groggy Han Jisung answered the door, looking her over while blinking the sleep from his vision. Once she was no longer a blur to his eyes, the teen smirked and leaned in the doorway. “Lumi! Did you come here to see me?” He said with a raise of a brow. The girl laughed softly and shook her head, the beta teen slightly lightening her mood with his usual antics and his sweet sugary coffee scent seemed to overpower the slightly wilted smell of her own rosy scent. “No, Hanji….I’m here to see Chris, but I don’t mind seeing you too.” She reached up to pat him on the cheek, causing the boy to fluster and his scent to spike and become sickeningly sweet almost. His earlier confidence seemed to falter as he stumbled to move aside and let the omegan dancer enter.

Lumi stepped into the small room and her eyes landed on the alpha in question. “Lumi! Come, come I have news!” The Aussie said excitedly and patted his lap for her to take a seat.

With the limited space in the studio, this was a normal occurrence whenever she would come to visit. Either she would end up crammed on the couch beside one of three or sat on their lap. Sure, Chris was her best friend, but over the years Lumi had become close with the other members of 3racha and so being close with them in that way didn’t feel awkward to any of them. Even with Jisung’s playful flirting, Lumi would either tease him or flirt in return while watching the other turn bright red and causing one or more of them to giggle at how quickly his demeanor would change and how shy he truly was. It was like they were their own little unofficial pack.

She made her way over and sat down on Chris’s lap carefully, turning to look at him with a nervous smile. His warm vanilla scent surrounded her and managed to calm her nerves slightly while he rested his chin on her shoulder and looked up with soft brown eyes. “I um- have some news too? Well- maybe…” The older beamed as he took her hands in his. “Do you wanna go first?” Seeing how excited he looked to share his news, Lumi shook her head. “No no, it can wait. Tell me yours first.”

When the words left his lips, she felt her heart sink like a rock to the pit of her stomach. “We are being put on a survival show- we could get to debut soon!” Lumi tried to school her expression, to not come off disappointed or unenthusiastic, hoping her scent would not betray her true feelings towards the news. “Oh my gosh- really? Thats- that is good news!” She looked between the three of them before throwing her arms around the oldest and held on tightly. “I told you that your time would come- you’re too special not to.”

Lumi pulled back slightly and that was when the other two in the room spoke up with protests of where their congratulatory hugs were. With a roll of her eyes, the dancer rose from Chris’ lap and first gave Changbin a hug, ruffling his hair and causing her fellow omega to shout with his disapproval of the movement though his scent told a different story as fresh berries and a warm sweet cream to fill the air around her. Then, Lumi pulled the youngest into her arms and gave an exaggeratedly loud kiss to his cheek which caused the tips of his ears to turn a dark shade of pink and the smell of freshly brewed coffee to fill the room and overpower the others scents slightly.

Before she could embarrass the younger anymore, Chris pulled her back to him. His arms came to wrap around her middle, holding her comfortably in his lap. “So what was your news?” Her eyes widened slightly, remembering what it was she had came there to talk to him about. “Oh- that? Just that I finally got that new dance down that I was trying to learn!”

He smiled, tilting his head to the side as a confused expression laced itself behind his eyes though he didn’t question her further despite his normal warm vanilla smelling a bit muddled with his doubt to her story swimming in his head. He would just have to trust that if it was something serious, the omega would tell him what it was eventually. “Okay? Well I’m glad you got it down, baby. I knew you could, you stress about dance too much for how easily it comes to you. Do you wanna hear what we’ve been working on lately?” She nodded, welcoming a distraction as the alpha turned the chair so that they were facing the sound board and moved a hand from her waist to press a couple different keys and soon music filled the small studio and thoughts of the not so distant future were pushed to the back of her mind.

It had been a week since the show began filming, Lumi had seen less and less of her best friend in the month leading up to the show as he assembled his group and worked on spending time getting to know them and work on preparing for everything to come.

She couldn’t help but feel slightly bitter as she watched who she considered her pack in her heart, distancing themselves from her whether it was unintentional or not she felt as if part of her soul had been ripped from her. The nail in the coffin was when she caught wind that they had officially became a pack just before the show wrapped. Lumi felt hopelessly stuck, and pushed aside by those closest to her. With no pack, and no debit date in sight, her mind was made up.

