#ill be out of town all weekend

[separatist-apologist]

Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

Feyre and Nesta come to Autumn the night before Elain’s wedding, tanned and a little blonder than normal. It was too late to intervene—Elain had already been fitted for the dress she’d wear tomorrow and was, essentially, under lock and key. No guards, but an endless parade of servants that seemed to pop up any time she tried to leave the room.

Elain knew that was Lucien’s doing. He’d been sleeping on the sofa she now sat on each night, keeping watch so she didn’t try to escape and vanishing before she woke up. They’d barely exchanged a sentences worth of words since she’d foolishly climbed over the balcony.

“How are you feeling?” Feyre asked as Nesta paced back and forth. If she told her sisters the truth, they were likely to do something foolish. Something that got them all in trouble. Nesta was already trying to angle out of her marriage and didn’t need Elain mucking that up. 

“Excited,” she lied, catching the way Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “And nervous, of course. We barely know each other.”

“Is he kind?” Nesta demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes,” Elain replied, not bothering to add that he was rude in equal measure. 

“All mother talks about is how handsome the Vanserra’s are,” Nesta said with a dark scowl. “I see nothing special about them.”

Feyre shrugged. “They’re not ugly.”

“They’re hardly beautiful, either,” Nesta argued. If Feyre said the sky was blue, Nesta would argue it was gray and if Nesta thought the Vanserra’s were ugly, then Feyre found them to be impossibly beautiful. They had always been that way, leaving Elain to mediate.

“There is a charm to them, certainly,” she agreed, not taking any particular stance. “I am acclimating well. How are things at home?”

“Dull,” Feyre said as Nesta opened her mouth. “I paint and Nesta plays piano and we wither away, waiting for our turn to be good, dutiful wives.”

“They’ve banned arranged marriages in Summer,” Nesta said sharply, her tone rife with implications. Run to Summer, she seemed to say. As if Summer would risk a war with their neighbors simply to harbor her. 

“Perhaps other courts will follow suit,” Elain said noncommittally. It was too late for her. Tomorrow she’d walk willing with Lucien through a priestesses temple, watched by her family and his as they pledged fidelity and honor to the other. It was a farce and one Elain was committed to seeing through, now. If her sisters managed to escape their own prescribed fates, she wished them well.

But there was no more escape for her. 

“Have you seen anything?” Feyre questioned. Elain bit her bottom lip.

Yes, she wanted to say. How did she explain that what she’d seen was a particularly steamy affair with the man she had sworn she wouldn’t touch until she was forced to. Elain refused to think about it lest Lucien scent the accompanying arousal that always followed and got the wrong idea.

Visions were imprecise, a snapshot of what could happen and not necessarily what would. A wrong turn, a different word spoken and the entire world rearranged itself. 

That did nothing to remove the image of Lucien without his clothes shifting over her, or the expression on his face—

“Elain?”

She blinked. “No, nothing. I haven’t looked, though, either.”

“Well, maybe you should tonight,” Feyre suggested. Elain only smiled, certain she did not want to know what the next day had in store for her. Let it remain a mystery, even from her. If she saw herself beneath him, she’d panic and never make it down the aisle. 

There was something she wanted, though, and Elain found exactly how to get it later that afternoon. Cadmus poked his head in, expression guarded.

“Lady Elain?” The second eldest Vanserra looked the most like his father, his red hair browner, his russet eyes lacking some of the ringed gold the rest of his brothers had. Even his features were those of the sharp elegance of the High Lord rather than the softer edges the Lady bore. “How are you?”

“I…” A dagger glinted off Cadmus’s belt, silver hilt inlaid with vibrant rubies. “Can I borrow that?”

Cadmus looked down at his body, hands hovering over the weapon. “My dagger?”

Elain made her eyes big and round as she bit her bottom lip, and hoped Cadmus was no better than the males back home. “I don’t know how to use it, if you’re worried for your brothers safety”

“What’s to know? Stick the sharp end in anything soft,” he said with a wry smile before unstrapping the hilt. “If you do stab my brother, try not to kill him.”

Elain blinked. “Just…just like that?”

“It’s become almost a tradition to provide my new sisters with a weapon to use against my brothers. I’m starting to think Vanserra’s like to be threatened.”

She frowned. “It’s not like that.”

“For you, maybe,” he chuckled, watching as Elain quickly hid the dagger beneath an ornate pillow. “If you’re frightened, though, you could tell me.”

That was curious. “Why? What would you do?”

“What any good brother would do. Knock him around like he’s a youngling again, and hope his good sense returns to him.”

“That’s…unexpectedly kind,” she murmured. 

“We’re nearly family, right?” he said gruffly, glancing back toward the hall. “Anyway ah…don’t kill him. And uh…if you need any help, ask Arina. You know, for plausible deniability.”

“Right,” she agreed, holding back the urge to laugh. The Vanserra’s could be so unintentionally funny when they wanted to be. Absently, Elain wondered what Nesta would make of Cadmus. Nothing positive, she decided.

Nesta was supposed to marry a High Lord, which was a tragedy given how she hated all of them. Maybe all men, truthfully—Elain had never once seen her sister betray any interest despite the numerous men who had been interested in her. 

Elain hid the dagger beneath her pillow once Cadmus left, just in case Lucien decided to try anything. Elain knew she was likely going to have to let him touch her, but if he tried anything she didn’t like, she’d whip the dagger out just to remind him that he might be married to her, but he didn’t own her. 

It made her feel a little better, though only marginally. As she made her way through the palace, Elain found servants hanging floral arrangements and cleaning every surface for the upcoming spectacle. Everything smelled like cinnamon somehow and if Elain was braver, she might have made her way to the kitchen to see what they were cooking.

If she was braver still, she might have asked to help.

Instead, Elain emerged into the gloomy afternoon with a heavy sigh. It felt like the world was mourning, too. She intended to meander through the apple orchard again, kicking the rotting fruit on the ground with the toe of her boot until she didn’t feel so angry anymore.

Instead, she found Connall and Tanwen standing off to the side, flanked by two smoke gray dogs, each holding a rather large axe. When they saw her, their eyes lit up.

“Baby sister!” They called in unison, making their way toward her. “Want to smash some pumpkins with us?” “Smash some what?” she repeated as one of the large dogs wound its way through her legs, sniffing at her clothes with curiosity. 

“Pumpkins,” Connall said, russet eyes glinting with mischief. 

“It’s an old tradition,” Tanwen added. Of the two, Tanwen was taller and built more like a warrior. Connall was slighter, with a prettier face and hands that didn’t look like they’d done a hard day's work in their life. Tanwen’s hair was longer and braided off his face while Connall sported a shaggier look that seemed like it was popular with whoever he was courting.

With a face like that, Elain guessed everyone. 

“Smashing pumpkins is a tradition?”

They nodded solemnly. Connall added, “Whenever the Forest House is overrun, we come out here and destroy the heaviest looking pumpkins we can find. C’mon, join us. Beats sulking through the grounds.”

“I wasn’t sulking,” she replied, though she fell into step between them. 

“Sure you weren’t,” Tanwen said, elbowing her gently. “I’m sure you are merely contemplating the marital bliss you’re soon to find with little brother.”

“I don’t know how to swing an axe,” Elain admitted. Connall’s smile sharpened.

“We’ll teach you.”

The pair, accompanied by a dog she later learned technically belonged to Arina—Apollo—and another that Tanwen was fond of—Artemis—made their way toward a sprawling pumpkin patch. Elain was fascinated as Tanwen and Connall picked out three large pumpkins, hauling them each one by one before dropping them at her feet.

“Ladies first,” Tanwen said, cheeks ruddy from exertion.

Elain considered them, before pointing at one that was still a little green and covered in warts. Connall picked it up for her and set it atop a tree stump before handing her the smooth, wooden handle of the axe.

“Hold it like this,” Tanwen began, positioning himself behind Elain so his arms were wrapped around her. Warm, callused hands covered her own as he positioned them on the handle.

“Pull it back like this—not too far or you’ll drop it and hurt yourself. Use the power from your thighs, okay? And then swing hard—”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The three turned and Elain realized Tanwen and Connall must have known Lucien was nearby. He looked furious, though it was hard to take him seriously with Arina skipping merrily at his side.

“I’m debauching your wife, what does it look like I’m doing?” Tanwen said, throwing a rather charming wink in her direction. “She doesn’t know how Autumn Court females treat a male on their wedding night—”

A snarl ripped from Luciens throat before he settled himself, running a hand through his windblown hair. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Am I not allowed to be here?” Elain demanded, pointing the axe at her soon-to-be husband. 

“Lucien’s just grumpy—”

“I’m not grumpy,” Lucien interrupted as Arina laughed, hands clasped in front of her body.

“Your sisters gave him a good dressing down.”

“It was pretty funny,” Eris Vanserra chimed in, wrapping an arm around his wife's neck to kiss the top of her head. “Nesta Archeron has a barbed tongue and no sense of propriety.”

“That’s not true,” Elain protested, interested in what her sister said. “You’re thinking of Feyre.”

“It was both of them,” Lucien grumbled as he rubbed his jaw. “I thought the ladies of the Spring Court were sweet.”

Elain took that moment to swing, her sharpened blade slicing easily through the pumpkin. Tanwen whooped as Connall and Eris laughed and Lucien…Lucien merely watched, his expression unreadable. 

“Who told you that?” Elain asked him, dress covered in pumpkin guts. 

It felt good, though, in that moment, to wipe the look off his face. She was sweet. 

Just not for him.

LUCIEN:

Lucien tugged at the golden cuffs on his maroon jacket. He was deeply uncomfortable and somehow sweating despite how early it was.  He hadn’t slept at all the night before and given the noises coming from behind the door that they were about to share, Elain hadn’t either. It hadn't been crying, exactly…but something akin to mourning had been happening. It occurred to him that perhaps Elain had her own Jesminda that she missed.

Lucien couldn’t bring himself to care much. Instead, he perched himself in a tree outside the palace, closed his eyes, and prayed. 

Bring her back to me. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything.

Easy words for a male who knew the Mother would not indulge this request. Lucien would have traded anything to see Jesminda right then. To hear her tell him it was going to be okay and somehow, someway this was all going to work out in their favor. He wanted to feel her hands on his face, her mouth slanted against his. He wanted to bury himself inside her and sob into her shoulder as he told her about the nightmare he was living.

And to do so would be the ultimate betrayal of the love he felt for her. To see her was to condemn her to death. She was gone, and Lucien knew she wouldn’t come back, and if she did, he wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t acknowledge her.

Wouldn’t look at her.

It didn’t stop him from pretending anyway. What kind of male was he, he wondered? His wife was inside preparing herself to marry him and he was outside wishing she was someone else. Daydreaming about another female. Would he think of Jesminda as he betrayed her later that night? 

Lucien half hoped Jesminda hated him. He certainly hated himself.

Lucien remained outside until Eris tracked him down, dressed in a deep brown jacket and cream colored pants. His brother swung himself easily into the tree, grunting softly as he sat on the opposite branch. “Brooding?”

It was almost comical. It was a scene they’d played before, only in opposite roles. Lucien had once gone looking for Eris the day of his wedding, finding him in the same tree likely with the same look of frustration on his face. Eris had wanted a way out, too, and he’d known what was waiting on the other end for him was his mate. There was something to work toward, at least.

Lucien didn’t care what Arina said—he didn’t believe he could love someone as deeply as he loved Jesminda and not be mates. 

“Just thinking,” Lucien said, wishing Eris would mind his own business. 

“You’ve got ten more minutes to find a last minute loophole,” Eris warned. “Though, I think you should marry her.”

“Of course you do.”

“She’s better than the females at court. Do you want father to pick one of them?”

“I want him to let me choose my own wife,” Lucien snarled, unable to keep his anger down.

“Love is for the lesser fae,” Eris said, ignoring the fact that he was in love with his wife. That was merely luck, Lucien supposed. “You are simply a cog in fathers political machinations. You know that.”

“Why not Tanwen? Or Cadmus?”

