#... No... Wait.... THEY ARE OUR MOM AND DAD!!

[ashthesalamipiece]

This might be a bit specific but I’d like to request a fic where reader and Bakugou have twin boys who are already teenagers in like high school age (they can have more if you want, but these two are the oldest ones) where one of them does nicely academically, behaves properly, never disobeys his parents and the other —who’s the younger twin— is the complete opposite, basically a teenage Bakugou who likes to revolt and worry his mom and dad.

Anyway, it would go something like this; it’s like in the middle of a school night, maybe 2 to 3pm and reader feels like something is wrong and goes to check on her children finding out that the younger twin sneaked out. She wakes Bakugou up and they wait for him while he tries to calm her worries down. When he gets home they bicker until it turns into a full argument, both guys are screaming at each other and the son lets something out about how he thinks reader is not a good mother, that he hates her and that she favors his brother more (something like that) she has to hold her husband down for him not to jump on their kid and he runs to his room, she calms the man down and goes to talk to her boy and they talk, even with him being reluctant at first he apologizes and things turn out fine, but he was kind of an asshole still so she can’t help but cry when it’s just her and Bakugou.

I’m so sorry if this is too much I just needed to get it out of my mind, it will be totally fine if you prefer to ignore this love your writing💕

Thank you so much♡

enjoy♡

"We’re Still Learning"

Bakugou x Reader | Family Drama | Angst & Comfort | Long One-Shot

It was 2:46 AM when you woke up, heart pounding for no clear reason.

You sat up in bed, eyes scanning the dark room. Katsuki slept beside you, one arm stretched across your side protectively, his face soft in sleep — a rare sight. But something gnawed at your chest. An itch in your ribs. A mother’s instinct.

You slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and padded down the hallway. First stop: the twins’ room.

The older one, Haru, was sound asleep, arm flung over his head, mouth slightly open. But the other bed — Kaito’s — was empty.

Blankets pulled back. Window slightly cracked.

Your stomach dropped.

You rushed back into the room and shook Katsuki awake. “Katsuki—wake up.”

He jolted up immediately, eyes sharp even in half-sleep. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Kaito’s gone.”

It only took two words.

He was out of bed in seconds, tugging on a hoodie, checking the hallway, the back door, the garage. You called his phone. No answer.

“God, what if something happened to him—what if he’s out with those older kids again—”

“Oi, stop,” Bakugou growled gently, grabbing your shoulders. “Breathe, baby. We’ll wait. He’ll come back. You know he always does.”

But your mind spiraled. Kaito had been distant lately. Angry. Cold. He snapped more. He was only fifteen, but it felt like he carried the weight of the world on his back and refused to let anyone help.

You sat on the couch, fingers twisted in your shirt. Katsuki sat beside you, holding your hand, his grip steady but firm.

“I should’ve seen this coming,” you whispered.

“Tch. Don’t start blamin’ yourself for his shit. We’re doin’ our best.”

You didn’t answer. You just stared at the clock.

3:38 AM.

The front door creaked open.

Kaito stepped inside, hoodie up, earbuds in, expression hard.

You shot to your feet. “Kaito—!”

“Don’t start,” he muttered, brushing past you.

Bakugou’s voice cracked through the room like thunder. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Out.”

“Don’t get smart with me, brat. Do you know what time it is?! Your mom's been losin’ it over here!”

“Yeah, well, what else is new?” Kaito said, loud. “It’s not like she actually listens when I’m here anyway.”

You blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You only care about Haru. You always have,” he snapped, voice rising. “He gets better grades, he talks more, he’s easier, right? So why would you ever wanna deal with me?”

“What?! Kaito—”

“I hate coming home to this! I hate how you look at me like I’m always the problem!”

Bakugou surged forward, voice like a war drum. “You don’t talk to her like that—”

“Or what?!” Kaito shouted back, stepping toward him. “You’ll hit me?! Do it! Just get it over with!”

“Katsuki—!” You grabbed your husband around the waist, stopping him before he lunged. His muscles were coiled, trembling with restraint, jaw clenched so tight you could hear it creak.

“Let me go,” he growled.

“No,” you whispered. “Don’t be that kind of father.”

Kaito’s eyes widened—not in fear, but in challenge. But when he realized you weren’t letting go, that Katsuki wasn’t going to blow, he scoffed and turned on his heel.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “I should’ve stayed gone.”

He slammed the door behind him.

---

Ten minutes passed before Katsuki finally moved. He sat down hard on the couch, hands on his knees, breathing heavy. You knelt in front of him, touching his face.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“No. I’m sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I almost lost it. He said that shit about you and I just—”

You kissed his knuckles. “I know. You were protecting me. But he’s hurting. I need to go talk to him.”

“I don’t know how you’re so calm.”

“I’m not,” you said, standing. “But I’m his mom. If I fall apart, he’ll never learn how to put himself back together.”

---

You knocked softly before entering Kaito’s room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, staring at the floor.

“Can I come in?”

Shrug.

You walked in anyway.

Silence.

“I don’t love Haru more,” you said quietly. “I love you both. Differently. Equally. But I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.”

He scoffed. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” you said, kneeling in front of him. “You said you hate me.”

He flinched. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Then what did you mean?”

He stayed quiet for a long time.

“I don’t know,” he muttered eventually. “I just… I always feel like I’m messing up. And you’re always disappointed. Even when you’re not saying anything, it’s just… there. In your face.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Kaito, I’m not disappointed in you. I’m scared. Because I see you pulling away and I don’t know how to reach you.”

His eyes welled up. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.”

He wiped his face angrily with his sleeve. “I don’t know how to not be angry all the time.”

Your heart shattered. “You’re allowed to feel angry. But you’re not allowed to use that anger to hurt the people who love you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just… I feel so lost.”

You wrapped your arms around him, and for a moment, he let himself be held.

“I’ve got you,” you said. “We’ve got you. Even when you’re lost.”

---

Later, when the house was quiet again, you crawled back into bed beside Katsuki. He was awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“How is he?” he asked.

You let out a breath. “Better. Still angry. Still hurt. But… he apologized.”

He turned toward you, pulling you into his chest. “You’re too good at this,” he mumbled.

You didn’t answer.

Because the moment his arms wrapped around you, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled. You buried your face in his shirt and cried quietly—out of relief, exhaustion, and heartbreak.

Katsuki stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“We’re not perfect,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

He held you tighter. “None of us do. But we’re not quittin’. Ever.”

And in that moment, with the weight of the night settling over you both, you realized something: being a parent didn’t mean having all the answers. It just meant loving your kids enough to keep showing up.

Even when it’s 3 AM.

Even when it hurts.

Even when they say they hate you.

You’d still be there.

Always.

[fanggrali]

Free Flying

Summary: Summer was rough, being stalked wasn't pleasant. You felt isolated, alone, paranoid. A trip to the astronomy tower one sleepless night may end all that, until you're interrupted. content and warnings: theo nott x ravenclaw!reader, implied suicide attempt, smoking, some swearing, stalking themes, mentions of violence, PTSD. word count: 1.6k

Going about everyday was getting harder and harder. Hogwarts usually makes you bubbly with excitement. What's to come this year? What will I learn? This year is different. This year you couldn't think about anything else than what if's. What if he found me? What if he's just waiting for me? What if he hurt's dad? Mom? Your aunt and uncle? Your baby cousin? There's no rational chance that he can find you at Hogwarts. He's a muggle, he couldn't possibly. But what if he followed me to King's Cross? Could we have exposed wizardry to him? That would mean that no where is safe. You need to watch your back, be wry of everyone and everything.

"There you are!"

Your whole body jerked as the compartment door opened, panic rising and then falling as quick as it came. It was just your friends. Your friends who you couldn't bother to go see this summer because you were worried about him following you to their houses.

"We really missed you this summer," Wyatt said, plopping down on the seat across from you. Maya pulled you into a tight side hug, it was comforting. "You never returned our owls."

"We were starting to worry!" Maya passed me a photo album over to me. It was her own scrapbooking, which she loved to do, documenting everything you'd missed throughout the summer. You felt an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Guilt probably. It's not like you wanted to ignore them, but you couldn't take the risk.

"I know, I'm sorry, really, I am—" The compartment door opened up again, it was the Sweets Trolley. Swallowing a lump in your throat you watch as Maya and Wyatt exchange with the lady, thanking her as they get their chocolate frogs. "Anyways," Wyatt says with his mouth full of chocolate. He tossed the card over his shoulder, landing on top of his jumper. "Where were you?"

"Busy, my dad had a lot of work to do, I was helping him out. At his accounting firm." The lie came easy, almost too easy. You felt like you're becoming a habitual liar. You didn't want that.

The remainder of the train ride you sat in silence, only humming every now and then. You stared out the window, watching the trees, the birds. Not knowing how your friends noticed how you were spaced out, fidgety and jumpy whenever there's loud banging or commotions.

Your stalker never even came face to face with you and yet you were completely and utterly susceptible to him. The letters, the flowers, the dresses he'd say he want you to wear, the pictures he took of you, the phone calls. You were drowning in it all. How much longer could you keep trying to get back up to the surface?

Every Great Hall feast was decadent, but you couldn't enjoy it this time. The uneasy feeling was just making you sick. You picked at a piece of bread, watching around the hall. You know that he isn't here and yet, you couldn't stop yourself from being on the lookout.

Just a table over, you saw nothing out of the ordinary from the Hufflepuffs. Everyone was smiling, laughing, enjoying their meal. You spotted the Weasley twins when they let out a loud cry of laughter, pointing at Seamus who had fallen victim to a pepper imp. There was a small smile the crept up on your face. They never failed to make anyone laugh.

Your eyes continued scanning all the way to the other side of the hall. The Slytherin table wasn't quite as cheerful, however, it was bustling with chatter and bragging as the rich kids flaunted their expensive new supplies.

An owl swooped in, causing more uproar in the hall as it carried a broom all the way down to the Slytherin table. It plopped the it down into none other than Draco Malfoy's lap. He ripped the package open to a brand new broom, no doubt for the upcoming Quidditch season. You watched as he was surrounded by his teammates and they all scattered off to try it out.

Except for Theodore. He sat back down at the table, helping himself to more sausage rolls and mashed potatoes.

Theodore was the classmate that you knew of but never would get the change to get to know. All you knew about him was that he was a pureblood Slytherin who plays Quidditch. You couldn't help but think about how much he knew about you.

Your spine straightened as you shifted uncomfortably, your thoughts immediately going back towards the person who knew way too much about you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You've already lost one hundred and fifty points for Ravenclaw in the first week of classes. This wasn't like you and everyone seemed to know it. Maya kept asking if everything was okay and Wyatt was trying his best to help you by copying his notes out for you. Professor Flitwick even pulled you aside to ask you how you've been.

"I'm fine! Really, I guess I'm just having a hard time adjusting this year." Who were you trying to convince? Them or yourself?

You were anxious all the fucking time and slept horribly which caused you to barely keep your eyes open in classes. You didn't even join any clubs this year either. Nothing but him was on your mind. It made you angry. Why couldn't you just shake it off? Forget about it. He can't find you. He's a muggle, a mere human. You could make him forget you with one wave of your wand.

Yet you found yourself trudging up the steps of the astronomy tower at 3:56 am, exhausted and numb. Nothing will work. He'll find you. You'll forever be scared of him watching you, following you, maybe even eventually capturing you.

