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kat-katsuki · 3 years

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Love Letter | Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Synopsis: You wrote a love letter to your crush, Todoroki Shouto, but you debate on whether or not you should actually give it to him.

Word Count: 2.2k

Fluff

~~~~~~~Enjoy~~~~~~~

Dear Shou-kun,

Although we've known each other since first day of high school, we only became close friends for the past three months. I know three months is a little short for some people, but it was enough for me to figure out that I'm madly in love with you. At first, you were a little cold, a little distant and hard to approach, but after we became friends it became obvious to me that you were the kindest soul I've ever met.

I noticed how you always walk on the outside when we go out together, and how you would always keep me on your left side when I'm cold. You're a little dense to emotions, but you'd always do your best to make sure I'm okay. I'm really, REALLY grateful for that time you lent me your shoulder to cry on when my dog passed away, and how you stayed with me the whole night and held me until I fell asleep on you. You're also so patient with me, always helping me with homework, and tutoring me in my worst subjects.

I know you probably only think of me as a friend, like Midoriya and Ochaco-chan... Honestly I can't ask for more! I love being your friend, and I just love being with you! But recently these...romantic feelings of mine, has been getting so strong it's overwhelming. I really don't want to do something that might end up jeopardizing our friendship, but I really can't hold these feelings in anymore. I'm afraid that if I don't tell you now, I might accidentally overstep my boundaries, and I don't want that... If you choose to keep your distance with me after you read this, I completely understand. I just want you to know that I still want to be friends, because whether or not you return my feelings, I'm always going to be there when you need me.

Shou-kun, I like you. I love you. I just want to tell you that.

Yours truly,

(Y/N)

You squealed into your pillow to let out all the stress pent up inside as you wrote the cheesy, almost unbearable letter. Your trashcan was already overfilled by scrunched up sheets of paper, and you lost count of how many letters you have written. Your hands were sour and you just wanted to get this over with, but at the same time there was a small part of you that told you to proofread for the millionth time. "Nnngurhhhghg!" You groaned as you pounded into your pillow.

You sincerely hoped Ashido can't hear you from next door, because she would surely make a big deal out of it. Not that you didn't like Ashido or anything, but you knew she wasn't the best at keeping her mouth shut. "Ugh, fine," you muttered as you got up from your bed and stormed to your desk. You folded the letter neatly and slid it into your little pink envelope. You sealed the envelope with wax. Old fashioned, yes, but you were kind of into that. You had a collection of wax stamps and you post wax stamping videos on tiktok, since it was satisfying. Of course, nobody in the class except Todoroki actually knows about it.

Now here was the real question. When do you give it to him?

"Back to groaning?" You asked yourself in the small mirror you stuck on the wall. You nodded. "Back to groaning it is." You plopped on your bed and covered your face with the pillow and rolled around back and forth making weird muffled noises.

The next day, you carefully stuck the letter in your textbook before stuffing it into your backpack.

"Good morning (Y/N)," Todoroki greeted you during breakfast. The seat on his left was open for you. Your heart clenched at the sight of him. Seeing his soft smile first thing in the morning was enough to make your day.

"Good morning Shou-kun," you smiled at him as you sat down next to him. Today was the day. You're going to find some time to hand the letter to him. But when?

"Something wrong (Y/N)?" Todoroki asked.

"Huh? N-No, nothing's wrong. Why?" you chuckled at him.

"You looked like something is bothering you. Is it the math homework? Do you need help?"

Oh god you love this man. "No, it's nothing, really! Thanks for worrying about me Shou-kun!" you told him.

You walked to class with Todoroki, Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida. Everything was normal, but your backpack, for some reason, seemed to weigh twice as much as usual. In class you kept flipping through your textbook to glance at the letter, as if making sure it's still there. You thought you were being discreet about it, but little did you know you had eyes on you from all over the class.

During break time your friends were engaged in a conversation, so you missed your chance to give him the letter. Lunch break was too chaotic. Then you had hero training... As time went on you became less and less sure of yourself. Should you really give the letter to him? What if he doesn't want to be your friend anymore? Should you give it to him discreetly? Or do you give it to him directly? Should you just stick it in his desk? No.... You can't seem to find the right time when no one's in the class. How about the shoe box? But there's always people walking around the halls too.....

"Is it just me or has (Y/N) been acting weird today?" asked Kaminari, who happened to sit next to you in class. "I kept seeing her flip through her English textbook throughout the whole day." You had gone to the restroom during break between your math and physics class in the afternoon.

"Oh yeahhh, I saw her roaming around the shoe box area today. She was acting very sus," said Sero.

"Oh yeah, I saw her walking around holding an envelope. Wonder when she'll mail that out," Kirishima added.

"Envelope?!" the girls exclaimed.

Mina's eyes started to sparkle. "It's a love letter! It's definitely a love letter!"

"W-Wait, you don't know that!" Jirou exclaimed.

"It has to be! I mean think about it, why else would she be walking around the shoe box area if she wasn't planning on putting the letter in someone's box?!" Hagakure beamed.

The whole class started to play detective, trying to guess who the mystery man is. Meanwhile Todoroki sat there feeling really weird. There was a strange churn in his stomach, and a tight clench in his heart. His brows furrowed tightly without himself even noticing. There was only one thing on his mind. Who is the love letter for?

Everyone got super quiet when you came back, acting natural as they all sat down in their seats waiting for physics to start. During the whole lecture, people darted their eyes at you, to confirm what Kaminari said about you and the English textbook. And you didn't disappoint. You had been flipping through that textbook every other minute, a very conflicted expression playing on your face.

Todoroki had no idea why he felt angry. No, that was an understatement. He was infuriated, but he didn't know why. It was your freedom to like whoever you liked, so why is he so angry about it?

When school was over, you still hadn't given the letter to him. At this point you were thinking about giving up. Doubts filled your thoughts and you were sure by now that this was a stupid idea. It'll ruin your friendship, and that's the last thing you want. You'll have to get rid of this letter before anyone notices it.

"(Y/N), you wanna go back to the dorm together?" Todoroki asked you. He felt guilty for keeping you to him, because he knew you still hadn't delivered the letter yet. However, there was a voice inside him that told him to do whatever it takes to stop you from delivering that letter.

"Ah! Okay!" You were quick to respond. If you weren't going to confess, all you can do is enjoy every moment with him. "Do you wanna do homework together?"

Todoroki eyed your backpack, which he knew the envelope was in. "Yeah."

While the two of you did your homework in his room, he kept eyeing your English textbook. You haven't touched it since you took it out of your backpack. You seemed to be avoiding English homework, focusing on your worse subjects such as math and physics. The longer he stared at the textbook, the tighter his chest felt. "Who is it?" He blurted out.

"What?" Your head shot up from your homework, confused eyes meeting his heterochromatic orbs.

"The lucky guy. Who is it?" he asked. "The one you wrote the letter for."

Your face immediately heated up a thousand degrees. Your mouth hung open but words trafficked at the tip of your tongue. "H-How did you- I-I thought-"

"Sorry.... Kirishima was the one who noticed your letter.... I was just wondering..." Todoroki rubbed the back of his neck. He hated the way you blushed at the mentioning of the letter. "Whoever that guy is, he must be really amazing."

"I-I...uh-.....well.....um....y-yeah....he is....." You had no idea what you were doing. Words came out all jumbled, and you didn't know what to say to him.

Todoroki's fist clenched under the table. "Who is it?"

"W-Why do you want to know?" you asked.

"I just-" That's right. It's none of his business. "Never mind. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"It's you," You blurted. You took in the sight of him widening his eyes at you. It was too late to regret, so you just continued. "The letter is addressed to you...." You took out the letter from your English textbook. You slid the letter towards him and packed up your bags. "I'll....go back to my room. Feel free to take as long as you need with your reply." You burst out of his room and dashed across the floor to your dorm.

You did it. You gave it to him. You slammed the dorm room door closed behind you before sliding down against it. You held your head in both hands, groaning to yourself. Oh no.... Why?!?!! Why did I give it to him??!!!! GAHHHH! You were ready to jump off this building. Goodbye world, you've had a good life.

You were absolutely conflicted between excited and devastated. There was a small part of you that had the tiniest bit of hope that Todoroki returned your feelings, but the realistic part of you knew that your friendship was over. You laid on your bed, hugging your little panda plushy that he gave you for your birthday. You buried your face into the plushy and let it swallow your groans and whines.

Todoroki was left in a blushing mess after reading your letter. The person you like is him. You said you love him. He clutched his chest to feel the rapid beating of his heart. It was beating so hard that he could feel his pulse echoing in his ears. What is this feeling? He was unbelievably happy. Suddenly a voice spoke in his head. I like her. It was his voice. I like her so much.

A long time had passed since you went back to your room. You knew you told him to take as long as he need, but you didn't realize that each second felt agonizingly long as you anticipated how he was going to reject you.

You were about to fall asleep when you heard someone knocking at your door. You half hoped it wasn't Todoroki, because you weren't ready for a rejection just yet. Taking in a deep breath, you opened the door to meet a familiar pair of heterochromatic orbs, the ones you loved so much. "Shou-kun..."

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Of course." You made way for him to step inside, then you closed the door. He held the envelope in his hand.

"I read your letter," he told you. Your eyes were still a little bit blurry from closing them for so long, but you thought you vaguely saw a hint of redness on his cheeks.

"O-Oh..." You rubbed the back of your neck. "It was cheesy, wasn't it?"

"N-no...it was sweet," he replied, making the blush on your face deepen.

"I-I see..." You looked down. There was an awkward silence between the two of you. You just fidgeted as you waited for him to collect his words. Surely he must have felt guilty for rejecting a friend, so you gave him time.

"I like you too..."

What?

You looked up, eyes wide and awake. The redness on his cheek had become quite obvious. "Pardon?"

"I like you too.... A lot. I-...I was wondering if you um...." He held the envelope up, eyes darting back and forth between you and the door. "If you want to be my girlfriend...."

Holy shit.....

You slapped yourself in the face.

"(Y/N)?!?!?!?!" Todoroki exclaimed, completely horrified.

"It hurts..." you muttered at the stinging sensation on your left cheek.

"Well of course it does! It's turning red! Why did you slap yourself so hard?" Todoroki exclaimed as he quickly placed his right hand over your cheek. The cool temperature on his hand was really soothing to the pain on your face.

You chuckled, "I wanted to make sure I was actually awake!"

"Don't do that again," he said softly, brows furrowed as he gazed at you. "Promise me."

"I won't do it again Shou-kun, I promise!" You placed a hand over his right hand, tilting your head a little to rest your face in his hand. "I'm so happy this isn't a dream."

"(Y/N)..."

"Hmm?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes please." You tip toed to meet his lips. You were intrigued by how half of his lip felt hot, and the other felt almost chilly. Maybe it was because he was using his quirk to cool your face. "I love you Shou-kun. I want to be your girlfriend."

"I love you too (Y/N). I want to be your boyfriend."

A/N: You know how some people spell Shouto with a ‘u’ and some people spell it Shoto, well I tend to go back and forth with it depending on my mood LOL. Idk why. Anyways! Please like if you enjoyed, and reblogs are appreciated!!! If you like my BNHA content, be sure to check out my AO3 which I post my main Bakugou x OC fanfic.

#todoroki shoto #bnha todoroki #bnha #bnha fanfic #mha #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha fanfic #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki shouto #todoroki fluff

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ask-the-good-creeps · 3 years

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i’m curious as to why ben and jeff hang out so much. is there any particular reason why?

//Be forewarned, young one. The story of how these two started their friendship is not for the faint of heart. It’s a friendship forged upon mutual understanding of each other’s deepest traumas and regrets. If you can handle shedding a few tears today...feel free to read on, and know as you read that until now Jeff, BEN, and Smile were the only three who knew this story.//

Secrets, Exposed

“Shut up! Everything was better before you showed up! Why can’t you just go away and leave me alone?! I hate you!”