That brought her to where she was, sat in a conference room with fluorescent lights beaming down and causing a light nervous sweat to break out on the back of her neck. “So, Ms. y/l/n, are you sure about this?” Lumi nodded, taking a deep but shaky breath. “Yes, I’m sure. This- this is what I want.” The businessman in front of her gave a warm smile, watching as she signed the small stack of papers in front of her before extending a hand to her. The dancer shook the hand, a small smile on her lips in return as she looked up at him. “Welcome to KQ entertainment. We look forward to working with you.”

~July, 2024~

Lumi couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

She stood on stage, lights dark as they stayed in position while waiting for the music to start. They had already filmed the first half of their debut stage, which involved Mani and herself playing instruments rather than dancing.

While she was somewhat confident in the performance, the omega knew that this was her time to really shine. Being able to showcase her dancing abilities to the audience, to express how the music made her feel as she moved effortlessly to the beat.

Once the music began, it was like she was taken over by the sound. She could feel the air around her almost transform her as she danced, a mix of both poised and sharp movements that followed to the beat for the most part, though at some points switched to match the lyrics to add emphasis to their meaning.

The teachers at KQ had been right when they said that writing and producing their own music would help her choreograph better, and that she would feel more connected to the music. She was so grateful for everything they had done for her, though it wasn’t easy.

It felt like it could never last long enough, adrenaline pumping through her veins and causing the sweet smell of roses to flood the stage and mix with the rum spice and orchid of her fellow member. Once the song came to an end, and she found the camera pan in close to her face she tried to calm her breathing, giving the camera a wink before hold up half a heart to her cheek with one hand while the other waved cutely to the audience both in the room with them and watching from various different streaming services through the lens of the camera.

Everything moved so quickly afterwards. The two omegas were ushered off stage along with their backup dancers, staff handing them water bottles and patting their faces and necks gently with paper towels to absorb the sweat that had formed there during the performance. Stylists were quickly touching up any smudged makeup or hairs out of place.

Looking over at Mani, both girls burst into fits of giggles as the adrenaline was still rushing through them not allowing the excitement to fade. “I cannot believe we just did our first performance as a group- can you believe it?” Lumi said while bouncing on the balls of her feet, effectively annoying the poor stylist trying to reapply her lipgloss.

The older of the two shook her head at her overexcited behavior, though her smile gave away how fondly she regarded the dancer. “It still doesn’t feel real…like any moment we will wake up and be back at lessons still preparing for this.” Lumi nodded in agreement and sighed dreamily as the stylists finished up and started bringing them back to the green room to do some filming for their social medias before they had to go back out for an interview with the MC’s of the show.

As they were walking down the hall, chatting amongst each other about how unbelievable it was that they were officially idols and how they thought the first performance had gone.

Lumi was laughing at Mani’s over exaggerated recreation of her ending fairy, playfully teasing the pink haired omega, when she ended up making direct eye contact with someone she had not thought about running into in such a situation.

Bangchan was exiting the stray kids green room, leading the way to the stage with his members following behind when their eyes locked. It wasn’t possible, was it? All these years and he had been under the impression that his best friend, the one closest to him during his trainee days, had simply dropped off the face of the earth.

He liked to imagine that she had opened a dance studio somewhere and was teaching the thing she loved most, a life away from the stress they had both undergone as trainees.

Chan never would have guessed that they were an idol.

With the stress of the survival show, being the leader of a group and eventually a pack, and then everything that came after the show wrapped up and they were set to debut, it was unfortunately too late by the time he had found out his best friend had left the company.

They wouldn’t tell him why or how she had left, just that she was gone.

Over the years he had always kept an eye out, any new group to come out he would look to see if she would appear. After about the fifth year of waiting, watching, hoping…he had given up and that was when he had come to the conclusion that the omega must have left the trainee and idol life behind to pursue another dream.

But seeing her now, the smell of sweet summer roses wrapping around him and causing his mind to fog after not being in her presence for so long. She looked slightly different since the last time he had seen her.