The drop was pretty long. If you remembered from the book you read the astronomy tower is over a hundred feet high. Surely you wouldn't survive that, even with magic. The thought scared you. Is this really what it's come to? Are you this pathetic? This weak?

You closed your eyes as you gripped onto the railing, leaning over it as everything sunk in. You just have to climb over—

An awful hacking sound snapped you out of your thoughts as you threw yourself backwards away from the railing. Your back slammed into the post behind you, you breathing staggered as you gasped over at Theo.

He was doubled over, his arm across his mouth as his sounded like he was about to cough up his lungs. You blinked rapidly as his coughing died down and he stood upright to stare at you.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Scare me? You nearly made me fall over the rail!" Well, that was only partly true. "What the fuck are you doing up here?"

"Smoking," he deadpanned, lifting his left hand up to flash the cancer stick. "And I could be asking you the same question, Bella."

Silence filled the air as you both stood there starring at each other. How long has he been here? Did he see you come up? Did he catch on to what you were going to do?

A million thoughts raced through your mind and you felt like you no longer had control of your body. Your vision blurred and your ears started ringing. What was happening? Why did you feel like you could just drop dead any minute? You reached out for the railing to steady yourself, only grasping onto it for a second before you were being pulled away and guided to the ground.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Theo watched as the color drained from your face and your body start to sway. He didn't think about anything he just dropped his cigarette, stomped it out and reached out to you as you reached for the railing. He guided you to the floor, trying to get you to look at him.

"Bella, you're okay," his hands gently came up to hold the base of your head and his right left thumb caressed your cheek, trying to reassure you that it was okay. "Breathe, you're safe, you're okay."

But clearly it wasn't, he just watched you walk up to the edge of the astronomy tower and lean over the rail like you were about to throw yourself off.

"He-he's going to- he-he will, I can't, I can't—"

Theo had no idea what you were going on about, but he felt an unfamiliar feeling grow in his stomach as he watched you mumble incoherently. Whoever this guy is needs to be hexed, he thought. Or sent to Azkaban. Theo couldn't help but scan your arms, he felt sort of relieved when he saw no bruises.

"He isn't here, Bella," he wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and pushed your hair out of your face. He shifted, fully sitting on the ground with you now, pulling you into him. "He can't do anything, I won't let him."

"Promise?"

It was enough to make Theo grind his teeth. Seriously who is this guy? And what did he do to you? Theo nodded, tapping on your back rhythmically. After a few minutes you calmed down and Theo understood that you'd both be here until the sun rises because he wasn't about to leave you alone.

"Maybe I should start hating muggles more too, " you said softly, catching Theo by surprise. A muggle? Fuck, he couldn't do shit then. Your body shook from a stifled laugh. "Stereotypical, sorry."

"I do hate whichever muggle has made you this distraught, Bella."

You smiled, sitting up and finally looking him in the eyes for the first time tonight.

"Take me out on your broom?"

You were full of surprises tonight. Theo tilted his head to the side, questioning why you wanted to go flying and not really sure if that was the best idea, all things considering.

"It's freeing, isn't it?" you asked him. "Flying?"

"Yes, Bella, yes it is."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[minyoongisnewthing]

Han river lullaby chapter nine | myg

Chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, exs to lovers, eventual smut, idol!au, co parents, second chance romance

Chapter warnings: mild suggestive content, mentions of medical situation (humorous)

Word count: 5.2 k roughly

Authors notes: I want to thank everyone for there patience waiting for this chapter life indeed kicked my ass between work emergencies and life just lifting I apologise for leaving you hanging I hope this chapter meets expectations as always let me know what you think in the comments and in my ask box if you’d like as well :)

The bliss of Daegu still lingered like the aftertaste of something sweet—but even the most heart-warming moments couldn’t keep the demands of the ER at bay. Life kept moving, and so did your shift. You were nine hours into what was rapidly becoming a twelve-hour marathon, your body aching from the relentless pace, and your brain running on fumes.

Leaning against the nurse’s station, you took a moment to breathe, letting the hum of machines and distant voices blur into background noise. You fished your phone from your scrubs pocket, thumb hovering over the screen. You needed a moment of softness. A tether.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

What did you even call him now that you were back together?

Y/N: Hey sweetie.

No. Too cutesy.

Y/N: Hey honey.

Nope. That felt like a sitcom mom from the ’50s.

Y/N: Hey baby daddy.

Okay, he’d definitely laugh at that one, you could practically hear the scoff of amusement he’d let out when that popped up on his Lock Screen, but still… no.

Y/N: Hey my love.

Your thumb froze. Too much? Maybe. But also… was it wrong? Not even close. You’d felt that way for a long time. You were nearly certain he’d been on the verge of saying it back in Daegu, but then Han had come bounding in, all wide eyes and cookie ambitions, and the moment had slipped away.

You exhaled slowly, your heart thudding, before deleting the message and starting over.

Y/N: Hey Yoon, the ER is wild tonight. Looks like I might be stuck for a 12-hour shift. Is it okay if Han stays over again?

You hit send before you could overthink it.

The reply came fast—like he’d been waiting.

Yoongi: Sure thing, baby. No drama. Han’s currently munching on an apple and telling Tae every single detail about our trip.

You’re welcome to crash here too—so you’re there when he wakes up.

Your heart stuttered. “Baby.” It rolled off his tongue so easily, like it had never left. Like it belonged. The warmth that bloomed in your chest was immediate.

Y/N: Thank you. I’ll head over after my shift.

Kiss Han for me.

Yoongi: I’d rather kiss you.

Your cheeks burned. Right on cue, a familiar voice chirped over your shoulder.

“That Han’s dad?”

You jumped. Grace—your favorite nurse, your chaotic work-wife, and trusted gossip partner—peeked over your shoulder with an infuriating smirk.

You turned, mock glaring. “Mind your business.”

Grace laughed, completely unbothered, already halfway down the hallway. “Too late. I’ve seen the flirty texts. He wants to kiss you and everything. Better be ready to spill.”

You sighed, tucking your phone away—but the smile on your face didn’t budge. Even the ache in your legs felt a little easier to bear with that warmth in your chest.

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself in the break room, finally snagging a bite of dinner. You collapsed into the chair across from Grace with a sigh, dropping your salad on the table like it had personally offended you.

She arched a perfectly drawn brow. “That kind of sigh usually comes with either a panic attack or a love confession. What’s going on?”

You looked at her for a beat before finally letting it spill. “I need your advice.”

Grace perked up like a cat hearing the treat bag crinkle. “Say less. I live for this. What’s the tea, babe?”

You stirred your salad with your fork, barely picking at it. “Han’s dad… he asked me and Han to move in with him.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Grace’s jaw dropped. “Y/N! What?! That’s huge!”

“I know,” you groaned. “And I’m not saying no. I’m… considering it. It’s just… is it too fast?”

Grace leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, giving you that trademark Big Sister Look™ that was usually followed by painful truths and unrelenting honesty.

“Okay, let’s break this down,” she said, popping a grape in her mouth like a therapist with snacks. “Do you trust him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still love him?”

Your hand froze halfway to your mouth.

You didn’t answer right away. But you didn’t need to.

Grace’s eyes softened. “Yeah. Thought so.”

“I do,” you whispered. “I love him. I never really stopped, if I’m being honest.”

“And Han?” she asked.

Your expression softened immediately. “He’s obsessed with him. They’re like—ugh, Grace, it’s stupid how much they adore each other.”

“Y/N, that’s not stupid. That’s everything. That’s your kid feeling safe, seen, loved. Don’t you dare brush that off like it’s nothing.”

“I just…” you hesitated, chewing on your lower lip. “I don’t want to ruin it. What if it’s too soon? What if we’re chasing a version of us that only worked because of nostalgia?”

Grace snorted. “First of all, nostalgia doesn’t survive toddler tantrums or early morning school runs. This isn’t a fantasy. You’re living it. You’re showing up for each other. And honestly? You’re already living between his place and yours.”

You blinked. “That obvious?”

“Babe, You left your stethoscope in his bathroom just two weeks ago. That man is basically one romantic dinner away from holding your toothbrush hostage.”

You laughed, unable to deny it. Your heart felt a little lighter, the edges of your anxiety softening under her words.

“And let’s not forget,” Grace added, pointing her fork at you, “you’re not just doing this for you. Han’s happiness matters too. And if moving in makes him feel secure, feel like his little world finally has all the puzzle pieces in place… then don’t let fear stop you from giving him that.”

You nodded slowly, her words settling deep into your bones.

“Okay,” you said, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll think about it. Seriously.”

Grace beamed, victorious. “Good. Because I better be invited to the housewarming. And if you two make another baby, I get to pick the name.”

You choked on your salad. “Grace!”

“What?! I’m great with names. And this time I’ll keep it under four syllables.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the last of the tension bleeding out of you as the room filled with warm, easy banter.

Maybe this wasn’t rushing.

Maybe this was just… finding your way back home.

As you’d predicted—though hoped desperately against—your shift spiraled straight into the dreaded 12-hour marathon. Your feet throbbed in your shoes, your back ached from hours hunched over trauma charts and triage forms, and your brain felt like it was running on static and adrenaline fumes. The ER never let up tonight.

By the time you arrived at Yoongi’s front door, you were barely holding yourself together. Even lifting your hand to knock felt like too much. Instead, you leaned your weight against the cool hallway wall, eyes fluttering shut as you waited for the door to open, silently praying for comfort in any form—a warm bed, a soft word, his arms.

The sound of the deadbolt turning snapped you out of your daze.

The door creaked open, and Yoongi’s familiar voice, warm and laced with concern, greeted you.

“Damn… Wanna talk about it?”

You looked up. He stood there in sweats and a worn gray t-shirt, hair pushed back messily, eyes scanning you with gentle worry. There was something in his expression—equal parts softness and mischief—that nearly undid you. Without a word, you stepped into the apartment, dragging your aching body toward the couch like a survivor returning from battle.

You collapsed with a sigh so deep it shook the room, letting your head fall against the cushion. Yoongi followed you in, a quiet presence as he padded to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a folded blanket he draped across your lap. He sat beside you, one knee bent on the cushion, elbow on the backrest as he turned to face you fully.

“Gonna sound like an asshole,” he said, handing you the water with a half-grin, “but you look like you’ve been through hell.”

You took a sip, then let out a tired laugh, the sound raspier than usual. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“Wanna give me the highlight reel?”

You nodded, your body starting to relax into the cushions now that he was close, now that the chaos of the ER had been replaced with the scent of clean linen and the soft rhythm of Yoongi’s voice.

“Okay,” you said, rolling your neck out. “Let’s see. We started the night with a kid who shoved a magnet up his nose—easy fix. Then a guy with a couple of broken bones, pretty straightforward. The usual parade of non-emergency emergencies. One guy came in because he had hiccups. For three hours.”

Yoongi blinked. “…He came to the emergency room for hiccups?”

“Oh yeah,” you said, wryly. “I gave him a glass of water and told him to hold his breath. Then billed him $600.”

That made Yoongi snort, but you weren’t done.