The little girl in front of him had been six years old at the time. Only six…but that didn’t matter in the moment. He was a ten-year-old boy who had developed a short fuse thanks to the abuse he sustained day in and day out. He had made a habit of lashing out at other kids about the smallest of things over the past few years, and she was no exception to that.

All she’d done is ask him to play with her; he’d refused, she asked again – as young children do. It was an inconvenient time for him and an annoyance that she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, but the situation didn’t exactly warrant his overreaction.

Now she was crying, and before he could say anything further she ran off into the front yard.

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He couldn’t do anything back then. He had been a kid…just a stupid, short-tempered, ridiculous kid. He wasn’t that kid anymore.

The poltergeist had had a few things on his to-do list when he first woke up in the lake. After facing the trauma of an untimely demise through violent murder and the horrors of The Between that followed shortly after, he was relieved to find himself with a second chance (of sorts) in the living world.

He eliminated his murderer so nobody else would have to suffer at the bastard’s hands. He found a way to let himself into powerlines and grids, as well as the Internet so he could travel to any place and learn anything he damn-well pleased.

He realized then that he was no longer limited. He could do something now.

He started looking for her. He scoured the Dark Web, online chats and seedy sites, every digital place he could. He still found nothing but dead ends and horribly disturbing possibilities. He didn’t want to admit that he needed help, but he knew he’d never find her without it. This wasn’t his area of expertise, and her life meant more than his pride as far as he was concerned.

When another not-so-human contact of his first mentioned the eternally-grinning vigilante, he wasn’t interested in the guy in the slightest…but the guy’s standard victimology was another story. His contact had told him that nobody in their little network – and likely nobody else in the world – could ever do better at tracking down and eliminating human traffickers and small-time kidnappers alike.

That’s how he’d ended up here. He kept himself invisible as most spirits could while he waited. This old house had been condemned many years ago. The building was falling apart, and the empty interior was defined by peeling paint, rotting wood, and the ever-present scent of mold that may or may not have been toxic. It made no difference to BEN. It was unpleasant, but he couldn’t die a second time.

It didn’t take much longer for him to hear the front door creak open. The sound was nearly silent, but any noise was clear and obvious in this long-forgotten place. There were footsteps next – two sets that were both light and quick.

BEN watched them come around the corner into the room where he’d been waiting. The first to step in was a red and black creature of canine origin. It bore an impossibly large, unsettling grin full of sharp teeth, and its eyes found BEN’s location immediately and stayed fixed on him. The canine’s human-like partner came in soon after.

The poltergeist took in his appearance. He was tall and muscular underneath the maroon-stained hoodie he wore. His greasy black hair hung to his shoulders in thick strands that contrasted strongly against his pale, mottled skin. His face was what uniquely identified him as the man BEN was looking for; the Cheshire grin carved into his cheeks stood out proudly. From a distance, it would completely override his true expression, which reflected caution now.

He stood still in the room with his eyes focused on the wall in front of him. Most would think he had assumed he and his dog were alone, but BEN knew the man was nearly blind. He was listening to verify who was in here. While the green-clad spirit doubted he could be heard, he knew the man was likely aware of his presence regardless.

“Hello, Jeff.” BEN greeted after a few minutes of silence as he let himself take form. The man, Jeff, focused his gaze on him despite most likely only viewing him as a silhouette. Jeff offered a grunt of acknowledgement as he regarded BEN, but nothing further. His stance indicated that he was waiting to be told why he’d been called here. He showed no signs of impatience, but BEN had a hunch he wanted to be somewhere else.

“We’re both busy people, so let’s not beat around the bush here. I need to find someone, and I hear you’re my best shot at making it happen.”

“I’m not a bloodhound for hire. If the someone you’re after is someone I’m able to find, I’ll be the one to kill them. You don’t need to be part of the equation.” Jeff’s voice was cold and raspy, and his words set BEN’s face into a scowl. He took a moment to compose himself before speaking again to avoid saying something to offend Jeff. Normally he wouldn’t care about upsetting the guy, but he needed help.

“You misunderstand,” BEN started, “I’m after…an old friend…who disappeared a little over a year ago. I just need to find her, and I haven’t found any leads on my own. Just point me in the right direction – that’s all I’m asking.”

Jeff didn’t respond right away. He seemed to be considering it, but BEN didn’t know for sure and he wasn’t about to overstep any boundaries to find out.

“I can make it worth your while. What do you want in exchange for your service?” BEN asked.

“Nothing. No deal.” Jeff shook his head and turned around to go back the way he came. BEN growled at the rude dismissal and appeared in front of Jeff again.

“Why not?” the poltergeist demanded.

“Does it matter?” Jeff replied emotionlessly. The casual tone was enough to set BEN over the edge.

“Yes, it does matter! She matters! She’s only seven years old now – you of all people should know what kind of Hell she must be going through! You’re telling me you’re willing to spend all your energy finding someone to murder, but you won’t put that same effort toward finding someone to save? What the fuck is wrong with you?! How can you call yourself a vigilante?!”

“I never called myself a vigilante.” Jeff replied as his face worked into a frown. BEN opened his mouth to rant further, but Jeff cut him off. “If this friend of yours was six and she was taken over a year ago, what makes you think she’s even still alive?”

Those words were more effective than anything at silencing the young poltergeist. He hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t wanted to. Now that he was being confronted with the possibility, he couldn’t find words to answer with. BEN opened his mouth and shut it a few times, while Jeff waited silently for a reply.

“She has to be. She has to be.” BEN wasn’t able to say anything else. He refused to believe it could be possible that she was gone forever.

Jeff sighed. He knew based on the info he’d been given here that this friend of BEN’s only had a ten percent chance of being found alive after all this time, fifteen percent maximum; but he could hear the desperation in his voice and had a strong feeling the ghoul wouldn’t leave him be until he agreed.

“Fine. I’ll help. Where was she last seen?” BEN’s face momentarily reflected shock, but it faded quickly as he started to give Jeff all of the information he had. Jeff promised to help locate her, but made it very clear that he made no promises of finding her alive. And so it began.

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BEN would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least mildly irked with himself. He’d been searching for months to no avail, but it only took Jeff a couple weeks to get a solid lead. Jeff knew these monsters, though – how they thought, how they planned, where they’d go. He had better insight into these twisted minds than BEN could ever hope to have, and that’s what made him the best.

They had gone through several rings now. She had been sold and bought several times since her disappearance, always by outsiders, it seemed. Now they were at the end of the lead. The final stop. If she wasn’t here…

“Stay out here.” Jeff had ordered.

“What? No, I’m coming in!” BEN countered with a glare. They were outside the house where she was supposed to be. He couldn’t just wait out here.

“Listen, kid. I’ve seen what kinda conditions these fuckers leave their toys in. If she’s in there, you don’t want to see her like that. Just wait here for me - I’ll handle it.”

Jeff walked away toward the house then without waiting for BEN’s reply. The poltergeist huffed and crossed his arms while he waited for something to happen. His foot tapped impatiently on the damp grass despite how little time had gone by.

He started to pace after he saw Jeff go around the side of the house and leave his view. Seven steps forward, turn around, seven steps back the way he came, turn around…he kept going, his impatience growing with each step. He stopped when he heard a shout inside the house, and after a couple seconds of debate with himself he went in after Jeff.

The livingroom was trashed, but devoid of life. He heard talking in the kitchen and went in to find Jeff, who was keeping a middle-aged, balding man pinned to the wall. The vigilante’s knife was pressed into the skin of the terrified homeowner’s throat, but not hard enough to draw blood…yet.

The homeowner was pleading for his life, begging Jeff to let him go, promising not to tell anyone about him, the whole nine yards. Jeff obviously wasn’t listening anymore. He had the information he needed.

“Well?” BEN demanded. Jeff heaved a deep sigh and hauled the man to his knees in front of BEN.

“I warned you.” Jeff answered quietly. It took BEN a moment to process what the grinning man meant by that statement. The poltergeists teeth clenched as tight as his fists, and the lights in the house started flickering wildly as he fixed his harshest glare on the pathetic creature in front of him.

“Where is she?!” the ghoul demanded. The bastard was terrified out of his mind as he attempted to stutter out an answer. It wasn’t good enough for BEN.

“If you aren’t going to tell me, I’ll make you show me!” the blond was so firmly entrenched in the maelstrom of his own wrath, he barely registered Jeff shouting for him not to do it. He latched his cold, water-bloated, decaying fingers around the bastard’s head and dug into his memories.

Jeff had been right about these images being things he wouldn’t want to see. Part of BEN wished he’d listened…but the other part of him �� the stronger part – told him that she’d had to live through this nightmare because of him. It was his fault she’d suffered so much. The least he could do is try to understand that suffering.

BEN yelled out in frustration as he reached the last memory the lowlife had of her. He threw the bastard away from him and the twisted head he’d just been looking through smacked painfully hard against the wall. The body slumped over underneath the new bloodstain on the wall, and BEN left him there awkwardly folded in half as he yelled again. This time the force of his rage shattered every lightbulb in the house and left them in complete darkness.

Jeff watched this all happen silently. An ‘I told you so’ definitely wasn’t the right thing to say here – Jeff may have been cold, but he wasn’t that cruel. BEN stormed out through the back door and Jeff followed him. He knew the ghoul could more or less teleport away if need be, so he was curious about why he chose to walk instead…and where he was going. BEN’s gait was purposeful; he was a man on a mission.

He listened as the ghoul stopped next to a slow-moving river. Jeff had heard stories here and there about BEN. He knew the guy had an aversion to water due to the circumstances of his death…and yet, he heard the splash as BEN reached his arm into the river and felt around. The blond seemed to find what he was looking for, and seconds later Jeff heard another splash and a series of dripping noises, followed by a light thump as what was pulled from the water was lowered onto soft dirt.

BEN sank to his knees next to the wet burlap sack. It had been sewn shut, and BEN could feel the weight of the rocks that had held it at the bottom of the river. He wanted to tear it open, but he hesitated. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Another sound tore from his throat, but this one wasn’t a yell. It was a sob, and it was soon followed by another. He was too late. It was his fault. The horrible possibility he hadn’t wanted to consider was right there in front of him now – there was no way to deny it anymore. Thick, dark liquid slithered down his cheeks in place of tears as he released sounds of the deepest pain he’d ever known.

He felt someone sit next to him, felt an arm around his shoulders. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was surprised to find Jeff holding him in a clear attempt at being comforting…but that wasn’t his main concern now. Jeff held him closer and rubbed his arm while he let it out, like the older brother he’d never had. BEN’s sobbing died down after a while, but the pain he felt was nowhere near fading.

“The last thing I said to her was…I hate you.” The poltergeist sniffled, and the statement hung in the silent night air between them for a few moments.

“Did you hate her?”

“No! I just…I wanted her to leave me alone for a while. I guess I got what I wished for.” BEN’s answer was heavy with remorse and bitterness alike. There was another long pause.

“You never told me who she was to you.” Jeff replied. There was no warmth in his voice, but none of the coldness BEN had come to expect from the man was there either.

“My…sister,” BEN answered, “Rosie was my little sister.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jeff said quietly.

“How could it not be? If I’d just agreed to play with her that day, she wouldn’t have been taken! She ran outside because I made her cry! She got kidnapped because of me!” BEN’s voice was raised, but lacking anger. The fiery rage he’d felt before had been extinguished, the sorrow and loss had all leaked down his cheeks…now he just felt the crushing weight of the guilt that he’d been holding onto since she vanished that day.

“He didn’t even care. Nobody did. The police stopped looking and said there was nothing they could do. He just drank more and took down all the photos of her in the house, like she was never there! I’m the only one…the only one who remembered her. I’m the only one who cared, and she died thinking I hated her.” He let out another sob, but it was just the sound. He didn’t have any tears left to add to it. Jeff waited for him to be done and pulled him in for a proper hug.

