#lydia will unfortunately not be here

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III Teaser

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III Teaser

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

A/n: guys I thought I’d have a lot more time to write today and I, unfortunately, don’t :(( but here’s another lil sneak peek at what’s to come in the Labyrinth Series!

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Part III Teaser

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…and when he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

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The First Attempt

Poison was the easiest and cleanest way to kill somebody. It involved very little effort on your part, just a slip of the hand to pour the poison into their drink when they weren't looking. It usually didn't involve blood or puke unless you got one of the nastier poisons, which you never did anyways. Some of the girls were more sadistic though and well, you couldn't blame them for it.

But while it was the simplest method of killing someone, it was probably one of the harder ones to pull off. First, faeries had very good senses, especially when it came to smell. One sniff of their drink could expose the poison in it, unless you were able to get your hands on one of the odorless ones. Those were more expensive though and Lydia and Keir certainly weren't willing to fund you guys besides your nightly rate from your clients.

However, when you had made a trip to the apothecary in the underbelly of Hewn City, you had begrudgingly forked over the money for one of those clear, odorless poisons. There was no way anything else would get past Azriel and his shadows.

Your heart ached in your chest as you stared at the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in your pleasure room. Azriel had been kind to you. He had offered you some mercy by buying out your nights and not returning until that fateful meeting at the party. And while he clearly liked being more dominant while bedding you, his touch had been gentle, soft. No one had ever shown you such care and here you were, plotting out his murder.

But you simply had to do this. Freedom was only one dead body away for you. One more hit and you could finally wash your hands of this place, disappear to another court—perhaps one that would allow you to bathe in the sunlight for the rest of your days, something the citizens of Hewn City had never really experienced.

Kill Azriel.

Kill the shadowsinger and you'll be free to go.

Those had been Keir's exact words.

You had killed before. There was a time when your finger was covered in black lines, a new one added every time you didn't have enough money to pay the house fee or enough for food and had to borrow from Lydia. One every time you failed to perform for a client, no matter what they asked of you. But now you were down to one last mark.

One for the Shadowsinger.

One for Azriel.

You let out a sigh, sitting down at your vanity to brush your hair. Azriel was due to show up any moment now. Ever since that night at the party, he had been coming by at this time every single night. He would buy out all the nights Lydia would allow him to before showing up.

He never even made it seem like he expected sex on any given night. Sometimes the two of you would just cuddle in bed, whispering stories to each other about your lives. Sometimes he would come all tense and frustrated with whatever the High Lord had demanded of him. On those nights you would offer to give him a massage and listen to him complain about how much he hated his work. It seemed like the two of you had that in common, at the very least.

You hadn't made any attempts yet. You told yourself it was because you were planning out the best way to kill Azriel. Poison, knives, strangling. There were a multitude of ways to do it. But you knew deep down what the true reason was. You had grown fond of the Shadowsinger. You didn't want to kill him.

But your wants and needs had never really ever agreed with each other your whole life.

So here you were. Waiting for Azriel to come so you could poison him and be done with this Gods awful place. You wanted out of the labyrinth and unfortunately, this was the only way.

No matter how much you liked Azriel, he was the one standing in the way of your freedom.

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Six:: [Conflict & Chaos]

Summary: As panic consumes Jake after finding out about your current medical condition, Jake calls your mother to fill in the gaps. Nurse Lydia escapes being taken to her supervisor and Jake lets loose on his mother who tries to stop him from leaving.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Overbearing mothers.

Word Count: 4.4K

Author Note: Okay Sick!wifey maybe there is another guy. Or not, who knows. My guess is a platonic friendship that will ultimately end in heartbreak.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

November 2nd 

“You look like you've just been told you’re dying?” It was a voice you didn't recognise that pulled you out of the bottomless pit of worry you'd fallen into as you sat on the edge of the raised garden bed just outside your doctor's office. “It's okay, you were probably just told that so it's alright to look like your whole world’s just been flipped on its head.” The man shrugged as he came to sit beside you with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Sorry, sorry–” You shook your head as you wiped your tears and dried your face, probably as patchy and puffy as ever. “Are you a doctor here?” 

“Me?” the man smiled as he pointed to his chest with a scoff. “Oh no, no I'm uh–I’m a patient I guess.” The man corrected you as he watched you try to fix yourself up. Before you knew it there was a tissue being held out of you to take. 

“Thanks.” You smiled softly with gratitude and accepted the tissue the man wouldn't be wanted back anytime soon. 

“No problem.” He nodded. “I saw you come out of Doctor Parsons' office, she's got a pretty rough gig don't you reckon?” 

“I'll say.” You agreed, Doctor Parsons probably wanted to go into her profession to help people, but nowadays all it seemed like was she was dishing out hard to swallow diagnoses. “You’re a patent of hers too?” 

“Unfortunately, Pancreatic– what about you?” The man asked as you tried to wrap your head around the idea of exchanging diagnosis with another human being. 

“I uh–I was just told I have breast cancer.” This complete stranger was the first person you told, before you mum, before your ex husband, before your kids or extended family. This stranger who was sitting next to you outside your local doctors office was the first person beside your doctor to know you had cancer, that your cells were dying–that you were, in fact, dying. 

“Oh yeah? What's the going rate for that one?” This all seemed too normal, too calm to be talking about. It wasn't the reaction you'd ever expected although you weren't really thinking about how people would react. “Sorry, I'm being too nosy.” The man beside you reached out and extended his hand towards you. “I’m Jensen, I don't mean to pry, it's just I don't see an awful lot of young people come into this particular doctors office and when I saw you rush out like your world had just been rocked I couldn't help but to follow you out here.” Jensen smiled as you shook his hand. “I'm also incredibly self aware of how creepy that sounds, so again, I'm sorry.” 