You leaned in a little, dropping your voice conspiratorially. “But the real gem of the night? A couple walks in—early thirties, super flustered. The guy looks like he’s about to pass out. Turns out…” You paused for effect. “He tried to spice things up in the bedroom. Used one of his girlfriend’s toys on himself. And it got stuck.”

Yoongi blinked again. “Stuck?”

You nodded solemnly. “Stuck. And still on.”

There was a beat of silence before the full horror (and hilarity) of it hit him. His mouth dropped open, then shut, then he burst into laughter. That full-body kind—the deep, chesty kind that Yoongi didn’t give away easily. He clutched his stomach, his head dropping back as he gasped, “Nooo—”

“Oh, yes,” you said, holding your hands up. “The vibrating noise echoed through the trauma room. I had to stay composed while this poor guy was practically in tears. He kept saying, ‘Please, make it stop, I can’t feel my legs.’”

Yoongi wheezed with laughter. “Oh my god—”

“I had to give him a sedative just to remove it,” you said, already giggling at the memory yourself. “He thanked me afterwards like I’d just saved his life. The girlfriend couldn’t even make eye contact.”

Yoongi was red in the face, nearly in tears. “I will never complain about a long shift again. That’s… Jesus.”

You nodded. “ER nurses deserve hazard pay and a therapist.”

The laughter faded slowly, replaced with a familiar warmth as Yoongi looked at you—really looked. The exhaustion in your eyes, the tension still lingering in your shoulders. He reached out, brushing a stray hair behind your ear before standing with a stretch and offering his hand.

“Come on,” he murmured. “You’re done for today. Shower. Pajamas. Then I want you horizontal—no arguments.”

You groaned as he helped you up. “I’m getting you a best boyfriend award like right now.”

He smirked, guiding you toward the bathroom. “I already laid your stuff out. Towels, lotion, some fluffy socks. I even found that hair clip you left last time.”

You paused at the door, touched. “You’re dangerously good at this.”

“I know,” he said with a wink. “Now go wash the vibrating trauma off of you.”

You laughed again, then disappeared into the bathroom. The hot water was heaven—steam rolling over your sore muscles, washing away the ER grime and emotional weight of the day. You stayed under until your fingers pruned and the ache in your back melted into manageable warmth.

When you emerged, clean and wrapped in your softest pajamas, the apartment was quiet and dim, the only light coming from Yoongi’s bedroom. You padded in slowly, hair still damp, and found him already under the covers, one arm stretched across the mattress in silent invitation.

You didn’t hesitate.

You slipped into bed, curling into his warmth as he pulled you into his chest without a word. His hand rubbed slow, lazy circles across your back, and the comfort of it nearly undid you. You buried your face in his shirt, breathing in the familiar scent of laundry, skin, and something warm and safe that only belonged to Yoongi.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, voice barely a whisper.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

You hummed, too tired to respond with words, but your hand slid beneath his shirt to rest over his heart, your thumb tracing the steady beat that grounded you.

As your eyes fluttered shut, the hum of the ER faded from your mind. The only thing left was Yoongi’s breath in your hair, the way his hand held you close, and the subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the air—like something was settling into place.

Then it hit you, you were home.

The next morning, the soft hush of the apartment wrapped around you like a promise. You stirred awake to the sensation of something gently pressing against your ribs. Blinking against the early light seeping in through the curtains, you looked down—and smiled.

There he was.

Han, curled up between you and Yoongi, his little body sprawled out diagonally like a starfish. One sock-clad foot was wedged into your side while the other rested lightly against Yoongi’s stomach. His head rose and fell with the steady rhythm of his father’s breathing, nestled against Yoongi’s chest like it was the safest place in the world. His tiny hand was pressed sleepily to Yoongi’s cheek, fingers twitching in dreams.

Your chest tightened with a fierce, quiet love.

You slid carefully from the bed, tucking the blanket back over the boys. Yoongi stirred slightly but didn’t wake—his arm automatically tightened around Han in sleep, protective and instinctual. The sight etched itself deep into your heart.

Padding quietly into the kitchen, the coolness of the tiles grounded your aching feet. You started the coffee machine, the low hum and rich aroma instantly soothing. The comforting scent of roasted beans filled the space, mingling with the soft light of morning just beginning to filter through the windows. The city outside was still stretching itself awake.

You were halfway through your first sip when the thunder of tiny footsteps echoed from the hallway.

“Eomma!” Han squealed, launching himself into the room like a pint-sized missile.

You winced and chuckled, crouching just in time to catch him. “Bubba,” you whispered, rubbing his back, “inside voice.”

His eyes grew comically wide as he slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oops,” he stage-whispered, and your heart swelled at the sincerity in his face.

You straightened, moving toward the fruit bowl, starting to slice up a banana for breakfast when Han’s attention shifted. His gaze wandered to the partially open door across the room—Yoongi’s studio.

You hadn’t even realized it had been left ajar.

His brows furrowed as he pointed. “Eomma… what’s that room?”

You turned to follow his gaze, realizing the glass display case was in full view—the awards, the gleaming plaques, the golden trophies all standing proud on the back wall. Han’s jaw dropped slightly as he took in the sight.

“Those are Appa’s,” you explained gently, walking over to close the studio door with care. “Trophies from his music. From him and your uncles.”

Han blinked up at you, eyes shimmering with awe. “Appa’s music?” he whispered. “Can I hear it?”

You felt your breath catch for a moment at how reverent his little voice sounded—like he was asking to hear magic. You smiled and nodded.

“Of course, baby.”

You pulled out your phone and tapped into Yoongi’s Spotify. His solo work was already favorited—your little secret indulgence whenever you missed him more than usual. You hooked it up to the speakers, and as the opening beat of “Daechwita” roared softly to life, Han froze.

The percussion vibrated gently through the apartment, and Han’s eyes widened like he was witnessing a superhero transformation. He looked at you, utterly floored.

“That’s Appa?”

You nodded with a soft chuckle. “Yep. That’s Appa.”

Han’s little body twitched with excitement before he started moving—tiny shoulders bobbing, feet bouncing, mimicking the beat. You joined him, unable to resist, rapping along the parts you could, both of you dancing freely in the middle of the kitchen. It was chaotic and hilarious and utterly joyful.

By the time “Who’s the king? Who’s the boss?” hit, Han was spinning in circles, and you were breathless from laughter, clapping along and feeding off his energy.

You were mid-spin when a soft voice drifted in from the hallway.

“Well, damn. Am I interrupting dance rehearsal?”

You turned, cheeks flushed, to find Yoongi leaning sleepily against the doorframe, hair tousled and sticking up adorably in every direction. His hoodie hung lopsided off one shoulder, and his face was still puffy from sleep—but the smile on his face?

It was full-on sunshine.

“You’re up, did we wake you?” you said, brushing hair from your face, flashing him an apologetic look

“No you didn’t wake me,” he replied, voice rough with sleep but warm with affection. “I just didn’t want to miss the show.”

Han gasped when he saw Yoongi and ran full-speed across the room. “Appa! That’s your song!”

Yoongi crouched just in time to catch him, letting Han knock into his chest like a cannonball. He chuckled. “It is, did you like it?”

“Yes!, can I hear more?” Han begged, bouncing in his arms.

Yoongi chuckled again and nodded. “Sure bubs, why not.”

You switched the playlist, letting BTS’s “Mic Drop” take over the room. Han lost it—jumping, spinning, throwing his arms around like he was on stage himself. Yoongi plopped down on the floor next to him, sipping the coffee you handed him while watching his son with unmistakable pride.

You stood beside them, your hand brushing against Yoongi’s arm.

“Hey, Yoon,” you said softly.

He glanced up at you, his smile fading into something more open, more vulnerable. “Yeah?”

You hesitated for just a moment, your heart beating a little faster. But you were done dancing around it. You were ready.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

His brows lifted slightly. He set his coffee down, full attention on you now.

“Han and I…” You inhaled slowly, then smiled. “We’ll move in with you.”

Yoongi froze.

His breath caught, his eyes searched yours like he was trying to make sure he’d heard you right. And then—

His smile broke across his face like sunrise.

“Really?” he breathed.

You nodded, and barely had the chance to say yes again before Yoongi surged to his feet, cupped your face in both hands, and kissed you—deep and full and bursting with happiness.

It wasn’t rushed. It was slow and sure and full of promise, like the closing of a chapter and the beginning of something new all at once.

Han, oblivious to the emotional milestone, was still dancing, spinning in dizzy little circles.

When Yoongi finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead to yours, his voice low and thick.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You brushed your thumb across his cheek. “Don’t thank me yoon, It’s what we should have been all along.”

And right there, with music still thumping low in the background, your son dancing in a blur of joy, and your heart beating steady against the man you never stopped loving—you felt like you were home.

The packing up of your life over the next few weeks had felt… surreal.

This apartment had witnessed so much. It had been your sanctuary during heartbreak, your war zone during toddler tantrums, your safe haven when the world outside was too loud. Every chipped mug in the cabinet, every crayon mark on the wall, every squeaky floorboard under your bed carried pieces of the life you built—just you and Han. A life you’d fought for, protected, and nurtured with everything you had.

And now, it was all being folded into cardboard boxes and labeled in permanent marker. Bedroom—Han’s toys. Kitchen—everyday plates. Hall closet—donate.

It was all so tangible, so final. A chapter closing, not with a slam, but with the quiet reverence of turning the last page.

You stood in the middle of the empty living room, staring at the spot where Han had taken his first steps, where you’d cried after one of your hardest night shifts, where you’d once slow-danced with a glass of wine in hand and music playing through your phone speaker. You let the silence settle around you, breathing it in, letting it echo. Letting it go.

Yoongi had offered to help move, of course. He even suggested hiring a moving service. But you’d wanted to do this part yourself. Not out of pride, but because… this mattered. Closing the door yourself mattered.

With the last box secured in the trunk, you took one last look at the apartment—at your first home as a mother—and shut the door behind you.

You climbed into the driver’s seat, hands pausing on the steering wheel for just a beat longer before you looked into the rearview mirror. Han was already buckled in, his little legs swinging with uncontainable excitement. He was clutching his current favorite stuffed toy—a blue dinosaur with a wonky stitched eye—and humming to himself, a tune made up on the spot, off-key and perfect.

The sight made something twist in your chest—a soft ache of joy and nostalgia. His happiness was radiant. It filled the car like sunlight.

You turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway for the last time. As the apartment disappeared in your rearview mirror, you cleared your throat lightly.

“Alright, Han bubba,” you said, keeping your tone upbeat but firm. “You remember the one room in Appa’s house you’re not allowed to go in unless Appa or I say it’s okay?”

Han immediately let out a loud long groan and flopped his head against the side of his car seat. “Eommaaa… I know! Appa’s music room!”

You raised your eyebrows at him through the mirror in warning. “Wanna try that again without the attitude, mister?”

He sat up straight and nodded quickly, lips pressed together in seriousness. “Sorry,” he said, and then his mouth split into a wide, wiggly-toothed grin. “I’m just… happy!”

That time, you couldn’t help but laugh. You reached your arm back between the seats and he eagerly grabbed your hand with his smaller one, squeezing tightly.

“I know you are, baby,” you said softly. “I am too.”

He beamed at you, his joy bubbling over like a bottle of shaken soda.

“But,” you added, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “just remember… even though Appa will be home, that doesn’t mean he’s always free. He still has to work.”

