"where's Gojo Where's Gojo????" He's Busy Ok

Ah fuck I love your writing so much❤

Route 66

Requested?: Yes! @dxlanhxlland asked for a Owen x Reader where y/n is oblivious to Owen’s flirting. I added a little more to it, not gonna lie, so i hope you still like it my lovey!

Word Count: 5.6K+

Author’s Note: I found out Route 66 went through Oklahoma and kinda just had to write this tonight… Struck by inspiration, so I was. It’s nonsense, and it’s mine, and that makes it acceptable for the blog. Enjoy!

Warning: nothing really, it’s all fluff.

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–

Being best friends with an actor had some major perks. To start, you were always the plus one for premieres, parties, festivals, all of it. Then there was the constant gifts from around the world sent to you back home, and getting to help with script run throughs if someone’s sick, or being sent over snippets of shows months before they aired, being a part of the secret without having all the hard work that came along with it.

The best thing was always the reunions though, when that favourite person comes back from weeks or months away, back to your little Oklahoma town, even if just for a little while. That feeling of adrenaline and serotonin mixed together as lost souls reconnect after so long apart, it’s special.

Of course, the worst thing is watching them leave again. That’s exactly what Y/N was facing that weekend after two months of her best friend Owen being home from filming in Vancouver.

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5000 likes!

I thought I’d happen sooner lmao but yay!!!

Harrison Ford hating playing Han Solo made him better at playing Han Solo because Han Solo did not want to be there doing those things either.

thank you chappell

"open the door or im going to throw rocks at your windows you dumb whore"

ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵏᶦˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒˡᶻ

glass house.

pairings. stepbro!jason todd x fem!reader

about. jason never thought much about you until the two of you bumped into each other on a night that was a product of sneaking out

warnings. swearing, stepcest but fr, underage drinking

ricky rocks. hm

jason was never someone you had ever considered to be close with until the two of you had accidentally caught one another sneaking out of the house at the same time.

before that, if you were ever asked who your favorite brother was, you probably would have said dick; which was understandable. he was your big brother, a role model and everyone knew without a doubt dick was a charmer. he had a natural appeal to him that just drew your attention to him. it was no secret and to say the least, it had jason jealous. he really never was one to care, especially of you, but when his body had slammed into yours on that late friday night at around one in the morning; everything flipped into a world he was unfamiliar of.

he became more aware of you. it was as if you really hadn’t ever existed in his world due to you sticking to your own and him doing the same. hell, he wouldn’t have had a relationship with dick if it weren’t for patrol, and that was kind of out of question for the two of you due you not sharing the same interest in jumping off roofs and kicking bad-guys asses as he did. which he didn’t understand; upon closer examination, jason came to the conclusion you would probably have no problem out on the streets from how physically fit you were and the amount of time you had caused tim and dick to fall on their asses in combat.

he only could come to the conclusion that you were scared, but like him, you put up a front that was hard for anyone to see through. that wasn’t the only thing so similar about the two of you, and that’s what killed him.

“come here often?” he heard your pained, yet silent laugh fill the cold night air after the two of you had both came to realization of who each of you had knocked to the ground- well more or so you since the sound of your voice came out as unfamiliar to his ears until the moonlight highlight your face when you came closer to him, helping him to his feet.

he scoffed a little, recovering, “more than i like.” he was referring to the fact that you both were just barely hanging on to the slanted roof; always finding this the most difficult part of sneaking out.

you laughed a little back, “you and me both,” before continuing on with your escape route.

he almost caught himself dumbfounded, watching your figure easily maneuver down the gutter pipe making it obvious this was far from your first time sneaking out of wayne manor.

the next time jason had seen you was the morning after; with your school uniform neatly and tightly wrung around your body, drinking the glass of orange juice alfred had just poured you.

there was no sign of last nights mess on your body.