“No no–” You chuckled as you let go of Jensen's hand. “It's okay, it's just uh, fresh I guess, like ten minutes ago fresh.” You tried to explain the best you could. “Y/n, my names Y/n–” 

“Damn Y/n that's hot off the press–” Jesne pressed his lips together in a fine line, he understood what it was like to feel the crushing weight of the world on your chest. He was only in for a chat with doctor Parsons the day he met you. “Listen, in the hopes of not being too forward, can I give you my number?” He asked with a caution laced between his words, ready for rejection. “Not in a, I'd like to take you out sometime, although I wouldn't be opposed.” You had to stop yourself from looking as shocked as you were. Were you really being picked up out the front of a doctor's surgery? “But in more of an I understand what you’re going through kinda way and if you ever need an ear to vent to about the not so glamorous journey you're about to go on, I'd very much like to be that person for you, I always wished I had someone when I first started my battle.” 

“Uh, yeah–” You couldn't help but to smile through the dried tears on your face. “Sure, yeah that sounds really nice actually.” WHen you unlocked your phone the realisation that Jake, your ex husband, had been the last person you called dawned on you. He didn't know, he could never know. He wouldn't care enough to want to know. And yet here this stranger was, willing and ready to listen. “And for the record maybe when the dust settles I wouldn't be opposed to the idea either.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

“I vow to be your faithful partner in sickness, and in health.” Jake could hear your vow’s ringing out inside his mind as he raced around his childhood bedroom getting his stuff packed to leave. Your voice sounded as if you were standing right before him, plaguing his mind with haunting memories of promises he’d failed to keep. 

“I promise to love you unconditionally, to honor and respect you, and bring you solace in times of need.” Your voice was like a hauntingly beautiful memory reminding him of the vows you’d promised each other on your wedding day, right after his father had told him that happiness was essentially a hallmark card scam. Jake could hardly focus as he tried to compose himself enough to just think about what was going on for a second—but then his own voice echoed around in his mind, the voice of his former self who hadn’t yet ruined his marriage spoke up through the darkness of his fuzzy and fragile mind. 

“I take you for better or worse, in sickness and in health, in chaos and conflict, through heaven and hell.” Jake felt an anger so deep and overwhelming that he stood from his twin bed and walked a few quick paces across his room to where his closest door was. The animalistic growl that left his body when Jake slammed his fist into the wooden door woke his mother who was sleeping soundly a room or two down the hall. She hadn’t been woken so abruptly like that in years. Not since her children were young adolescence. 

With his busted hand and a pain in his chest he could only describe as emotional turmoil, Jake stumbled back over to his bed and picked up his discarded phone. He mulled over the decision for a few seconds before he went through his contacts to find probably the only woman who could give him more of the story. 

Your mother, Mary O’Riley. Or as Jake affectionately called her for the better half of your relationship, Maz. 

Jake's thumb lingered over her contact for a few seconds before he decided that yes, yes he needed more information. He needed someone to tell him this was all just some sick fucked up prank. He needed someone to tell him that you were in fact, alright, and that you weren’t lying in a hospital bed right now, without him there to hold your hand and tell you everything would be okay. 

He’d promised you in sickness and in health. 

Jake listened with anticipation and dread as the phone rang against his ear. It rang and rang and rang until finally at the very last second she could—your mother picked up the phone while she sat at your bedside. 

“Jacob—“ He heard her coo into the speaker. “You—“

“Tell me she’s not sick Maz.” Was all Jake said. It was stern and filled with heartbreak. “Please, tell me right now that she’s not in the hospital right now.” Your mother could tell Jake was holding back tears through gritted teeth as she turned her head over to the nurses station to see Lydia almost hyperventilating over her mistake. “Maz! FUCKING TELL ME MY WIFE DOESNT HAVE BREAST CANCER!” 

The sudden outburst made your mum jump nearly out of her seat as she pulled her phone slightly away from her ear, but it didn’t surprise her. Jake loved you so much, it was only natural he’d be in a state of shock finding out the way he had. 

“Jake, sweetheart, I need you to sit down for me.” Mary cooed softly with a sincere expression of empathy. “Please, just sit down and I’ll explain what’s going on.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

Lydia had never felt more stressed in her very short lived career. Once she had hung up the phone with who she now knew was probably your ex husband, Lydia's immediate plan was to come clean to your mum as she sat by your bedside. Luckily, your condition post op was pretty good all things considered and instead of taking up another room in the ICU, your surgeon said that it would be best for your recovery to be placed back in the room you would see out the next few weeks of chemotherapy in. There was no escaping the oncology ward, not even a stroke could save you as it seamned. 

“Miss O’Riley?” Lydia’s voice shook as she walked into your hospital room to see you sleeping in a drugged out haze of pain relief post op. You weren't expected to be awake for another few hours or so to allow your brain time to rest. “I need to speak with you for a moment, if you have a second.” All of this was going on around you without your knowledge. And quite frankly you wouldn't have wanted to know anyway– I mean, who really wants to be told that their nurse accidentally rang your husband and violated your privacy accidently? Certainly not you. 

“Is something wrong with my daughter?” Your mother asked as she held your hand, watching at the monitor told her you were stable, that your heart was beating and that you, despite the odds, would survive another day. 