“I’ve survived being tormented by these fuckers. I’ve been hunting them down for ages. You said yourself that I know how they think better than anyone,” Jeff started, “So listen to me when I tell you that it wasn’t your fault. The guy who took her was planning it. He’d been targeting her for weeks, remember? Even if you’d agreed to play with her that day, it wouldn’t have deterred him. He would’ve done it another day – Hell, he might’ve even kicked your ass to drag her away – and there wouldn’t have been much you could do. You were a kid. He was an evil bastard that did something unforgiveable. All of this was his fault, not yours. It wasn’t your fault, BEN. It wasn’t your fault.”

The words weren’t getting through to him. BEN couldn’t believe any of it.

“I’m her big brother. It was my job to protect her.” He cried.

“No. It’s the responsibility of the adults around you to keep you safe when you’re a kid. They failed you, and they failed her. None of this is on you. It’s not your fault.” Jeff held him tighter and continued to reassure him. BEN was inconsolable, nonetheless. He felt a drop of water his head, and wondered if it was starting to rain.

Wouldn’t that be poetic? He thought to himself morosely. He pulled away from Jeff and looked up, but didn’t see a single cloud in the night sky. He looked at Jeff and noticed the liquid running down the man’s cheeks. He hadn’t expected it. He’d thought Jeff was a borderline sociopath this whole time. Jeff wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, but didn’t make a sound. How long had he been crying?

“How do you want to send her off?” Jeff asked as he gestured vaguely in the direction of the bag. BEN hadn’t thought about it before. He looked at the rough sack that contained what remained of Rosie; it was hard to believe she’d met the same terrible fate he had in the end. She’d been alive when the bag was thrown into the water. She’d drowned like he had. He remembered the fear, the burning of his insides despite how cold the water felt on his skin, the sudden feeling of calm as his life slipped away from him. He remembered The Between. Was she lost in there, as he had been? Had she managed to leave it?

“BEN?” the poltergeist looked back at Jeff as he was pulled from his thoughts.

“Cremation.” He stated simply. Jeff nodded slowly.

“I know a guy who can help with that. What will you do with the ashes?”

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The urn was heavy in his hands. Jeff’s contact had offered the nice silver one. BEN had mentioned he wasn’t going to keep her, but the guy had insisted he have something nice to hold her in. The green-clad spirit appreciated that gesture now.

He stood on the roof of the barn and looked out over the fields and pasture below. There were no cows, no horses, no pigs, no people. Everything he remembered here was gone, save for the hollow structures on the land. This farm had belonged to their maternal grandparents. They’d passed shortly after Mom did, but BEN still remembered them. He and Rosie had both loved visiting here when they were young…this was the only place BEN knew that held only good memories for them both.

The sun was setting now. He watched the sky be painted with vibrant pinks and purples as it went. He could hear her little voice next to him, marveling at how pretty it looked; then the ghost of the memory faded, replaced with the throbbing ache where his heart was supposed to be. He held tight to the urn, knowing what he had to do, but reluctant to actually do it. Nobody had ever told him how hard it was to let go.

Time didn’t slow for him. The sun continued its descent and he knew he wouldn’t have much time before it was gone. He wanted her to see it. He wanted the light to be there for her. He took off the lid of the urn and held it out in front of him. The universe seemed to call her home; a gust of wind came to carry her ashes as he let them fall from their silver container.

He watched her go, and he continued to stand there with his arm outstretched long after the last trace of light left the sky. Alone under the moonlight, he finally brought his arm back to his side. He left the roof of the old barn and started to wander, looking for something and nothing all at once.

Before he knew it his wandering had brought him to the woods. As he moved on, lost in his hurt, he came to a small clearing that hosted a single wooden structure. He didn’t think much on it as his feet carried him to the door of the unassuming little shack in the woods.

#ask the good creeps #ask creepypasta #creepypasta #jeff woods #jeff the killer #BEN DROWNED #ask #short story #sadness

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prettytoxicrevolver · 5 years

Text

Just Friends | Jack Avery

Warnings? None?

Requested? Yup! Hope you like it @babyybesson!

Summary: You’re best friends with the boys (specifically Jack) because your uncle is R8dio but when Jack and Gabbie start dating you take a step back as to not interfere with the relationship. However, you’re not sure if that causes more harm than good.

Word Count: 2,258

“(y/n)!!! You ready?” Your uncle Troy aka R8dio asks while popping his head into your room. You were finishing the last touches on your hair and you swivel in your chair to face him.

“Yeah give me like two seconds,” You respond before running your straightener over your hair one last time. You unplug it and grab your phone and purse and head over to your uncle.

Today you were shadowing your favorite uncle at his job. He was helping a brand new boyband edit and mix their new song. You had always wanted to learn the ropes of your uncles job and you were excited to see how it all works.

The drive to the studio was pretty quick and you were practically shaking from head to toe in excitement. Music has been the biggest part of your life for as long as you can remember and to learn new things about it always excited you.

“The band is called Why Don’t We,” He says as the two of you walk into the building. “They’re five guys around your age so you should get along pretty well.”

When you get to the studio you watch as your uncle gets everything set up and ready. He begins to explain the different controls and what they do when there’s a knock on the door. You both stop and look up to see a curly haired boy walk in with a wide smile plastered across his face.

“Hey man!” The boy greets and walks up to your uncle and offers a handshake. He then turns to you and you offer an awkward smile and wave.

“This is my niece (y/n). She’s gonna be hanging out and learning the ropes today,” Your uncle explains and the boy smiles.

“Hey! I’m Jack,” He says offering his hand and you take it.

He then explains that the rest of the boys should be there soon and stopped to grab some coffee before coming in. As you sit and wait, your uncle finishes setting up and Jack takes a seat next to you.

“So you’re Troy’s niece?” Jack asks and you nod and smile.

“Yeah. I’ve always thought his career was cool so I wanted to see how it all works,” You explain and he smiles.

“It’s pretty cool. I still don’t understand it all but he somehow makes our music sound awesome so.”

“You guys have a lot to do with it though,” You respond and he nods.

The two of you talk a bit more, basic information being traded back and forth until the rest of the band finally shows up. They introduce themselves quickly before starting to work. You stick to the back, watching your uncle navigate the controls and watch as they create a new song.

“Wait,” You chime in and your uncle turns to look at you. “For the last chorus, drop back the background completely and enhance the harmonies.”

Your uncle complies, fiddling with the controls for a second before applying the changes. He rewinds the track and lets the last chorus play again. You watch as the guys start to nod along, liking how the ending sounds.

“Looks like you’re a quick learner,” Jack compliments.

“I try my best.”

The day is long but you enjoy practically every second of it. It was fun to learn how to create music the way your uncle did and the boys were super sweet and kept you entertained even during the slow bits of the day.

“Alright if I sit here any longer my head is going to explode,” Jonah says and stands up. “Wanna get dinner?” He asks the rest of the band and they all murmur responses.

“(y/n)? You coming?” Jack asks when he gets to the door. You look over at your uncle and he nods.

“Get her home safe though,” He warns and Jack smiles.

“Come on.”

You head out with the five boys and before you can even ask, they start to discuss food ideas. You mostly listen as they throw out ideas and agree when something sounds good.

“Chick fil a?” You pipe up and the boys all stop.

“Ohhh I like you,” Zach says pointing at you and you smile widely.

You head out to the restaurant, Jack and Daniel in the front, Zach and Corbyn in the middle and you and Jack in the back. The two of you continue your conversation the entire time. It was surprising how quickly the two of you clicked and were already bonding over so many things.

“What are you gonna get?” He asks when you’re in line and waiting behind the rest of the boys to order.

“The chicken strips duh,” You respond.

“Okay we’re definitely gonna be best friends,” He says and you smile proudly.

It had been a little over a year since that day and you and the boys were closer than ever. After hanging out at chick fil a for a couple of hours you got each of their numbers and created a group chat. Even after you got home they were still sending you dumb videos of each other.

It didn’t stop there. You were over there house practically every weekend and when summer came around it turned into almost everyday. You loved hanging out with the five singers and so when they headed off for the something different tour you found yourself bored out of your mind.

However, you thankfully had a summer class and a summer job at the studio to keep you busy and help you through a summer without your friends. When the boys got back to LA you spent so long at their house they had to kick you out at some point just so you could see your family.

You didn’t regret it one bit though. You loved them and summer felt like ages when they were gone. Jack missed you like crazy too and you’re reminded of how quick you became friends. It changed your life in the best way possible and you were so blessed.

“Hey (y/n)?” Jack asks catching your attention.

The two of you were sprawled out on his king sized bed, your head at his feet and vice versa. At the sound of your name your prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at your best friend.

“What’s up?”

“Should I ask out Gabbie?”

Gabbie was a family friend of Jack who you had met just before tour started. The two of you got along quickly, bonding over your love of the ocean and she offered to teach you how to surf. You also quickly realized that Jack had the biggest crush on her but wouldn’t tell her.

“Duh,” You respond sitting up further. “You guys would be cute together and I can tell she likes you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just text her,” You flop back onto the bed and a few seconds later you hear Jack typing on his phone. You pull out your own phone and scroll through instagram. You decide you haven’t gone live in a hot second and you start up the video.

“Hey guys,” You greet and you can feel Jack looking over at you. He moves around on the bed until he’s laying the same way as you and smiles when he realizes you’re live.

“Sup guys,” He greets as more people come to watch.

Ever since you became friends with the guys, you gained a ton of new followers. You never quite understood it considering you didn’t do anything interesting. But that’s how fandoms worked these days and because you were a fraction closer to the guys than they were, they decided to follow you too. And you also gave them some great content some days.

The comments are flooded when people realize Jack is here and begin asking a million questions. You both sift through the normal ones, how your day has been, is Jack excited for tour, any new updates and other stuff like that.

“Is (y/n) single?” Jack reads.

“Forever and always,” You joke and Jack nudges you.

“Hey you’ll find the right guy one day,” He tells you and you smile. When you look back at the comments, they’re now flooded with how cute you and Jack were and how we should be together. You both ignore them and search for more but upon seeing there’s nothing left you get off live.

“Did Gabbie text you back?” You ask when you end it.

“Yeah we’re going out this friday,” He says smiling widely.

You were laying down on the couch, binge watching Teen Wolf with Jonah when you hear the front door open. Jack walks into the living room not five seconds later and you and Jonah are sitting up ready to ask questions about his first date.

“How did it go?” Jonah asks first.

“Really good.” He says smiling and happiness fills your heart for your best friend. “(y/n) can we talk upstairs?”

Before you can say anything, Jack is grabbing your hand and pulling you off the couch. You cast Jonah an apologetic glance before following behind your best friend. When you get to his room, you head straight for his bed and lay down. Jack falls down next to you and out of habit you start to run your hand through his curls.

“What’s up?” You ask hoping the date really did go well and he didn’t just say that because Jonah was there.

“She’s perfect,” He sighs out eventually and you smile. Jack was always pretty good at expressing his feelings but he always told you he trusted you the most. Therefore, you were the only one who really ever saw him like this.

He launches into the story of the date, no detail spared and by the end of it you’re having secondhand butterflies. You were so happy for your best friend and that he was so smitten with Gabbie even after one date.

It had been a couple months since Jack and Gabbie had gone on that first date and since then their relationship had grown. During this time you had stepped back a bit so Jack could develop his relationship with Gabbie.

You didn’t want to interfere and overstep your boundaries so you let Jack ask you to hangout when he’s free and you found yourself hanging out with the other guys more. Jack would always be your best friend but you never wanted to push it.

However, the invitation tour was coming up soon and you were excited to be on the road with your five best friends. Thankfully your school schedule worked with you so you could still do your classes and travel with your second family. It was the perfect opportunity.

About a month into touring, Jack had decided he wanted to go public about his relationship with Gabbie. He talked to the whole band and everything considering things would change knowing their fans, and they supported him.

However the whole thing didn’t go over well.

“Band meeting, now.” Jack says popping into the dressing room you were relaxing in. Before you can question it, Jack dips back out and you’re left following him.

He leads you to one of the random backstage rooms and when he opens the door, the other four singers are sitting around waiting. Jack gestures for you to sit and you take a seat in between Daniel and Zach.