“good morning, children,” bruce had entered the kitchen, slapping his newspaper on the island counter before making his way towards the coffee pot, pressing a kiss on the back of your head within the process.

it made jason smirk to himself. out of all bruce’s adoptive children, you were definitely bruce’s favorite. you made dick look like a fool with the amount of academic awards and pictures of you bruce had hung up in his study, all correlating to you and only you. there was no doubt you were a daddy’s girl and bruce’s little princess.

but at night, it seemed you were almost as low as jason was with sneaking out to god knows where in the middle of the night, only to come home in the earlier hours of the morning to put back up the facade your adoptive father loved so much.

jason couldn’t suppress a laugh as he drunk from his own glass of orange juice, causing you to look up at him. you shook your head but couldn’t help but smile at him.

“are you alright, master todd?”

jason nodded, wiping the corner of his mouth as he straightened back up into his full posture, “just thought of something dick said earlier.. made me laugh.” he tried his best to play it off but timing wasn’t his friend for dick walked in.

“what’d i say earlier?”

“yeah, dick almost never says something funny,” you snickered causing dick light heartily glaring at you as he pulled a strand of your hair lightly.

jason coughed, “m’ don’t remember.”

you narrowed your brows as they all did before mouthing ‘nice save’.

°•

he knew your laugh. he learned it well and he learned it quickly— recently. he couldn’t miss it, not even in the crowded underground bar gotham’s grunge and grime hid. he almost thought he was delusional with seeing nothing but blurry faces with how fast his head shot up; but none of those faces were yours.

you knew jason was there. it wasn’t hard to miss his tall, muscular, brooding figure the moment he walked through the door alone even though he looked as if he didn’t want to be noticed with his black attire. it made you smile into your beer as your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he walked swiftly toward the back of the crowded bar, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

it took awhile and you were surprised he didn’t see you sooner as you glided through the crowd to the small booth he sat at in the corner; cradling a glass of whiskey. you held down your smile, thinking of how much bruce and jason were alike— even if jason didn’t want to realize it.

“i want to show you something.”

he looked up at you, almost looking relieved, but frowned to cover any sign of lightness drawn into his face as he looked down at his drink before back up to you. your expression was unimpressionable as he attempted to examine what was going through your head, but your visage was blank and your mannerism was still until you smiled and turned away.

you were like a stranger. everything about you impenetrable, but that was only because his mind was in a haze. something not normal for jason. he was lost in a fog, in a chase after you and you called to him leading him further into obscurity… and onto a roof.

the gotham wind was hard and damp with the taste of rain hidden deep within it. the sky was as dark as it always was and nothing else… just dark with factory smoke and tall buildings covering the stars. you were always so grateful that wayne manor was planted so far from the city that not even the pollution could cover the bright stars.

but sometimes the dark was nice.

“you always drink alone?” you looked back at him over your shoulder with a sly look, your hair swirling around your head, his mind going crazy, not being able to focus straight with you right in front of him. “you know you could do that home, for free.”

jason smiled a little, brushing his knuckle against his nose. he looked to the sky with the tilt of his head and he could suddenly only hear wind with his eyes put closed and mind suddenly desolated. you watched him for a moment, it was strange and you almost wondered if the right person followed you onto the rooftop because jason never had peaceful tendencies.

was he drunk?

“hey,” he was knocked to reality as you lightly held his forearm, smiling, almost concerned, “c’mere.” you tilted your head in the direction of the edge of the roof, still holding his forearm before slid down to his hand.

you lead him right to the edge where a lining of brick railing kept the two of you from falling to your death since the both of you were practically leaning all the way up onto rail, just asking to die.

he watched you search for something as you were practically pushed up in your tiptoes. he could see it in your eyes how desperate you were with how wide your eyes were and how you gripped his wrist know instead of his head, almost if that was giving you an advantage to sight.

“there it is,” you smiled, relaxing as you were now flat on your feet and you let go of his wrist, “look right there.” you now extended out your arm, pointing to the left of the two of you.

now jason had to be blind or just plain obvious because you were sure that where you were pointing was clear and what you were pointing at was hard to miss.

“what are we looking at,” he narrowed his brows as he adjusted himself quickly, attempting to see what you were seeing.