“Because Elain is a second daughter with no magical ability, unlike her sisters,” Eris reminded him, a cold edge creeping into his voice. He ought to have known better than to look for comfort from his brother. Eris had done his duty no matter how little he’d wanted to, giving Eris a mate and Beron a foot in the solar courts. “He needs sons he can marry off to all his most important nobles. Count yourself lucky that isn’t your fate”

“Is this luck?”

“Elain is nice,” Eris reminded him. “She’s not scheming and you’re unlikely to find her in Tanwen’s bed.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lucien asked, a surge of jealousy flooding through him. He didn’t want her, and yet didn’t want anyone else to want her, either. She was merely off limits. If he could have, he’d have ordered them all not to speak to her, either. 

Swinging his legs out of the tree, Eris landed smoothly back on solid ground. The world was mocking him—after two weeks of rumbling thunder and moody fog, the sun had come out blazing, igniting the world in a golden glow. 

“I’m certain. Now get down before father realizes you’re missing and takes the lash to your back on your wedding night.” Lucien considered it only briefly, but ultimately chose to join Eris on the ground, heart thudding painfully in his chest. 

Eris didn’t look at him at all, adorned in a crown of burnished leaves similar to the one Lucien wore. As they stepped back into the Forest House, Lucien felt the full weight of it for the first time in his life. Never had he ever felt more like a High Lord's son, the weight of his responsibility and duty dragging behind him like chains wrapped around his ankles.

He was drowning, and it didn’t matter. Lucien followed Eris through the labyrinth of halls toward the adjoining temple that spiraled deep into the ground, housing their family jewels and a private library you need permission to enter. Lucien knew on any given day, Arina would be down in the dark reading by faelight. 

Priestesses historically were not welcome in Autumn. Beron found them too scheming, but feared angering the mother by shutting them out entirely. His solution was using daughters of Autumn, deemed unlikely to marry by their families, and making them priestesses with fathers that had a vested interest in curbing their ambition. Housing them in the palace allowed the High Lord to keep a watchful eye on them via his wife, who was charged with overseeing the priestesses along with the ladies at court. 

Now the head priestess stood at the end of the temple, adorned by multicolored light from the stained glass behind her. Rows of benches held their families, though Beron sat behind the priestess on a throne built specifically for him, lest anyone forget the true power of Autumn. 

Elain was waiting in the atrium just outside, dressed, hilariously, in a fluffy gown of white lace and pale pink ribbon. Her hair was piled high atop her head, as if someone with a grudge had decided to try and make the beautiful Elain as unappealing as possible.

It was working, too. Lucien couldn’t help his barking laugh when he saw her, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings overhead. Elain turned, eyes wide with horror that melted into irritation.

“Be quiet,” she hissed, shoving the traditional red ribbon of Autumn against his chest. His brothers filed in behind them, not daring to make eye contact or otherwise react. 

“Who did you piss off?”

“This was my mothers wedding dress,” Elain informed him, chin held high in the air. “And the traditional bridal clothes of Spring.”

Lucien only shook his head, thinking of how lovely Arina had looked draped in red. There was no point in starting his marriage by telling his wife she looked awful, but…well. Lucien wondered if Elain felt beautiful right then.

“Come on,” he murmured, offering her his arm. Elain took a breath, eyes glassy, but otherwise nodded her head. She had more conviction on her expression than Lucien felt, and it was sobering. This was happening, he realized. Under the watchful gaze of not just his father, but the High Lord of Spring, Lucien was marrying this stranger. Lucien could barely breathe, couldn’t think as he stood in that beam of light, eyes trained on Elain without actually seeing her. Elain seemed to be employing similar tactics, repeating the words when demanded but otherwise standing utterly still.

Something was building, some emotion Lucien thought must be radiating out of him. It wasn’t fear and it wasn’t hatred, though it felt somehow like both mixed together. Holding the ribbon in his hand, Lucien began winding it around their wrists until the long sleeves of her ugly dress pushed upward, pressing them skin to delicate skin. 

The scene of Elain invaded his senses once again, making him dizzy. He needed fresh air, to get far, far away from her. Elain looked up at him through dark lashes, their eyes connecting just as the priestess pronounced them married. Something solid slammed into him. 

No, not slammed.

Snapped.

Lucien stumbled backwards, forgetting for a moment they were still tied together. Elain came with him, falling into his chest and oh, he wished she wouldn’t touch him just as his traitorous body ignited with pleasure.

Touch her, smell her, taste her—

Lucien righted Elain, trying to apologize but unable to get the words out. If he spoke, he might just blurt the truth out. 

You’re my mate.

If Elain knew, she was doing a far better job than he was hiding it. Her expression was one of confusion but not of recognition. If she didn’t know, good. There must be some way out, he reasoned, even as every other part of him rebelled at the thought. The Mother was mocking him. Elain Archeron was mocking him, with her beautiful face half lost under the weight of her gown and hair. Who had done this to her?

Lucien wanted to kill them.

“Are you okay?” Elain whispered, ignoring the crowd promptly descending upon them.

It wasn’t a lie when he said, “No. I’ve never been less okay in my life.”

And it was all her fault.

ELAIN:

Elain wanted to cry. The Lady of Autumn had done her best to try and make Elain look presentable, but it had been her mothers wishes to see her dressed like a traditional bride of Spring—the sort that had fallen out of fashion centuries before. She could still hear Lucien's barking laugh in her ear and the look of disgust on his face once he’d tied that ribbon around them.

It shouldn’t have mattered, truthfully, but Lucien had looked every inch an Autumn Court prince and she…she’d looked ridiculous. Embarrassing. Only her mother was happy, which seemed to be the only thing that ever mattered. Who cared if Elain was suffering internally so long as everyone else got what they wanted? 

Stomping from the great hall, where a lavish feast in her honor had been prepared, Elain made her way outdoors into the sunshine. It was only there that she began pulling pins out of her hair like a petulant child, tossing them to the leaves with reckless abandon. 

Why couldn’t she make peace with what was happening? Everyone else in her position had. Arina and Eris were in love, her parents were in love, the Lady of Autumn and the High Lord…tolerated each other. And Elain couldn’t even muster that. 

She hated Lucien with a passion that clawed at her chest and threatened to strangle her. She didn’t want him to touch her, not like this. Not when the sight of him cringing away as he disentangled himself from her and promptly walked away without so much as a reassurance that things would be okay.

She’d left him downing a cup of wine and imagined he’d be so drunk he was incapacitated for the night. That was a good thing, right? So why did it make her feel so awful? So ugly, so…so unwanted. Cast aside by everyone, loved by no one. She wanted to curl up somewhere and wait to see how long it took them to notice she was missing.

Elain turned her attention to the forest, determined to march right in. She bet Lucien noticed when it was time to do his husbandly duty. Then he’d be missing her. That's all she was good for anyway, right?

Elain didn’t make it two steps before someone stopped her. It wasn’t Lucien or his brothers, nor was it her sisters or anyone from the Spring Court. The male standing before her oozed darkness, with shadows trailing after him like a cape and eyes so vividly blue they looked like twinkling, violet stars.

Elain took a step back on instinct. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, knowing exactly who stood before her. She’d never met him, nor his father, though she had heard the rumors about the High Lord of Night. They said he’d killed Tamlins father.

They said Tamlin killed his. 

Rhysand didn’t need to wear a weapon to seem lethal. Tall and powerfully built, she was certain if he wanted to, he could end her right there. His lips curved upward into a smile and too late, she remembered the people in his court were rumored to read minds.

“I hear congratulations are in order. Married to little Lucien…how delighted you must be.”

“I…” Elain trailed off, heart hammering like a jack rabbit. 

“I don’t think I’d leave my new bride to wander the grounds,” Rhysand continued, jamming his hands into his pockets absently. “But perhaps the males of Autumn are more…liberated…here.”

Elain’s mouth was dry. “Can I help you with something?”

Rhysand cocked his head, a lock of blue black hair trailing into one of his eyes. “Can you help me?” he asked, pondering this question with faux concentration. “I suppose you can. I’m looking for—”

“Rhysand!” Eris Vanserra barked, crunching onto leaves without ceremony. “Decided to show your ugly face for once? Or will I find your spy lurking in my woods again?”

“There’s no need for hostility,” Rhysand purred, eyes trailing behind Eris toward Feyre, who’d clearly been trailing Eris. “I’ve come to speak with your father.”

“Does Elain Archeron look like the High Lord of Autumn?” Eris demanded, his annoyance plain.

“She is far lovelier, I’ll admit, though your father has his charms—”

“Stop talking,” Eris muttered, nodding his head toward the doors so Rhysand would follow. Elain watched the High Lord of Night even when Eris’s fingers curled around her wrist, dragging her back inside with him. Rhysand was looking at Feyre in her spring green gown, hair half braided off her face. There was something curious about his expression—as if he’d never seen a female before and wanted to study her.

Feyre wrinkled her nose back, betraying her unguarded disgust before turning on her heel and flouncing back inside and to Elain’s surprise, Rhysand chuckled. He didn’t know how skilled Feyre was with a weapon, training in secret with a sentry she’d once been friends with before Tamlin found out and had him sent to the border. It was too late, then. Feyre was a menace with a bow and arrow and not horrible with a sword, either. No one could control her and in truth, not many tried.

Elain wondered what Tamlin would do with a wife that liked to stalk the woods for monsters. Monsters like Rhysand, Elain thought, wondering if Feyre hadn’t sensed his presence and come looking for the disturbance. She half wanted to see the showdown, if only to watch a High Lord get trounced by a noble's youngest daughter.

Feyre was nowhere to  be found by the time they all landed in the Great Hall. The once lively feast fell silent—even the musicians stopped their playing to watch, wide-eyed, as Rhysand strolled into the room. His eyes slid over the long tables piled with food, the people stopped mid-dance, and those that sat at tables holding goblets, drinking until their fair skin was ruddy from wine.

He grinned when he saw Beron. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, not sounding very sorry at all. Beron looked murderous, though he stood quickly while eyeing Eris trailing just behind. Elain watched as Cadmus fell into step beside his elder brother, the two flanking their father when he came down the elevated platform that held the throne he’d been lounging on. Everyone tried to pretend this was merely business as usual.

The music restarted and chatter resumed as Beron and Rhysand made their way out of the room, but Elain knew every immortal ear was straining to hear what was whispered between them. Why now, she wondered? Tamlin was gripping his goblet so tightly Elain could see the whites of his knuckles and Nesta’s eyes danced with silver flames, arms crossed over her chest.

Elain started to make her way to Nesta to ask when Lucien caught her attention. He was drunk, she realized. Stumbling forward, he grinned broadly not at her, but at someone behind her. Elain didn’t turn to see the female he was making eyes at, unwilling to even acknowledge how humiliating his behavior was. 

“You reek,” Elain hissed, catching Lucien by the arm and turning him around. “Go drink some water.”

“Telling me what to do already?” he asked, eyes strangely glassy as he looked down at her. There was an intensity to his expression she didn’t think she liked. It was as if he was undressing her with his gaze. 

“Yes. Water. Now,” she hissed quietly enough that no one but Lucien could hear.

“And if I say no?” he challenged. Elain wanted to cry. 

“You are not the only one experiencing misery, Lucien, and yet am I out here making a fool of you?” she demanded, hating the way her voice cracked beneath angry tears. “You could at least keep it behind closed doors.”

Lucien considered this. “You’re right. I…” he swallowed, sliding his hand over hers in the crook of her elbow so she had to join him as he went for water. “Sit down and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Do it, or I’ll feed you from my hand like a baby bird,” he threatened, pulling out a chair from a neglected, empty table. Lucien dropped beside her, gulping down icy water as Elain picked food from a platter in front of her and spread it over two plates.

“Here,” she said, pushing a plate toward a wide eyed, strangely ashen looking Lucien.

“I—I’ve eaten already,” he said, gingerly moving the plate further from view. “You’re kind to offer, though.”

He was so strange, she decided. If he didn’t want to eat, he could suffer, then. No one could say she hadn’t tried, though. Elain began chewing, lost in thoughts of Rhysand just outside the forest grounds and her family that would vanish before the night was over. Her stomach tumbled as she thought about what the night had in store for her. Perhaps if she closed her eyes tightly it would be over quickly without a lot of fuss.