“Why are we here?” Zach asks once you’re settled.

“So you guys saw that I posted about me and Gabbie right?” He asks and the five of you respond in agreement.

“Gabbie’s getting a ton of hate now because of it,” He says and you can tell he’s holding something back.

“And?” You ask.

“And it’s because of you,” He admits and your face contorts to one of confusion.

“Me?” You ask. You look around at the rest of the guys and they all wear the same expressions as Jack.

“You haven’t seen the comments?” He asks instead of further explaining.

You pull out your phone and pull up twitter and scroll through the now trending “Jabbie” hashtag. While the first few tweets are good ones, the further you scroll you start to see what Jack is talking about. Since you had taken a step back from Jack, you had stopped posting as much about your friendship.

However, the fans were taking that the total wrong way. They thought you stopped because you liked Jack. There were practically hundreds of tweets questioning how Jack had a girlfriend that wasn’t you.

“Shit,” You curse and Jack nods. “What are we supposed to do?” You ask now looking at the rest of the band.

“My suggestion is to tweet about it to be honest. That usually gets them off our back pretty quick,” Daniel says and you nod.

You pull up a new tweet and it takes you a second to think before you end up sending a tweet that says “In the wise words of Anne-Marie, We’re just friends.” After sending it, the boys go back to doing their pre show routines and you talk to Jack.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize. “I never meant to interfere that was my exact opposite intention. I wanted to give you and your relationship space.”

“No harm done just don’t fall in love with me for real,” He jokes and you shove him.

“Never in a million years you dork,” You respond before pulling him in for a hug.

“Yeah, yeah.”

#jack avery #zach herron #daniel seavey #jonah marais #corbyn besson #jack avery imagine #zach herron imagine #daniel seavey imagine #jonah marais imagine #corbyn besson imagine #why dont we #wdw #wdw x reader #wdw imagine #why dont we imagine #imagine #bravebesson

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ahyperactivehero · 5 years

Note

5 or 7 from the newest list? Angst~~~

Ohhh what if I combined them~! I hope you enjoy!!!!

“Wake up! Please wake up.”/ “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Life could be lonely when you were one of the only operatives on Earth. Sure, other angels visited from time to time, primarily Gabriel, to check in and make sure he was still ‘fighting the Good fight’, but they didn’t mean much to Aziraphale. What did it matter if all of Heaven was down on Earth if none of them could understand why he enjoyed food or books or music that didn’t feature in The Sound of Music?

Maybe that’s why he and the demon Crowley had hit it off. The Arrangement, while originally Crowley’s idea, was certainly something that benefited Aziraphale just as much (sometimes even more so) than the demon, and had led to far too many evenings together discussing everything they had experienced on Earth so far.

He’d deny it, but he’d grown rather fond of Crowley, far fonder than he had ever intended to.

Which is why he was…uneasy when Crowley failed to show up at their scheduled meeting place. They’d both had this meeting arranged months ago, Aziraphale was sure of it, and he’d even managed to memorize the list of meeting places well enough to know for sure that he was at the right one.

He checked his pocket watch. It had already been two hours, but what was two hours to immortal beings? Two hours could pass in the blink of an eye, so it was entirely possible that Crowley hadn’t even noticed he was late yet.

Yet standing there, not knowing what had caused the demon’s delay, was enough to send a spark of worry running through him, causing the short amount of time to feel like ages. What if Hell had caught wind of their Arrangement?

He shivered as he thought of what they might do to Crowley. Sure, he was their Golden Boy when he was at the top of his game and taking credit for all of the terrible things humans were doing, but that didn’t mean they would give him any slack if they found out he’d been fraternizing with an angel.

He sighed and checked his watch again, as if that might somehow force Crowley to appear. Still, the bus stop was just as empty as it had been. A few people walked past, but none of them had the familiar red hair or strange strut that Crowley did.

Would it be too strange to go to Crowley’s flat to check on him? He knew it would be odd, but his main concern was overstepping the boundaries they had set in place for themselves. Crowley showing up at his bookshop wasn’t strange, but Aziraphale showing up unannounced at Crowley’s place? Practically unheard of.

He could always use an excuse, he supposed. If Heaven found out, he could always say that he had simply been checking to make sure that the demon wasn’t getting up to any trouble.

And if anyone from Hell was there… well, he’d just have to figure out what to do about that when he got to it.

Sighing, he resigned himself to actually catching the bus he was at the stop for and riding it over to see Crowley. It wouldn’t hurt to just check in, after all.

The door was locked and there didn’t seem to be any sound coming from the otherside.

Part of him wanted to turn around and leave right then and there. It was obvious that Crowley wasn’t home, and even if he was he probably didn’t wish to be disturbed.

‘You know he’s here,’ Aziraphale thought to himself. ‘You saw that damned car of his out front.’

He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and gave a small sigh. A simple snap later and he was inside the flat.

It was dark inside as it was lit by nothing but TV, but that wasn’t anything new. The few times Aziraphale had been anywhere Crowley lived it was usually dark, the decor usually draining most of the light into it’s black fabrics. There were a few splashes of color here and there with plants and decorations, but Aziraphale barely registered them.

The TV was on but muted, the room seeming to flicker as the scenes changed. Faintly, Aziraphale recognized one of the little old ladies on screen as being from Crowley favorite show, but he couldn’t quite remember the name at the moment.

In fact, most of his brain power was going towards the figure limply laying on the couch.

“Crowley?” he asked. He hesitantly stepped inside the flat and shut the door. His eyes darted around, looking for any signs that anyone else might be there, but he couldn’t sense anyone.

He called out to the demon a bit louder as he approached. “Really, my dear, you must learn to use an alarm or something,” he said, his voice brighter than it had been. Here he’d been thinking that something terrible had happened, and Crowley had simply been having a nap.

Yet Crowley didn’t move. He didn’t even react as Aziraphale got closer, a sure sign that something was more than likely wrong.

“Crowley?” he said. With a snap the lights sprang on, flooding the room with far more light than should have been possible from the few lights in there.

He dropped to his knees next to the demon, his hands hovering over him. He’d seen Crowley sleep for a long time before, but this seemed different. He wasn’t in bed, he wasn’t even in his night clothes for Somebody’s sake. It was as if he had simply passed out watching TV and didn’t wake up for whatever reason.

His hand immediately went to Crowley’s neck, searching for his body’s pulse. It was there, far fainter than Aziraphale had ever felt anyone’s pulse, but at least it was there.

“Wake up, dear,” Aziraphale said, reaching for Crowley’s shoulders. His head hung back, his neck stretching at an almost odd angle as Aziraphale gently shook him. “Crowley! Wake up!”

Still, those large yellow eyes stayed shut. Aziraphale glanced around desperately, wondering if there was anything that might be able to help him, but all he noticed was the shaking plants and the TV continuing to play the next episode.

“Please wake up,” Aziraphale said. He scooted Crowley over until he could sit down and rest his head in his lap. He ran his hands through the bright red hair that was practically plastered to Crowley’s head, and couldn’t help but think about the fit he would have if he knew what his hair looked like at the moment.

With a glance up to Heaven and a quick prayer to Her, he reached out to touch Crowley’s chest and allowed his Angelic nature to search for what might be the issue.

It was harder to find things that were bothering a demon rather than an angel, as Aziraphale hadn’t had much experience in that department, but he could tell that the demon seemed drained. It was like all of his energy was gone, but his body was still here.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said. He closed his eyes as he tried to find out what exactly was ailing the demon, but he didn’t seem to be able to dig much deeper than that.

There was nothing for him to do about the demon’s low energy. There didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with the demon, so it would simply have to be a waiting game until he woke up.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for him to wake up.

“Azzziraphale?” Crowley asked, his voice soft and his words hissing. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Aziraphale startled, his eyes popping open and quickly retracting his hand from Crowley’s hair. “Oh!” he said. “Are you alright?”

Serpent eyes blinked up at Aziraphale in confusion before sliding closed again. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’re you doin’ here?” he asked, a bit more coherent this time.

“Well, when you failed to show up for our meeting I figured I better come and- and make sure you weren’t causing too much trouble.”

Crowley snorted. “Nope, no trouble. Just sleeping.”

Aziraphale resisted the urge to brush his limp hair back out of his face. “I couldn’t wake you up,” he said, his voice filled with concern. “And you’re so low on energy. What happened?”

Crowley waved his hand weakly, almost as if he were trying to just wave the whole incident away. “Sorry, angel. Didn’t realize that was today.” He gave a huge sigh before he tried to sit up. At that moment he seemed to realize where he was laying.

“Oh, sorry,” Aziraphale said as he helped push Crowley into a sitting position. It was just as slanted as his posture always was, but this time there was a sort of tiredness that clung to his entire being that made it obvious that it was something that was needed rather than an artistic choice today.

“You never answered what happened,” Aziraphale said. He held his hand out, like he might touch Crowley, before drawing his hand back. “You were so low on energy that I could barely sense you. I thought- or rather, it seemed like, you might not come back.”

Crowley gave another snort as he dropped his head onto the back of the couch. “Hell got wind of some of the things that I had been working on lately and thought that they weren’t “diabolical” enough,” he said, stretching his legs out. “So I’ve been running around with Hastur lately. Trying to make sure he doesn’t completely ruin my plans or eat too many people, which is basically a full time job on top of my job.” He let out a very unamused laugh. “Beelzebub said that I should consider it a privilege to work alongside the Duke of Hell, that we could really learn a lot from each other.”

Aziraphale knew from past experience that Crowley’s definition of demonic actions and Hell’s definition tended to differ greatly, especially when it came to Duke Hastur’s.

“I guess I just let myself get a little bit more drained that I had really planned to,” Crowley said. He looked down at his hands as if he might be inspecting them for something, but didn’t see it. His eyes started to close again. “I dunno. I’m just exhausted.”

Aziraphale wanted to beg him to stay awake with him, as he knew he’d be reminded of Crowley’s weak and limp form if he were to go to sleep now, but he also didn’t feel like he had any right to ask that from him.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can get you?” he asked. He felt the need to be helpful to Crowley right now.

Crowley opened one eye but otherwise didn’t move. “Nah, I don’t think there’s really anything for you to do.”

Aziraphale nodded, unsatisfied. Surely there was something he could do…

“I could make tea,” Aziraphale said. He glanced off to the side, where he was pretty sure Crowley’s kitchen was. “We could sit here and watch some more of your Silver Ladies.”

A tired smile came to Crowley’s face. “Golden Girls, angel.”

“Oh yes, right. Well, then, I’ll get started on that tea.”

A few moments later the two of them were settled in on Crowley’s couch, a blanket Aziraphale had miracled covering both of them, and their tea warming their hands. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what Crowley saw in the show exactly, but he did have to admit that it was charming and the fact that Crowley liked it made it even better.

After an episode or two Crowley began to drift off. His head came to rest near Aziraphale’s arm, and he couldn’t help but remember the fear he’d felt earlier at seeing Crowley’s still form.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” Aziraphale said, hoping that his voice sounded half as strong as he wanted it to.

Crowley said nothing. Instead, he snuggled down closer to Aziraphale, his face firmly buried against his arm.

Remember you guys can ask me to do any of the prompts that I’ve shared, I just need to know which ones! ^^

#@blueflutist1228 #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #my fics #storm writes #storm answers

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svt-husbands · 6 years

Text

I’ll Bury You

Member: Woozi

Genre: Angst, Yandere!AU I think???

Word Count: 2306

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING? STALKING, HINTING TO MURDER, OBSESSION, ETC. IF UNCOMFORTABLE, PLEASE DON’T READ. THX.

(A/N: I didn’t really answer your request, and I’m sorry; I just saw “deep emotional shit” and “angst” and was like “okay.” Apologies, my dear!)

Jihoon was one of those. One of the quiet ones. He preferred to stay in his own world rather than come out and face the darkness. He knew where his solace was, where his sanctuary was. He would rather be alone and at peace, than face his reality.