Han nodded along enthusiastically. “Because he makes music!”

“That’s right,” you said. “Appa’s music room is really important. That’s where he records his songs and helps other people with their songs too. So we have to respect his space when he’s working, okay?”

“I promise, eomma,” he said, solemn as a judge. And then, his voice dipped shyly. “But… do you think Appa will ever let me hear him make music? Like, really hear it?”

Your heart squeezed.

There was something sacred in the way Han said it. Not just curious. Admiring. Like he already knew his father made something powerful, something special, even if he didn’t fully understand it yet.

You turned back to the road, but your smile lingered. “I think… if you ask nicely, and promise not to touch anything, Appa might let you sit in with him one day.”

Han gasped, practically vibrating in his booster seat. “Really? Like… watch him play? And wear the big headphones?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “We’ll see, bubba. You know how Appa feels about his buttons.”

“I won’t press any!” he promised, voice high with excitement.

You reached to turn down the music playing quietly in the background, letting the moment settle in as you merged onto the main road, leaving your old neighborhood behind.

As the skyline of Yoongi’s neighborhood began to appear in the distance, something shifted in your chest. A quiet knowing. A peace.

You weren’t running toward a fantasy.

You were moving toward something real.

A home that Han could grow up in. A space where your little family could build—not just exist.

And in the seat beside you? A promise of a second chance. A man who’d never stopped loving you, even in the moments when he couldn’t say it. A man who’d stayed up late assembling a bed with Han’s help, who put up glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling because “Eomma says you sleep better with the stars watching.”

You reached up to adjust the rearview mirror and caught Han watching out the window, his breath fogging the glass as he whispered to himself, “We’re going home.”

And you couldn’t have agreed more.

Walking into Yoongi’s apartment, you barely had a chance to take in the sleek lines and minimalist decor before you were met with absolute chaos.

“Jimin, just stop moving the boxes—I had a system!” Yoongi shouted from somewhere down the hall, his voice echoing off the high ceilings in pure exasperation.

“I’m literally helping,” Jimin fired back indignantly, arms thrown in the air as he stepped around a stack of labeled containers. “You should be thanking me! I’m putting them where they go!”

“Where they go? According to who?” Yoongi barked from another room. “You’re just putting shit wherever it fits!”

A loud thud echoed through the apartment, followed by the sound of a picture frame teetering dangerously.

“Jungkook!” Yoongi’s voice rose another octave, more desperate now. “Stay out of the kitchen!”

You turned just in time to catch the youngest member of the group sheepishly poking his head out from behind the refrigerator door, a guilty grin smeared with something suspiciously like the leftover kimchi you were planning to use at dinner. “I was checking for… perishables,” Jungkook mumbled, cheeks puffed out mid-bite.

Namjoon, the only semblance of calm in the whirlwind, stood by the open front door holding it wide for you. He looked almost serene, though the slight twitch of his eye gave away his internal suffering.

“Thanks, Joon,” you murmured, shifting the box on your hip as you stepped inside.

“No problem,” he replied smoothly, lips twitching in amusement. “Welcome to your new madhouse.”

The second Han’s shoes hit the floor, he bolted forward like a rocket. “Uncle Kookie! Uncle Minnie!” he squealed, his tiny voice slicing straight through the noise like a bell.

Jungkook lit up immediately. “Han!” he called, dropping the snack and scooping the boy up into his arms with a dramatic twirl. “My favorite nephew!”

From the hallway, Yoongi’s voice rang out, deadpan. “He’s your only nephew, genius.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Deep and warm and surprised by how much this noise, this mess, this family had crept into your heart. You had missed them. All of them. Not just Yoongi, but these men who had stood beside him through everything—who were now standing beside you and Han without hesitation, without question, without condition.

Yoongi emerged a moment later, arms full of more stuff, hair a little sweaty, eyes narrowed at Jimin, who was busy pushing a pile labeled “Bedroom – Fragile” suspiciously close to the bathroom.

“I’m warning you,” Yoongi muttered through clenched teeth, “if I open that box and find y/n’s books or something under a damn weighted blanket—”

“You’re welcome for protecting it!” Jimin shot back. “You know the saying saying moisture ruins the sleeves!”

“That’s not what it meant!”

You shook your head, laughter bubbling out of you. Yoongi was trying so hard to maintain order, but it was like trying to herd caffeinated cats.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Namjoon lingering by the entrance, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold like a man observing art—beautiful in its chaos. He looked like he wanted to intervene… but also like he was enjoying this way too much.

You carefully set your box down on a side table and turned toward him. “Hey, Joon,” you said, your voice quieting just slightly.

He tilted his head, his sharp, perceptive eyes immediately honing in on you. “Hey,” he answered warmly, though there was a subtle question hidden beneath the greeting.

You hesitated only for a moment before exhaling. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you,” you said softly, sincerity threading every word.

Namjoon’s brows lifted in surprise. “For?”

You gave him a knowing look. “You know what for.”

He didn’t answer, just stood there with that typical calm, waiting patiently—offering you space.

“For helping me and Yoongi get to this point,” you said, your voice a little raw, a little vulnerable. “For being his anchor when he needed one. And for being mine… even before I deserved it.”

Namjoon’s face softened, but he stayed quiet.

You chuckled lightly, more at yourself than anything else. “The day you saw me and Han at that café? You could’ve torn me to shreds. You should’ve. I half-expected it. Honestly? And I would’ve accepted it.”

His jaw twitched, his silence turning contemplative.

“But you didn’t,” you continued. “You let me come to him on my own terms. You didn’t pressure. You didn’t guilt me. You supported me through it all, Joon. Without ever making me feel small.”

You looked down, fiddling with a piece of tape still stuck to your hand. “That meant everything. Still does.”

Namjoon let out a long, quiet breath. Then he nodded once, his smile slow and gentle, like sunlight peeking through morning fog. “Yeah, well… it’s what family does.”

The word hit you like a stone dropped in still water. Family.

Not a pitying word. Not a throwaway one. A declaration.

Your breath hitched quietly. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, solid and sure. No hesitation. No awkwardness. Just… gratitude.

Namjoon hugged you back just as tightly, warm and grounding. “You don’t owe me anything,” he murmured. “Just be happy. Both of you.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, but you smiled against his shoulder. “We’re trying.”

Across the room, Han shrieked with glee as Jungkook flipped him upside down, and Yoongi—finally defeated—sat cross-legged in the hallway with a beer Seokjin had handed him, mumbling, “Fine. Let the boxes live where they fall.”

Han scrambled over to him and immediately climbed into his lap, arms around his father’s neck. Yoongi melted, his lips pressing to the top of his son’s head as he murmured something you couldn’t hear. But you didn’t need to. The sight alone sent warmth spilling through your chest.

You turned back to Namjoon, who gave you one final nod and a squeeze on the shoulder.

And as you crossed the room toward Yoongi and Han, your chest felt so full it was almost hard to breathe. This—this glorious, chaotic, imperfect thing—was yours. A life you’d almost convinced yourself you’d never have again. A love you were no longer running from.

You sank down beside them, Yoongi’s hand reaching to find yours instinctively. Fingers intertwined like it was second nature. Han curled against both of you, babbling about where his toys would go and asking if his dino could live next to the window.

You smiled and nodded, pressing a kiss to the back of Han’s head. Yoongi caught your eye and mouthed one word.

Home.

And it was.

Taglist: @busanbby-jjk @jajabro @kam9404 @yoongiiuu93 @julseka07 @tea4sykes @marihoneywk @maryhopemei @sanarin @misschelliejeon @boraluv @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @hyuninslutbbgirl @Granataepfelchen @mar-lo-pap @enfppuff @senaqsstuff @vainkiss @rinkud @lanyia @alessioayla @watchingover-hypegirl @muchwita @elliott-calls @kiki-zb

[gojoest]

I love when kids take their mom's side especially in a petty fight between mom and dad 😂

lol this would be so funny with satoru bc he’s about to make the fact you & your daughter teamed up against him everyone else’s problem too 😭 the fight itself would probably be some dramatic jealousy outburst of satoru’s. maybe bc you called a handyman to fix the sink while satoru wasn’t home or something lol and he’s like “wow we’re letting strange men touch our pipes now huh” and you’re rolling your eyes like “he just fixed our sink, don’t be a jerk” and he’s like “you could’ve waited for me to come home and fix it myself” and your little daughter’s like “every time say you that we have to wait six months before you actually do it. papa, you suck!”

dramatic music plays

he shows up to jujutsu tech the next day like a man wronged by fate itself. class starts and instead of satoru being all jumpy and excited as he usually is, he’s sitting backwards in his chair with his legs sprawled, arms draped over the backrest and his chin resting on them. full pout on his lips. he sighs dramatically and looks at his students and goes “alright. today’s mission is helping me fix my life”

pauses for emphasis

“my wife called me a jerk and my daughter said i suck”

another pause

“so— how do i get my girls to like me again?”

dead serious, this is their assignment now. the winner gets free sushi.

[sseonghwaswife]

Mr and Mrs Park..??

(prologue)

Idol!Seonghwa × Idolfem!reader

Trope: arrange marriage, friends to spouse to lovers, secret marriage, both are idiots and losers in love, slow burn?

Warnings: none yet

Summary: Arrange marriage with your bias/friend/crush wouldn't be that hard right? Afterall it's all platonic..right?

25th February 2023

Getting married at the peak of someone's career isn't always in their bucket list, specially not for Kpop idols, yet here she is, wearing a perfect wedding dress, bouquet of lilies in her hand, about to walk on the altar, with a man who's her senior, named- Park Seonghwa.

It wasn't like she didn't know him, sure they have met in award shows, interacted in tv shows, exchanged polite smiles, have had a nice talk, shot tiktoks, and can say they're friends.

But never in her life she thought she'll marry him, don't get her wrong, she didn't hate him, infact she had been his fan since his group debuted, but this wasn't a love marriage, it was arranged by their grandmothers, both who were laying on their death bed, and wanted their grandchildren to get married.

Neither of you had any objection to begin with, both wanting to fulfill their grandmother's wish, agreed to this marriage, and now here they are.

Seonghwa wasn't a cold person, and neither were you, both agreed to make this marriage work, you became friends over the time, got comfortable, and then decided the date of your marriage, 25th February 2023.

Both of your schedules were clear for the time being, his comeback set in June, and yours being in July, giving you enough time to spend together before the idol life sways you away from eachother.

The wedding ceremony was held in jinju, very privately, with only close people such as our family, best friends, and memebers.

"you ready? They're waiting for you." I heard my mom's heavy voice filled with emotions she didn't expressed yet.

"yes, but is it looking good?" I asked her adjusting or should I say fidgeting with the veil, trying to calm my nerves.

"it's looking beautiful honey, let's go" she grabbed my hand gently, and walked me out of the door, near where my dad was standing.

"you look beautiful." He said in a trembling voice, trying to be strong, but I could see right through his facade, he's been crying.

"thankyou dad" I wiped his tears and took his hand in mine.

"let's go now, your soon to be husband, and grandma are waiting." My dad said as we took the steps towards the altar.

As I entered the hall, I saw him standing there, looking as handsome as ever. I saw his breath hitch as I walk towards him, he bit his lips and gave me a reassuring smile. I smiled back as I stood infront of him, heavy with feelings that I couldn't place name to.