“Was there another male?” Lucien asked abruptly, interrupting Elain’s considerations. Looking at him, she found that same burning intensity from a few moments before. She didn’t think she liked when he looked at her that way.

“What?”

“Back in Spring. Was there a male you…preferred?”

Elain shook her head, though she wanted to ask why it even mattered? She was here, wasn’t she, wishes be damned? 

“None?” 

“No, Lucien. I’ve been set aside for you my entire life.”

“Sure, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “That didn’t mean you had to…”

Elain wished a hole would open beneath her and swallow her up. Surely he wasn’t implying that he wished she’d been with someone else mere hours before he was about to be with her? If she’d been less of a lady, she might have launched herself across the table to throttle him. 

“Please do not worry about it,” she implored, desperate for this conversation to end. “Let’s just…lets just get through this afternoon.” Lucien eyed her dress again, but kept whatever comments he had to himself. “Fine.”

His reluctant compliance was better than expected. And Elain would take what she could get.

LUCIEN:

“You’re acting strange,” Arina said, catching Lucien in the hall on the way to his new bed chamber. His old one had been cleared out without ceremony, and he’d bet if he went to Elain’s room, he’d find her folding his clothing like a good little wife

“I’m not,” he lied. Lucien was desperately trying to avoid his brother and Arina, if only because he was afraid that might see him and just know somehow. Or smell it, more likely—the way he could currently smell the mating bond Arina and his brother shared wrapped around her like a lingering perfume.

It smelled like sex. Lucien hated it. It was like a warning pushing up against him, reminding him that she belonged to someone—a male who might rip Lucien’s throat out, should he feel like it. Elain seemed oblivious to what was happening which was the only mercy Lucien could find in their miserable situation. How long could he keep her in the dark before she realized? Before she felt the pull, the urge to touch him, too? Before someone scented him on her and told her? 

“What’s going on?”

“Besides being actually married to a stranger, nothing at all. I, for one, have never been better—”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Arina snapped, clearly irritated. “There’s something else about you.”

“I’m just…” Lucien ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It's my wedding night, Arina, and my wife hates me. Put the pieces together.”

“I doubt she’ll be upset if you put it off.”

“Or she’ll run and tell her father to get out of the marriage,” Lucien retorted, though truthfully, Elain simply didn’t seem like the vindictive sort. His mind drifted back to lunch, watching as she put together two plates as his mind warred. On the one hand, the part of him driven by instinct had been screaming and clawing for him to simply accept it from her, thus cementing the bond before she ever had a choice.

The other, more rational part of him, wanted to throw that plate across the room before cursing at the Mother for what she’d done. It was supposed to be Jesminda. It was Jesminda. Lucien’s heart beat erratically at the realization that all the times he’d laid with her and sworn she was his mate, when they’d laced their fingers and talked about when it might snap…all of it had been a farce. 

Lucien couldn’t stop thinking about Jes’s own mate. He was out there somewhere. Maybe she’d find that male and she’d realize what they had paled in comparison. Would she laugh a little at their silliness? How young they’d been, how foolish to believe what they had transcended the gods.

Lucien would have left Elain if Jes appeared right then. If she’d asked him—he wouldn’t make her beg—he would have left. Damned Elain, his life, his mating bond, just to see her again. And he knew that if Jes learned he had a mate, she’d bow out entirely. When the bond snapped, there was a finality to it. 

He was a mated male. He owed it to Elain to try and make things work, and maybe he owed it to himself, too. That didn’t mean Lucien wanted it, either. Gods, he didn’t know what he wanted other than to drink himself into oblivion and wait for some obvious answer to present itself.

“When Eris informed you that you were his mate, what did you do?” Lucien asked, interrupting Arina’s self-important lecture about being a good husband.

“I suffocated the air in the room until he got on his knees and apologized,” she said, eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s different, Lucien.” Elain probably couldn’t nearly kill him—he’d been told she had no magic to speak of—but he imagined her reaction would go nearly as well. 

“Just…let me deal with my marriage my way, okay?” Lucien ordered, unwilling to be nice to Arina at that moment. Butt out, he wanted to add, though slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him was response enough. 

Inside was something out of Lucien’s personal hell. Elain rose to her feet when she saw him, eyes bright from what seemed to be some amount of crying. Her hair was unbound and artfully arranged around a night dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Lucien blinked, frozen in place as his eyes moved of their own accord.

BETRAYER

“I—put on a robe, please,” Lucien managed, turning in a circle like some kind of animal. She was his. He had no claim to her at all. The competing desires threatened to unmake him. Lucien heard Elain sniff.

“Shouldn’t we…”

“Not like this,” he breathed, certain he would have felt that way even without the mating bond. “I—we could just…go to bed?”

“What about…you know?”

Lucien took a steadying breath and turned again, relieved to find Elain had wrapped a throw around her body. Her face had a little more color, her eyes a little less red. 

“If I offered to just…pretend…would you tell someone?”

“No,” she breathed with the saddest look of hope on her face. “I would swear we did.”

Oh, thank the Mother. “Then we’ll turn the lights off, get into bed, and in the morning go about our business as if we did.”

Elain nodded, dropping the blanket gently to walk to their bedroom. Lucien nearly choked at the sight of her from behind. Mother spare him, she’d be the death of him. Lucien didn’t need to like a female in order to admit she was appealing and Elain…Elain was just as pretty from behind as she was from the front. His eyes slid down her spine, landing on the soft curve of her waist, the flare of her hip, the sway of her ass. 

Cauldron damn him.

Elain turned as Lucien steadied himself on the frame, wondering if sleeping beside her was a good idea at all. Servants talked—and everyone was nosy. If he was caught sleeping on the sofa, his father would know and put Lucien in a deeply uncomfortable position. Lucien wouldn’t put it past his father to demand to watch. He’d like enjoy knowing that he ruined every other coupling they’d ever have.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned, holding up a trembling finger. Was he looking at her in some particular kind of way? Lucien was certain he wasn’t. Still, he merely crossed his arms over his chest as he eyed his new wife. 

“I was lost in thought,” he said, forcing himself to look only at her face. As if that made things any better. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful it made his teeth ache. She’d always been beautiful, which had warranted the space—if he spent too much time in her presence, he might find he liked her, and liking the woman who’d been forced upon him felt like giving in to his fathers demands.

Or worse, admitting Beron might have been right about him. 

Elain still eyed him warily as he crossed the room, grabbing a pair of linen pants neatly folded in a drawer that had her scent all over it. In the bathroom, Lucien splashed cold water on his face and ordered himself to get together. The mating bond was making him stupid. He didn’t want her…and yet he did. Physically, anyway. Lucien wondered if he could get away with escaping to one of the nearby cities for a few weeks just to clear his head long enough to stand in her presence. 

He returned to find Elain dividing the bed in half using pillows. “That’s not necessary,” he mumbled, reaching over her to toss one to the floor. “And obvious.” “I don’t want you getting any ideas,” she replied in that prissy way of hers. 

Lucien bared his teeth. “Trust me, lady. My only idea is sleep.”

“I thought all males wanted—”

“I’m not an animal,” he growled, fully aware he was a liar. “I don’t relish the thought of forcing myself on someone, wife or otherwise.”

“And if I never want you?” Elain asked, eyes narrowed to slits.

“I’ll tell all of Pyrthian you are terribly infertile and I’m a martyr—”

Elain launched a pillow at his face. “You’re not funny.”

Lucien flopped into bed, one hand thrown over his face. “You wound me.”

“I don’t believe anything could wound that over inflated ego of yours,” she responded. Lucien was learning that despite her meek appearance, his wife had a sharp tongue. He rather liked it, if only because it absolved him of any guilt he might feel for his own remarks. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Lucien said, settling against the pillow. “You could tell me, you know. If there was another male.”

“There wasn’t. There isn’t.” There was something bitter about her tone.

“Never?” he questioned, his curiosity making him stupid.

“Never.”

“You’re not…?” Shut up shut up shut up— “You’re not curious?”

“Stop talking, Lucien.”

“If it were me—”

“I know where you’re going with this, and I’m telling you to stop while you’re ahead,” Elain gritted out. “Find someone else, if you’re feeling frustrated, but don’t try and frame my lack of experience as an opportunity.”

“Cauldron, Elain, I wasn’t…” But he was. Lucien knew it was a bad idea. If he got himself in her with the mating bond pounding in his chest, he was likely to take things too far, to do something he regretted. He couldn’t help himself no matter how badly he wanted to, and her proximity was clouding his judgment. He tried to pull up an image of Jes, but his mind shifted to Elain in sheer white lace and the rosy pink of her nipples—

Lucien rolled over, frustrated more with himself than anything else. There was no way he was going to sleep, no way he trusted his dreams not to betray him.

Not for the first time, he wished he was dead.

But maybe it was the first time he’d wished for it the loudest.

And the gods did nothing.

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[stolenbythewestwind]

I have my first HRT appointment today and I'm so nervous I could vomit

[did-you-fall-for-a-shooting-star]

The last time I cried over missing my boyfriend was when I was drunk and 3 time zones away. Now Im sitting in my own bedroom, sober as can be, and I cant get him out of my damn head

[dullahandyke]

life is so good and awesome peace and love on planet earth

[chronal-anomaly]

Little low activity notice!!

[elegyofthemoon]

welp! i finished catching up with 2.1 thankfully but -

[this-doesnt-endd]

I used to have a really giant family like tons of tias and tios and cousins and i say used to cause like it seems like after my grandparents died on both sides both families seemed to never speak again and i had no chance to even try and keep hold of those ties i was in elementary school watching my parents marriage crash and burn in real time dealing with major death in the family and then subsequent family abandoning me at the tender age of 11. Hell my brothers were older and jumped ship it was just me and the horrors

[athenasdragon]

You know, I’d be the first to say that my chronic illness (now, as treated) is “not that bad” but sometimes it really does hit me that I’m going to be sick forever

[freebooter4ever]

ignoring everybody in my phone, sorry not sorry ;_;

[landofgay]

trying to remember if bf wears xl or 2xl AAAAAAA

[rafeandonlyrafe]

weekend away

words: 3.2k

a/n: of course inspired by these precious pictures of drew <3

warnings: 18+ only, dad!rafe, mom!reader, established relationship, theyre maaaarried <3, VERY FLUFFY, descriptions of breastfeeding, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (but reader is on birth control), rafe is like the best dad everrr

“okay…” you look into your trunk, mentally going through your checklist. stroller, check, folder up and ready for daisys car seat to be placed on. diaper bag, check, with extra diapers just in case. pump, check. carrier, baby carrier, check. extra change of clothes, check.

you have everything you could possibly need for daisy, not even realizing that you completely forgot about yourself.

“got your suitcase packed, baby?” rafe asks, daisy in his arms, happy to be cradled there, looking up at her daddy with wide eyes.

“shit!” you squeal, before covering your mouth. daisy may be too young to understand your words, but you still try not to curse in front of her.

“hey, it's okay.” rafe can instantly see your nerves skyrocketing. of course you were too focused on getting everything for your daughter that you completely forgot that it's a weekend trip you'll be going on too.

“okay, i um- ill just throw some clothes in a bag then-”

“baby.” rafe easily switches daisy to one arm, wrapping his now free one around your shoulders. you relax into his hold, reminded how protected you feel by rafe. “we aren't in a rush. we can delay taking off for a bit, okay? it's not that long of a drive.”

“okay.” you nod, arms circling around his waist as you turn to face rafe, pressing your cheek into his side as you smile down at daisy. “hi baby. mama is a bit of a mess right now.”

“don't talk about yourself like that.” rafe says softly, leaning to press a kiss to the top of you're head. “you're doing amazing. you juggle so much, it's a surprise you don't forget things more often.”

you let out a little chuckle, which daisy copies as her little mouth turns into a smile.

“okay, ill go get started.” you sigh. you can't believe your mind has been so scattered and focused on getting daisy ready that you completely forgot about doing anything for yourself.

“we will help.” rafe closes the trunk, heading back inside to follow you up the stairs. “not sure how much help daisy will be, but you got me at least.”

you end up packing pretty quickly, especially since you're bringing a big suitcase, way too big for just a couple days out of town, so you're easily able to throw in more than you need, just in case.