Her hair was died a bright pink, and she seemed to have filled out since their teenage years. The omega was still a bit shorter than him but the curves of her body were more noticeable. It didn’t help that the outfit she had on seemed to accentuate them even more with the light blue corset overtop the flowy white fabric of the dress she wore that hit her at about mid thigh.

The alpha was stopped in his tracks at the sight of her, causing Jisung to run into his back where he had been following behind the older. “Hyung what are you-“ the beta started to whine at the hold up until he followed the oldest’s gaze to see the familiar face that had caused the alpha to freeze to his spot. “Lumi?”

At the sound of Jisung’s voice, she seemed to snap out of the trance she was in and a shy smile found it’s way to her face instead of the look she wore previously which was something like a deer caught in the headlights stare. “Hi Hanji-“ she waved lightly, feeling awkward seeing them after so many years of no contact.

Without hesitation the rapper was pulling her in for a tight embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck causing one of their stylists to shout at him not to ruin his makeup before they went on stage. “I can’t believe you’re here! Where have you been? Where did you go?! I’ve missed you so much- and not just me Channie hyung and Changbin hyung too!” The omega couldn’t help but giggle as the beta rambled while squeezing her tightly as if she would disappear if he were to let go.

“Hanji breath, baby.” She laughed, shaking her head while carefully petting the back of his head as to not mess up his hair. “I’ve missed you too, it’s so nice to see you.” Lumi pulled away slightly to look into his soft brown eyes. “You’ve changed so much-“ the dancer said almost breathlessly. “We all did.” Came the heavy aussie accented voice. Warm vanilla flooded her senses and made her feel lightheaded as she turned to the alpha who the scent belonged to. “Chris….I-“

Lumi tried to find the words to say, after seven years of no contact, of longing to hear from him but telling herself he would be too busy to bother with her, telling herself he wouldn’t remember or care. Now he looked at her with eyes that held so much longing, confusion, disbelief, and what she could only describe as hurt. “Where did you go….” Was all he said and before she could answer the rest of the pack made their way out and into the hallway.

“Did I hear Jisung right, Lumi is here?” Came Changbin’s booming voice before he made it to where one Han Jisung was still clinging to her like a life line. “Hi Binnie-“ her voice came out so small, still feeling Chan’s gaze boring into her soul as if trying to find the answers to all of his questions himself. “Oh my gosh our baby!” He squealed before ripping her away from Han’s embrace and into one of his own.

“Holy shit Bin you are so-“ The omega blushed lightly as she was squished by his muscular arms. “You’ve been working out, Jesus Christ-“ Lumi said with a chuckle as she nuzzled into the older omega’s hold. “I missed you so much!”

She tried to ignore Chan’s stare for the time being, letting herself get enveloped by the sweet smell of fresh berries and whipped cream while giggling at Han Jisung’s pouty face over the older rapper’s shoulder.

After a while, not missing the whisperings of the other members about her presence, the managers began ushering them towards the stage. “Alright everyone we are gonna be late you are needed on stage now for your performance.” They called loudly causing Changbin to huff but ultimately let go and follow their orders.

Almost as if snapping back to reality, Chan became frantic as he called out loudly over the managers while being herded towards the stage. “Don’t go anywhere! Please! I’ll find you when we are done- please don’t leave again!” He said, the tone in his voice stinging your heart so sharp you felt as if the breath had been knocked out of you, though you nodded to him in confirmation. “I won’t-“ it came as a whisper but Chan heard it, a bright smile full of hope spreading across his face. “I’ll hold you to that.” Was the last thing he said before jogging off with the rest of his pack to the stage.

“Um, Lumi?” Came Mani’s voice from her side. “What was that all about? And how do you know Stray kids?” Her eyes widened, realizing that in trying to bury the hurt she had for leaving her friends and joining KQ she had neglected to tell anyone of her relationship to the three producers of the now wildly popular boy group. “Oh uh….about that?” She responded, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously.

author’s note; SURPRISE!! I decided to post this earlier than I said before teehee- originally this chapter was a bit longer but I decided to leave off with a mini cliffhanger and add it to the next chapter~ I really hope you all enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it! And look forward to my partner Ceres story stating their oc Mani who happens to be in this fic as well~ they happen in this same universe so if you ever wanna see another side to things go check it out once they post it! (And their other works as well they are so talented and deserve more recognition-)