“jason,” you deadpanned, looking at the side of his face as he continued to look. you exhaled, shaking your head before dropping your palm flat, “give me your hand.” he looked to you, raising a brow before slowly placing his hand in yours. you made his hand into a fist before pulling out his pointer finger, “now follow your finger, jay.”

you moved it to the building, the big glass building on one of the many hills in the background of the city. it was clear like ice, it wasn’t hard to spot, not if you had observant eyes. but right now jason’s eyes seemed to be clouded and the only thing he really wanted to look at was you.

“you see it now?”

he didn’t answer, but you could tell he hadn’t.

you got frustrated with him fast as you still held his hand pointing in some random direction, but now you grasped the side of his face with your right hand after planting yourself close and in front of him. there was little to no space between your back and his chest where you were now pushing the side of his head toward where you were looking and maneuvering his arm better so he was pointing where you wanted him to see.

“look along the hillside, close one of your eyes if it helps.”

he couldn’t even breathe. the smell of your shampoo and perfume was overwhelming. he could no longer feel the wind with the warmth of your body replicating on his, let alone could he hear it; it was only his heart beat and your breathing.

he tried hard, now looking where you were wanting him to look and he saw it. he didn’t know how he missed it but he also saw nothing special about it. it was only glass, and he didn’t get the point of it; everyone could see in if they wanted and the only reason the glass wasn’t shattered was because of how far it was up on the hill side. because that was the thing, everything clear and pure was to be broken in good ole’ gotham.

“i always wonder… about what goes on inside,” you whisper, you body relaxing and pressing even closer to his warm body.

“does it matter?”

you hummed, “maybe not,” you tilted away from him, hoisting your leg on top of the railing so that you were now adjusting yourself to stand at a higher ground. “but i still think it’s nice.”

jason stared up at you with his brows furrowed.

“it’s something to think about.”

you begun to walk, your arms outstretched on either sides of you, carefully placing one foot in front of the other.

“y/n,” jason watched you, his steps following yours, now on edge with how careless you seemed to be. he didn’t realize till now how tipsy you must be, otherwise he swore you wouldn’t have been getting so close to the edge in your right mind.

“relax, todd, i won’t go jumping on you,” you took his hand once he reached it out for you, hoping to pull you down, but you still trudged back and forth with a trip in your walk, increasing his anxiety. “you need to relax, you’re always so fucking uptight and quiet and you don’t say anything and-and-”

your foot slipped sending the weight of your body to the edge more quickly than you could process. you felt your whole stomach flip upside down once there was no stable ground beneath you and gravity ate you whole. and if it weren’t for jason, your body would have been a little puddle on the busy streets of gotham.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you had him pulled up on the railing, reaching over and desperately making sure he still had ahold of you. he felt he had been struck; his adrenaline pumping and he suddenly became hyper aware of everything that was going on just between the two of you. he could see the shock in your eyes and how they were quickly swelling into fear. he could hear your breathing- he was surprised you were breathing- but it was quick and shaky and you were scared. “y/n, hold on for me, don’t let go.”

your eyes were wide and they burned as the last thing on your mind was letting go. you were more concerned he’d be the one to let go of your body due to it practically flailing around; desperate, horrified. you could only hear your heart, and then the cars below, and then just barely jason’s panicked voice.

“give me your other hand,” he reached, “look at me, give me your other hand, y/n/n-”

“jason-”

“you’re going to be okay, just give me your other fucking hand.”

you tried to control your breathing, everything felt numb but the burning feeling of jason’s skin squeezing around yours. you almost swore you didn’t have another arm- but you swung your loose arm around before slapping it into jason’s other grip. he let out a breath of relief, now hoisting you up quickly till you were on the roof safely and pressed against him.

his arm was strung around your waist while the other clutch your head almost cradling it as you hugged yourself to him tightly. he shook his head resisting the urge to scold your dumbass. jason no longer felt drunk off bliss of your presences but rather like he had been punched in the stomach with a reality check. he felt winded even as you were completely fine now, clutching his body like a cat.

°•

“surprised you’re not roof top climbing tonight.”

you froze at the sound of his voice, slight tipping your head in a wincing motion. you knew this moment would come, even if jason and you weren’t close, there still was going to be moment where you’d run into each other, and this was it. jason was spread out on the living room couch with a book in his hand, his eyes still on the paperback but his attention on you; waiting.

it was 11:30 pm and you were still winded from two nights ago. mostly because you were embarrassed and you couldn’t get through a dinner without your cheeks going red in clear remembrance of foolishly climbing onto a thin railing and falling.. and so many other things that probably shouldn’t have been executed with your stepbrother.