“alright.” rafe hums. “both suitcases loaded, we just need to get daisy in her car seat.”

“great.” you groan. daisy recently developed a hatred for her car seat, after you planned a nice weekend trip a few hours away from the outer banks.

“how about i try?” you know it won't make a difference, but you nod, letting rafe carry daisy towards the car, trying to distract with coos and even snuggling his nose into her tummy, but by the time she's over the seat, she turns straight as a board.

you can barely watch as her sweet face turns to one of sadness, tears falling down her cheeks.

“oh my poor baby.” you coo after rafe gets her all buckled in. “you want mama to ride back here with you?”

you're not sure it will help, but you climb into the backseat to sit next to the car seat while rafe gets in to drive.

“it is almost nap time, maybe she'll fall asleep quickly.” rafe shrugs as he pulls the car out of the driveway, always extra careful when he's bringing you or daisy anywhere.

“maybe.” you hum, petting over her forehead and down her nose until her cries stop, eyes close, and her chest begins to rise and fall slower.

you don't even realize as rafe happily drives you to your destination that as daisy falls asleep, so do you, head resting against her car seat as you catch up on some rest.

rafe smiles when he sees you in the backseat completely knocked out, even snapping a picture when he stops at a toll.

he keeps the radio down low to not wake either of you until he arrives to the airbnb, a delightful cottage right on the beach. it's not too different from home, but the bigger city offers more things to do, and you plan to take advantage of your time away and show daisy all the things she hasn't experienced yet like zoos and museums.

“babes.” rafe calls out. “we're here.”

“oh my gosh.” you let out a yawn, stretching your back out from the awkward hunched position against the car seat. “that went by so fast.”

“thats what happens when you sleep the whole way.” rafe chuckles.

“shut up.” you giggle, leaning between the front seats to press a kiss to his lips. “thanks for driving us. we love you so much.”

you know you can speak for your daughter, it's so evident how much daisy loves rafe, even if she can't find the words yet.

“love you too, baby.” rafe looks back at daisy, the mirror set up on the headrest of the seat to give him a view of her face. “we should get inside quick, she's gonna wake up hungry.”

“ugh, my poor boobs.” you whine. you love getting to breastfeed daisy, and feel so lucky that you have a good milk supply, but it is hard on your body as well.

“you're amazing.” rafe says earnestly. you turned his life around completely when you began dating him, and it only got even better when daisy was born. he made a pact while she was still inside your tummy to get his shit together, mend his life that was broken.

“oh, shush.” you blush, rafe still able to make you feel shy to this day. 

you get out of the car, looking at the airbnb. you swear it looks even better in person, the warm sun beautifully illuminating the white stand as you walk in, punching in the code that you had already memorized.

you know rafe is bringing daisy in, so you take a moment to inspect the house, the two bedrooms and one nursery as well as the open living area, big windows pointing out to the ocean.

you hear daisys cries before rafe enters with her in his arms. “she's ready for you.”

you take her quickly, sitting down in the plush armchair as you adjust your shirt and nursing bra to free your nipple, which she quickly latches onto.

you can hear rafe bringing in your bags and everything you need for daisy as you nurse and stare out at the ocean.

“all done, baby?” you ask her after she pulls away, a blissed out, happy look on her face.

“ill burp her.” rafe picks daisy up from your arms before you even realize it, clearly missing his girl as you close up your bra and pull your shirt down. you follow rafe out onto the back deck, wrapping your arms around his waist as you listen to the familiar sounds of waves hitting the shore.

“are you tired from the drive?” you ask him. “you can nap and ill entertain daisy and make us dinner.”

“im okay.” rafe turns around to tug you into his side. “and let's just order pizza or something, this is vacation, you don't have to cook.”

“okay.” you get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before leaning back against his side. you'll order later, after you've started out at the ocean with him, the uninterrupted sea of blue.

--

“ah, ah, ah.” rafe stops you, taking the baby carrier out of your hands. “ill wear her.”

you nod, grabbing the diaper bag and slinging it over your shoulder, which rafe also takes after he puts the carrier on.

“baby, i can carry something.” you laugh as he gets poppy out of her carseat, her cries instantly stopping now that she's free of the car.

“i know you can. but im a good husband, and i got it.”

“okay.” you shrug. “whatever you want baby.”

rafe loads daisy into the carrier, adjusting her to face outward so she can see all of the animals as you walk through the zoo.

“sunscreen.” you remind rafe, putting the cream onto daisys delicate skin. you swipe it across rafes nose as he makes a face.

“you need it too.” you chastise, smearing it across his face, rubbing it all in so he's not embarrassed. you'd already applied sunscreen underneath your makeup at the cottage earlier, so you just refresh your exposed shoulders.

you make quick work of admissions at the zoo, having already bought your tickets online.

“what do you wanna see first, baby?” rafe asks, hand looped together tight with yours. 

“umm, how about the red pandas?” you motion towards the asia section of the zoo.

“sounds perfect.” rafe very willingly follows you throughout, daisy happily watching the animals as well as smiling at anyone who passes by.

“stop, they're so cute!” you coo as you look at the pandas. “i want to pet one.”

“don't tempt me to figure out a way for you to do that, baby.” rafe laughs, your pout quickly disappearing off your face, knowing it's not beyond rafe to bribe a zookeeper to let you feel the red pandas fluffy tail.

“what would you like to see, daisy girl?” you coo, rubbing your fingers over her cheeks.

“let's check out the chimpanzees and then we should probably find a place for you to nurse.” rafe is well aware of daisys feeding schedule, and you had to choose between taking her to the zoo during nap time or having to figure out feeding her during the trip.

“sounds good.” you allow rafe to loop his arm around your waist. 

rafe is just as delighted by the chimps swinging across their play structure as daisy is, her hands clapping together, chubby cheeks pushed up in a happy smile.

she cries when you walk away, but you recognize that the attitude is mostly from her being hungry.

“come on, baby.” you coo, finding a quiet shaded area with a comfortable bench.

you cover your front with a light blanket as rafe sits next to you, gently rubbing your shoulder and stroking over your hair as daisy feeds.

“she's probably gonna take like a 15 minute milk nap after this.” you say to rafe. “we can go check out the natural history museum.”

“good idea.” rafe nods. “i know how much you like to read random ass signs.”

“ugh, not my fault i like to learn information! unlike you, dummy.”

“hey.” rafe tickles his finger into the crook for your neck.

daisy falls asleep when she's done nursing, just as you predicted. you tuck her into the crook of your arm, not wanting to risk transferring her to the baby carrier, she'd most certainly wake up.

rafes hand stays on your back throughout the entire museum. you look through every sign, every taxidermied animal and the prehistoric scenes of the area the zoo has set up.

daisy stirs in your arms as you walk outside, the afternoon sun on her face waking her up. “hey princess.” you tell her, always surprised how quickly she recovers from her naps, now wide awake seconds later.

“wanna go to daddy? yeah?” you hand her over to go back into the baby carrier, heading towards the north america section. you like seeing the moose, and rafe the brown bears, while daisy gets an absolute kick out of the american otters, watching them swish through the water and flip off the glass partition.

you continue through most of the zoo, deciding to rush through the aquarium and skip the africa section as daisys nap time quickly approaches.

you exit the zoo hand in hand with rafe, and for once daisy doesn't fight being put in her carseat as she instantly falls asleep.

--

daisy is sitting in between your legs, giggling as she runs her hands through the sand. you keep a close eye on her to make sure she doesn't try to experiment and eat any, but you're also distracted by rafe sitting shirtless next to you.

“when daisy is older, we should take her to the west coast so we can watch the sunset over the ocean.” he says, moving closer to you to wrap his arm around you.

“id love that. its so fun bringing her places.” you know daisy is too young to remember this trip, but she has loved staying someplace different, getting to see all sorts of new things. 

you head back home tomorrow, back to the reality of the outer banks.

“baby girl is gonna be beyond spoiled.” rafe laughs softly, leaning forward to readjust the bow on the top of her head.

“if you spoil her as much as you spoil me, she sure will.” you lean into rafes side, gently watching the waves until daisy starts to get tired and bored, crawling back towards you.

“nursing then bedtime, alright daisy?” you coo at her, picking her up as you walk with rafe back into the cottage, dusting your sandy feet off before going in. “it's a long drive again tomorrow and daddy needs a good sleep.”

“mmm, i was hoping after you put her down we could…” rafe clears his throat. your eyes widen, understanding what he means.

“yeah.” you nod, sitting down in the armchair that has become your prime feeding place over the weekend trip. “id really love that.”

“perfect.” rafe bends to press a kiss to your forehead. “im gonna go shower. let me know if you need any help getting her down.”

daisy happily latches onto your boob, pulling off when she's about halfway done as she gets fussy.

“oh, girly.” you giggle. “you're just tired!”

you move into the nursery to change her into pajamas as well as make sure she has a fresh diaper before finishing feeding her. by the time you set her down in the crib, she's out like a light.

you grab the baby monitor and bring it into your bedroom, smiling when you see rafe sitting on the edge of the bed, towel wrapped around his hips, hair still slightly wet from the shower.

“she's asleep?” he confirms as you place the baby monitor on the dresser.

“she is.” you move quickly over to rafe, bending to press a kiss to his lips as your hands move quickly to undo his towel, opening the damp fabric to reveal his cock.

you kiss as your hand explores his length, feeling it harden beneath your fingertips before you begin to stroke.

“you're gonna kill me, baby.” rafe groans against your lips. “ive missed your hands so much.”

“missed this too.” you confirm. sex with rafe has been scarce since daisy. your body took a while to recover, and while he was patient throughout that, even once you were ready to have sex, daisy often interrupted you by needing her diaper changed or to be rocked back to sleep.

“come on, i want to see you.” rafe tugs at your shirt.

you stand to lose your tank top, removing your bra next. you still feel a little insecure about your stomach. you lost a bit of the weight you gained throughout pregnancy, but you don't know if you'll ever get back to how you were before.

“hey-” rafe stands, seeming to sense your feelings. “you're beautiful.”

“thank you.” you say, tears welling up in your eyes, but not from your insecurities, but from the sheer love you have for rafe.

“now get on the bed so i can show you how beautiful i find you.”

you take your pants and underwear off as you lay down, placing your head on the pillows as you look up at rafe. you used to be much more adventurous when it came to sex, trying out different positions or even introducing toys, but just like in many other ways, being a parent has made your sex more boring.

rafe drapes himself over your body, his cock rubbing through your folds. until daisy is much older and always sleeps through the night, there's still a chance she will wake up, so speed is of the essence.

rafe lines his cock up, pushing it inside of your tight heat with a low groan, needing to stay pretty quiet to not wake daisy, glad that the ocean out the window is providing her some white noise.

“god, you feel so good.” rafe says, eyelids fluttering closed as he stills, allowing you to adjust to his length.

you let out a moan, reaching up to wrap your arms around rafes shoulders, pulling his body against yours.

your chest rubs together as rafe begins to thrust, thankfully not moving too much as your nipples are so sensitive they sometimes hurt.

“i love you.” you whisper to rafe. “i love you so much.”

“we should have a wedding.” rafe says mid-thrust, making your eyes widen as he continues talking. “we should renew our vows when daisy is old enough to be our flower girl.”

“okay.” you nod. you have no problem with throwing an actual party to celebrate your marriage, considering when you found out you were pregnant and told rafe, you settled for a small and quick courthouse wedding with just a few family members and friends in attendance.

“i just love you so much.” he says, voice slightly strained as he continues thrusting.

“i know.” you lean up again to press your lips against his, his mouth staying slightly ajar as he pants.

“i love daisy too. i love our family.” rafe is moving so fast inside of you, rambling as he fucks you. “i wanna have more kids. after we renew our vows and i give you the wedding you deserve.”

“okay.” you giggle, smiling up at rafe. “we can do all of that, baby. we have all the time in the world.”

rafe nods, eyes closing as he concentrates on moving his hips just how you like it, the same motions that got you pregnant with daisy, now prevented from happening again with your daily pill.