“No, no, your daughter seemed to be responding well post surgery–” Lydia's voice still shook with nervousness for the reaction her actions would invoke. “It's just that I’ve uh–” Lydia was only young, she had so much left to give to the healthcare industry, one mistake couldn’t end her career before it had even started could it? “I accidentally called your daughter's husband, I automatically assumed he would be her emergency contact because he was listed as her husband and–” Lydia tried to get her explanation out as quickly as she possibly could before your mother had a chance to speak. “I'm so sorry, I told him about her current medical condition.” 

“Oh god.” Your mother groaned as she looked back to where you laid peacefully unaware that Jake now knew about your whereabouts and health status. “She didn't want him to know, at least not yet anyway.” Your mother explained as she sighed and ran her hands over her face. 

“I'm so sorry, I just assumed and before I knew he was asking what the hell I was even talking about and then I looked further down the page and saw that you were listed as her emergency contact.” Lydia was currently seeing her entire career flash before her eyes. All your mother had to do was request to speak to her supervisor, request that she report she violated HIPAA, but she didn't. Your mother simply nodded and accepted the fact a young girl who was only just starting out had made a mistake wasn't life threatening. 

“It's alright, just uh, he’s going to come, if I know that man he's going to be on the first flight here so as my daughters medically proxy, can you please adjust her visiting list and add Jake Seresin to the list.” Your mother knew Jake would be calling any minute now and that he knew there was no vacation away. Now that he knew what was going on. Mary fished her phone out of her handbag and sat it on your bedside table in anticipation. She was almost going to set a timer just to see how long it would take her son in law to call. 

“You–you aren't going to report me?” Lydia was at this point, in tears. She was so overwhelmed that she could barely see. Your mother felt sympathy for the young woman and really didn't want to be a part of whatever reprimanding could come of a simple mistake. So, she simply shook her head, looked back at her phone for a fleeting moment before she turned to look at you and finally back to Lydia who couldn't have been more thankful for the words that came out of your mothers mother. 

“No dear, no I'm not going to report you, mistakes happen–” Your mother pressed her lips together in a fine line as she reached up to touch your cheek with the pad of her thumb. “My daughter knows that all too well.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

“Please, just sit down and I’ll explain what’s going on.” Jake listened to what Maz had said and he did what he was told. He had always respected your mum and her natural born wisdom that Jake clung to through the time he had known her. “Are you sitting down?” 

“Yeah, yeah i'm sittin.’” 

“Jake–” Maz sighed heavily into the phone. “Back in november when Y/n called you about taking the kids for christmas she was sitting in her doctors office.” Jake didn't speak, he listened carefully to every word your mother spoke. His head was spinning as his heart raced. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the realisation set in. “She’d just been told she has a very aggressive form of breast cancer– stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma.” 

“Wh-why didn't she just tell me?” Jake knew that the two of you had never been more divided in your marriage, but he always thought that if you were sick to this level, that you'd call and he’d come running. Come hell or high water Jake was going back to Rhode Island to be with you. 

“That's a question you’ll just have to ask her.” Your mother replied. “But she's not alone, I'm with her right now, she uh–had a stroke only about an hour after she’d been admitted to oncology, good thing we were already in the hospital when it happened or else it could have been a hell of a lot worse.” 

“Maz–” Jake croaked out. “I don't know what I'm supposed to do.” He cried softly into the phone, it broke your mothers heart. “Tell me what I'm supposed to do.” He wasn't asking if he should get a ticket on the next flight out, no. No Maz knew exactly what Jake was asking her and again, it wasn't a question she held the answers to. 

“You just have to show up for her.” Was all your mother was able to say. “I dont have the answers this time Sweetheart, I’m not sure how to fix what's broken between the two of you, but I wanna know how soon you can get here–” Your mother paused as she tried to hold back her own tears. “She's not in a good way, she needs her husband Jake, she needs you here.”

Jake remembered that phone call, the one where you initially asked him to take the kids for christmas. He should have asked more questions, should have pressed you a little harder for information. Maybe, just maybe if he did back then, you would have crumbled and told him the truth. 

“I'll be there as soon as I can Maz, consider me on the next available flight.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

in sickness and in health, in chaos and conflict. It was the only thing Jake could tell himself over and over again as he walked down the large staircase of his parents place. in sickness and in health, in chaos and conflict. Jake had one thing and only one thing on his mind, getting back to you. 

“Jacob?” Jake froze as he got to the bottom of the staircase, his mother stood at the top, dressing gown pulled snug against her as she folded her arms across her chest and frowned down at her grown adult son. “What’s going on? It’s almost four in the morning?” 

“I just got off the phone with Maz—“ Jake explained as he watched his mum walk down the stairs, her eyes tired from a restless sleep. Having a home full of children and grandchildren didn’t help. “Y/n’s really sick, she’s uh—“ Jake wasn’t sure he wanted his mother to know about your diagnosis before he’d truly had a chance to process it himself. So, he didn’t divulge. “In the hospital, I just need to get back.” 

“Get back?” Janeen frowned in displeasure at her son's decision to leave. “What do you mean get back, you only just got here.”

“My wife’s in the hospital Ma, I need to go and make sure she’s alright.” Jake didn’t think he’d have to spell it out, but he did. “I promised her in sickness and in health, unfortunately she’s taken a turn for the worse and she’s at the very least right now the mother of my children, so I need to go and be with her and figure out what’s going on.” 

“Y/n is a grown woman who can take care of herself.” Janeen reached up to touch Jake's cheek, however, before she could run the pad of her thumb across Jake's scruffed cheek, he pulled away in anger. “She decided that when she left you? Or don’t you remember what that woman put you through?” 

“Ma.” Jake clenched his jaw under the dim light of the main foyer. “I love you, I do, but you need to stop disrespecting her.”