You were determined to know him, that mysterious boy who always sat in the back rows of the lectures halls or in the dark corners of the Fine Arts building. Everyone who knew of him said he was odd, he wasn’t normal. Well, you would say, no one is normal.

You would seek him out, finding him in the piano rooms or in the last row of the balcony of the small theatre. He noticed you. He knew who you were. You would approach him, try to speak to him, try to get him to open up to you. He would scowl, assuming that he was supposed to be your social justice case, and push you away. He would leave his little nook and try to find some peace without you.

You wouldn’t leave him alone. You always found him, to Jihoon’s misfortune. Sometimes, you would annoy him with questions or something that happened to you that day in lectures. Other times, you sat next to him, working on an assignment. You felt peaceful in his presence, and eventually, Jihoon found his solace in you.

He waited for you to find him every time. He wouldn’t change his usual locations as much, just to make sure you could find him. And true to your word, you found him. He fell in love with you, with your dedication to him. So much so, that he started to find you. He would find you after your lectures, with some sort of treat for you in his hands. You knew he liked you, and you found his mystery and silence alluring. You fell for him, too.

But you always forgot to ask him why he was such a recluse.

The day you found out the reason was initially one of the greatest days of your life. It was your six month anniversary with Jihoon. He wanted to take you out for a nice date. He took you to a little cafe just outside your campus. He shared a slice of cake with you, but found you sweeter than the baked goods. He took you for a stroll and chatted with you to no end. When it began getting darker and cooler, he took you to his flat and watched movies with you well into the night.

It was almost 11:30, and you were still tangled into Jihoon’s embrace, some forgotten film still playing on the screen. You got up, saying you needed to use the bathroom. You went into his bedroom and flicked on the light. You were about to approach the bathroom door, when you noticed something unusual on Jihoon’s bedside table. It was a notebook, black and plain, completely unassuming. You found it unusual because Jihoon rarely had normal notebooks. He usually took lecture notes on his laptop and owned special music notebooks. He did have normal notebooks, but those were usually the cheap ones he could buy from convenience stores. This one had a leather cover, and a button seal. You knew you should have just left it alone, but your curiosity got the best of you. You unbuttoned the seal and opened to a random page.

The header was a date from about nine months ago, just around the time you began to spend time with him. The entry was short, maybe just a few sentences. It read: She found me today. She was talking about her history professor and how that woman gave her a 86 on her essay and refused to bump her grade up after finding errors in grading. She was so angry, but so beautiful while talking. I don’t like her history professor. How dare she give my beloved a hard time?

You felt your heart swell. You didn’t know he was in love with you since the day you two met. But there it was, clear as day in Jihoon’s own handwriting. He called you his beloved, three months before you two began dating. You turned to another page, this one from eight months ago.

She found me in the basement of the Student Center. I keep trying to stay away from her, but she won’t let me go. She doesn’t know what she’s falling into. Maybe that idiot is better for her than I am. No! What am I saying? She’s perfect, she’s my everything. She will be mine, and no one will get in our way.

You were confused at this turn of events. You turned to the entry before it, and found out why.

How dare he? How dare that guy come with her to our place? It’s our place, made just for the two of us. He has no place there. He has no place in her heart either. She’s mine, all mine. I won’t let him take her. I can’t let him.

You remembered that day, eight months ago. Your friend from your Chemistry class wanted to tag along and meet Jihoon. You took him to the Fine Arts building, to the balcony Jihoon was in. You thought everything was okay; your friend was making nice conversation with Jihoon, not overstepping any boundaries. You didn’t know Jihoon felt threatened. You remembered after that day, the boy suddenly stopped speaking to you. He ended up transferring to another university, with the excuse that he wanted to be closer to his family. You were very confused.

You put two and two together and realized that Jihoon probably said something to that boy that scared him enough to transfer away. You felt in denial. Jihoon wouldn’t have done something like that, would he?

He would, and would do much worse to keep you.

I told her she shouldn’t have gone out. She said she would be fine, that it was just “a friend’s small party,” and that I don’t need to worry. What does she think I am, a fool? I knew she would get hurt. That guy, that asshole that tried to touch her. He’s going to pay. Once I know that she’s completely fine, he’s going to regret being born.

You gasped. It was a party four months ago, and you had gotten blasted. In the heat of the party, you wanted to go home and encountered a sleazy and completely drunk male trying to feel you up. You did feel surprised when Jihoon popped up and took you home. But you didn’t remember that guy or what happened to him afterwards. What did Jihoon do to him?

She talked about some guy in one of her classes that she thought was “so cute.” History, second row in front of her usual seat. Blonde, tall. Multiple piercings. Goes by JJ.

Six months ago. That boy, JJ, ended up going missing.

Her roommate is being so rude to her! That girl shouldn’t be leaving her crap everywhere for my beloved to pick up. She’s not a servant.

Seven months ago. Your roommate apologized and began avoiding you. It took you skipping class to get a hold of her and talk to her to get a reason why. She wouldn’t give you clear answers, but promised to be more thoughtful and chatty.

She skipped her English class today. She has that midterm for Russian tomorrow, but she risked getting points cut from her grade.

Wonder what’s in her head today. She doesn’t usually walk through the Founder’s Garden to get to Chemistry, so why did she today?

She’s sitting with a group of people in the Student Center. She said she couldn’t go out with me today because she needed to work on a group paper. I told her I was okay with it, but I’m not. I’d rather have her in front of me. Best next thing: sit on the fourth floor overlooking the main lobby.

She doesn’t know what she does to me. She’s my absolute everything. God, I’m so in love with her. I do everything to keep her safe, to keep her mine. Maybe it’s for the better that she doesn’t know what I do to keep her.

You dropped the book and backed up to hit a wall. You thought you knew Jihoon. You thought he was the adorable, quiet gentleman who would rather shiver than let you be cold. You thought he was the guy who would wait outside your classrooms with a coffee or smoothie drink in his hand for you. You thought he was your best friend who would proof read your papers, watch crap movies and eat terrible delivery with you, would hold you and tell you everything was going to be alright. You thought he told you all his secrets when you told yours, but apparently not.

“Are you- oh,” Jihoon shouted, walking into the room. His eyes fell on you, hugging the wall, then to the open book on the ground. He picked it up and closed it, before shoving it into a drawer. He turned to you. “Did you read it?” You held up your hands in an effort to keep him away from you. “What did you do to them?” “To who, my love?” “Them!” You shouted, pointing to the drawer. “The people! My roommate, my classmates, that drunk guy! What did you do?” “I did what I had to,” he shoved his hands in his front pockets. “To protect you.” You scoffed. “Protect me? You threatened people! Oh god, did you kill someone?” You grabbed your chest, feeling tears fall out of your eyes. The boy that loved you, that touched you, might have blood on his hands. You felt disgusted. “Kill someone? Do you think I would do something like that?” If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would have heard the sarcasm in his voice. “You wouldn’t, right? Jihoon, tell me. You wouldn’t!” Jihoon shrugged. “They deserved everything they got.” “Jihoon,” you swallowed. “What the hell did you do?” You put your hands up in a defensive stance. “Do you really want to know, (Y/N)? Do you really want to know how I threatened to skin that dick in your Chem class who tried to butt in? How I’ve sent the people who try to take you from me straight to hell?” A strange noise came out of your throat. Jihoon shook his head furiously. “You don’t understand anything, do you? I’m trying to protect you! But you don’t make it easy!” “And that means threatening people? Stalking me? Killing someone?” You shouted. “I would burn the whole damn world down if it means keeping you!” Jihoon growled. He was red in the face, panting from the shouting.

He didn’t approach you at all, but his stance and gaze made you fear for your safety. You wanted to leave. You wanted space, air. You wanted out. You pushed past Jihoon, trying to get out the door. He latched onto your arm and pulled you back. You turned, glaring at his expressionless face, and tried to pry your arm out of his grip. His grip got tighter and tighter, until you knew he would leave a bruise. “Ow! Jihoon, stop! You’re hurting me, let go!” He broke out of his trance and looked at you with tears in his eyes. His grip loosened, but he didn’t completely let go. Jihoon didn’t say anything and you weren’t sure what was going through his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. You had to strain to catch it. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He let go of your wrist. You were about to run out of the room, when you noticed Jihoon walk towards a wall. He stood facing the wall for a few minutes, before letting out a frustrated scream and punching a hole through it. You jumped and gripped the doorway, watching Jihoon fall to his knees while cradling his now heavily bruised hand. You noticed that it was his dominant hand. Your heart lurched as you felt pity for the boy you loved. Jihoon made a complete 180 with emotions. He went from an angry, terrifying monster, to the lonely boy you fell in love with in less than a few seconds. You swallowed, hesitant to make a run for it. He looked so small and scared, and you cursed your stars for feeling sympathy for Jihoon.

You approached him, gently taking his hand and assessing the damage. Jihoon looked at you through tears in his eyes and you could swear he was the embodiment of the heart eyes emoji in that moment. “You… you’re still here?” His voice was meek, shameful, confused. “I hurt you, you should leave. You need to go, get away from me. I’m not… I can’t protect you.” “I’m not going to leave, you’re hurt.” “I’ll hurt you.” It sounded like a promise. You shook your head, completely in denial. “You won’t hurt me, right?“ “I can’t let you be with anyone else. You have to be mine. Only mine. I can’t live without you. You bury me,” he mumbled. “I won’t leave you, I swear,” you said to him, looking into his eyes. He whipped his head up and maintained eye contact with you. His hands held your face, creeping closer to your neck. “You won’t leave me? You’ll be mine, forever?” You confirmed it with a nod. Jihoon swallowed. “You can’t lie to me. You swore to me, on your life. You’ll be mine. You can’t lie to me.” “I’m not lying-“ “You can’t lie to me and you can’t leave me, or I’ll bury you.”

-t

#seventeen #seventeen drabble #seventeen drabbles #svt drabbles #svt drabble #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #woozi angst #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #woozi #svt jihoon #seventeen scenario #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt scenario #kpop #trigger warning #possible trigger??

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sophisticated-angel · 7 years

Text

Out of My Hands - Part Three

Character: Castiel

Warning: None

Word Count: 1,276

Pairing: Castiel x Reader, eventual Dean x Reader

Prologue - Part One - Part Two

Summary: The morning after she returns home, the reader’s hangover is cured by Castiel, and Dean calls her. Meanwhile, Castiel confronts the angel Azariel.

Story

Aspirin does absolutely nothing to help you. Three pills and a cup of coffee later, you're head still throbs and your ears are ringing like the bells of a cathedral on Christmas morning. No matter what you decide to do, it aggravates your migraine. TV grates on you, the sound of the outdoors pierces your ears, the sun shoots daggers into your eyes, and the smell of food makes your stomach churn. To sum it all up, you drove six hours in the dead of night to get back home, slept for five hours until your head woke you, and haven't had a bite to eat since before killing vampires yesterday.

“You've been drinking.” A new voice – though not unfamiliar – breaks the relative silence in the room.

You sigh, not bothering to move from your hunched position on the couch. “I thought you practiced common courtesy. What happened to knocking first?”

“I'm sorry.”

The ringing in your ears peaks for the third time in half an hour. Your fingers are already at your temples, and you start massaging without a second thought. Of course, it does no noticeable good, but after suffering through this for another five seconds, there are two fingers being pressed to your forehead, and suddenly the ringing, the migraine, and sensitivity vanish. There's a popping in your ears, but nothing more.

“Is that better?” Castiel inquires.

“Son of a bitch,” you mutter.

“Have I missed something? Did you injure yourself on that hunt?”

“No, you got everything. I've told you before to not do that.”

“I was only trying to-”

“I know what you were trying to do!” Getting to your feet, you glare at him, all the while gesticulating with your hands. “You were only trying to help! That's all I ever hear from you!”

“But I've only seen you-”

“Four times including today, I know! But every time I bump my head or scrape my elbow, my head is filled with your need-to-help thought waves! It's like I become a beacon of distress that you can't ignore! I'm already married to you, and on top of that I'm connected to your head?! Is nothing sacred?!”