“close.” rafe warns, and you're not far off either, only needing a couple more thrusts before you cum with a muffled shout, having covered your mouth with your hand just in time.

your cunt squeezing around him as your high pushes through your body is all rafe needs to spill inside of you with a soft moan of your name.

his arms give out as he rests on top of you, but you don't mind the weight as you stroke your fingers through his short hair. 

it's comforting, the silence, the way your bodies are pressed together, but it's interrupted by a cry through the baby monitor.

“i got her.” rafe says before you can even react. he pushes himself out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweats before rushing into the nursery.

you take a moment to reach over to the tissues on the nightstand, cleaning yourself off at least good enough for the night as you wrap the blankets around yourself.

you try to stay awake until rafe comes back in, to tell him yet again how much you love him, but by the time he's done changing daisys diaper and gets her back to sleep, you're deep in sleep.

rafe smiles as he reenters the bedroom, seeing you all wrapped up with a slight smile on your face as you dream. rafe lays down next to you, wondering how he ever got so lucky.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Change

Summary: When a strange illness spreads across the world, the reader's father takes her away from society in an attempt to keep her safe. Ten years later the reader runs into some trouble when forced to be on her own one night but it's nothing an overly friendly sheriff can't help with...

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 6,000ish

Warnings: language, attempted assault, minor violence, medical emergency

A/N: This is my first time doing Alpha!Beau and did a little twist on ABO for it. Please enjoy!

__________

Ten Years Ago

“Y/N!” You poked your head into the living room, giving your dad a smile when he stood there, back to you.

“Dad, I already got enough graduation presents. I mean it was just college, I didn’t need-“

He stepped aside, revealing the breaking news story on the tv.

Mystery Illness Affecting New York City Residents

He looked over his shoulder, frowning at you. “You’re not moving to the city next weekend.”

You scoffed. “Dad. I start my first adult job ever in two weeks. In New York City. I have to go.”

“No. Whatever the hell this is, it's happening there and putting people in the hospital. If your new job has a problem with that then tell them to kiss my ass.”

“What is wrong with you?” You stormed closer, furrowing your brow. Something was off. He was swiping a hand over his mouth, his eyes filled with dread. You glanced back at the screen with a swallow. “Daddy, do you know what this illness is?”

“No,” he said quietly, glancing down at you with a longing glance. “Tonight we need to leave town and go to camp.”

“Hunting camp?” He nodded. “But that’s in the middle of no…”

His face looked so much older all of a sudden, years and years of worry etched into the deep laugh lines around his eyes. “Why do you want us away from everyone?”

“Because isolation is the only way to guarantee you don’t get sick.” Paranoia. You should have called him paranoid. Said he was worrying over nothing. Said he was acting crazy.

But you simply nodded and excused yourself back to your graduation party with your friends, knowing it’d likely be the last time you saw them for a while. Or ever again.

“Dad,” you said that night as you packed up the cars, your father more frazzled than the time he lost you in the grocery store for all of eight seconds. “Should we call Em?”

“He’s the one that called me.” He shut the trunk, inhaling the night air deeply. “London. New York. Sydney. It’s global and it’s flooding hospitals. Em said small towns are next. I wanted you to have one last normal day, kiddo.”

“What exactly did Emmet say? Does he know more than what they’re saying?” you whispered, clutching your cardigan tight. “I thought he was in Africa doing that volunteer doctor program.”

“He is. But something…happened. People started getting ill and then acting crazy. Biting each other in the neck. Like animals.” Slowly you blinked, your dad pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know how it sounds, believe me. But I know my son and it’s the truth. He told me to get you safe.”

“Is he safe?” He closed his eyes. “Is he safe?”

“Emmet’s….” Your throat tightened, your dad wincing. “He called from his sick bed. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He said he loves us and we need to go before the whole world goes mad.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as he opened his eyes, gently shushing you. “Em isn’t dead, right?”

“I don’t know. His phone is dead,” he croaked out, wiping away your tears that threatened to fall. “But if what he said is true, the world will be incredibly dangerous in just a few days. We need to get you away from here before that happens.”

You wearily nodded, hugging him hard. “Dad.”

“Yeah, pumpkin?”

“We’ll be okay.”

“Yes we will. I promise.”

Present Day

“Fuuuuuck,” you groaned, the wind knocked out of you as one, no two, men pinned you down on the hard pavement of the pharmacy parking lot. The supplies you’d bought for your dad in the middle of the night were scattered on the ground. Half your mind grappled with how you needed to get those back to dad at the cabin while the other realized the men were trying to remove your pants and hoodie.

You snarled and kicked, hitting something hard, probably a shin bone. 

A gunshot went off nearby and all three of you froze.

“On your bellies. Hands on your head or the next one goes through your spine.” The two men were rigid before rolling off of you on either side. You risked sitting up, backing away a few feet and turning on your bottom. 

It was dark but even so you could make out the handsome brown haired man aiming a gun at the men. He had a presence about him, a calmness to the situation you weren’t expecting. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, his jacket riding up so you could spot the shiny gold badge on his hip.

This guy was a cop.

Good news and bad news.

“Mam, are you alright?” You blinked, realizing he was talking to you between speaking into the phone. You nodded, the man humming, mentioning something about backup.

Shit. You had to leave before you got wrapped up in this. You started to gather up your dropped items as the officer handcuffed one of the men. “Mind if I borrow that?”

You froze, staring at him. He nodded toward your hand and the new package of zip ties. You handed it to him carefully, the officer quickly placing one on the other man.

“Thank you, mam,” he said, handing the package back. You nodded, shoving the package in your bag and crawling over between two cars, reaching for the bottle of pills that had rolled underneath. “Are you sure you’re alright, miss?”

“Never better!” you squeaked out, grabbing the pills and tying off the bag tight. You popped to your feet, the officer rising to his own. “Uh, thanks.”

You started to leave when he took two big steps over, catching your arm. “Whoa, whoa. These guys can’t do anything to you. Backup will be here in two minutes tops. I know you want to get home but we need a statement and you should get that scuff cleaned up by a paramedic. Hell, I can do it for you back at the station.”

You blinked slowly, the man’s friendly smile turning concerned as you weighed your options. “Alright. I think you hit your head a little harder than we both realized when they knocked you down. Why don’t you take a seat-”

You kneed him in the groin, the officer crumping into a heap and releasing you. 

“Sorry!” You took off running to your car and peeled out of the other end of the parking lot before he could even get on his feet.

“Dad?” It was only twenty minutes later when you were entering the dark cabin, frowning that he wasn’t on the couch where you’d left him. “Dad!”

“In here for crying out loud!” You rushed over to the bathroom door, carefully nudging it open. Your heart seized when you saw him lying on the ground, his previously red inflamed leg now looking dark and swollen. “Did you get the-”

“Daddy, it’s broken. Why didn’t you say something?” He scoffed, forcing himself to sit upright against the tub. “Dad-”

“I’m not going to a damn hospital and becoming one of those…things.” He spit out the last word, venom laced behind it. You’d kept to yourselves the past ten years, dad only going to town in the dead of night to get food or supplies. Suffice to say, despite your best efforts, years of isolation hadn’t been great for his paranoia. Or your own.

He could never know that you were almost attacked. It’d destroy him after all he sacrificed for you. His home. His career. His life. Making sure you never got sick like Emmet had was his sole purpose.

“What if I drop you off at the hospital and…” both your heads whipped around when bright headlights shone through the windows. 

“Someone followed you. Get the shotgun and-” You slammed the door shut on him, ignoring his angry shouts. 

“Miss? It’s Sheriff Beau Arlen. We met just a short time ago. I’m doing a wellness check. Please answer the door.” You swallowed thickly, staring at the heavy wooden object. Shit, he’d followed you home. He was going to make you give a statement which meant being around other people long enough to get sick.

You glanced over your shoulder and sighed. Dad was no spring chicken anymore. Living in the woods and keeping up the land had kept him in good shape but he was getting older and there was no way he could survive a broken leg without help.

“Fuck it.” You stepped over to the door, frowning when you opened it. The man from before was standing there, a cautious smile on his face. “Hi. My dad fell earlier today. I think he broke his leg. He’s in the bathroom.”

“Okay. We can call an ambulance and-”

“He’s terrified of public places. Of catching the…sickness.” He raised his eyebrows, biting the inside of his cheek. “I know he needs a hospital but is there any way we can limit the number of people he’s around? Like a doctors office or something?”

He only cocked his head, eyeing you up and down. His nose twitched, inhaling sharply. You glared and subtly did a pit check. Okay, maybe you were a little sweaty but you’d nearly been attacked-

“How the hell…” Sheriff Arlen shook his head. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do to accommodate his…needs.”

“Thank you,” you said, starting to shut the door when he put a hand on it. You stared at one another, the sheriff’s nose twitching once more. “Please leave.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Visions of what the men from earlier had planned on doing flashed in your mind and you clenched your fists, ready to fight. “Oh, sweetheart I am so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You grit out, widening your stance. He frowned, shaking his head.

“Your father might be able to be treated at a doctors office but you need a hospital.” You narrowed your eyes, the sheriff holding up his hands. “You call it the sickness? The rest of us call it the change. Now it seems to me that you lack some education on the topic-”

“I know exactly what those men tonight were going to do. I know exactly what the sickness, change, whatever you want to call it does to people and I’ll tell you right now, I’m not getting sick and becoming someone’s fuck toy.” He closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. Slowly, they opened to reveal green orbs, softly watching you.

“Sweetheart, your body changed ten years ago whether you believe me or not. Judging by the fact your only interaction with other people has been your Beta father-”

“He’s not Beta,” you growled.

“-Or very few works at convenience stores at night, you have never been around an Alpha long enough to be triggered into your first heat-”

“I am not one of those-”

“Omega.” Your brain went fuzzy when the word left his lips, hand gripping the back of the couch hard. “We need to get you to a hospital. Your first heat is incredibly painful without medicine. I know, I have a teenage daughter-”

“Stop talking!” you shouted, suddenly feeling flush in the face. You wiped off your brow before grabbing the nearest object, a pillow, and chucking it straight at his handsome face. “You did this to me! You made me sick coming here!”

“You became Omega ten years ago, the same night I changed, the same we all did,” he said, looking down his nose at you. “Now let me help you and your father before I have two patients on my hands instead of one.”

“Get out!” The room spun, a strong pair of hands catching you the last thing you remembered.

Your body felt considerably cooler when you woke although the sterile scent filling your nostrils made you want to gag. Great, you were in the hospital. You turned your head to the side, your oh so favorite sheriff giving you a waggle of his fingers from the other side of room as he read his phone.

“What are you doing here?” you grumbled, sitting upright with a strain. 

“I figured you don’t have an emergency contact besides your father on account the whole survivalist in the woods energy I’m getting.” You glared at him, the man leaning back in his chair, relaxing further. “Your father is alright but he’s in the ICU. I’ve been told he’ll need to go to a in-patient rehab facility to learn to walk on it.”

“What?” You threw back the covers and got out of bed, freezing in place when you caught his cologne. Your eyes fluttered, jaw dropping slightly. “Jesus christ what is that smell? That’s…fuck is this what crack is like? What kind of drugs did they give me?”

He chuckled, glancing up with a smirk. “Let me guess. Vanilla with a hint of tobacco. Fresh cookies, a campfire, the cool mist of rain and something fluffy you can’t quite describe?”

“How did you…” You said, daring a step closer. You had a million questions in your mind about your dad but all your body seemed to want to do was get more of that smell.

“Because I know what my scent is.” You licked your lips involuntarily, breathing hard. “Down girl.”

You immediately backed up, shaking your head. “I-I’m sorry. That isn’t like me at all.”

“It’s your first heat and I’m the first Alpha you’ve properly scented on one. You have urges. Nothing to feel sorry for.” Your cheeks burned as you returned to bed, sitting on the edge with your legs hanging off. “In a few hours, your medicine will have fully kicked in and then you’ll be fine. I have a teenage daughter and so you’ll get monthly heats but as far as I understand, it’s extremely similar to your monthly visitor you were already used to.”

“I’ve been having periods for years and it doesn’t feel like this,” you said, his scent tickling under your nose, turning you on more and more by the second.

“The…randiness fades. You’ll be fine,” he said, glancing at you. “You really don’t know anything about the change or what it did to us, do you.”