After saying our vows, the priest asked the final question, "Do you, Park Seonghwa, take Kim Hannah, as your wife?"

I looked at him, without hesitation he said "I do" and gave me a smile, I felt crimson blood rushing to my cheeks, as he looked at me.

The priest turned to me and asked me the same, "do you, Kim Hannah, take Park Seonghwa as your husband?"

I looked at him with a gaze I myself couldn't comprehend, and said "yes I do."

"I announce you both, as lawfully wedded husband and wife, you may kiss the bride."

He came closer, and looked at me asking for a permission, I nodded at him before he pecked my lips, not in hurry or rush, not in a obligation way, but in a way that silently spoke, 'I'll wait for you to be comfortable before actually kissing you.'

The ceremony ended, we went to our family to take their blessings, our grandmother's were sitting together talking and admiring us, he held my hand tightly enough for me to feel at ease, our members were sitting together chatting with eachother.

"it's past lunch time, how about let's go and eat something before the photoshoot?" Seonghwa suggested, while looking at me for my answer.

"sure I'm hungry too." I answered him before looking at everyone, we arrived at the lunch hall, and he pulled me a chair.

The lunch went smoothly, our families, memebers, and friends bonded with eachother, we had our fair shares of touches, exchanged smiles, and blushes.

We were happy, most importantly our grandmothers were happy.

The photographer captured everything in a video format, a beautiful memory that will be cherished by everyone.

After exchanging gifts and photoshoot, I left out a tired sigh, seonghwa seemed to notice it, he bent to match my height and whispered in my ear, "want to leave?"

I looked at him, and people around, and wisp back "can we?" "If you want to I can arrange" he whispered back to me, his breath tingling my ear, sending a shiver through my body. I nodded in reply, not wanting to say anything.

He held my hands, and told my family that we're leaving, and took me to car.

Then opened the door gesturing me to get inside, he helped me with my heavy dress, and sat on the passenger seat. The driver then drove us to our house, the entire ride I slept with my head on his shoulder.

[zepskies]

Ooh what a sexy opening. 😏 I'm so obsessed with morning fluff/smut. 😮‍💨👌🏽

“Cause you’ve only ever been with boys, honey. A real man has no problem telling you exactly what he feels.” Your whole body practically melted into the floor, Beau’s body making you flush. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

Damn straaaaaaight, Beau Arlen! Crazy that she's had to fake it until meeting him, but at least she has an Alpha that cares (especially about dessert). 😝 I love how comfortable they seem to be with each other at this stage, even though from your tags/warnings I know a lot of shit is bound to go down pretty soon...

“My dad and I go to therapy after school on Mondays at 4. You’re going in with me today.”

lmfao not Emily forcing her bodyguard into therapy! 🤣 I mean, the guy needs it for sure, especially if Tim's still having issues trusting Beau at this stage. I get that it's hard for him to let go with the reader, but come on now! lol

“What?” She scoffed. “No, my name is not Orlando Bloom. What-” “If you are not Orlando Bloom then I do not have a crush on you. No offense.” 

So accurate of the early 2000s! lmaoo I remember girls I went to school being o b s e s s e d. 😂

“That’s great!” Y/N said, strangely chipper for this early in the morning. “You deserve it, Clay.” I stared at the phone. Clay was a code word. She was under duress somehow. She’d left not long ago and her car was empty. No way anyone was with her. What the hell had happened in the past five minutes?”

Oh shit, here we go. Feels like the reader is a freakin' trouble magnet lmaooo

“I told him I thought the truck smelled funny!” she shouted, Beau hugging her tight. 

Man, this girl's sense of smell is legit!! I'm so glad they're safe 😭

“I had to jump out of a moving vehicle.” “Kiddo, I’ve jumped out of my fair share of cars. You ain’t special for that.” She whacked my arm, earning an exaggerated grumble from me. “I was shot in that arm, thank you very much.”

lmao I'm living for this shit-talking dynamic between Emily and Tim. 😂 I'm sensing another big bro/little sister dynamic coming on!

You nodded. “Maybe we can still try though. Maybe you can be saved like Tim. I know Mom must be your Alpha. She must have turned you. She was never happy I was omega.” His lips snapped shut, face strangely stoic. “Do you trust me?”

Oh shitttt. It was the mom the whole time??

*cue Agatha All Along theme*

“Is Tim’s dad…our dad…” You breathed hard, Beau frowning. 

Ok, or not loll. So far, Brock has seemed like the most villainous over all, so this twist is a big one, but it does make total sense!

And EMILY. She's the main hero of this series, stg. 🤣

“I think she Sarah Connored that bitch without meaning to,” he said. You couldn’t fight the laugh that slipped out, Beau cracking a smile.

💯 Beausef lol

While I'm sad this series is coming to an end (I just love Alpha Beau 🥰), I can't wait to see how you wrap all of this up!

Primal (Part 8)

Summary: The gang heads home to Helena to settle into their new normal. But Teddy's still out there and he's not done yet...

Primal Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 8,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, violence, drugging, serial killers, death, kidnapping, smut

A/N: So Emily should just get whatever she wants now, right?...

Y/N POV

Three Days Later - Helena, Montana

“Good morning.” You fluttered open your eyes, smiling at a shirtless Beau with damp hair. You grinned, stretching out in his large bed.

“Very,” you mumbled, yawning and curling into yourself, closing your eyes again. “Come back to bed.”

“As much as I’d love to, I mean really, really love to, I do have to go back to work today.” You frowned and sat up, Beau putting his hands on his hips, his eyes drawn down to your naked chest. “You know that’s cheating, omega.”

“You did it first,” you smirked, Beau biting his bottom lip. You tossed back the covers and swung your legs over the bed, standing and stretching up onto your tip toes, Beau groaning. “No, no. You have work after all. Musn’t dilly dally.”

He ran his thumb over his lip, your eyes drawn to his undone jeans and the growing bulge beneath them. You smirked and padded across the carpet, stopping in front of him. His breath hitched when you traced your finger down the patch of hair on his lower abdomen, dipping under the elastic of his briefs. 

“Can you spare five minutes?” you asked, Beau practically drooling as you slipped your hand down further, tickling his sensitive skin. “I want to start your day off right.”

“But there won’t be time for you,” he mumbled, your thumb brushing the base of his cock, Beau gripping the dresser behind him. 

“We’re not keeping score, Arlen,” you murmured, leaning up the kiss him, Beau nodding. You shucked his jeans down around his thighs, his hard cock springing out into your hand. “Close your eyes, Alpha.”

He let them shut, a stifled groan getting trapped in his mouth when you pressed your body against his and straddled his cock, trapping it between your thighs. You shifted your hips backwards, Beau’s hands shooting to your waist. You pushed them down your body, encouraging him to drag you forward. His hips snapped forward, Beau gasping quietly.

“You only have four minutes, Arlen. Better get to it.” He growled against your neck, a flip switching. You met him with every thrust, squeezing your legs tighter around him, Beau nipping at your shoulder. “Be a good Alpha and come and then tonight…we can knot like we both want to.”

You reached behind him, squeezing his ass. Beau responded in kind by clamping down on your shoulder as he thrust hard, coming between you, panting when he came down off his high. You smiled as you wiped the damp hairs from his forehead, Beau’s face still blissed out. 

“I’ll clean this up. You have a good day at work,” you said, kissing him, skirting into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and toss it over to him. He barely caught it, shaking his head at you with a smile. “What?”

You leaned against the bathroom door frame, Beau wiping himself off, failing not to smile as he got his pants back up. You crossed your arms, Beau raking his eyes up and down your body. “Okay, seriously you’re actually going to be late if you keep looking at me like that, Beau.”

“You’re a little fucking tease, aren’t you?” You shrugged, Beau narrowing his eyes playfully. 

“What can I say, I appreciate a man that knows how to appreciate me and well, I’ve had to…fake that appreciation until recently,” you said, Beau’s eyebrows raising. 

“You’ve always had to fake it?” You nodded, Beau pouting “God, men are the worst.”

“I know, right?” you said as he went into his closet and pulled out a shirt. You took the few steps over, watching him dress and take out a navy jacket. He pulled his gun out of his safe, Beau turning his head. 

“I never asked but how’d you get in my gun safe that night?” You pointed to the sticky note on top of a shelf with a date and time written on it. “Reserve restaurant for Em’s birthday?”

“Figured you were the type of guy to use their daughter’s birthday. Got the year right on the second try.”

“You ever consider a career in law enforcement?” he half-joked, walking back out to the bedroom and clipping his badge on.

“No, that’s not for me,” you said. “I’m lucky my company I worked for before accepted me back and has an office here.”

“I can tell you’re so thrilled to be going back to working on spreadsheets all day,” he said, cupping your cheek. You shrugged but it wasn’t playful this time. “I don’t want my girl doing a job she hates.”

“Maybe once I settle in more I’ll look into doing something different. Speaking of which, I have onboarding at nine,” you sighed, Beau tilting his head. “I sadly do have to put on clothes that aren’t yours today.”

“Crime against humanity right there,” he teased, pressing his closed lips to your, letting them linger before he dipped his head low over your mark, kissing it as well. 

“Were you like this with Carla when you guys first mated?” you asked quietly. He shook his head.

“This feels different. It’s hard to explain. I loved and cared for her. Part of me will always love and care about her.”

“She’s the mother of your child. Of course you will,” you said softly, Beau smiling. “I’d like to meet her someday.”

“I’m sure you two will eventually. But mating Carla and mating you are not the same. It’s like Carla was wonderful on the sunshiny days and left me out in the storm on the bad ones. With you when there’s a storm, I know you’re out in that storm looking for me with a light and a warm jacket and it doesn’t matter how crappy it is, you’re going to find me.”

“Do you think we’re true mates?” you whispered. He stared his green eyes down into yours, like he was looking deep into your soul and for some reason, it didn’t bother you in the slightest. 

“Would you like me less if we aren’t?” he mumbled against your lips.

“I just want you,” you whispered, resting your hands on his face, Beau breathing in your scent. “But what you said about finding you…men don’t talk like that.”

“Cause you’ve only ever been with boys, honey. A real man has no problem telling you exactly what he feels.” Your whole body practically melted into the floor, Beau’s body making you flush. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, Beau touching his forehead to yours as an alarm went off somewhere down the hall. “Emily’s up.”

“She’ll snooze it,” he said, peppering kisses down your jaw.

“Beau, you’ll be late,” you said when he walked you back against the wall.

“Think the boss will fire me?” he teased, sliding his hands down and down and down. He didn’t break eye contact as he dropped to his knees. You swallowed thickly, Beau tossing one of your legs over his shoulder. “Always been a dessert first kind of man.”

He leaned forward with a smile, still looking up at you, flashing a wink before going to town like a starved man.

Tim POV

“Jesus christ.” I turned my head from the Adirondack chair I sat it, Emily exiting the front door with a breakfast burrito in hand and a scowl.

“Morning.” She jumped, staring at me briefly before recognizing me and relaxing. “Bad day?”

“I need to start sleeping with ear plugs if you catch my drift,” she said, taking an angry bite of her breakfast, plopping down in the chair beside mine.

“Ah. Well, they’re newly mated. I’m sure it’ll die down.” She gave me an absolute stellar bitch face, taking another angry bite.