“I can't do anything about the connection, (y/n).”

“You can't do anything, huh? Where have I heard that one before?”

He has no response. With his own eyes he holds your stare, and through your fury you notice the lack of anger in him. He isn't lashing out, not retaliating. He's letting me be in control, you think. For the briefest flash of a second, you consider the notion that his apologies hold a sliver of honesty. This in mind, you take a breath to calm yourself.

“Look.” You start over with a calmer tone. “I have had it with this whole arranged marriage deal, alright? The healing thing you do, it's just . . . it's not normal. Nothing in my life is normal, and when you just zap away a hangover, I get reminded of that. My thoughts aren't my own anymore, I haven't had personal privacy for months, I can't even stick this ring on a necklace and tuck it into my shirt to pretend it doesn't exist . . . just, please don't zap me back to health. If I get hurt, I would rather live with stitches and casts.”

“I'll respect your request if you want me to.”

“I do.”

From the kitchen comes the unmistakable sound of your home phone ringing. It's out of place enough to catch your attention. Very few people even have your home number, so few that you could count the number on one hand. Even telemarketers don't call more than once a month, and that happened last week. Tearing your focus from Castiel, you head into the kitchen and grab the phone from it's cradle, pressing the 'answer' button as you bring it up to your ear.

“Who is this?”

“(y/n)? That you?” the caller asks.

“Who's asking?”

“Oh, sorry, this is Dean. We met last night?”

“Oh, right.” Recognition hits you. “Did I give you my number?”

“No, not exactly. I uh, I found your cell on the sidewalk near where you were parked. You've got a number labeled 'home' in your contacts, so I figured I'd give it a shot and see if you'd answer.”

Vaguely, you remember wondering where you'd set your phone as you stumbled drunkenly into the house, but in your inebriated state the thought hadn't lasted long. You'd gone to bed without giving it a second thought. Apparently, you'd been drunk enough to forget the device nearly six hours out.

“Damn. I must've been really smashed.”

“It happens.” Dean laughs good-naturedly. “Anyway, I've got it my car. I assume you'd like it back?”

“Yeah, that'd be good. Where are you? I can meet you halfway.”

He's still in the same town as last night, so finding a halfway point isn't hard once you retrace the landmarks you passed on your trip there. After agreeing to meet up at an out-of-the-way gas station, you end the call and set to grabbing a few things for your imminent road trip.

“Who was calling?” Castiel asks.

“Someone I met yesterday.”

“Who?”

“Just some guy I met at a bar. I left my phone there, and he wants to make sure I get it back. Why are you still here?”

“There's something I need to tell you.”

“Then tell me.” Without pausing in your packing, you give him half of your attention.

“Today is our first anniversary.”

“Is it? Time flies.”

“By imposition, you and I must spend the night together.”

“And by spend the night, I'm assuming something sexual is implied? Not gonna happen.”

“No one can force anything venereal to occur. All that is required is for you and me to be in the same place at the same time until morning.”

“What if I don't want to?”

“You don't have a say. If you ignore the mandate, an angel will be sent to retrieve you. It would be better for you to obey.”

“Screw Heaven.” With a scoff, you sling your packed bag over your shoulder.

“I've tried. It doesn't end well.”

“You're telling me you've tried to double-cross Heaven? Sorry, but you really don't seem like the type.”

“I didn't use to be. Where are you going?”

“To get my phone.” Before he can interject, you continue. “I'll be back before night gets here. Believe me, I can't wait to sit in awkward silence for eight hours.”

* * * * *

“The girl has too much control, Castiel.”

“She has no control.”

“No control? She comes and goes freely.”

“Only because I allow her to. It's not control if she needs my permission.”

“And I suppose you allow her to speak to you with disrespect?”

“I allow her to speak however she pleases.”

“Such tones from her should not be tolerated.”

“What tone she uses is no concern of yours, Azariel. Your job was to make sure the union happened, and it has. Now you can leave her alone.”

“Don't overstep your boundaries. My primary objective was to see through with the marriage, yes, but now it is my job to ensure that it goes smoothly. Any sign of disloyalty and . . .” Azariel snaps his fingers for effect.

“There won't be any need for that.”

“You're view is not objective. The girl is volatile, reckless.”

“She's angry.”

“She's liable to do something you will both regret. Despite the recent upsets in Heaven, I am still your superior. It is my call to make, and I suggest you keep a very close watch on this girl.”

READ PART FOUR HERE

@pureawesomeness001 @27bmm @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @super-not-naturall @gabriel-themightysugaraddict @kiwi-pop @coffeekeyboardsss @erikafierce @wildfirewinchester @deathtonormalcy56 @riversong-sam @kdfrqqg

#supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #out of my hands #reader insert #series #part three #x-reader #sophisticated-angel

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you-make-me-wander · 7 years

Photo

Chapter 16 of “Know better” is now up!

Read on AO3, FF, Wattpad or under the cut.

Author’s note: So this was supposed to be 2-3k…

In case you missed it, I posted a one-shot a few months ago that is a flashforward of this story (Drabble #22), about a year after the events in this chapter.

I’ve also posted new stories this month, so if you haven’t yet please go check them out.

Enjoy :)

It takes a toll on all three of them.

On Tuesday, when Lydia picks up Ariel from pre-school and tells her daughter that they’ll have dinner at Stiles’ for the first time that night, Ariel throws a fit on their way to the car much to Lydia’s embarrassment, saying in between cries and shouts that she doesn’t want to talk to Stiles. Because the little girl doesn’t say that she doesn’t want to see Stiles specifically, Lydia decides that they’re going anyway. Still, just like the night before, Ariel doesn’t address him even once during the evening, hurting him like he’s hurting her.

Lydia can quite literally see how both Stiles and her daughter become more and more heartbroken as time passes and no solution to their conflict is reached. In fact, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen Stiles nor Ariel sadder than when she takes her daughter’s hand and they leave for the night, following the plan so that Stiles finally gets to spend his first night at home alone ever since his accident.

On Wednesday, as agreed, Stiles is supposed to stop by for breakfast but when he calls Lydia to say that he’s about to leave to meet the girls, Lydia has to tell him that Ariel didn’t sleep well during the night and that she woke up earlier than usual, so the girl had already eaten. Stiles ends up staying put, skipping breakfast altogether until Lydia stops by and forces him to eat. After his physical therapy session, Stiles and Lydia have lunch and spend the afternoon together as planned, but whereas they could have taken advantage of that alone time to move some of his things back to his place or even to enjoy themselves, truth is those hours are spent discussing how they can make things better; how they can make everything right again.

They come up empty-handed, with nothing more than what they had already agreed on a couple of days before.

Both Stiles and Lydia pick up Ariel from pre-school that afternoon and have dinner at Lydia’s. Surprisingly, Ariel doesn’t throw a fit this time, resolving to keep quiet throughout the meal. Still, the little girl eyes Stiles constantly as if to make sure that he’s still there but no words come out, and truly she’s only scared of pushing him away any further. She doesn’t understand what it is she did wrong to make Stiles want to leave.

Stiles spends the night there, yet the girl doesn’t talk to him until Lydia puts her to bed, nor does she say a word the next morning as well.

And Thursday it’s when it starts becoming worrying.

During breakfast, Stiles and Lydia really notice that Ariel has been eating less and less the past few days, having lost some of her appetite. It only concerns Stiles and Lydia further, so when they take her to pre-school Lydia makes sure to tell Cora about it so that the teacher can keep an eye on the little girl throughout the day.

It’s when they learn from Cora that a couple of the kids in her class have their parents going through a divorce or a separation, and that because Ariel and Stiles had become so close so quickly - and also the whole ordeal his accident arranged (that even though unintended, ended up changing their routines so much) - it’s only normal to expect that at the very least, Ariel is rather confused. Confused about what having so many new people around her and her mother means; about what Stiles - albeit temporarily - moving in implies. Confused about what it suggests now that he wants to leave. Regardless, Cora promises that she’ll keep an eye on Ariel.

Stiles stays until late again, determined to figure out a way to make the little one stop hurting but it proves fruitless. During dinner, both him and Lydia try more than once to strike up a conversation with Ariel but she seems even quieter than in the last few days, sadder, and barely touches her food during the meal.

Lydia wants to believe that she lets Ariel go to her room after realizing that forcing the little girl to eat won’t be the answer, hoping that she’ll come around in an hour or so if she gets hungry. But it isn’t the whole truth. A part of her just wants Ariel to leave so that she can cry.

After all, Lydia is heartbroken too.

She has only cried in front of her daughter a handful of times, and in all of them Lydia hated herself for it. Your children aren’t supposed to see you suffering, and aren’t supposed to hurt because of it. It had happened when Lydia felt alone and didn’t have Natalie around to help out, or when Ariel did something for the first time and Lydia knew that her little girl would probably never have her father around to witness it.

Being a single parent can get lonely, and up until moving to Beacon Hills Lydia had only been able to rely on herself, and sometimes on her mother whenever the woman could. Yet she often wonders what it would be like, having raised Ariel with a father who was present, who was there for everything and anything that came at them even if Lydia knows it could never have been Jackson. Not with his temper and his wrong views of the world, not with his lack of responsibility and compassion at the very most. Had he ever changed, or had he been different, Lydia doesn’t have a clue of where they be today.

And yet, despite loathing the thought of Jackson ever being in her daughter’s life, Lydia dreads all the moments when Ariel will need a father and suffer with the absence of a parental figure as she gets older; the moments Jackson won’t be a part of that Ariel will for sure ask Lydia about one day.

Jackson already wasn’t there for the first time Ariel crawled or when she took her first steps. He didn’t hear her first word (something along the lines of ana, because the little redhead was obsessed with bananas by then and always wanted more) nor was he there when she mastered potty training. The same way, he won’t be here when Ariel loses her first tooth or wants to learn how to ride a bike, when she learns how to write and how to read. Ariel won’t have a father who can scare off possible love interests when she’s too young to even think about romance, or someone to take her to father-daughter dances. Lydia doesn’t even want to think what Ariel will say if she ever wants to get married and doesn’t have a father to walk her down the aisle.

Tears threaten to spill down Lydia’s cheeks the second that Ariel is out of her sight, and Stiles is on his feet in an instant, pulling Lydia closer and wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he can manage, as if he can will her pain away just because he wants to. Lydia sobs quietly into his chest until Stiles pulls back and wipes her cheeks, kissing her hairline and whispering comforting words that Lydia can’t quite make out.

They’re silent while they clean up the table and do the dishes. They’re silent when Lydia goes help Ariel change into her pajamas and returns to the living room just as conflicted as she’d left. They’re silent as they cuddle on the couch, Stiles’ arms wrapped around Lydia’s frame comfortably as they rack their brains for a solution.

After a few minutes of closeness - of closeness and protection and care because Stiles always wears his heart on his sleeve, always, and makes the simplest thing feel like more -, Lydia pushes a hand against his chest and sits straighter, entwining her fingers with his. “I can’t stop thinking about what Cora said,” she admits bashfully, barely a whisper.

Stiles responds just as quietly. “I know,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Lydia, maybe…”

She nods because she already knows what he’s going to say. “I think it’s time to talk to her about Jackson.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, leaning in a little. “Have you uh--” Stiles looks down at his lap where their hands are. “Have you given any thought to how you’ll do it?” He asks, almost timidly because maybe this is overstepping a boundary. Maybe a boyfriend asking his girlfriend how she’ll tell her daughter about a father she knows nothing about is a bit too much.

Lydia nods slowly, gazing down as well. “I uh—” She licks her lips, feeling her mouth suddenly dry. “I have but… How do you tell a 4 year old that her dad won’t be a part of her life even if he’s out there in the world somewhere?” She practically hums.

Stiles cups her cheek with the hand that isn’t holding her own places his lips on her forehead, kissing her gently. “You’ll figure something out,” he says, assuming that it’s not his place to interfere in this matter. “Have you talked to your mom about it?”