“I know enough.” He frowned. “Why is my dad in the ICU?”

“His leg is shattered. The surgeon said he suspects he broke it a few days ago. He’s lucky to be alive and still have use of it.” You closed your eyes, gripping the mattress. “He didn’t tell you he was injured until recently, did he.”

“He said he fell today and it was sore. I was getting some bandages and a painkiller at the store tonight.” You groaned. “The fucker. He’s so scared…”

You opened your eyes when you heard footsteps, the sheriff kneeling down in front of you. Gently, he took both your hands, offering a kind smile. “Yes, the world was scary for a little while when we didn’t understand what happened but now we do. There is no reason you and your father have to hide away in the woods away from the rest of us.”

“You called yourself an Alpha.” He nodded. You noticed how small your hands were in his, could feel the surge of power he held within them. “Like how in animal packs, there’s an Alpha sometimes.”

“Let me explain this to you in the most basic of terms.” You swallowed, his fingers sliding up to wrap around your wrists loosely. “People that were bad before the change are bad now and people that were good before are good now. All that happened last night was you ran into a couple of bad guys. They were Alpha but so am I. We are not animals and neither are you.”

“But you could bite me and make me…” He smiled, a tiny eye roll in there. “Excuse me? What was that?”

“What you’re describing is a crime. Consent is still very much a thing, little lady. Believe me, I have no problem putting Alpha’s in their place if needed.”

You raised your head, the man tucking your hair behind your ear. “Are you sure you’re not just an anomaly?”

“Miss, I have a fifteen year old omega daughter. If I thought that world was truly that far gone, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight. Now, do you see her in this room?”

You rolled your eyes, the man standing with a chuckle. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“So you’re here out of the goodness of your heart?” you asked. He bit is bottom lip, looking shy all of a sudden.

“You’ve had a long night and I remember how frightening it felt the first night I changed. The world is no more dangerous than it was a decade ago. But it never hurts to have a friend when life gets hard.” 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, a painful cramp ripping across your abdomen. He caught your wince and helped you to lie back down.

“Get some sleep. I’ll check on your dad for you.”

“Thanks. Oh wait.” He pulled up your covers and hummed. “Why were you at the pharmacy in the middle of the night?”

He smirked, patting your thigh. “I’ll check in with you in the morning, darlin’.”

Later That Morning

“Get out!” You flinched and backed out of your dad’s hospital room, closing the door behind you. 

“He’s still angry, huh?” To your left appeared your sheriff, sporting a tan jacket and khakis, brown cowboy boots adorning his feet. You sniffled and nodded, the man giving you a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. “Have you been discharged yet?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on a nearby bench, the sheriff joining you. You rubbed your palm with your thumb, skin peeling off eventually. He caught your wrist, gently moving it away. “He doesn’t want to go to a rehab center. He says he’s fine and I should take care of him until he’s on his feet. The part I hate is we both know it’s horseshit. He knows he needs help but won’t admit it.”

“Stay here a minute for me.” He entered your dad’s room, closing the door and remaining inside for a few minutes. The door opened with a creak, your sheriff waving you inside.

You frowned at your dad in bed, his arms crossed. 

“I’m sorry for acting like a child,” he grit out. Your eyebrows shot up, gaze shooting to the sheriff who was giving your dad a friendly smile. But there was an undercurrent of authority to it that made your heart skip.

“Thank you?” you said. He sighed, quiet for a moment.

“I will go to rehab. I’m not your responsibility.” He cleared his throat. “I heard you’ve…changed.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Your gaze shot down, your dad tsking you.

“Sheriff Arlen….informed me of some things about the world. I think while I’m recovering maybe you…could get a job. Get back out in the world, not be stuck with me.”

You bit your tongue. What the hell was up with him? Did he not want you around anymore now that you were one of those…omegas?

“Mr. Y/L/N, we’ll let you rest. I’ll be sure to get Y/N home.” Your sheriff put a hand on the small of your back that sent a pleasant chill down your spine. God, he smelled even more alluring than last night. 

Why did you kind of like it? How large his hand was, how comforting it felt. Maybe you were just touch starved after a decade of being alone.

“What is going on?” you asked when you were in the hallway. “Is he okay whatever your name is again?”

“Sheriff Beau Arlen. Call me Beau. Your dad and I had a small conversation. I explained a few things about the change and dynamic to him, told him I’d keep an eye out for you since he’s a tad paranoid. S’all good.”

You stopped, Beau leaving his hand on your back. He paused by your side, turning his head down. “I may have…sternly explained that you are the exact same as you were and that he can’t keep you locked away from the world. You’re a grown woman, you deserve to live your life.”

“And by sternly explained you mean scared the shit out of him.” Beau said nothing, only walked down the hall, urging you along. “Where are we going?”

“Home. I know you were discharged but you should still relax. I have some things to do but I’ll be by later on today.” 

“You don’t have to come back. I’ll figure everything out on my own-“ Beau held up a hand before stopping in front of you, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans.

“Darlin’, I made your father a promise and I intend on keeping it.” He looked past you, licking his lips and making your nose twitch in response. “But first, we need to make a pit stop.”

You woke with a groan, jerking up in bed. A quick glance at the clock showed it was early afternoon. Ah, right. Beau dropped you off with some medicine and a book on the Change or so everybody referred to it. You’d taken a pill and fallen asleep a few hours ago, your body warm but otherwise feeling okay.

You clutched your blanket to your chest when something loud crashed beyond the bedroom door. 

“I can’t believe they let you carry a gun,” said a young voice. 

“Next time you get kidnapped, I’m letting them keep you,” he grumbled. 

“Funny, dad,” the voice deadpanned. “Wasn’t it Cassie who found me actually? Hm?”

“Eh, eh, eh. Stop with the sass, child and help me make this.”

“Why are you helping this random lady so much anyways?”

“Just…cause it’s nice.” Your stomach grumbled loudly and you decided to risk exiting to the main part of the cabin. The door squeaked like it always did, two pairs of eyes on you when you poked your head out. “Y/N. How are you doing, darlin’?”

“Fine. Why are you in my house?” you said, glancing at the teenage girl standing in the sad excuse for a kitchen off to the side.

“Did you break into her house?” she asked, Beau looking back at her with a glare. 

“Of course I didn’t.” He punched the bridge of his nose. “I told Y/N I would be back later.” 

The girl looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “I apologize for him. He gets a little too into helping people sometimes.”

“Why don’t you go on the porch and do your math homework?” She stared at him for a moment, shaking her head with a smirk. “Emily…”

“I said nothing. But your scent did,” she sang song before slipping outside. Beau rubbed the back of his neck, a strong whiff of a nice scent, his scent, hitting you. 

“Ignore her,” he said, still rubbing his neck nervously. You hummed, taking a seat at the two person table by the wall. “I hope you don’t mind we’re here. I figured you’d be hungry and Emily’s also an omega so she offered to talk to you if you’d like. She presented last year so she’s familiar with the growing pains.”

“You mean second puberty?” He chuckled, putting a casserole dish that didn’t belong to you in the tiny camping oven.

“It might not seem like it but we got off easy. You and I we just got a little something extra to figure out over a couple of months. She’s got to go through the whole deal.” You hummed, Beau wiping his hands off on a towel by the water pump and spinning around with a smile that made you relax. “So. How’s the pain?”

“Alright. Honestly it feels like a normal period, I’m just a bit warmer than usual.” You frowned, Beau’s face matching it. “You can skip the biology lesson since they gave me a run down at the hospital.”

“Will do. You get used to people’s scents pretty quick. It’s like personal deodorant and yes, you still need to use deodorant,” he teased, the air becoming thick. “Sorry. I’m intruding, aren’t I?”

“Well…if you were going to hurt me, you had your chance last night.” 

“Those men…” He glanced down, stepping forward to grab hold of the back of the opposite chair and lean over top. Green eyes met yours, worry etched in them. “Did they explain the change to you at all, like what happened ten years ago, or just the body stuff?”

“No. I only remember people were getting sick and then my dad got us out of the city after my brother called. I’d just graduated college. I was meant to start my first adult job in NYC. So I don’t know what happened, only that my dad said the world was too dangerous for me.”

Beau pulled the chair and sat, biting his bottom lip. “It’s believed a highly contagious virus spread rapidly across the globe. A pandemic. This wasn’t an ordinary virus though. It didn’t cause illness, only…activated something existing within human DNA. What you remember from TV is when people got infected with the virus. I was living in Texas at the time. Me, Em, her mom, we all were floored. My ex was very warm but her fever never spiked high. Myself, I was exhausted. I could barely move for three days. Emily thankfully slept through most of it. She was only a little girl so it didn’t hit her as badly. When I woke up the fourth day, my ex was doing better and I felt much stronger.”

“And you had that thing on your dick?” He chuckled. “How the hell does that even work without absolutely destroying the person on the receiving end.”

“Because you changed too. Yours are just not as easy to see. You know child birth complications has gone down significantly the past decade. Women report far less pain too. We just…evolved as a species a little fast if you want to think of it that way. Most of us. There are a few people that were lacking in the genome sequence to be affected but by and large, we all became Alpha, Beta or Omega.”

You crossed your arms, tilting your chin up. “My brother is a doctor in Africa, one of the first places that got sick. He told us people were like animals. Biting each other in the damn neck and then I never heard from him again. Anything to say about that?”

He looked up, scrunching up his face. “Well you don’t seem to have a phone around here but I will track down your brother for you. Um, we may have also…gotten physical proof that we have souls and biting an omega in their bonding gland connects them to the alpha that bit them on a metaphysical level but it only takes if it’s consensual on both sides and fun fact the bond will break if one person doesn’t love the other one anymore, like a divorce, not that I would…know what a broken bond feels like,” he rambled out, clearing his throat. You blinked slowly, Beau’s face stuck in that awkward position. “I overshared, didn’t I.”

“Just…a lot to take in,” you said, rubbing your own neck and feeling a tight, hard lump. “Is that my-”

“Yes. It’s where our scents come from and I uh, I got to head back to work,” he said, quickly standing. He adjusted his pants and you noticed the bulge, giving him a glare. “No! No, it’s not…Emily!”

“What?” she groaned, giving you friendly smile when she came inside.

“I need to check in at the station. Please explain…things to Y/N. Heats, scents, true mates, that sort of thing. I’ll be back soon.” He left quickly, Emily raising her eyebrows.

“He’s kind of weird,” you said, Emily laughing before giving you a smirk. “What?”

“Now I get why he’s being so extra. You’re his true mate.” You put a hand on your head, holding up a finger. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything.”

Three hours later, you were more confused than ever. Emily was only a teenager but she was a smart girl and had explained the change, what being an omega meant and all of it. You were stuck on one little tidbit though. She could smell that her dad, your sheriff, was connected to you. Like soulmates connected.

What. The. Fuck.

You were still trying to process that information when his red truck pulled up, Beau waving awkwardly to where you and Emily sat on the front porch.

“Emily, pack up your stuff. We should let Y/N-”

“No, no, Alpha boy. This is how it works,” you said, freezing him in his place. His shift shifted wildly, strong and heated, musky with need. “I know why you smell so good. Were you planning on telling me you were not in fact just being nice last night but you were physically incapable of leaving my side at the hospital. On account of the whole fated mates thing.”

Beau’s gaze shot to Emily, his eyes turning stern. “Oh no big boy. You don’t get to be mad at her.”

He put his hands on his hips, sighing to himself. “Would you like to have dinner with us?”

You felt like you had whiplash. Wasn’t he just about to argue something like you were too new to this world? Or no, we’re not mates, I was only helping. Or that it was only affection? Or that he couldn’t know?

“Would you like to have dinner with us?” he repeated.

“Wow,” said Emily besides you. “Her face is literally the what the fuck emoji right now.”

“Emily,” gritted out Beau. You held up a hand, Emily taking it and walking you down the two front steps. 

“Have you ever been to Donno’s diner? Oh my god, they have the best food. Come on, let’s-”

“I’m sorry, I’m not…” you gestured to yourself. You were in sweatpants that were a decade old, a plain t-shirt and your hair was a frazzled sweaty mess. Beau gently took your hand from Emily, his touch telling your body to calm down, that everything was okay.