“Disrespecting her?” Jake's mother scoffed as she watched him pick up his duffel bag and head towards the front door. “What about the disrespect she showed this family? The disrespect she showed you when she was unfaithful to her wedding vows and left you! She took your kids away from your Jacob and what? You’re running back to her the second she gets a runny nose?” Jake was holding his tongue between his teeth as his mother followed him out to the cars, he’d already called a taxi. “Honestly I never in a million years thought you’d settle for someone so—“

“MUM!” Jake snapped abruptly, he wasn’t proud of raising his voice with the woman who raised him, gave him life, but my god did she need to back off. “SHUT, THE HELL, UP!” Jake hissed as he saw headlights coming up the drive. “I’m leaving my children here until I figure out what’s going on but so help me god if I get back and your attitude hasn’t done a full three sixty about my wife, the love of my life, you will never see her, or our kids, or me, again!” 

Janeen remained silent as she watched the taxi Jake had called pull up to where they were standing. She watched with teary eyes as he threw his bag into the back seat and greeted the driver kindly. He was an older gentleman. Probably mid sixties. 

“I will call you when I know more but you have to stop degrading her, I’m the one who drove her away.” Jake had wanted to say this since the first comment his mother ever made about you way back in January just after he’d told her the two of you were separating. Jake took his mother in his arms, he towered over the smaller built woman with graying hair. He let his chin rest on the top of her head and didn’t hold back. 

“Just because you never had the courage to leave dad when he stopped loving you the way he should doesn’t mean you get to project your pity on my wife for doing what you always wished you should have.” Jake had never felt such a weight lifted off his chest and immediately knew that the chances of him being invited back for next years Seresin family Christmas was probably a long shot. “You should ask Jasmine about her new nanny.” Jake finished as he pulled away. “I heard she's a really good people pleasure.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

“Ordinary streets, Extraordinary stories.” Jake read over your shoulder as you jotted down some ideas for your latest project. “Huh, I like that, it's sorta catchy.” He smiled softly against your cheek before leaving a gentle kiss in his wake. His eyes lingered down to your book proposal for your publisher and continued reading as you sat at your desk, glued to your laptop like a woman on an impossible mission against time. “This collection of stories centers on the idea of ‘accidental death’ and the upheaval caused in the lives of those who lost a loved one in this way.” Jake read outloud over your shoulder in the dimly lit office. “I'm starting to think I should sleep with the lights on at night.” 

“One eye open will do.” You mumbled back as you re-read your last sentence and continued on typing like your husband wasn't trying to coax you away from your work. “I have a deadline to meet, so shoo fly, don't bother me.” You teased as Jake moved your hair to one side and began to kiss the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Seduction was usually his strong suit. 

It was no shock to Jake that almost immediately out of college you started writing non-stop about the things you were most passionate about. He thought you'd stick it out and become some wildly successful fiction novelist. Perhaps lean into your fascination with dystopian hierarchy, but no. You really came out of the left field when you picked up a publishing gig to write and publish not one, but three true crime biographies. The little bookshop on firth you worked at were so overjoyed for you when you’d told them the big news. 

“You are working yourself to the bone, Honey.” Jake replied softly as his hands trailed down your stomach to feel the small but swelling baby bump that was growing bigger by the day. 

“Says the guy still in his flight suit–” You fired right back without taking your eyes off the screen of your laptop. Your fingers worked fast to type the thoughts in your mind onto the screen before they were forgotten. If you let your mind wander too far away you'd lose your momentum. “Jake, I need to finish this chapter before bed.” 

“No, no, what you need Hon, is to close your laptop and follow me to where I've run you a bath for your surely aching muscles, swollen feet and to ward off that impending cold I know you're coming down with.” Jake caught the way your fingers froze across the keys of your laptop at his thoughtful words, you hadn’t even mentioned feeling under the weather yet. “I heard you sniffling while cooking dinner–thought I better be proactive and try help you sweat it out.” 

You felt the heat in your cheeks rising as a smile crept across your face. You looked down at the ring on your left ring finger and tried not to cry. You could have blamed it on the raging pregnancy hormones from the twin Seresin babies currently using your body as a host, but you knew it was just the overwhelming love you felt. 

“You ran me a bath?” It was something you didn't know you needed until Jake had mentioned it. 

“Not to toot my own horn or nothin but I lit your favorite candles too, even went as far as to put a few rose petals in the bubbles.” Jake watched as you spun around in your chair to face him with big teary eyes and an even bigger baby bump. “Gotta look after my girl, can't have the mother of my children feeling sick, now can I?” 

“I'm intrigued to see what kind of special treatment I'll receive if I'm ever really unwell if this is what I'm getting for a runny nose.” You teased as Jake helped you up off your work chair. His hand went straight to the small of your back to guide you out of the study down the hall towards the bathroom where he had everything set and sorted for you. 

“Hopefully we never get to the point where you're chronically ill.” Jake kissed your temple as he walked with you. “Never wanna see you sicker than a cold.” He explained as your eyes went wide with wonder and ore at the sight of your bathroom fully lit with candles. “But trust that I'll be right by your side, holding your hand through whatever may come.” 

“You really didn't have to do all this for me.” You sighed as Jake started to help you undress. You watched him with love filled eyes through the mirror as his hands roamed your body, stripping articles of clothing from your pregnant silhouette.  

“Nonsense, I'll always do things like this for you.” Jake shrugged it off like his actions were no big deal. To him at that moment they really weren't, he was just trying to help wherever he could. “But you should probably wake up now–” 

“What do you mean?” A slow steady beeping broke through your mind as your body began to feel numb.  “Jake—“ You frowned as the bathroom faded around you. “Jake?” You called out as you felt yourself feeling heavy and lethargic. “Jake—?” 