“My friend Cami’s parents are true mates. Apparently they fuck like rabbits all the time.” I held up my hands, Emily sitting back in the chair, closing her eyes, quickly opening them again. She peered around my neck, staring at my mark as she chewed. “You got claimed?”

“Uh, yes,” I said, sitting up straighter. “I’m not sure what your dad has told you but um, some things happened in Boston and one of his officers ended up mating me to save my life.”

“Lucy, right? She’s cool. Yeah surprised you two took so long.” I narrowed my eyes, Emily continuing to devour her breakfast. “Dude, remember how I thought you and evil Barbie were giving off scent vibes? Nope. It was cause Lucy was one of the officers outside the house that night and that was your scents that were doing all that ‘you’re the one’ shit. Now Jenny, you were picking up on the fact you smelled primal in her blood that was related to a familiar scent to you, Teddy, but you couldn’t pinpoint it.”

I stared blankly, Emily shrugging. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about these things lately. I would have said something if I knew what it was at the time.”

“You’re just a kid. That wasn’t on you to sort that out,” I said, ignoring her comments about Lucy and mine’s scents or how that made my body feel warm and fuzzy when I thought of seeing Lucy again tonight. “Did your um, dad talk to you about why I’m here and what I’ll be doing?”

“Yeah. Question is why are you here so early?” I frowned, Emily finishing her breakfast off, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Oh, this is fun. He didn’t talk to you yet. Probably for the best…”

“What are you talking about? I’m supposed to keep an eye on you until they find Teddy.” She shrugged with that know it all smile I’d seen on Y/N’s face a million times. Great. Beau was hiding something from me. 

“Sorry,” she said suddenly, her face going more stoic. “I made you mad.”

“Not you. Just getting tired of your dad not trusting me.” She frowned, smacking me in the arm. My still healing from a gunshot a month ago arm. “Ow! I got shot there!”

“Oh, I was there when it happened you cry baby, it was a graze. Why the hell don’t you think my dad doesn’t trust you? He’s literally trusting you to protect me. I don’t get you.” I rubbed my arm, pouting at her. She sighed, rolling her eyes. “You’re supposed to stay with me after school? At night if my dad works late or they have plans? What about that screams he distrusts you?”

“I…” I didn’t have a good answer, my mouth snapping shut. Emily kept staring at me though, like she was looking straight through me, an image of a pre-pubescent Y/N flashing in the forefront of my mind. God, if this kid was anything like Y/N was, and by all accounts she was proving that over tenfold, I had a very short window before she’d be able to read me like a book.

“Do you trust me?” she asked. I blinked a few times, Emily eyeing me. “You realize we belong to the same pack now. It shouldn’t be a hard question.”

“I don’t trust very easily,” I said with a steady voice. “Pack has nothing to do with that fact.”

“You know what happened to me last year?” 

“Generally,” I said, Emily nodding. “You going to tell me I shouldn’t let trauma prevent me from trusting people?”

“My dad and I go to therapy after school on Mondays at 4. You’re going in with me today.”

“I can drop you off to whatever appointments you have and sit in the waiting room-”

“You are going in with me,” she repeated, a bluntness to her voice reminding me of when a young Y/N stopped at my cubicle back in the Boston office.

I jumped in my chair, turning away from my computer to spot a small girl setting a covered tray down at the end of my desk. It took me a moment but I recognized her as Teddy’s daughter, Y/N. That eleven year old kid that answered the front door on Christmas Eve and proceeded to drag me into her holidays for the next two days. 

“Timothy,” she sighed, my eyebrows raising. She crossed her little arms in her dark purple winter jacket, name brand and expensive, especially for a kid that was about to hit a growth spurt within the next few months. 

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Are you looking for your dad?” She rolled her eyes at me, my own widening. Jesus Christ, the sass on this kid. From the way Teddy spoke about her, you’d have thought she was some shy, perfectly behaved, golden child. 

So far all I’d seen was a kid who told her parents I was joining their holiday plans or else she’d refuse to participate in anything to do with Christmas. At first I didn’t know what the hell was going on. She was an only kid like me, maybe she was lonely? But she had plenty of cousins to talk to and play with at the party so I eventually settled on the fact she felt sorry for me. And when your new boss told you to do something like spend the holidays with his family, you did it.

“I know where his office is, Tim,” she said, popping her little hip out, trying so hard to look tough I had to stifle a laugh. She narrowed her eyes, catching my lip twitch. “I might only be eleven but I don’t appreciate being mocked, Barclay.”

“Come here,” I said, curling my finger. Fine, she was sassy but I wasn’t about to take crap from a pre-teen. She stepped into my cube, holding her chin up high as I leaned in close, putting a hand to her ear. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a little shit?”

“Bold thing to say to your boss’ daughter.” It could have been a threat but there was something teasing to it, Y/N’s face gentle as I leaned back. She gave my cubicle a curious glance, a flicker of sadness on her face that made me wonder if I’d misread her and she really was a brat going to get me in trouble. “What’s your address?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your home address, Mr. Barclay,” she said, taking off her backpack and pulling out a green notebook. She turned to a blank page, sliding it over to me.

“Maybe we should go find your dad,” I said, starting to rise when her glare cut straight through me and I stilled in my seat. Fine. I’d play along. Maybe something was wrong at home and she saw me as someone that could help. “Why do you need my address, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Because how else will I send you pictures from Christmas to put up in your cube? I’m not about to send them to work with my dad. He’ll never remember to give them to you and I only come here about once a month which is far too long for you to sit is this ugly ass gray square without any pictures.”

“Language,” I said, Y/N rolling her eyes again. I was about to argue that she could give her father whatever she wanted to give to me. I’d promptly shove them in a drawer thereafter but at least it’d satisfy her, right? But finally I looked at the tray she’d plopped down, tilting my head at it.

Happy 25th Birthday Tim

“Is that a…birthday cake?” She glanced over her shoulder, offering a disinterested hum. “Why do you have a birthday cake for me? The team already got me a cake for my birthday this morning.”

“This is for you to bring home and have tonight by yourself or with whomever.” I blinked slowly, Y/N sighing and planting her hands on my arm rests, this little not even five foot tall child caging me into my seat. “You said you have no family and never celebrate holidays or birthdays or anything, right? Well that’s not acceptable. So I made you a cake. Now say thank you like a normal person.”

“Thank you?” I said quietly, Y/N nodding with a hum. She poked a finger down on her notebook and I wrote down my address on auto-pilot, Y/N tapping it again until I wrote down my phone as well.

“You can expect a letter within the week,” she said, packing away her belongings, fixing her straps tight again. She was quickly frowning though, putting her hands on her hips. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Why would you make me a cake? Do you have a crush on me?” I blurted out. It wasn’t completely unreasonable. I remembered being her age and developing my first crushes. I knew I was above average in looks. Maybe-

“Is your name Orlando Bloom?” 

“What?” She scoffed. “No, my name is not Orlando Bloom. What-”

“If you are not Orlando Bloom then I do not have a crush on you. No offense.” 

“None taken you strange child,” I shot back, Y/N crossing her arms, getting right in my face. “Now what?”

“I made you a cake because people deserve homemade birthday cakes on their birthday. The fact I’m an amazing baker is besides the point.” She put her hands on my suit jacket, cocking her head. “I see you’re having some sort of existential crisis over this but I suggest you get your shit together and realize that this is your new normal.”

She ruffled my hair with a smile, patting my cheek as I just stared at her. 

“I’ll see you around, bud. Happy birthday.” She trotted off, my eyes fixated on where she’d stood a moment ago. What a strange child…

I smiled to myself, remembering how I’d taken that cake home, stared at it some more, and proceed to eat it straight out of the tray while crying on my tiny apartment kitchen floor. God, that strange little child was the best thing that ever happened to me.

“Alright, I’ll go to therapy with you,” I said. Emily looked off kilter, ready to argue more and unsure what to do now that I’d popped her ballon. “Maybe we can talk about the shooting here at the house.”

“Y/N said you’d fight me more on this,” she blurted out. I shrugged. 

“Well, maybe this’ll be a good way to introduce me to therapy, give me some confidence to go on my own too.” 

“Huh,” she said. “I had a whole argument ready and everything.”

“Oh, don’t worry, kiddo,” I said, reaching over, ruffling her hair and getting a death glare. “I’m sure we’ll find plenty to argue about.”

“Watch your back, Barclay,” she said as the front door opened, Beau and Y/N ducking outside with smirks on their faces. “Finally.”

She grabbed her bag and headed for Beau’s truck. Y/N and Beau shared a mischievous look and I half debated joining Emily to get away from the two of them in their obnoxious lovey dovey bubble.

“Your child’s got a mouth on her, Arlen,” I said as I stood up. 

“Anything I should be concerned with?” he asked, Y/N whispering something in his ear that had him blushing.

“Nah, we’ll be good buddies. Maybe tone it down when you’re going at it though, think you traumatized the kid,” I chuckled. Y/N’s face burrowed into Beau’s arm as he shrugged guiltily. 

“We may have gotten carried away,” Y/N mumbled. She removed herself from him, giving Beau a kiss before heading to her rental car. “See ya, later boys.”

“Brat. Have a good first day back,” I called with a wave, Y/N flipping me off on her way. Beau hung back, locking up the front door before holding out a house key to me. “Thanks.”

“School gets let out at 2. Sometimes she stays after for clubs but it’s only half an hour and she texts around her lunch period at 11:30 if she’ll be late that day. Sometimes she hangs at her friends' houses or they come over here. She might get annoyed with you hanging around her friends but I told her you’d give them their space as much as you could. She’s got therapy at 4 on Mondays and whenever you decide to start going if you do it in the afternoon, Em’s cool with hanging out at the station during your appointment.”

“That’s kind of her,” I said, pocketing the key.

“She’s a very smart young woman and she’s well aware of what’s going on with Teddy. She’ll be a teenager but she’ll listen to you.” I turned my head, Beau meeting my gaze as Y/N drove down the driveway. 

“And what’d you and Y/N tell her about me? Cause I was getting a vibe…”

“That you’re like I was from a year ago. Don’t be surprised if she checks up on you, calls you out when you try to self-blame and pull away. She’s not going to keep track or anything but I’m sure you’ve already learned, she ain’t shy about voicing her opinions.”

“She reminds me of Y/N at that age,” I said, gazing out at the yard. “I’ll talk to that therapist after Emily’s session today about getting hooked up with somebody on my own. It’s time I dealt with my shit.”

“Okay. Oh, got something for ya,” he said. He reached into his pocket, tossing something over to me. I barely caught it, a gold badge nestled in my palms. My eyebrows raised, Beau humming. “Work starts at eight, go until one. We put you on a reduced shift until things settle down and Emily doesn’t need you by her side.”

“This isn’t a Marshal’s badge.” He leaned over, as if he were inspecting it. 

“Really? Suppose you’re right. Looks like Helena Police Department one,” he said before stepping down the front porch.

‘Arlen,” I said, Beau not stopping. “Arlen!” 

I ran after him, catching up with him by the front of the truck. He stared at me like I was the crazy one, a sleepy yawn slipping past his lips. “What is it, Barclay? I’m going to be late.”

“I’m not a cop. I didn’t ask for this,” I said, trying to shove the badge back at him. Beau frowned, staring at my hand. “I’ll be a Marshal again, transfer out here.”