“uh, i think i’m probably going to refrain from climbing anything taller than six feet,” you scratched your neck nervously as you glanced at him. he snorted, extending his arm behind his head causing his bicep to flex.. fuck. “what?”

“how’re you gonna see your glass house?”

you’re lips unintentionally lifted and now walked closer to where jason was so comfortably laid out. he now looked up to you, placing his book aside. you sat in the large leather chair across with him, no longer feeling embarrassment.

“maybe when i don’t get drunk after two shots, i can trust myself again,” you shrugged and there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “unless you’re willing to catch me again.”

it was a joke, but you could tell he was pondering it by the way his eyes diverted from yours for just a second and pressed his knuckle against his top lip. his eyes reached yours once again, and he didn’t try to hide his smile this time, “anything for you, doll.”

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no, you wanna fix him. i wanna fix him a drink after he beats someone half to death. we’re not the same.

honestly autistic people usually face a lot of ableism around sex. people infantalize us to a point they think we cant consent or dont want sex or dont understand it.

"... were they always so red?"

inspiration - I saw a rowan tree covered in snow thank you for your attention, Matt Murdock you're so miserable I love you

This artwork is also available on Inprnt! Link in bio🤍

ТГК: kameyasart

Inst/Twt: kameyasart

I need more of this desperately

to all the loves you might have known (ch. 1)

stiles stilinski x reader

read on ao3

words: 3k

summary: If your favorite romance novels taught you anything, it's that the only way to save yourself from love is to pretend you have never known its call. To avoid falling prey to the tragedy that is romance, each time you fell in love, you did what every great novel protagonist does. You wrote about it, but never acted on it. Love letters, penned to each owner of a piece of your heart, were hidden away and never to be read by anyone but yourself.

But what will happen when the letters are sent out without you knowing? Will anything ever be the same again?

notes: just a heads up - Kira moved to Beacon Hills in the 6th grade, reader moved in the 7th; no big bads will be coming for our pack in this fic; Allison is alive (she just moved), Argents adopted Isaac so he moved too (no Allison/Isaac relationship); I think that's it for now!! enjoy!! :)

You were never good at expressing your emotions, at least not to those who really needed to understand them. You tended to keep those feelings bottled up, locked away, and filed inside your own head never to be seen again. Usually, they were pretty easy to forget as you focused your time and attention on the people around you instead; but, there was one emotion that was harder to conceal than the rest.

Love.

You only believed yourself to have been in love five times (which, for a senior in high school, was actually a lot). Each time you fell, it felt as if the earth was crumbling around you and the only lifeline left was them. Their presence left you with an all-consuming passion that was sickening and overwhelming. You hated feeling that way, yet you silently craved it. More importantly, you had no idea how to deal with it.

When you first started to understand what it meant to love, you searched high and low for any clue on how to navigate this strange new land. In your frantic search for answers, you stumbled on what you believed to be the greatest source of wisdom you could find on the subject- Romance Novels .

If those books told you anything, it was that the only way to save yourself from love is to pretend you have never known its call. To avoid falling prey to the tragedy that is romance, each time you fell in love, you did what every great novel protagonist does. You wrote about it, but never acted on it.

You started out with a series of diary entries that took up page after page in your journal, but soon you realized that wasn't helping to rid yourself of your affection. So you began to write full, excruciatingly-detailed love letters to these people that, more than likely, did not remember who you were. The thought of said people finding out about this secret shame of yours was enough to make you want to flee the county, but the price of plane tickets being what they are, you decided it would be easier to simply hide the messages. So the love letters, penned to each owner of a piece of your heart, were hidden away and never to be read by anyone but yourself.

Your first letter was addressed to Derek, an older sleep-away camp counselor from when you went to Camp Triskelion in the 6th grade. You were into his brooding and so-called "mature" nature, oh how naive you were. The second was for your locker buddy Malia, your first ever crush on anyone who wasn't a boy. She protected you from idiotic bullies and treated you as if you were worthy of protecting. How could you not fall in love with your very own middle school knight-in-shining-armor?