She nods again. “Yes. We always thought we had more time,” Lydia confesses. “We always thought this would only happen when Ariel was older, when she could understand better.” She bites on her lower lip nervously before continuing. “But then we came here, and we met all of you, and that alone was bound to change things. And then you…”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers sincerely.

She tries to dismiss it because it isn’t true. All that Stiles has ever done for them was for the better; this mess was meant to happen anyway even if he was just a friend of the family like the others, if only not as gravely. “No, Stiles. That’s not what I--”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten so attached right off the bat. And I definitely shouldn’t have gone after that robber, that was so stupid!” He chastises himself. “I shouldn’t have accepted to come here, that only made things worse…”

“Stop,” Lydia murmurs softly, shaking her head slightly. Her green eyes call for him until he’s holding her gaze, helpless at how entrancing she can be sometimes. “I don’t want you to apologize for any of it, not ever again. I don’t want you to apologize for looking after my daughter, for caring for her so deeply like you do. I don’t want you to apologize for trying to do what you thought was right or for accepting help when you needed it. Stiles…” Her voice breaks and Lydia takes a deep breath to calm herself down before the dam breaks again. “What’s done is done, and I don’t think we did wrong. I think it was unavoidable, sooner or later.”

“Maybe if we’d waited…” He tries to justify, hating that part of the reason why Ariel is hurting is him.

“Then it would have happened anyway,” Lydia tells him, believing this to be true. It’s all she’s been thinking about lately. “And what? We would just not give in to our feelings? You’d pretend you don’t enjoy spending time with Ariel like I know you do?” She says lightly, trying to cheer up their moods a little, a barely there smile on her lips.

Stiles laughs through his nose, picking up on what she’s trying to do. He rests his forehead against hers. “In my defense, you two are pretty lovable. It’s pretty hard to ignore it and I’m weak. I never stood a chance.”

Lydia smiles genuinely this time, her eyes shining for the first time in days with something that isn’t tears. “I think I know the feeling…”

He thinks of kissing her, but then it also crosses his mind how Ariel could walk in on them. How it could make everything even more complicated if she didn’t understand that either. “I should go,” he says instead. “I don’t want to push it with her.”

Lydia must have been thinking the same thing because she straightens again, pursing her lips nervously as she’s reminded of the pressing matter at hand. “Maybe. I don’t even know anymore… You staying could help but would confuse her more, but on the other hand you leaving…” Lydia yawns despite herself, tired from the last few days wearing her out. “I don’t really know…”

“Lydia, you look exhausted,” he mumbles, concern in his voice. “You haven’t been resting at all, you’re always worried…” Stiles gets up from the couch and, still holding her hand, pulls her up as well. “Why don’t I head home? Maybe you can get Ariel to eat when I’m gone, and then you can try and get some rest--”

“You know I can’t sleep when I’m--”

“Nervous. I know,” he finishes. “I can call you and talk to you until you fall asleep,” he offers with a kind smile.

“You’re not that monotonous,” Lydia jokes lightly, trying to disguise the uneasy feeling that tugs at her heart at the thought of him leaving again.

“But I know how to calm you.”

And in truth, he does. Lydia chooses not to tell him that it has more to do with his touch than his voice for the time being. “That you do,” she concedes even though she doesn’t want to. Not if he means he gets to leave.

Lydia follows him to the front door in silence and Stiles comes to a halt. “So…”

“So…”

“Call your mom,” he suggests. “Tomorrow’s Friday so maybe she can come this weekend?”

“She has a parent-teacher conference tonight, but I’ll call her tomorrow morning,” Lydia agrees. “And then we’ll decide how to talk to Ariel. Maybe with her around it’ll be easier…”

Somehow, they both doubt that. “We can call Melissa too. I know that they all keep telling us to just give it some time but I… I don’t want this to drag more than it has to. I’m worried about her, Lyds…” And Lydia can hear the pain in his voice. “She’s not eating, she’s not talking…”

“Then stay,” Lydia pleads quietly.

“I don’t know,” Stiles mutters under his breath. “I don’t think I should.”

“Nonsense,” Lydia replies. Ariel loves you, Stiles. She’s just hurt.” The redhead takes hold of his hands and pulls him a little closer to her as she leans against the wall. “And I want you to help me figure this out.”

“Lydia…”

“Stiles, this isn’t your fault and I don’t blame you for any of this. This was going to happen eventually, and if it’s happening now… Well, we’ll figure it out. You and me.” She bites on her lower lip nervously and Stiles sighs. “Stiles, ever since we met…” Her voice quiets and Lydia smiles softly, her green eyes set on his amber ones. “I’ve seen you give away all you have, all of you just for a chance to make the ones you care about happy. You made me believe that it was okay to trust someone again. And I want to trust that Ariel needs you, and that I need you, and that maybe you should stay until this is resolved.”

Stiles pecks her lips softly because this has been taking a toll on them too. Whereas just one week ago they were starting to explore more of each other and enjoying any free time they had without Ariel to make out openly, now they’re constantly close to one another but nothing much happens anymore. It doesn’t feel so right. And so now Stiles kisses Lydia so that she knows that he misses her too, that he wants this to be over in the best possible way even if he doesn’t know how.

The comfort is shortly lived when he remembers that just a few doors down the hallway, one of the people in his life he cares about the most is hurting.

“I don’t think she wants me to,” Stiles says sincerely, sad as Lydia as ever seen him. “If Ariel doesn’t want to see me, I don’t want to force her to, so… Maybe I should go…” He mumbles again but he doesn’t want to, not at all.

Lydia is just about to kiss Stiles in reassurance when they’re both startled by a door creaking down the hall, and into view comes little Ariel. She’s holding Missy, the girl’s favorite stuffed monkey clutched to her chest as she sobs. Lydia holds her breath and can hear Stiles do the same.

There’s a faint “Don’t…” that they barely hear, and yet Ariel’s raspy, tired voice resonates as if she’d shouted. “Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave again, daddy.”

There’s silence. Silence between Stiles and Lydia, who just stand in place, still holding hands and closer together than Ariel is used to see them but neither makes to move. Silence from Ariel after she’d said the words too, because she’d been listening in on their conversation ever since they stepped into the hallway and she doesn’t want Stiles to leave, and now that she’s said it Stiles isn’t moving at all.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she cries, sprinting into his arms because she wants to do everything in her power to not let him go. Stiles can only fall to his knees to catch her, looking up at Lydia in bewilderment. The girl sobs against the crook of his neck, holding on as tight as she can. “Don’t leave, daddy. Don’t leave…”

None of them moves. Stiles has an expression on his face that Lydia can’t quite decipher, thoughtful yet mixed with something else that she can’t quite put her finger on. After a moment, he locks eyes with Lydia again, murmuring “Maybe it’s time for that talk, after all.”

Lydia nods, worrying her lower lip. “Ariel, honey?” Ariel doesn’t look up nor does she let go of Stiles. If anything, she holds on to him tighter. “Can we talk to you?” She asks in a high-pitched voice, and Stiles knows that Lydia is on the brink of tears as well.

The little girl nods but doesn’t look at either of them, not wanting to let go for anything. Stiles picks her up wordlessly, holding on to her just as fiercely, and heads to Ariel’s bedroom with Lydia in tow. Putting her down, Ariel is reluctant to break the contact so Stiles holds her hand with one of his, grabbing hold of one of Lydia’s with the other. All three sit on the bed, Ariel in between both adults and Lydia reaches for a blanket to cover Ariel with. If only because it’s a cold night or out of nervousness, Lydia isn’t sure.

“Honey, we… We know you must be confused with everything right now,” Lydia starts, running her fingers down the girl’s fiery hair. The girl just looks wide-eyed between them.

There’s a moment of uneasy silence. Then “Ariel, I’m not… I’m not your dad.” Stiles takes a deep breath, as if letting out the words pains him. “You know that, right?”

Ariel had said it instinctively. It had just come out. She’d realized that Stiles was leaving, and being so young she thought that it could mean forever, and in that moment all she wanted was for him to stay. Not knowing how to answer it, Ariel asks instead “Then who is?”

Lydia swallows dryly. Ariel had never asked because she’d only been in daycare for a few months before joining pre-school here in Beacon Hills, and other than that she’d always been with Lydia and Natalie only. Naturally, being around so many fatherly and familial figures now was bound to lead to this, sooner or later. “Your father…” Just how much information do you share with a 4 year old? Lydia bites on her lower lip worriedly runs one of his hands up and down Lydia’s back soothingly. Lydia smiles at him briefly and pulls her daughter closer to her, hugging her sideways. “Your father is not around, Ariel. He is… Far, far away and he’s not coming back.”

The girl looks up, very serious and still teary. “Why?”

“It’s uh— It’s hard to explain. You will only understand when you’re older, sweetie. For now, you just need to know that we can’t count on him, and when you’re older I’ll tell you more about it, alright? It’s just you and me, kiddo.”

Stiles gives the girl a moment to process it, watching her frown as she tries to make sense of what she’s been told. “But you’re not alone, alright?” He says, and Ariel focuses on him. “You will always have your mom, and your Nana, and all of us, Ariel. We’re all here for you. Me, Eric, Uncle Scott and Aunt Allison, Grandpa and Grandma…” Ariel had made a habit of addressing everyone the same way the other kids did and mostly it was endearing, but now it had Stiles worried it could make the situation worse.

“But you’re leaving…”

Ariel could as well have slapped him. It’s an understatement to say he’ll be glad if Stiles never has to hear that hurt tone in her voice ever again. He opens his arms to her. “Come here,” he says, and Ariel leaves her mother’s comforting embrace for Stiles’, sitting sideways on one of his legs and resting her head on his chest. Lydia starts crying silently again, Stiles notices, but by now they’re all emotional. He beckons her closer too and Lydia sits beside them.

“You know how Eric likes me a lot?” Stiles asks Ariel, who nods looking up at him with wide-eyes, attentive as he’s ever seen her. “Okay, so if you ask Eric, he’ll probably tell you that he never wants me to leave his house either. But I have my own house, munchkin, you know that.” He speaks slowly and softly, making sure that she’s keeping up with what he’s saying. “I have my own things there, and my room, just like you do here. And you love your room too, don’t you?” Ariel lets out another sob but nods in response regardless. “Well then, I love being in my house just as much as I love being with Eric and Claudia at their house, or just as much as I love being here, with you and your mom.”

“Stiles stayed with us because of his accident,” Lydia continues. “He was hurt, and he needed our help so he could get better. But now he’s better, so it’s time for him to go back home again.”

“But I’m not leaving, not to never come back. It just means that I’ll get to sleep in my own room again and be around my things. I even have to go back to work in a few days, just like you have to go to school. But I’ll still come here all the time, you’ll see. Haven’t I been here this week, even in the days I went home too?” He tries to reason, and the little girl nods again. “Well, then there you go,” Stiles tells her, kissing the top of her head. “And every time you’ll need me, for anything, I’ll come running. I’ll never leave you,” he promises, holding her tight. “Never, never.”

He can feel her sigh, even relaxing a little in his hold but uncertainty still laces her voice. “But I won’t see you as much,” she mumbles, fidgeting.

Stiles shares a look with Lydia, a look that he hopes she understands. “I think it’s time,” he murmurs to her, and Lydia knows what he means. In all truth, she doesn’t even know what they’re waiting for anymore. “Actually, Ariel, you will.” He continues, and the girl locks eyes with him, hopeful. “You know that I care about you very, very much,” he tells her, still hugging her tightly, “and I care about your mother a whole lot too. Almost as much as I like you,” he says cheekily, and Ariel can’t help but to let out a little laugh that finally starts to relax both adults. “Well, the way I feel about your mom is very special and uh—”

Stiles scratches the back of his neck, blushing a little and struggling to find the right words. Lydia purses her lips to suppress a smile before stepping in. “Stiles and I are dating, Ariel,” Lydia states bashfully.

The little redhead looks between Stiles and her mother warily, studying them. “Like boyfriend and girlfriend?” She asks, curious.