“Sweetheart can you hear me?” Your mother asked as your surgeon tried to assess your ability to open your eyes. The small light that was shining in your eyes did little to cure your confusion. 

“Jake?” You asked again as your eyes fluttered open, you groaned softly in annoyance to the light of the hospital room you woke up in. “Where’s Jake?” Everything was so blurry, so confusing, the last thing you remembered was getting ready for a bath, now you where here in a hospital room. 

“He’s not here Sweetheart, do you remember what happened?” When you didn’t answer your doctor interjected to jog your memory. 

“You had a minor stroke Mrs Seresin, lucky for you you were already on sight when it happened—do you remember why you’re here?” As you looked around at the Christmas lights that now decorated your hospital room and the small Christmas tree in the corner on the coffee table near the old recliner, you remembered. 

“Oh.” That’s right you thought to yourself, you were separated. Jake didn’t care, not anymore. He’d stopped running baths for you years ago. “Oh, yeah—I remember.” You whispered before a single tear ran down your face. 

“I remember everything.” 

***~***~***~***~***

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional l @jessicab1991 91 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus

[mysticallystilinski]

can u write a fluff where stiles has another panic attack and the reader is there to comfort him :D

trepidation | s. stilinski x fem!reader | fluff/angst

summary: you and stiles get trapped in the winter night of beacon hills, something may change it all

warnings: swearing, panic attacks, slight angst, anxiety, and mentions of harm

a/n: { hi! it’s lav, i hope you guys enjoy this, and please request more, as i’ve literally have no ideas.. }

trep·i·da·tion

noun: trepidation

a feeling of fear or agitation about something that may happen.

———————————————————

the night was cold as you held your hands in between your warm thighs. stiles was driving his jeep in the sleet, ice roads. the power previously went out, and now you and stiles were heading to the pack. before your phone died, lydia had called you when she sensed something was happening. she had a hard feeling in her conscience, but she couldn’t pinpoint on what it was exactly. her breathing fell short onto the phone as your battery level promptly went to zero.

“stiles, my phone died. do you have a charger?” you lifted your head up to catch the gaze of the quiet boy. he tilted his head slightly, and licked his lips in attempt to chap-pen them. “uh, i think it’s around here somewhere.” he states. he uses his free hand to navigate around the back of the jeep in attempt to find the missing cord. he directed his gaze to the back seats for a split second to try to find it. his other hand, controlling the wheel, slightly tilted to the right and you felt a bump hit the tire.

you and stiles both looked at each-other in accord as he released his right hand from the backseat and placed both hands on the steering wheel. the car slowly went for a stop as something got lodged into the old jeeps tire. “you have got to be kidding me,” you huff out. “stiles, please tell me you still have that spare tire on the back of your jeep?” you smile shyly in attempt to butter up his reaction to the unfortunate event.

“remember that day last year when me and scott were playing around.. with the tire,” he laughed playfully, but with a sense of frighten. “you have got to be fucking kidding me,” you grit straight through your teeth. stiles smile fades into the black of the night as you open up the jeep door, and head out by the back of the car.

it wasn’t an ideal night, it was freezing cold, the power went out, and not to mention you guys were in the middle of the woods.

you heard the jeep door ram as stiles emerged from the left side of the car. “who’s idea was it to take the shortcut route,” you sneer. stiles gave you a menacing look as he popped open the back of the trunk. the jeeps blue figure moved up slowly with the guide of stiles hand. his eyes scanned the messy space in front of him in search of something that may help. he sighed for a few seconds in defeat as nothing came up in his scan. “maybe you should look with your hands”, you snickered. you took a step closer to the large vehicle and dived straight in. you began to shuffle around the papers, and the tools in attempt to at least find something useful.

you couldn’t manage to find anything helpful in this situation. stiles was still behind you, and you felt his cold gaze latch onto your soul. “what if we never get this car started,” he questioned frightfully. “trepidation”, you said. “what?”, he asked. “trepidation.. a feeling of fear or agitation about something that may happen.” he fell silent at the sound of your quip words. the cold was bustling as the night grew darker. you knew stiles was panicked, and not knowing what to do. but you didn’t know to what extent his fear was at.

you heard staggered breathing from behind you. quickly, you whipped your head to see stiles on the floor, tears dripping down his eyes. “it just came out of nowhere”, he yelped in pain. “what did? what came out of nowhere?”, you briefly asked. stiles eyes were as cold as stone. he stared into the open gape of the trees from behind you. you quickly got onto the floor next to him. stiles was known for loving physical touch from you during these episodes. you pulled him into a hug, his head laid onto your chest. “stiles, it’s gonna be okay”, you whispered while hugging him. your hands got trapped into his brown locks of hair. his cold body shook while he whispered some words of breathe and it’s gone. “stiles what happened?”, you ask persistently.

his breathing began to get heavier, and heavier. you strained at the sound of him gasping for air. it was like his head was underwater, and you didn’t know how to drain it. “stiles, please, look at me”, you plead. he stares into your lighted eyes, and starts to breathe. “listen to me sti.. trepidation”, you speak. his eyes grew warmer as your voice seemed to echo in his entire mind. “trepidation.. a feeling of fear, or agitation about something that may happen”. you see his body move up and down with the beat of his each breath. his face was less tense, and his body more relaxed. panic attacks weren’t uncommon for him, but this one sparked fear into you.

“just remember stiles.. trepidation.”