The third belonged to Stiles, the recipient of your first almost kiss and your first actual kiss. His letter happened to be the longest, not that you were keeping track, and his was the crush that took the most time to recover from. For never having actually dated him, it was impressive how much he shattered your young heart.

The next letter was for the tortured yet beautiful Isaac, your lab partner in your sophomore year chemistry class. You had never been able to confide in someone as quickly or as deeply as you did with Isaac. He made the world seem lighter, more manageable, even when he felt the same world dragging him down into the dirt. Isaac was the only one you ever considered giving your letter to until he moved away in the middle of junior year. He did give you a letter before he left, but you never read it as you were afraid of what it could say. You tucked his letter in the bottom drawer of your desk with the rest of your own, out of sight but never out of mind.

Finally, there was Scott, the last subject of these letters. Scott McCall embodied the ideal man everyone spent their life looking for. He was kind, thoughtful, protective, observant, the captain of the lacrosse team, a volunteer at the animal shelter, and oh-so easy on the eyes. The entire school admired him from afar, or in any way they had the chance to. You were fortunate enough to admire him up close and personal. Scott was your next door neighbor, one of your closest friends...and the boyfriend of the best and most perfect person alive. Kira Yukimura.

You moved to Beacon Hills in the 7th grade, when friends had already been long established and becoming an outsider happened as quickly as the days turned to nights. Kira had been one of the only people to reach out to you, having been a new kid quite a few times herself. She absorbed you into her friend group and within five minutes of being around her, it was clear that the two of you were always meant to be in each other's lives. That's why you felt so awful about the fact that you had been in love with her boyfriend the entire time.

--

"Hey what's got you so far inside your own head?" Scott's voice brought you out of your daydream and back to the reality of picking at your half-eaten lunch while listening to him and Kira argue over who loves each other more.

"Oh! Nothing," Of course, he knew you were lying. If he couldn't tell from your heartbeat alone, he would know just from years of being your friend. All you could do was hope he wouldn't call you on it. "What were we talking about?"

Kira smiled at you with a warmth that rivaled the sun, burning away at the guilt in your stomach, "We were talking about how crazy it is that we're seniors, as cliche as that is! I mean, it feels like yesterday that I was pulling you out from under a mountain of papers in a middle school hallway."

"You know, I never did get revenge on Stiles for all those paper cuts," a laugh escaped you as you recalled the various band-aids that littered your arms and how Stiles had outwardly cringed whenever he saw them.

"Trust me, the guilt itself was revenge enough to last a lifetime," a familiar voice called out from behind you and even after all these years, it still brought chills up your spine.

A frantic blob of gray appeared beside you as Stiles plopped down in the extra seat at your lunch table, immediately and furiously scribbling in his notebook.

"Hey, Y/L/N," he said as he briefly looked up at you with a smile, which you weren't sure if you wanted to kiss or smack off of his face.

"Stilinski! Where's your owner? There must be a ginger queen running around somewhere searching high and low for her lap dog." You heard Scott choke on his water and Kira poorly attempting to hold in her laughter, but your attention was on the boy next to you.

"Ha ha," he muttered under his breath, trying not to catch your gaze with his own. Once he realized you were waiting for a reply, a sigh that could be felt through space and time left his lips. "She's...um interviewing new applicants for that position. Has been for a while , apparently, and I was the only one who hadn't gotten the memo! Lucky me!

"I got the official notice on Friday. And I really needed that reminder so thank you! I had not been kicked in the groin enough this weekend, so thanks for giving me another opportunity!" His head dropped onto his notebook, his arms shielding his face to try and hide his wounded expression from you.

As soon as he finished speaking and you saw that pained look in his eyes, you wondered how much it would cost to surgically remove your foot from your mouth.  "Mischief, I'm so sorry." And you were. Lydia was his everything for as long as anyone could remember. This was going to be a bitch and a half for him to deal with.

His bitter laugh seeped into his next words, "Stop acting like you aren't ecstatic about this, you hated her. You never liked us being together." His words were muffled by the notebook paper, but his tone rang loud and clear.