“If you’d like we can eat in private but you do not need to hide from the world anymore. You are gorgeous just as you are,” he said, voice soft. Emily tilted her head, looking him up and down.

“He totally means that too. I can smell it.” Beau growled, Emily returning a cheeky grin. “Do you want me to leave so you two can bone?”

“In the car ladies, in the car,” he said, grabbing your shoulders and walking you towards the driver side as Emily got inside. “I apologize for the sassy child.”

“Don’t. I like the sassy child,” you grinned, Beau’s face lighting up.

“Really?” You hummed, Beau turning bashful. “She’s a good kid.”

“Seems that way.” You put your hands in your pockets, inhaling deeply. “Today’s been…”

“I understand.” You glanced back at the cabin, frowning. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

“I’ve always hated this place.” His large hand interlaced with yours, squeezing the digits. “I don’t want to be alone tonight but I’m not ready for…this yet. I will be but I need to…live a little first. If that makes sense.”

Beau only smirked, a glint in his eyes. “I have an idea.”

Three Weeks Later

“Morning,” said Beau, knocking on the door to the air streamer, aka your new living arrangements for the time being. Beau and Emily had a home built last year after her abduction, something to give her some more stability. With that meant moving his air streamer onto part of the property and having it sit empty for the past six months.

Which meant it was perfect for you to be close to them, you were in town for your new job and you could easily drive to visit your dad at his rehab center. Beau had even offered to let him stay in the house when he got released but thankfully your brother was in contact again and he was going to take dad with him to Seattle where he’d been the past few years.

“Howdy sheriff,” you said as you opened the door, leaning against the door jam. He offered a cup of coffee and your heart fluttered. God, he was so cute how he did that every morning.

“Emily insists on you joining us for breakfast at Donno’s and I couldn’t tell the poor girl no so we’ll be ready to go in fifteen.” He looked up through his lashes, a smidge of cockiness in it. 

“Oh, we’re just going in fifteen, huh?” He shrugged, a strong whiff of his scent curling under your nose. Beau licked his lips as you absently scratched your neck. “I’m still in my pajamas.”

“You mean my pajamas,” he said, reaching out, tugging on the end of the oversized shirt that you’d taken from his room last night. Your stomach jumped as his knuckles grazed your bare skin, Beau stepping up into the airstream, making you walk back. A large hand rested gently on your hip, thumb stroking the skin lightly under the fabric of his shirt. “I had fun last night.”

“Me too.” You placed your hands on his chest, grinning up at him. “From what I’ve gathered, true mates bond immediately most of the time so I really appreciate you being patient-”

“Whoa,” he said, taking your arms in his hands, running them up to your shoulders. “Let’s get something clear, darlin’. You will never thank me for respecting your wishes and doing the right thing. You’re owed those things and sweetheart, I will wait as long as you need me to.” 

“I never met anyone like you before.” 

“Good,” he chuckled, leaning down and letting you press your lips to his. “Take as much time as you need to get ready.”

“I just need a few,” you said, reluctantly letting him pull away. “Hey Beau?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I lost ten years of my life? Because I let my dad convince me the world wasn’t safe?” He pursed his lips, leaning back against the small counter.

“There certainly was a spike in violent crimes those first six months. There was a lot of fear. We went into a lockdown, loosened restrictions as the science caught up. Emily was homeschooled that first year and I barely let my ex leave the house. But we figured out that the evil bastards that’d do those sorts of things were always the type of people to do those things. It’s like how-”

“You’d love to bite my bond gland and so would I deep down but you’re not jumping my bones to do it because that’s not the kind of guy you are,” you interjected. He smiled softly. “It’s hard to feel like I didn’t lose time, you know?”

“I understand that perspective. But…I didn’t move here until just last year and there was a lot going on with that camping disaster and Emily and my ex and I wasn’t ready for you either until recently. This is how and when we were meant to find each other. We’re soulmates, we didn’t lose any time at all.” He reached out a hand and cupped your cheek. You nuzzled it, placing your hand over top. “I thought you had to get ready.”

“I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “My heat’s coming up soon. I like you being here.”

“Stay in the house with me when it starts. It’ll help.” He kissed your forehead, a strong sense of calm washing over you. “Don’t take too long, omega.”

“I’ll be right there, Alpha. Promise.”

________________

A/N: Read The Change from Beau's perspective here!

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Are You Sure?! Episode 4 observations

8.5/10 ☆

When will Army cancel Jimin and Jungkook? When will ot7 jikookers and vminers and vminkookers make call out posts for them? Jimin and Jungkook should express that all encompassing love for the entire members of their group all the time. Pointing out throughout the entire first day that Tedros is their guest or that they he should leave if he doesn't like it, that he's looking for attention or that AYS is their show, not for other people, was giving mean girls behavior. How is that nice? They love their guest but they're shading him. I think we should totally cancel Jikook!

But how the tables have turned once the kid that tagged along went to bed and the adults could play. Oh, we were back to Connecticut vibes once again. Which are basically the usual jikook vibes in where every little game needs to have a hint of flirtation (I wonder what Jimin would have done if Jungkook wouldn't have warned him about the glass part in the pool? Jimin was in slytherin mode the minute he took off his clothes).

From enganging in intricate rituals to touch each other (as always) to go through a long negotation over eating ramyeon or not (what's ppeuriri got to do with everything? I love their inside jokes and hate them at the same time. Let me in!!!! I was waiting for the bj brothers and when they deliver even some innuendos, it riles me up).

I'm not a BL fan of regular watcher, but this looks like the beginning of one of those steamy scenes where they show them fuck on some balcony or in the pool. Just sayin'.

Say yes and eat the damn ramyeon, Jungkook!

I like Jikook's nighttime routines. Although so far they have been quite tame, no drinking or other shenanigans. They do teeth brushing yoga or they cuddle up and talk about work and their schedules before bed. And there's no bed without Jimin's legs all over Jungkook (I'm sure he must be dreaming of those thighs at this point).

Can it get more domestic than Jungkook talking to his mother and her already knowing about their schedule?

I have a feeling she and Jimin text each other regularly. Oh, if only they had filmed just a bit during their Chuseok weekend in Busan (I do assume Jimin went too, but 🤷‍♀️). I need to see Jimin with Jungkook's mother. She would dot on him and Jimin would be so respectful but shy and oh, I get all giddy just thinking about him. Busan boys, please visit your home town one day and share that with the world!

I refuse to accept the existence of Jimkook, sounds ugly, forced, it doesn't roll off the tongue. But Jikook? Yeah, that works. And they were in full jikook mode on the boat. That embarrassing CPR manouver by Jimin is yet another sign that they will remain that cringe couple. How did Tedros survive on that boat? No wonder he took a step back from all that up until the end.

The entire afternoon on the boat really gave us a glimpse into their original plans and how once again, they just click. They never push it, they want to do the same things and they have fun. And we still got the cuddle and drawing whales out of clouds without that moment turning into something else.

When Jimin is in top shape, without any other illness looming over their vacation, then we know we're in for some entertainment. He's much more engaging and laughs at everything while Jungkook is right there next to him, ready to joint whatever Jimin wants to do.

(Who would have thought that Tedros headbanging the first day would make him take a step back and allow them to do their own thing how they originally planned? I have lots to say about him, but for another post, there's too many nice things that happened and I focus on that at first)

And now, a few more highlights:

What is this? Cutie Jiminie who can also get angry while stuffing his face with rice and noodles and chicken all at the same time? You are what you eat. Or whom 🤭

Jungkook has always been an expert at such lines, how can Jimin still be surprised after a decade? That's what you get. You have the tattoed guy who's really into bikes and Jimin who is clearly into all that, but he's gotta take the lame lines too.

[cumikering]

F1 John Price x reader 3

2.8k | fluff, suggestive John Price was not jealous of a lap dog (part 1) (part 4)

“So let me get this straight,” you said, plating the sliced loaf on the counter. “You love berries.”

John hummed as he stepped closer, turning you to him by the hips.

“You love to nap and you’re crazy about salmon.”

Crazy about you too.

You scratched his bearded jaw. “You’re a bear, aren’t you?”

He laughed as he leaned in. You smiled against his lips.

The both of you made breakfast. You thanked him again for the loaf, saying it paired wonderfully with tea. In the sunlight, you gazed at him with those pretty eyes, smile sweet, that his heart skipped a beat.

There was something about you, or your place, or the quiet morning that was like a warm embrace to him. Safe. Serene. It was easy to be with you, like there was nothing that could go wrong when you were with him.

You looked out the window and he revelled in the way the diffused light caressed your skin. The sun had grown warmer.

“Need to go to the shops later today,” you muttered.

“I can take you.”

You turned to him, beaming. “There’s a small park I like nearby.”

When he pulled up, it was then he realised he’d forgotten his cap at your place. He reached for the pocket behind your seat, lucky to have kept a spare team cap there.

“Orange looks good on you.” Your fingers curled over the crook of his arm.

He turned to you smiling up at him. I think it would look even better on you. “Yeah? We call it papaya at McLaren.”

You let out a small laugh. “That’s adorable.”

You took a short stroll at the quiet park, his strong hand engulfed yours, and headed to the shops before it got too cold. He hauled the shopping to and from his car, and he swore he fully intended to get out of your hair after he helped you put away your shopping, but when you pulled out two mugs for tea… Well, maybe you didn’t mind if he tarried a little.

At the end of the night, John gathered his toiletries and zipped his luggage up.

“You always come to me, John. Let me return the favour,” you said at the door.

“My place is a bit far.”

“All the more reason why I should, no?”

“I really don’t mind.” He brought your hand to his lips. “Maybe next time when we're in the area?”

You gave him a quick kiss and he pulled his cap on before walking away. He hoped you didn’t mind that he left the orange one on your dining table. You’d look better in it.

January days crawled into a pattern. John picked you up from work for dinner two, three times a week, staying over on the weekends. Seeing you, no matter how short always made him smile.

John, you don’t have to pick me up. I’m closing today. Sophie’s ill so I sent her home. See you tomorrow?

No. See you later

You poor thing. You’d be too tired to cook dinner. He could buy you something instead, guaranteed to taste good – you deserved it after a long day, but he wanted to show his appreciation too. You’d taught him how to cook upon his request, and it was his time to show you what he’d learnt (hopefully). But as he was swinging by the shops for your favourite protein, an idea struck.

When he pushed the door of your shop open, you were wiping down the counters. He pulled his mask down and greeted you with a kiss. His beard had grown full, and he found himself addicted to the way you nails scratched his jaw when your lips met.

He insisted on helping you with the washing – it was the least he could do for his favourite lady, but not before cornering you against the counter, lifting you by the waist onto it and savouring your glossy lips a little longer. You tasted even better when you giggled, your fingers digging into his biceps, making him hum.

In the car, he pulled out the Tupperware of sub sandwiches from his backseat. “Eat up, love. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“You made these?”

He nodded, glancing at you. “I hope you like it.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The streets had simmered down and the drive to the other side of town was shorter than expected. The doorman greeted you warmly, swinging the door open to a vast lobby with a classic grand chandelier, accentuating the lustrous marble floors. He picked up a small bag from the concierge and pulled out an access card.

“Oh, it’s such a nice place, John,” you said as you stepped into the lift.

He pressed the button to the top floor and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his side. “My manager lives here. I like the view.”

John had called her earlier as he drove to you.

“Kate, do you mind if I borrow your spotting scope tonight?”

“Let me guess.” She let out an amused chuckle. “You’re at the coffee shop and you need me to deliver it in half an hour?”

Kate had started teasing John ever since the GTI favour. Always self-sufficient, he wasn’t one to bother anyone unless it was necessary. Someone had to make him act that way, for him to go out of his way to ask for favours, especially something so trivial.

It might be off season and they didn’t have to talk about work nearly as often, but they’d always meet for a meal once or twice a month with Kate’s wife. Not this time though. She didn’t miss the way he only responded during working hours. Kate didn’t press, but it was a slip of the tongue when he said he’d made plans with you when she suggested dinner one weekend.

“I’d like to go to your rooftop actually.”

“Your balcony has a far better view.”