“If that’s what you truly want I’ll accept this badge back,” he said, looking me up and down. 

“I’m not a cop,” I said, Beau not taking the badge yet. He rested a hand on the truck hood, watching my hand fall to my side.

“Hoyt was my number two and she tricked all of us. My number three was her partner and he blames himself for not seeing it. My people are scared and I am man enough to know I need help. I know a lot of people would see this as a step backwards in your career. But I need a number two I can trust without questioning it. You know how to do everything a cop does and then some. What you don’t know, I know you’re more than capable of learning.”

“Your people saw me when I was primal and watched me attack Y/N. Why on earth would they trust me?”

“Because they understand what happened. Believe me, I have an office full of people that wish they had known Douglas Evans was Hunter when he walked in that building. You were a private citizen, not them. Their job was to protect you and they think they screwed up. I know you’ll have their respect and loyalty.”

I thumbed over the raised metal, pursing my lips.

“At the very least, take the job while they finish the paperwork to clear you officially. I’ll contact the local Marshals office myself and make a recommendation to get you in if you decide you want to go back.” Beau walked to the driver's side door, resting a hand on it. “But seriously, why do you want to be a Marshal so badly anyways? As a detective you’ll get to help people just as much, probably even more.”

“I just…don’t know how to do anything else,” I said after a beat. “My CO back in the day used to tell me I was a good smart weapon. Teddy said something similar when he recruited me.”

“Fuck that,” said Beau, my brow furrowed as he opened the door. “You’re a good, smart man, not a weapon. I think people have been telling you what to do your whole life. So now you decide what you want and your girlfriend will tell you the same thing. Whatever you decide on, we’ll support it. Now come in around ten if you want to give this a shot and we’ll get the paperwork started.”

He got behind the wheel and took off, leaving me standing there with the badge in my hand. I pulled out my phone, dialing a number as I clipped the badge on my hip.

“Hey, Y/N,” I said, stopping besides my rental truck. “Arlen just gave me a job as a detective.”

“That’s great!” Y/N said, strangely chipper for this early in the morning. “You deserve it, Clay.”

I stared at the phone. Clay was a code word. She was under duress somehow. She’d left not long ago and her car was empty. No way anyone was with her. What the hell had happened in the past five minutes?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said slowly, scanning the perimeter of the yard. “Need me to grab anything from the store on the way home from work later?”

“Could you get a pack of spicy raman? I’ve been craving some. We need 2% milk, cereal, a dozen eggs, maybe get some candy too for if Emily comes over. Beau said she likes those red swedish fish.” My knees wobbled, my hand catching me from falling against the car door. I closed my eyes, squeezing the phone tight. “Maybe some ice cream? If you think you can be fast coming home that is. We don’t have a cooler yet.”

“No worries. I’ll be fast,” I said, forcing my voice to be even. “I’ll catch up later.”

“Bye, Tim.” I immediately called Beau, slamming my fist down on top of the car when he wasn’t answering.

“Fucking pick up!” I shouted as it connected.

“Jesus christ, I’m driving ya-”

“There is a bomb under your truck. You need to slow down and jump out without a word. Now.” There was a commotion on the other end for a few seconds, followed by a loud grunt and a curse from Emily. “Beau? Beau, answer me.”

A loud explosion went off, my head snapping in the direction of the sound. I was on the road fast, the phone cutting in and out as I sped off. I slammed on the brakes when I saw them both by the side of the road, Beau helping Emily stand up. My heart unclenched slightly and I ran over to them, a few bumps but they looked alright.

“Are you guys okay?” I asked, Emily throwing up her hands. 

“I told him I thought the truck smelled funny!” she shouted, Beau hugging her tight. 

“Teddy?” he asked me as I nodded. “How’d you know?”

“I called Y/N to tell her I took your job offer and she sounded way off. We came up with a discrete way to talk under duress when we were off grid. She told me her car was bugged by Teddy and there was a bomb under yours he intended on setting off if she talked.”

“What about Y/N’s? Is she okay?” Emily asked. I shook my head. 

“Don’t know for sure. He was using the threat of harming the two of you to force her to drive to a warehouse on the corner of second and twelfth.” I pulled out my phone, trying to call her but the signal was dead. “Fuck. He must have put a jammer in her car, turned it on after our call.”

“Or he told her not to answer the phone again,” said Beau, walking Emily over to me. “Call Lucy, get a crime scene team here. Take the girls out of town. I don’t care where, just drive until I tell you it’s safe to come back.”

“Beau-“

He gently pushed Emily towards me, her cheek scuffed up and knee bleeding. “Please, Tim. I need you to protect my baby. Please.”

“I got her,” I said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, feeling the small shake of her body. We both heard a car come up the road and slow at the scene before them. “Go. I’ll get Em out of here. But Lucy’s a big girl and she can help you. Let her.”

“Thank you,” he said before rushing over to the car, the driver exiting quickly when he flashed his badge. Beau took off down the road, Emily sighing against my side.

“You should have gone with him,” she said. I looked down to find her big brown eyes looking up, full of all sorts of worry. “You can help him.”

“Emily.” I put both hands on her cheeks, giving her a once over and thankfully finding she just had some bumps and bruises. “My sister is not a damsel and your father is strong. Today, today my job is to protect you and that’s that.”

“I’m not a damsel either,” she snapped, brushing my hands away. She frowned. “You don’t have to babysit me. You should go help him-”

“I am helping him right now. I need you to try and understand, Emily. If he doesn’t know you’re safe, he’ll worry and be distracted and he can’t concentrate on saving Y/N when he’s thinking about you too.” 

“But you know Teddy better than my dad or Lucy. You can protect them,” she said, rubbing her arm. I put my hands on my hips, hearing a siren in the distance. “Tim-”

“In the car,” I growled, grabbing her shoulders as gently as I could, walking her to the passenger side door. She went to retort but I pushed her down inside, locking the door before I even took a step away. In under a minute were driving the opposite way down the road, Emily shooting daggers in my direction. “Stop treating me like I’m the bad guy.”

“You should be with my dad, not babysitting-”

“Do you have any goddamn idea of how lucky you are? For fucks sake, Arlen. So many people love and care about you we have to decide who it’ll be that watches your back. Me? My mom left when I was four and she never gave a rat’s ass about me I found out later in life. I was a mistake she never meant to make and she made that very clear. My father? He didn’t say stuff like ‘protect my baby’. No, my father beat me, abandoned me, made me think the world’s problems were my fault. No one loved me until I was nearly twenty five. Twenty five. The only person that ever loved me in my whole sad little life until recently is the person your dad is going to rescue. Everything in me says to go do what you say and go find her but I won’t because I trust your father with my world and he’s trusting me with his. This is not babysitting. This is two people protecting their families and I never had one of those so excuse me for not phrasing this all perfectly to the seventeen year old girl that doesn’t know how good of a life she’s fucking got.”

She snapped her mouth shut, staring out the window. I sighed, rubbing my temple when she stayed quiet. “Jesus christ, I’m an asshole. I’m sorry, Emily. I-”

“I like that you don’t treat me like a kid,” she said softly. I risked a glance, earning a sad smile from her. “I’m just scared they’re going to get hurt.”

“I’m scared too,” I said, surprised when she reached over and took hold of my hand. “But I mean if they can put up with the two of us, they should be just fine.”

She rolled her eyes, a tiny smile on her face. “There’s no way you’re going back to Helena, are you?”

“No. But you don’t have to go to school today? So that’s a win?”

“I had to jump out of a moving vehicle.”

“Kiddo, I’ve jumped out of my fair share of cars. You ain’t special for that.” She whacked my arm, earning an exaggerated grumble from me. “I was shot in that arm, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you were grazed you puss-” She cut herself off, pretending to inspect the cut on her hand.

“Just call me a pussy. I’m not going to tell on you.”

“You kind of are being one. It was a scrape and you won’t stop bitching and moaning about it.” I rolled my eyes at her, putting on a smile. Maybe if I distracted her enough, she’d forget about the fact there was a very real chance her father and Y/N weren’t coming home today. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.”

Y/N POV

You faltered your steps as you rounded a corner in a warehouse, pausing when you saw your father stand from an old folding chair and give you a small wave. You glared at him, fists clenched as you stormed over.

“You disgusting piece of shit.” You punched him square in the jaw like Tim had taught you, both of you surprised at how hard of a hit it’d been. For a split second you felt bad about hitting a man in his mid-sixties but then you remembered what a scumbag he was and went back for seconds. He backed away this time, holding up his hands as you swung and missed.

“Don’t start being a coward now,” you growled, a flash of pain crossing his face.

“Please sit down,” he said as you remembered there was still a bomb under Beau and Emily’s car. There was no way to know if they were safe or not yet but you couldn’t risk it. You sat in the chair he’d occupied, Teddy taking the lone other one across from it. You narrowed your eyes as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a plastic zip tie. “Could you…”

“Oh, just be a fucking man,” you snapped, grasping the tie as he held it out. Quickly you pulled it taught around your wrists, letting them fall into your lap. “Congratulations. You caught me. Just know after you kill me, Beau and Tim and a whole lot of people are going to devote their lives to hunting you down and tearing you to pieces. You’ll never even see the inside of a prison.”

“I could never hurt you. I might not be your father biologically but I have always loved you. I’ve always considered you mine.” You couldn’t listen to this bullshit. You stood up, pacing away, putting your back to him. “Baby girl, you’re so smart. You-”

“Don’t you baby girl me,” you growled, whipping your head around. He held up his hands, his eyes watery. “You torture and murder omegas. You. Hurt. Tim. You’re dead to me.”

He swallowed thickly, nodding his head. “I don’t expect forgiveness for what I’ve done. But I need you to understand my smart girl. My girl that loved doing puzzles and reading mysteries. I need you to understand. I’m sure you’ve found my journals.”

“Yeah we found them and your little Primal candidates and protégé book. Douglas Evans? Also known as Hunter? My friend Lucy killed him. Jenny Hoyt? I busted her leg so badly she’ll be lucky to walk properly again. And Tim? Oh, I know you had a change of heart with turning him Primal but I saved him. You don’t get to have him. Your whole life’s purpose is gone.”

“I gave you Tim on purpose.” Your eyebrows shot up, head cocking. “He was never meant to be primal. I’ve always known he was your half-brother. I wanted to give him to you. A protector.”

“A protector? Is that why you sent us on the run? Forced him primal to try and claim me? Had Hoyt try to kill him? She almost succeeded by the way. Yeah, I can see you’re a big part of the Tim Barclay fan club.”

“Y/N-” You cut him off. You weren’t listening to his bullshit anymore.

“It doesn’t matter if you wanted him to kill me. Claim me. Either way, you’re disgusting for trying to get him to do that,” you said as he stormed over, grabbing your shoulders. You tensed up, staring up into his hard face.

“Listen to me! I gave you Tim to protect you. He was always there to protect you and I’m so sorry for hurting him but I had no choice.” 

“You’re a monster,” you whispered, Teddy closing his eyes. “Just kill me and get it over with.”

“You’re. Not. Listening,” he growled, shaking you hard once. You balked at him, Teddy sighing. “Put the puzzle pieces together. I gave you Tim as a protector. I don’t want to hurt you, I never would. I love you.”