"Hey, hate is a strong word." You felt questioning eyes on you from the opposite end of the table, "Okay, maybe I hated her, but how I feel doesn't matter. Stiles, you were in love with her, this is gonna suck no matter what anyone thinks. Even if what I think is that you should want more than the one-sided relationship you had with her. You deserve better than that, Mischief."

He lifted up his head but avoided your gaze by turning his attention back to the ink covered page in front of him. "Yeah, well you can't always get what you want, right? Life never seems to work out that way. We should know more than most."

You tried your hardest not to let the disappointment cloud your face when you turned your body to face forward. Scott's eyes were still firmly planted on the side of Kira's face, oblivious to anything and anyone but her.

"Yeah, life's a bitch."

--

Hours later, you found yourself still thinking about the conversation from lunch.

"You can't always get what you want. We should know better than most."

Stiles's words echoed through your mind and left you thinking of only one thing, the letters. Those letters were the epitome of everything you wanted that you knew you could never have. They represented a fantasy. A fantasy that one day, when you sent those letters out, your love would finally become known and that love would be returned. They let you live in a fantasy world where you would be loved by the beautiful people that you always kept in your head but could never hold in your arms.

Maybe, that's why you kept the letters in the first place. Maybe, in the back of your mind, you knew that if you ever sent them out into the world, you would be faced with the reality that these people didn't love you, that they never would. If they ever knew of your affection, you could be faced with rejection, or worse, humiliation.

However, if they stayed with you, tucked away in a drawer, hidden under some old school papers and long-forgotten trinkets, the fantasy could stay alive. You could pretend that there was a possibility that they did love you. You could live in your head rather than having to come to terms with your reality.

Wanting to stay in your head a little longer, you decided to reread your letters. As you entered your room after school, you narrowed your focus onto the lower right drawer of your desk. You opened it, lifted the old school papers, and picked up the love letters from their hiding place. After shedding your backpack, you settled onto your desk chair and starting shuffling through the pile in your hands. Before you could decide on which one to read first, you heard your doorbell ring out through your front hall.

"Y/N! I think Liam's here for your study session! Do you want me to get the door or are you gonna come down?" your mother called out from the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm in the middle of something, mom! Can you send him up, please?" Quickly, you jumped up from your chair, shoved the letters back into their rightful place in the bottom of that lower right desk drawer, sat down on your bed, and did your best to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Seconds later, Liam pushed through your door and dropped his bag onto your desk chair, as he had done almost every Monday since you'd met him. "You ready to teach me how chemistry works?" His bright smile mirrored your own before he face-planted onto the bed beside you.

"I thought I was helping you understand history? What happened there? Why are we on chemistry instead?"

Liam flipped over onto his back to face you as he explained, "That was last year! World History was excruciating but I have a good enough grasp on US History that I'm like 92% sure I'll be okay. Plus, Mr. Yukimura knows what we go through, so he'll probably be more understanding if I miss an assignment because yet another person is threatening to kill us." You laughed along with him, the two of you trying to ignore the sting of knowing that danger was a given in your friend group.

"It's been one week of Mr. Harris and I'm ready to chew my own foot off just to have an excuse not to go to class," Liam spoke between gasps of silent laughter.

"Unless werewolves have developed a new ability to regenerate entire limbs that I am unaware of, let's keep your foot where it is, okay? If I remember correctly, there should still be some old flashcards and study guides from chemistry somewhere in my desk. Why don't you try to find those, and I'll get us some snacks. I have a feeling we're gonna be here for a while." You pulled yourself up from your spot and started toward the door.

"Do you know where in your desk they might be?"

Instead of turning around, you called over your shoulder, "No clue! Just start with the top drawers and work your way down!" Once you heard the sound of the drawers opening and papers shuffling, you made your way down the stairs.

After you had your arms full of snacks that would sufficiently feed a growing teenage werewolf, you made your way back toward your room.

"Okay, so I have doritos, popcorn, cheese-itz, pretzels, and crackers. I also have carrots and hummus if you're feeling more of a healthy vibe but I doubt that, so I'll take those. Oh and my mom made brownies but I didn't bring those with me so you'll have to go downstairs and get them if you wa-" You finally looked up from the pile of goods in your hands to see Liam holding five very familiar-looking envelopes.