“Yes, like that.”

Her pretty green eyes shine. “Do you kiss on the mouth like grown ups do?” Ariel questions in a conspiratorial whisper, half-amused and half-shocked, as if she wouldn’t want to get caught asking such a think.

Stiles laughs wholeheartedly, grinning down at red tainting his cheeks. “Yes, we do. Sometimes.”

“But Ariel… That doesn’t mean that Stiles is your father. Do you understand?” Lydia asks. “It means that Stiles will be around a lot but…” Lydia comes up empty, not really knowing how to say what she wants to say.

“It means that to the others,” Stiles tries to help, “to Claudia and Eric, and Charlotte and her siblings, even to little Noah, I’m uncle Stiles. But to you… To you I’m just Stiles, Ariel. I’m your Stiles. And even though I’m not your dad, Ariel… I love you so, so much. Both you and your mom,” he admits effortlessly, stroking her cheek fondly. “And so I’d like to be around for the two of you for as long as you’ll let me. And I might not be your father, but I promise you I’ll do my best to treat you as if you were my little girl.”

Lydia’s voice breaks, watching her daughter’s watery eyes. “You already do.”

Stiles grins at his girlfriend and lets out a sob himself. “So what do you think, Ariel?” He asks, not so much because he and Lydia want her blessing (even though, in truth, they do) but because he’s afraid that she might be even more confused now than before.

“You’re mommy’s boyfriend, but you’re leaving…” She drags, trying to process.

“Only sometimes, kiddo. But I’ll come right back. I’ll still be here tomorrow to spend time with you, and the next day, and the next,” Stiles tells her. “So long as you want me around.”

Lydia tilts Ariel’s chin so that the girl faces her. “But Stiles is better now, honey. He needs to go back to work and back home. And that’s okay because I have to work too. And you have school, and playtime with your friends so it’s okay if Stiles isn’t here all the time anyway, because we won’t be here all the time either.”

Ariel takes a moment before nodding. “But when will you be here?” She asks Stiles, apprehensive.

“I have work and your mom does too,” he tells her, thinking about the next week and the ones after that. “And you have school, like your mom said. And like you, I want to spend with Eric and Claudia, and with Uncle Scott and Grandpa just like you want to spend time with your Nana. So we can have the rest of the time if you want. I can be here then” he offers, and Ariel starts nodding immediately. “Tell you what.” An idea pops into his head and Stiles glances at the little table in one of the corners of the room, close to a small bookcase where Lydia keeps Ariel’s drawing materials. “Why don’t we get a cardboard, and some pens and pencils, and we make some plans? It could be our own little project. Would you like that? That way you can always check it and see when I’ll be here next.”

“A project?” Ariel’s eyes light up. Playing with Stiles is never just playing houses or coloring a book. Everything has a project with him: there are plans and stories to go along, always something to keep on doing it, like a promise of more. So Ariel nods profusely, latching onto his neck and hugging him. “Yes.”

Stiles kisses her temple, beaming at the girl’s enthusiasm. “Alright, we can do that. All three of us, okay?”

Lydia smiles gratefully and nods too.

“Can you stay sometimes?” Ariel questions, getting up on her feet excitedly as if she wants to start right away, the blanket falling falling from her shoulders.

Stiles is quick to put it back in place, tucking her in tightly in amusement and making her giggle, the smile he loves so much now etched on her face. “Yeah, I guess I can, some times. And maybe sometimes you can come and stay with me too,” he offers, and Ariel beams.

“Really?”

“Really, really,” he tells her wholeheartedly. “We can even make a fort in the living room like I do with Eric, if you want.”

Stiles promises himself right then to make sure that Ariel has a smile this bright on her face every single day. “Can mom come too?” She asks excitedly.

“Of course.”

“Stiles says we can make a fort,” Ariel singsongs, and Lydia can only grin at how excited her little girl seems to be now, feeling a little more settled.

“Tomorrow though, munchkin,” Stiles reminds her and Ariel’s smile starts to slip away. He tickles her, smiling brightly until it’s contagious and Ariel’s laugh echoes through the room. “I’m sleeping at my house tonight, remember?”

“Can’t you stay?” She asks immediately, enthused about the prospect of Stiles being around more often. She doesn’t want to have to wait.

Lydia wants him to desperately say yes but refrains from speaking her mind in front of her daughter. After all, the reasons why she wants him to spend the night, after everything that’s just happened, aren’t at all suitable for a child to hear.

Stiles lets her go and gets on his feet, picks up Missy from the floor near the bedroom door where Ariel had let it fall to the ground. With one of the stuffed monkey’s arms, he pokes her nose teasingly. “I’ll be here before you’re up for breakfast, you won’t even miss me.”

Ariel stares at him intently for a moment, then raising her left hand in between them. “Pinky swear?” She asks innocently and yet in all seriousness, and Stiles is touched at the vouch of confidence.

Grinning brightly, he places Missy on the bed and gets down on one knee so that they’re at eye-level. “I’ll do you one better.” Raising his hands, he stretches both his little fingers. “I’ll double pinky swear!”

Stiles and Lydia almost want to laugh at Ariel’s reaction. As if he’d said the holiest thing, her eyes widen and she inhales deeply, slowly reaching to entwining her fingers with his and shaking on it. “Okay,” she accepts, her eyes alight.

Stiles smiles warmly at Lydia, who’s watching the interaction as if it’s intimate, sacred, completely amazed. On a whim, she bends forward to kiss Stiles’ cheek affectionately and they exchange a look that conveys more than words.

Had a “Ewww” not been heard, Stiles would have properly kissed his girlfriend the way he actually wants to. Instead, he and Lydia start laughing at Ariel’s exclamation of disgust and surprise at the display of affection.

“Don’t you Ewww us,” Stiles chastises playfully, “or I’ll have to kiss your cheek too.”

Ariel beams, eyes glinting with mischief and liveliness, sticking her tongue out at him and saying “Not if you can’t catch me” before taking off, a little girl in a pink pajama with auburn tresses running behind her as she flees into the hallway.

Maybe this was what she’d needed all along, Lydia thinks as she can’t do anything but watch as her daughter leaves and Stiles scrambles after her, both laughing like they hadn’t in days. Someone who’d just be here for her, despite the emptiness that Lydia knows her daughter feels every time Stiles is out the door. Someone who makes it feels so natural to love.

Lydia would know. She feels the same way.

She takes a minute to herself, to wrap her head around everything before getting up to follow them, and it’s in times like this that Lydia wishes she had photographic memory to imprint some moments into her brain so that’d she would never, ever forget them.

Like when she finds Stiles in the middle of the living room holding a giggling uncontrollably Ariel up in the air, spinning until he’s out of breath and can’t do it anymore. Or when they finally settle and Lydia asks if Ariel’s hungry, and the three of them spend a good half an hour in the kitchen preparing a couple of healthy snacks for the little girl and watching her eat, indulging her in answering questions that come as easy as they used to before this happened. Or when Ariel asks Stiles to read her a bedtime story after days of adamantly denying him of doing so (Stiles replies that no, he won’t read her a story. That he’ll read her two and Ariel is absolutely delighted, as if Christmas came early). Or when she checks on them after cleaning the kitchen again and changing into her nightwear, and finds Ariel tucked on her bed, curled into Stiles’ side as he continues to whisper the story to her even though the little girl is fast asleep, finally worn out.

Lydia just stands and watches the scene, heart tight in her chest as she’s overcome with emotion. She lets him finish the short story, allowing him to enjoy this because she knows that reading to Ariel is one of his favorite pastimes.

When he’s done and Ariel is left sleeping soundly, Stiles and Lydia leave the door ajar and exit the room. He helps her tidying the living room and turning off the lights for the night because Stiles knows that she has to be exhausted just like he is, just like Ariel was, and so assumes she’ll head to bed as soon as he leaves and that maybe more talking can be left for tomorrow.

Before he can even think of actually heading for the front door, however, Lydia takes one of his hands wordlessly and leads him to her bedroom. He thinks he sees a flirtatious look on her face, but he isn’t sure until the door is closed behind him and Lydia raises on her tiptoes to kiss him passionately, the way she’s wanted to do for so many days now.

He kisses her back just as chaotically, turning them around to pin her against the closest wall until they’re out of breath, making out with an urgency that makes it seem that they maybe they don’t need oxygen to breathe after all, trying to make up for lost time.

Lydia is panting when his mouth leaves hers. “Fuck,” she mutters, licking her lips. “Do you have any idea just how good you are?” She says the words as if she can’t believe them herself, as if he’s a god sent to Earth and all she can do is stare in wonder. “Do you know how hot it is?!”

Stiles chuckles and leans down to kiss her again. “You need to get some sleep,” he murmurs jokingly, kissing her forehead affectionately.

Lydia cups his cheeks ad makes him face her, saying the words as sincerely as she feels. “Sometimes it’s like you don’t even know…”

Stiles can feel just how heartfelt the words are, just how much Lydia means it, and when they kiss this time it isn’t as desperate or as rushed.

And it isn’t as inconsequential. “Lydia…”

The way he says her name the makes her shudder, reverberates through her chest as if he’d shouted instead of whispered, and brings to the surface questions that her own words had asked just before. But whereas Lydia was willing, Stiles is apprehensive as if he isn’t sure if they should do it.

Lydia fiercely disagrees. “Stay.”

Stiles looks into her eyes, trying to unveil all that the invitation suggests. “I was supposed to head home.”

“Stay,” she repeats, and there’s a small smile tilting the corner of her lips up.

“We just told your daughter I’m not supposed to stay over all the time,” he tries to reason, deciding that before actually agreeing with his girlfriend and deciding just on which terms this night is going to go, he should first rule out all the reasons why he shouldn’t.

“So long as she sees you for breakfast, I don’t think she’ll complain,” Lydia quips quickly, her smile growing and growing. “Stay.”

“She’s down the hall!”

“And we’re here. Stay.”

She’s openly grinning now, and Stiles wants nothing but to kiss her smirk away. “You know, we had a plan for this, remember? No funny business until the doctor gave the all clear, which should only be next week. Remember that?” He asks teasingly, even though he wants to see it through just as much as she apparently does. “Remember that?”

Lydia clicks her tongue and bats her eyelashes at him, biting on her lower lip enticingly. “With all due respect to you plan-making skills, Stiles, fuck the plan.”

He takes a step back in feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart for good measure. He’s missed this, the flirtatious banter back and forth they’d had for the last few weeks whenever they were alone. “I can’t believe this. Is this how your trying to seduce me?”

Lydia laughs through her nose, cheeks reddening despite herself. “Is it working?”

Stiles eyes her carefully, and to Lydia he looks a little out of breath, bewildered with the factuality of the proposition. She can practically see the gears working in his head. “No,” he replies simply, and Lydia frowns. “I actually had a plan, you know? Besides the plan…”

Because the doctor would only give him the all clear next week and Lydia’s birthday is on Sunday, that’s why. Besides, he’s a very proud plan maker no matter what Lydia says.

Regardless, deciding that maybe giving her a few more days to think it through so that she’s sure that this is what she wants, that this is where she wants and is comfortable with having their relationship go, Stiles kisses her cheek and opens her bedroom door, making to leave. Looking over his shoulder, he whispers softly. “I’ll just see you tomorrow, okay?”

Lydia almost lets him go. She almost lets him slip from her fingers that night, almost tells herself that maybe she’s rushing into this. That maybe they aren’t ready but she aches. Aches for him every time he leaves, and knows he aches for her just the same whenever she’s the one who goes. Catching his hand before he can sneak out of the bedroom, Lydia stares deeply into his brown bright eyes. “Stay, Stiles. Please.”

Her voice comes out strained and her face is suddenly serious, as if she’s never meant anything more in her life. As if she isn’t scared of what it means anymore.

Stiles moves and closes the door behind him.

Author’s note: Please leave a review and let me know what you think :)

#stydia fanfiction #stydia #martinski #stiles x lydia #stydia fic #lydia martin #stiles stilinski #know better #my writing

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