———————————————————

[anistarrose]

The thing about the Heart Attack segment in Wonderland is that they put so much aromantic subtext in it. They accidentally put SO much aromantic subtext in it, on behalf of multiple characters, and I'm thinking about it constantly. Let me tell you all about it.

Magnus is dropped into a dating game and literally leads with "I cannot stress enough how uninterested I am in this." Now, it's perfectly valid to read this as due to him waiting for Julia, or just him being plain old uncomfortable with having his love life put in the spotlight. However! I cannot stress enough the exchange that happens just a minute or two after that line:

Magnus (describing his ideal date): ... and we don't see each other again, ‘cause I'm really not interested in dating. Audience: [exaggerated] Oooooh! (cheers) Griffin: The silhouette is like, fanning itself. Lydia: Playing hard to get, huh? It seems like our contestant is into that.

And I just have to say: unfortunately, this is one of the most aromantic fucking experiences I've seen represented in fiction in my life. I mean — saying you're not interested in romance, then having those words twisted on you, like they're some secret coded way of saying that you are interested in romance? Not having a single way to express your disinterest that'll actually be believed? That's some aro shit right there. God. Fuck.

As an aside, it's enough to really tell that Heart Attack is not designed to be a reprieve from the pain, even though it's the "good outcome" of Trust or Forsake. It's designed to be uncomfortable. To funnel suffering to Edward and Lydia, just like all the other games do. (More on that later, in fact.) But in summary:

Magnus is a character who can be read as uncomfortable with romance for either aro-spec reasons or unrelated reasons. But in either case, his discomfort attracts reactions that reek of amatonormativity — and therefore, resonate with aromantic experiences. (Psst, I did recently write a gray-aro Magnus fic!)

Two more analyses below the cut (and only one of them is for another Horny Boy):

Obviously the next character I need to talk about is Merle. I've found aroallo readings of his character to be compelling for a long time (having sex with plants so you don't have to worry about romantic commitment, am I right?), but the way he describes his "ideal date" is another factor:

Merle: I volunteer to drive her vehicle, and tell her it's filthy, and so we go through the uh- drive through vehicle wash and she pays for that too. Um, and then I take her to have dinner with my family, and- Magnus: Wait, like your wife and stuff? Merle: She meets my ex-wife.

Merle's probably exaggerating as a joke, continuing on about both him and his partner being miserable, but I think the fact that Merle's mind goes here is genuinely drawing from a lot of poor romantic experiences in the past. He didn't get a choice about being on Heart Attack, and his marriage with Hecuba was similarly "arranged".

It's also worth noting that at this point in time, Merle is putting in the work to be part of Mavis and Mookie's lives again, but is not interested in doing the same for Hecuba — he instead just asks Mavis how Hecuba's doing. That said, given that Magnus is the one to put the focus on Merle's ex-wife, I think it's fair to read the "family" comment as Merle actually expressing that he'd rather spend time with his kids than give any special romantic attention to his date. Moving on to the rest of the "joke":

Merle: She's having a miserable time and she's really mad, she can't wait to get outta there. I take her back to her house, and so I lean up against the door jam and say, 'Sure you don't want me to come in for a few minutes?' and she slams the door in my face.

It's possible Merle just has a more roundabout, self-deprecating way of expressing a similar thing to what Magnus did: Merle just isn't interested in dating. To me, the last line implies he might not say no to sex, if offered — but overall, it reads as if Merle is putting minimal effort in because he's looking for an excuse to get out of this relationship anyway.

It's also possible that Merle's "rejection" of a suitor being so disguised as humor could point to him still coming to terms with his disinterest in dating. Particularly, in comparison to Magnus, who is so vocal and unashamed about it, while Merle might still be figuring this all out.

(Honestly, the self-deprecation Merle turns to here is actually kind of sad, when viewed in that light — he already lets himself be the butt of jokes so often, and now he feels like the way romance doesn't click for him has to be a joke, too? Oof. Someone give him a hug and tell him he's not broken this instant!) But regardless:

Merle views dates, and perhaps romance in general, as things that will inevitably turn disastrous for him and any party involved with him, and he would rather spend time with his children than repairing a relationship with an ex, or cultivating a relationship with a new partner. This is not an experience exclusive to the aro-spec umbrella, but you can't say that an aromantic reading of his character doesn't fit him like a gardening glove...

...which he wears while fucking his plants. Because plants don't demand emotional intimacy, nor take too much time away from the platonic relationships that matter more to him. And you know what? He's fucking valid for that! Fly your flag, nasty grandpa!

But moving on: I promised you aromantic analysis of characters outside of our protagonists, and henceforth, that analysis I will provide. And not just because I admittedly see Taako as the token alloromantic (though clearly an aro ally; if he hadn't chosen Forsake we wouldn't have gotten all this incredible characterization!)

I digress. So let's go on to addressing the lich twins in the room: Edward and Lydia.

Remember my argument earlier that Heart Attack serves the purpose of collecting suffering just like the rest of Wonderland does? How it's just a subtler way of making Wonderland's victims fundamentally uncomfortable?

...Using, of all things, romance?

How the vogue twins, for whatever reason, felt inspired to make people uncomfortable with matchmaking and adoration? How, some way or another, they noticed how much potential romance had to induce suffering? Being pressured into a relationship, being told that no matter how firmly you say you're uninterested, you're not really uninterested?

...Relatedly, I have always gotten the sense that Edward and Lydia projected relentlessly onto their victims.

Edward: This resolve, this desire to do whatever it takes no matter the cost to save yourselves — do you know who you three remind me of? Magnus: No? Merle: Who? Edward: Us!