“Well, your building is quieter.”

“You can’t hear anything from the 30th floor.”

A beat. “Can I borrow the scope, please, Kate?”

“Yeah, alright, sure. What time are you swinging by? We’re going out for dinner.”

“Yeah, no worries. Could you leave it at the concierge for John Sloane?”

She chuckled. “Sloane? Like your mum’s maiden name? They know who-“ There was a pause. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

John could imagine Kate’s pitying look. They’d been working closely for years, even before he got into F1. A karting champion in her younger days, she was his mentor before becoming his manager. Naturally, she was privy to his relationships, especially the one which was flaunted all over the media.

She had encouraged him to play along, stomach it. You can’t run from this if you’re in the business, she’d said, and she was right. It was evidently favourable for his career, until it wasn’t for his feelings anymore.

Perhaps Kate had been callous to his discomfort, something she had apologised for numerous times. She had since said nothing about his personal relationships, not like there was much to say though. He couldn’t be too cautious of who to let in.

He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“It’s none of my business, John, but that doesn’t sound right.”

“I know, I know. I’m just… Taking it slow. I’m telling her before the season starts.”

John pulled the beanbag chairs from under the canopy. He plopped down, tugging on your wrist to sit between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you lose to his chest before you looked through the scope.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Someone came in in a McLaren polo today, said he was getting cookies for his boss. It was my first time seeing someone with a mohawk in real life, but he definitely pulled it off.”

He laughed. “Wait, let me guess. He’s Scottish?”

“Yes! You know him?”

“His name is John too, but we call him Johnny or Soap.”

“Soap? Like a bar of soap?”

“Yeah. One time, someone got a box of decorative soaps – I think it was macaron? He mistakenly took a bite out of it.”

You laughed and lowered the scope, turning to him. “Are you serious?”

“To be fair they did look hyper-realistic and smelled wonderful. But I like to think I wouldn’t have been fooled.”

You held the scope back up, the smile still on your lips. “I didn’t think you’d know him. I said a friend works there.”

“A friend, huh.” He kissed the top of your head. “I hope I’ll be more than that one day.”

“You are.”

He heard the tease in your voice. “You are to me too. I like you a lot.” Too much.

It had only been two months since the day you made him his double-shot Americano, but it felt much longer. Seeing you the past weeks had been the highlight of his time off, allowing him a glimpse of your everyday life.

Despite disliking driving outside the track, with London’s dreadful traffic at that, he didn’t mind at all dropping you off work and picking you up again. It was rude how soon he daydreamed about being a part of your life, but kissing you at your door at the end of the night was the best part of his day.

“John, you live around here, right? Should we just go to yours?”

“Not tonight, love. Place is a mess.”

“I don’t mind. You said we’d go when we’re in the area.”

Shit, he’d forgotten. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a guest. Next time?”

You hummed, pulling his arms tighter around yourself.

John, once more, breathed a sigh of relief. But he’d meant it – he would tell you soon. He just needed some more time.

You started wearing his papaya cap on rainy days, and on that gloomy Friday, John decided on kebab for dinner. You were supposed to sit at the park, but the cloudy sky didn’t look promising. Instead, you ate in the car before heading home.

Before he exited his car, he placed the cap over your head, making you smile. The colour really looked wonderful on you.

Near the building entrance, you stopped in your tracks.

“John, do you hear that?”

“What?”

“Like a puppy whining- There!”

The noise was faint but he heard it then. You followed it to the SUV at the end of the lot with John trailing. Under the bonnet, a small dog was curled up, soaked and trembling in the cold.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said, stooping down and inching your hand out. “You must be lost.”

The brown pooch whined louder and made the slightest hint of a scoot towards you amidst the shivers of its body. It was all it took for you to scoop it into your arms.

“I’ll get you warm-” You inspected the glinting tag on his collar, flipping it over. “Holden,” you muttered. “John, could you help me call his owner while I dry him?”

“Of course.”

You rushed to the bathroom to dry the pup off. Later, with the collar and his phone in hand, John cracked open the door.

“They’re not picking up, but I sent a text. Hopefully I’ll get a reply soon.”

Holden stood on the toilet lid as you knelt down to blow dry him. John sat next to you, watching how gentle you were to the strange dog as you fluffed him up, muttering reassuring words at him. He stopped shaking.

You switched off the hairdryer.

“Wow, it’s like he put on a few pounds.” John stroked his now blond-grey fur. He looked up at him with doe eyes and licked his hand. “What breed is he?”

You laughed, rising to your feet and scooping him into your arms. You scratched the back of his ear and his tail swayed at the attention. “Yorkshire Terrier. He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

Just like you are. He followed you out to the living room. “I’ll get him water.”

You and John lounged on the couch, Holden napping on your chest, finally warm and cosy wrapped up in one of your old towels. You caressed him mindlessly as you watched the telly.

John Price was not jealous of a fluffy lap dog. It was silly to think so far, but he thought he’d love a pet with you, something to take care of together. Your tenderness made him fuzzy.

It was then his phone rang on the coffee table. It was the owner.

You headed to the address given, just a few minutes away from your place. As you walked up to the door, Holden’s tail went wild. You cooed at him and a woman answered the door.

A little girl rushed past and gave your midriff a big hug. “You found him! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You stroked her hair and stooped to hand the pup to her.

“Thanks so much for bringing him back, love,” the woman said to you before nodding at John. “It was my fault, I left the door open and he slipped away yesterday. We were worried sick.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I found him. He must have been so scared.”

“Here, please accept this.” She took your hand and clasped it over a wad of bills.

“Oh- No, no, I can’t accept that. It was my pleasure. I’m just happy he’s alright now.”

The woman smiled. “Thank you so much, love, really.”

“You be good now, Holden.” You patted his head, and he let out an excited bark before you turned.

At the end of the night, John climbed in bed with you, pressing his chest against your back.

He planted a few kisses on your neck as he mumbled, “I got you this.” He reached over, presenting you a small, custom bear plush wearing an orange cap.

You turned to him, beaming. “Is that supposed to be you?” You ran a finger over the cookie on the bear’s paw.

“Maybe.” He smiled.

“I love it.” You gave him a peck. “What should I call him?

“What about JP?” He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“I never got to ask what that stands for,” you whispered against his lips.

“Jean Pierre. You got it right the first time.” He laughed. “My mates call me that sometimes.”

“Have you all got nicknames?”

“Some of us, yes. There’s Gaz, Ghost, and you already know Soap. My manager gets called Watcher.”

“They all sound so fun. Would love to meet them one day.”

“They are. They’re good people.” They’d love you.

Seeing his teammate’s recent obsession with cookies, Kyle didn’t take long to connect the dots. While John was initially reluctant to show your photos to Kyle and the others, he couldn’t hide his grin when Johnny said you looked even better in real life.

“She gave me a free coffee, said she’s got a mate who works at McLaren. So it was you, Cap. How modest of her to say,” he’d said.

They asked when they’d get to meet you, the mystery cookie lady John Price couldn’t stop talking about. Except Kate, the only one who knew why you hadn’t met his closest people yet.

A pause. Your warm breath tickled his skin in the silence.

“Thanks for JP. Now I’ll have you with me every night.”

“You can always ask,” he grunted.

“What if I never want you to leave?”

“Then I won’t, love.”

“You promise?” you murmured.

“I promise.”

It was stupid, really, to let himself feel so much, so fast. But he couldn’t help but want more and more. He felt enough with you, for you, like he didn’t have to be anybody else but some bloke from Liverpool.

He couldn’t keep doing this to you, someone so special to him.

You pulled him close, the small puffs of breath he knocked out of you warm against his shoulder, nails raking deliciously down his back. Just like in his daydreams, the beautiful sounds you let out made his skin tingle and sear. Was he the one making you feel this way?

He dipped his head, breath hot and heavy, grunting into your ear. You made his head spin. He’d never get tired of the way his name slipped past your soft lips, the way you caressed his face, or the way you planted wet kisses on his neck.

He knew it right then. You wouldn’t break his heart.

John sighed, the thin layer of sweat almost gone from his skin. On his bare chest, you slept soundly in his shirt and the smile wouldn’t leave his lips as he buried his nose in your hair. He wanted this with you, always.

He’d tell you in the morning. But tonight, with lungs full of your sweet scent, he’d sleep in peace knowing nothing would change tomorrow.

Masterlist Ex bf John Price

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@eve-lie @hope69world @asbestos-n-asbesties

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Hi I hope you’re well 😊 I’m here to request your thoughts on Tommy Shelby as a father. Like how many kids you’d think he would have had if he only had one love interest (no falling in love with Grace or marrying Lizzie). Or if you think he’d be a girl or boy dad (personally i’d like to think he’d be a girl dad and have a big family haha). You can make this headcanon or just simply respond to this ask however you’d like! Thank you for taking the time to read and answer 🥰

Thomas Shelby as a Father

Tommy x Fem!Reader

Trope: Wait till your father gets home Warnings: Angst, spoilers for most of the series, period-typical sexism, references to past ab-se.

What we see of Tommy as a father is that he's distant and seemingly detached. This, I feel, is because of his trauma in losing Grace and his growing obsession with obtaining power.

We do see that Tommy is aware of his children's emotional state but seems unable to comfort his son. He goes as far as to have Arthur be the one to talk to his son about why he had to shoot his horse.

Tommy clearly cares about his children. He runs through a field of landmines to save his son, when he had almost stepped on one to purposely end his own life. Tommy goes nearly mad when he finds out Alfie Solomons was involved with the enemy that kidnapped his son. He shot Alfie for that betrayal with the intent to kill.

When Ruby became ill and he thought was all due to a curse, Tommy hunted the woman down. He went on a bloody rampage because he thought it would save her. With all of this, we know he is a loving father. But without Grace, he doesn't seem to know how to show that love.

Let's say that there is no Grace, only you, and that no sapphire is ever put around your neck.

That Thomas might be different than the one we saw parenting Charles and Ruby. I think he would want more than two children. I think he would be the sort of man who would say "one is enough," but really he wants four.

He would never raise his voice in his home without good reason. Tommy knows what its like to have a father that rules through fear and honey. He won't be kind only when he wants something. He won't make his children afraid of him.

Personally, I do see him as prime girl-dad material. Like he would have one son and three girls. Regardless of the birthing order, he calls the boy his "heir," but spoils the girls. They each have their own horse, a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, and freedom to do literally whatever they want. He has opened his briefcase to find dollies and teacups from your youngest girl's tea set before. She thought he would be lonely at work.

His girls would be the sort to follow around staff and ask them intrusive questions. Tommy would not be immune. His daughters would probably ask him questions like: "Do you not grow hair on the back of your hand daddy? Is that why it's only on top?" At least one of his daughters would have a "I'm totally a witch," phase where she's flinging curses just like he used to. Only with her, it's cute because she's only nine.

The only son of Thomas Shelby would be safely tucked under his wing. At your imploring, he would take your boy on long car rides or out into town without his sisters to bond. The boy has a lot of pressure on him to succeed, Tommy doesn't always sympathize with that.

All four of his children would be little hellions. He would be dragged to see their school's headmaster on a near weekly basis. To the point where he isn't always sure which of his kids is in trouble sometimes. He just drops a donation to the school and the problem goes away. That's not to say your children are bratty or terribly spoiled. Well, they are, but not unbearably so...

Tommy makes sure his children understand where he came from. He brings them all to the Cut to watch the ships come through. Loves to leave them at Charlie's yard for an afternoon of mischief and bonding time with "Grandpa Charlie." They also get dropped off at Aunt Polly's home for weekends every now and again. The girls always come back with a new swear word.

They are new money, not old money. There are those who will look down upon them based on this alone. He makes sure his children are educated and well-rounded individuals. Tommy often worries about the state of the Shelby Empire after he dies. You remind him that he "isn't allowed to die," before you say so.

Tommy is still more distant than you would like him to be. He's so focused on his goals, it's like he forgets all about Arrow House and the family that lives there. The oldest two girls have said as much to his face once before. He took the family on holiday after that. You knew he would go right back to long nights in the office, but it was still sweet.

Life with him is hardly perfect, but it's closer to it than you could have with anybody else. And that's enough.