Once he saw you in the doorway, he dropped the letters as if they burned him. "I am so sorry, Y/N. I was just looking for the study guides, and I found them! Yay! But when I lifted them up, I saw these, and you know me, I'm a naturally curious person so I picked them up when I saw some names that I recognized. I had no idea what they were a-and I was, yeah, I was  going to leave them alone but you were taking so long downstairs that I decide to read one. I mean, they weren't sealed and I didn't stop to think that, you know, maybe I shouldn't totally invade your privacy but I just kept reading and then you came into the room and now here we are...yeah."

You heard his voice, heard him speaking, but your brain couldn't seem to process his words as everything seemed to move in slow motion. You dumped the food on your bed and slowly crouched down to the floor, collecting the scattered papers. One by one, you stacked them in your hands. Malia, Isaac, Stiles, and Derek, all still hidden in their envelopes but...that's only four. You looked around and saw the last letter was outside its casing, the envelope cast to the side. When the realization hit you of what exactly Liam had read, your head snapped up to look at him.

"Liam, how far into this letter did you get?" You were sure he could sense the panic in your voice, your rapidly accelerating heart rate, the tears starting to well up in your eyes, but you were electing to ignore that. You could cry about this later. First, you needed to know how much damage had been done.

His face screamed of pity and remorse causing tears to cloud your vision. Met with silence, you asked again, "Liam. How much did you read?"

"Enough." He paused, not sure of how to handle this. To be fair, you didn't know either. "Y/N, why do you have these letters? Do they all say something like this? Why haven't you told him how you feel?" He sat down on the floor in front of you, carefully, so you wouldn't feel trapped by his presence. "Do you still feel this way? What about Kira?"

At the mere mention of Kira's name, the guilt in your stomach burned with a fiery rage and a lump in your throat made it harder to speak. "Liam, you can't tell anyone what you read. No one can know about this, okay? Not Stiles, not Scott, and especially not Kira. Please. Don't say anything about this."

You had evaded his questions, somehow telling him everything he needed to know. In your lack of response, he saw how alone you had been with these feelings and it scared him. He had never seen you this vulnerable before, he didn't think anyone had. For as long as he'd known you, you'd always had such a hard exterior, constantly trying to prove to the pack that you were strong and capable despite being one of the few humans among them. He thought you to be unshakeable, nearly invincible, but now, hearing your voice cracking and seeing the tears stream down your cheeks, he remembered that you were human. You were just a teenager, a heartbroken teenager who set their feelings to the side for the sake of others, and to protect yourself.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, letting you collapse into his embrace, "It's okay, let it out. We don't have to talk about this right now. I'll wait till you're ready. Chemistry can wait for another day or another week. You're more important right now." He took the papers from your hands and laid them on the ground beside the two of you, curling you closer into him. He hoped you could feel his heartbeat and find comfort in the steady pulse.

Several minutes later, he was still holding you as tight as he could without hurting you. How long had you kept those letters? How long had you felt the things you wrote about yourself, about Scott? He brought himself out of his thoughts when he felt your breathing slow and your shaking stop. Liam pulled away to look down at your sleeping figure as a bittersweet smile that found its way onto his face. Trying not to wake you, he picked you up into his arms and laid you down on the bed. Once he saw that you were comfortable under the blankets, he went ahead and cleaned up any trace of what just occurred. The papers were put back on the desk, the food was brought back into the kitchen, and flashcards were shoved into his backpack. Liam was all but ready to leave when he saw the envelopes on your floor. Taking one last look between your sleeping figure and the letters, he scooped them up and snuck out of your house.

He knew it was wrong to take them, but seeing you that fragile flipped a switch in him. Burying these pent-up feelings had only caused you sadness and frustration. Maybe, if you didn't have to hide behind the secrecy of it all, a weight would be lifted off of your shoulders. Maybe, you could finally start to let people in, start tearing down your mile-high walls, and express your feelings without worrying about what people might say.

Only good things could come from people knowing the truth, right?