I'm even going to go a step further and say that on top of projection, they want their victims to go through things they went through. Swallowing the guilt of having fucked someone else over to survive, of course — that's basically self-admitted. But possibly also... the feeling of not being able to get back what you lost (Keats). The feeling of not being able to heal (Keats).

So, where does that leave Heart Attack?

Lydia: It was the three of us, surviving against all odds. The world against us.

Their family of three was (is) indescribably important to them. I'm not necessarily saying that societal expectations of romance, especially of romance as a priority above that of family, left a bad taste in their mouths — if not downright contributing to their trauma — but, okay, I wrote the rest of this post and now that I'm back, I can no longer deny it. I'm definitely, absolutely saying that.

At the time of the podcast, we know Edward and Lydia's own relationship is heavily strained. Until the end, they are lying to themselves and to each other about the fact that they continue to be emotionally and magically reliant on each other. After all, Lydia wouldn't say "I guess we really needed each other after all" in her dying moments with such surprise otherwise.

This is the second reason that I... well, I wouldn't quite call it a "theory," but I find it most impactful to read Edward and Lydia as characters for whom the concept of Love has baggage. And always has, from their origins as youth in a tough spot in an already amatonormative world.

Maybe the constant societal devaluing of platonic, familial bonds left them with serious emotional scars. Maybe the constant conflation of Love and morality just weighed on them and weighed on them and weighed on them until they decided: well, we don't love the way people expect us to, so we might as well give up on being the good people they expect us to be. We might as well embrace this new fuel of suffering.

...And you know, I hope this gets across what I mean when I always say I headcanon villains as aromantic to make them more sympathetic.

Edward and Lydia, textually, are already tragic villains. As twins and liches, they're also textually foil characters to several of the Seven Birds. But I also like to think that they have a lot in common with Magnus and Merle, and the possibility that tugs at my heartstrings the most is the possibility of them all falling under the aromantic umbrella.

[in-this-crystal-kingdom]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SUFFERING GAME GRAPHIC NOVEL

Okay SO. Everyone has some thoughts on this one for sure as I have seen. A lot of people are saying they took a lot from Wonderland and that it's a disappointment as an adaptation but here's the thing: I have viewed the books as separate canon from the podcast since around Crystal Kingdom. I don't necessarily see it as a faithful adaptation but as a cool way to get more people into the story without giving EVERYTHING away in case they decide to listen. However, that being said, I have some things to say. I'm going to start with the negative first because even though I LOVED this book I so have some things I will miss about it (but please understand that I LOVED THE BOOK SM GUYS, I will ofc be adding what I loved after this part)

My Issues/Things I Wish Were Included:

Magnus trying to find his own answers with the voidfish. I was really looking forward to how they would show and represent that!

"I'm afraid no one else will have me" was such a good scene, I really liked the vulnerability Taako showed then because aside from his scene in Petals we haven't seen a whole lot of that from him in the books (again, I veiw the books as separate canon, but it would be nice to see)

CAM! I missed Cam so much he was delightful

No Boss Rush

I don't like that they basically forced Magus to decide if he wanted to lose Julia and never mention Gov. Kallen at all. That was such an impactful moment and they kind of side stepped it unfortunately

Trust or Forsake is missing which is also unfortunate

A lot of what made Wonderland interesting is either spedrun or absent so they kind of took the Wonder out of Wonderland

Taako giving up his beauty is also gone! Which sucks ass! My only true issue with this book that I genuinely was heartbroken over. I understand it can be a hard thing to show, especially when it runs the risk of someone in real life looking at the design and going "ow, that looks like me!'. So like. I get it. I really do. But they cut so much of Podcast!Taako's growth in Book!Taako's character that it was a sore spot for me personally.

If they let Johann live in the next book I will be very upset

SPEAKING OF NEXT BOOK!! Now that I have all my negative out of the way ohohoh boy I'm gonna share the positives I have with it. Given that, again, I view the books as separate story than the podcast, I thought they did a wonderful job overall. Solid 8/10 for me! Here are the things I am still screaming about

Things I adore about this book and will be living rent free in my head forever

TAAKO AND KRAVITZ KISS LIKE 5 PAGES IN AND I SCREAMED CAREY ATE WITH THAT

Merle's kids 😭😭😭

JOHANN IS ACKNOWLEDGED IN THIS ONE RAAAAAAAA I WAS SO WORRIED THEY WERE TRYING TO CUT HIM OUT

I love the redesign of Wonderland looking like a circus instead of a roulette wheel, I liked that a lot

Kravitz calling Taako to tell him to be safe,,, the call getting cut off,,,, pain

I loved the wheel it looked so cool

Edward and Lydia were giving Velvet and Veneer and I am HERE FOR IT

Heart Attack my beloved 🥰

ARMS OUTSTRETCHED!!!!!!!!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN TAAKO SAW KRAVITZ IN THE TAR??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE TRIED TO SAVE HIM?????? MCELROY FAMILY AND CAREY WHEN I GET YOU-

Seeing the umbra staff (*cough cough* Lup) BEAT THE SHIT out of Edward was lovely, no notes

HOW GRIFFIN DISAPPEARED!!! I WAS HOPING THEY WOULD DO THAT!!!

BLUEJEANS REVEAL

The Umbra Staff jumping into Barry's arms 😭😭😭

Taako having STATIC IN HIS EYES seeing the staff and Barry together CAREY PLEASE

MERLE SEEING JOHN, THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE

L U P SHE IS SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL I CRIED I AM SO GLAD THEY GAVE HER LONG HAIR TOO!!