“Shut up!”

“Please, baby girl,” he breathed out, his face falling. “Please figure it out.”

He grabbed your hands, pressing them against the bonding gland in his neck. You stared up at him, Teddy on the verge of crying. “Please, Y/N. You’re so smart. Please think about what I just said.”

You pressed your fingers against his gland, an unsettling feeling forming in your gut.

“Writing journals every day of your very detailed kills and leaving them where we could find was a very stupid thing to do,” you said to yourself, his head nodding. “Same as the Primal candidates journal.”

“Now, am I a stupid man?” he asked. You shook your head, a look of relief washing over him.

“You…wanted us to find it. Anyone would say it’s because you’re a psychopath that wants his crimes to be known.” He smiled.

“What else,” he whispered, your fingers prodding the gland once again.

“An Alpha’s gland is supposed to be soft. Yours is ridged, like a stone.”

“And what makes that happen my smart girl who always got straight A’s?” he said quietly. You met his eyes, your breath catching in your throat as it all clicked. 

No. No that wasn’t…

“Being primal makes it hard,” you whispered, his head nodding, tears falling down his face. “H-how long have you been primal?”

He didn’t answer, only looked over your head. “I started to journal when I was 17.”

“You were seventeen?” you said, a small smile on his face. “But that means…someone else made you primal before you finished presenting.”

“Keep thinking my smart girl,” he whispered, his hands clasping around yours as you swallowed. 

“Oh god,” you said, taking a step back when all of your reading on going primal caught up with you. “If an Alpha is turned primal after their first rut, they go crazy but will always listen to the Alpha that turned them. But if you do it before their first rut, they don’t go crazy. They just…”

“They must follow every command of the Alpha that turned them and they’ll do it without question,” he said, your bottom lip quivering. “It was a way of controlling the young pups in packs back in the day.”

“Dad, were you forced to kill those omegas?” you asked quietly. He shook his head.

“No. I killed them all on my own,” he said through tears.

“Your Alpha forbid you from telling the truth about this, didn’t they.” He didn’t respond, only closed his eyes. “Dad, who’s your Alpha?”

“You…already know the answer to that,” he said carefully, something in his head making him phrase his answers ever so specifically. You inhaled deeply, squeezing his hands. 

“We flushed Tim’s system out. We can-”

“What did you learn about Primal adolescent Alphas,” he said bleakly.

“If you go Primal and then have a rut, the Alpha is always primal, no matter if they bond or not.” You closed your eyes. “There is no flushing it out. You’ll always belong to your Alpha.” 

“Do you understand now what I mean about giving you Tim as a protector?” 

You nodded. “Maybe we can still try though. Maybe you can be saved like Tim. I know Mom must be your Alpha. She must have turned you. She was never happy I was omega.” His lips snapped shut, face strangely stoic. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” he said, looking down. “But you have to understand, a primal Alpha must follow their Alpha’s orders. They literally cannot stop if someone does something to prevent their orders from being followed.”

“I understand. Is mom here?” He shook his head. “Is she still in Boston?”

“Yes. She is without bail given they believe she was my accomplice. If they believed her to be a victim as well, she’d be able to get bail and make a run for it.” You took a deep breath, thinking hard.

“I’m guessing a confession from you won’t be good enough. You need to do something crazy like kidnap me, get my sheriff boyfriend to come here where you can kill him? You kill a cop and they’ll give her a chance and she’ll make a run for it.” He had that same stoic face again as you nodded. “You trust me?”

“I truly don’t want to hurt your mate or his daughter,” he said. You hummed. “But I have orders.”

“I understand. Can you please get me some water?” He blinked, like some strange battle was occurring in his mind. But then he was turning, going back towards the chairs. You steadied yourself before widening your elbows, snapping your wrists down hard against your thigh. The plastic snapping stung, Teddy’s head turning at the sound. “Sorry, dad.”

You kicked out the back of his knee, his bad knee he’d hurt years ago, a guttural shout slipping out as he went down. When he was on the ground, you locked your legs around his neck, his hands immediately trying to pull you off as you worked to choke him out.

“Y/N!” You felt Beau’s scent rolling off him from the other side of the room, your hands currently clawing at your fathers, his attempts at getting you off of him starting to fade.

“Don’t shoot him,” you grit out as he went limp. You rolled away, Beau restraining him, Lucy running in right on his trail. 

“The fuck is going on?” asked Beau, your dad’s chest rising and falling slowly. 

“I’ll explain later. I need to know where my mom is now.” Lucy immediately had her radio out, calling it in. Beau had a cut on his forehead wincing when you touched a hand to his face.

“Omega, I’m fine. What happened? What’s going on with your mom?”

“Teddy’s primal. He was turned at 17 by my mom. I think. He can’t say the truth, has to follow her orders. He’ll lie if you ask him flat out but he left clues behind as much as he could. The truth has to be in those journals if we read between the lines.” Beau stared down at Teddy, jutting his tongue out as you watched the gears in his brain churn. “Beau, maybe I’m naive but I think he’s telling the truth. He had plenty of time to kill me.”

“Officer Wilde,” he called, Lucy approaching, sirens heard outside. “Where is Y/N’s mother currently?”

“I asked Pop to call Springs back in Boston. She’s supposed to still be in custody.” Beau pouted, watching Teddy carefully. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Y/N your mother is three years younger than your father.” You closed your eyes, wiping your hands over your face. “Exactly. How on earth does a fourteen year old girl who has not yet presented herself make a seventeen year old boy primal?”

“Who’s the true Alpha then?” asked Lucy, Beau and you sharing a look.

“Where is your mother from?” he asked as if he hadn’t read it already in a police report.

“Seattle,” you said quietly. 

“Where was Tim born?”

“Seattle,” you whispered. 

“Brock knew about the first victim. Tina. Why would he have told us unless he wanted to point us at Teddy who would oh so willingly admit to killing her,” said Beau, your heart skipping a beat. “Is it such a stretch that Brock made contact when your dad was young and turned him?”

“Is Tim’s dad…our dad…” You breathed hard, Beau frowning. 

“Officer Wilde,” said Beau, his green eyes full of sadness. “Contact Marshal Springs, request she put us in contact with someone in their Seattle office asap. We need to arrest Brock Barclay.”

“On what charge?” she asked, already on her phone.

“Murder. Kidnapping. Primal Alpha Assault to scratch the surface.” Beau pulled out his phone, dialing Tim’s number, dread filling your gut each time it didn’t pick up. “Come on, Barclay. Answer the damn phone.”

“Beau.” You startled as your phone vibrated in your pocket, eyes narrowing. “Emily’s calling me.”

You tapped the answer button, putting it on speaker. “Em, it’s Y/N and dad. Where are you?”

“Um, I don’t know exactly. We’re near that truck stop with the big blue pig outside of it?” Beau was already texting on his phone, Emily letting out a nervous laugh. “Uh, so funny story-”

“Why did you call me and not your dad?” you asked, Emily chuckling nervously again. “Emily.”

“Um. I might have, um…hit someone with the car. So. Yeah. I uh, figured dad would have saved you by now or I could cause a distraction for him by calling you so um…oh god, how much trouble am I in?” You both raised your eyebrows, Beau shaking his head.

“Did you call for help?” asked Beau.

“Um. No.” Beau threw up his hands, your own resting on his shoulder to calm him down. 

“Emily call 911 and put Tim on the phone now,” he said. 

“About that…”

“...Did you hit Tim?” you couldn’t help but ask, Emily groaning. “Where is he Emily?”

“Um, good news, he’s alive. Bad news, he’s in the trunk of the car…and he’s primal...” You blinked rapidly, Lucy mouthing obscenities at you from a distance as she listened to the radio. “But it’s okay! I’m driving to the hospital right now to get Tim fixed cause it just happened so I know it’s reversible and the guy who stabbed this syringe thing in him while we were getting gas, who I think is Tim’s dad, I hit him with the car. Only a tiny bit which is fine, right?”

“Emily-”

“Well then Tim was going Primal but Brock is like, old so Tim tied him up with his belt after I hit him and put him in the backseat and tied him down and then Tim told me to get help before he locked himself in the trunk. I think I may have broken old guy’s leg…or foot…I don’t know, his leg is bent funny. So yeah, I’ll be at the hospital in just a minute.”

You and Beau stared at one another, his face contorted in confusion, matching the look on yours. “Okay, we’ll be there very soon,” you said. “Give me and your dad just a second.”

He put the phone on mute, holding up a finger. “Did Emily just…” he trailed off. You and Lucy nodded, Beau shaking his head. 

“Did your seventeen year old daughter just catch a serial killer? I think she did,” you said, Beau putting his hands on his hips. “How the fuck did she do that?”

“I think she Sarah Connored that bitch without meaning to,” he said. You couldn’t fight the laugh that slipped out, Beau cracking a smile. “I’m going to be happy before I start freaking out over the fact she was that close to Brock. Fuck, what if Tim hadn’t been able to fight off the primal shit-”

“Stop freaking out,” you said, Beau taking a deep breath. “She’s okay, Tim’s going to be okay, and an Arlen just caught a serial killer. Granted it wasn’t the sheriff but still.”

“I’m going to be hearing that one for the rest of my life aren’t I.”

“Might as well get used to it,” you said, unmuting the phone. “We’ll be there soon Emily.”

_________

A/N: The final part is coming soon!

[magnificent-winged-beast]

The Song Remains the Same ∞ SPN 05X13

I almost forgot the episode that gave us Team Free Will. When Dean, with his suave approach at first, asks Cas to take them to meet mom and dad and save them from Ana. Even if Cas just told them that, that would be very, very harsh for him, besides putting them in danger. Once Dean uses this technique, he has to reach for Cas when he needs something. And once Cas is lost in those pretty green eyes, of course, he'll do whatever Dean asks of him.

Then. Cas. Literally 30 seconds later...

[skyward-floored]

My mom was talking so excitedly about this thing she was reading about how chocolate in chocolate fountains is a non newtonian fluid that I thought something was wrong at first, and my dad was randomly interjecting with stuff about line integrals and some other calculus thing I forget the name of and this is what happens when a chemistry major and a math nerd are married for thirty+ years

[dreamlogic]

E has dubbed this spring the "season of pain" and she's. not wrong.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

thank yoy for drawing erik so big . He is a big man. HUGE EVEN. thank you.

Big man……….. i love me big man…..

[rogdona]

my cousin visited unannounced again so we are all hding in our rooms again JSHFJFJ

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

fascinating revelations out of my dad's professional coaching of the whole family today

my mom scored astonishingly high on empathy and caring for a woman who seemed to find it next to impossible to express that to me

my dad has done an insane amount of work to be so warm and personable considering that his natural inclination is towards strong reserve rooted in anxiety (just like me!!)

my sister shocked - SHOCKED 🙄 - to learn that she scores almost zero in empathy AND very high on manipulation

actually shocking reveal that my sister always knew she was my mom's favorite. like I kind of assumed she was mean to both of us but apparently most of the biting comments were for me

[abyssaldyke]

First holiday season I've ever done crafts for and oh my god my eyes

[britishchick09]

someone put this paper on our car...

and it might be tara? :o

[pucellerie]

even though i have quite the girly Exterior i have a spartan/austere way of life

[transmascwoman]

need irls with bikes so i can go on bike adventures with them.