GOD THE BOOK ENDED WHERE I WANTED IT TO AND THEN SOME ACTUALLY (I thought it would end with the line "Lucretia, what have you done???" BUT MAN I'M NOT MAD IT WENT ON A BIT LATER)

THE IPRE PAINTING. THEM. THEY. ALL OF THEM. I AM DYING. MY CROPS ARE WATERED AS SHIT.

[bouncy-dog-funeral]

Stiles Stilinski and how teen wolf fails his character and relationships

TW: mentions of charecters traumas, disibilitys not being taken seriously, toxic relationships, one sided attraction, and teen wolf hate cuz as much as I love some of the charecters… the show is kinda bad (it’s my special interest b4 I get hate)

ALSO!!!

I am just an autistic guy who’s been hyper fixated on stiles as a character for years. I am not telling you how to feel about the show or him, I’m just expressing how I feel through a long (and I mean it this is long so strap in… or don’t… I don’t control you) tumbler rant. I have not finished the show but I have done a lot of research (about episodes and seasons that I have not seen) but I’m just human. If I miss something or don’t get something right, you can just tell me!!

Stiles stilinski as a character, while not a revolution to tv, was a pretty iconic character. A show about werewolves and the supernatural was absolutely side stepped by the human of the series. From the moment he’s on screen, he brings a fun vibe and some pretty funny jokes but you’re not here to listen to me glaze a white guy from an early 2000s show. Too much of that on here any way so let’s get to the real meat and potato’s!

Stiles was failed by teen wolf. They failed to give him relationships (and I mean platonic and romantic relationships) that were reciprocated. His relationship with Scott is ok at best. In the first season stiles goes out of his way for Scott to help him find out what’s wrong with him and it’s seemingly the only reason he’s there other then to get Scott to go in the woods and to show that Scott isn’t friendless and what does Scott do? Kinda just ignore him to hang out with a girl HE JUST MET. This isn’t a one time thing either. Stiles goes out of his way for Scott 99% of the time. He’s loyal and honestly a really good friend. Scott does not meet him there unfortunately. This is not to say that Scott never helps stiles out or never shows care for him, he just kinda always puts his issues first. I think a famous example is season 5 episode 9. NOW BEFORE YOU SCOTT SYMPATHIZERS BOO ME I WOULD LIKE TO EXPLAIN MY POINT. Now Scott and Stiles have both gone through some traumatizing shit that no one, especially high schoolers but I can only give so much leniency. Scott is supposed to be a leader/alpha and although he’s bound to make mistakes, a good leader listens. He never really listens to stiles in this argument. He got told one story from Theo and just runs with it. He has this problem either way black and white thinking when everyone in this series is a person (werewolf’s and other supernatural creatures included) and being a person comes with not being perfectly good. Scott has this awful superiority complex when it comes to doing what he thinks is morally right. Scott through out the series proves that he is not as loyal to stiles is to him.

I’d also like to go over his relationship with Lydia cuz good god man. I don’t hate Lydia. I think she’s a great character that if not written in the early 2000s could really have potential but they make her mean to stiles (as most charecters are) and show no interest in stiles even as a nuisance and expect me to care about them as a couple. Now you could say the same thing about sterek (stiles x Derek) and you might even be typing up a comment now. Let me stop you. I think there is a key diffrance. We are supposed to root for stiles and Lydia. We are supposed to want them together when Lydia in all honesty is not intrested in him. It’s not a mutual arguing or back and forth. Stiles is deeply in love with some one who ignored his existence. As a afab person I feel bad for Lydia a little. Having the attention of a man that you don’t like all that much while you have a partner (Jackson in season 1 which he’s not a good partner but she’s still with someone) should get on my nerves and also kinda make me nervous. This is not me saying stiles is a creep or anything it’s just me highlighting the relationship that they share is kinda one sided. Now this is just personal preference and you might really like that dynamic but I don’t really want to root for a couple where it’s just pretty girl is there and she has some nerd who wants to be with her and she eventually gets with him cuz yay straight people. I know they grow and eventually Lydia is in love with him but I just can’t get behind it. It’s just nothing. The fact the he (stiles) yells at her at the school dance (season 1 episode 11) to get her to dance with him after she rejected the offer twice is weird!!! The whole speech is nice guy behavior on stiles part and it makes him seem down right disrespectful. I don’t care for the whole “no means I’m playing hard to get” idea. It makes stiles look like a dick, puts Lydia in the position where if she doesn’t say yes the audience will hate her, and it doesn’t progress the relationship in a healthy way. I think they would be really cute friends and you can even keep the “stiles has a crush on her” narrative and just make it to where he comes to an understanding that she has said no and they become friends. God knows we are lacking good platonic male/female relationships in media.

Now onto stiles and his disability. When I was in first obsessing over stiles in middle school or high school I was ecstatic to learn that stiles had adhd. I have been diagnosed with adhd since I was in elementary school. I was always an outcast cuz of it so to see a character, a fan fav at that, I was so happy. Getting any disability rep (especially from the mid 2000s) is crazy rare so I was happy to see it. Unfortunately in an interview Dylan o’brian (stiles actor) said that it was a joke. That even tho that in the series stiles says that he takes Adderall (a drug that treats adhd) he’s just like that. This was incredibly heart breaking to hear. Jeff Davis (creator of teen wolf) said that stiles had adhd later on Twitter but this isn’t a real relief to hear cuz either they wrote a “joke” that stiles might have adhd therefore dangling rep infront of disabled people’s faces while also having plausible deniability about having any rep in the show at all OR they wrote it in and just kinda ditched it at one point. They use derogatory terms for adhd to describe stiles like spaz just for him to be a nerotypical charecter??? Yeahhhhhh not a huge fan. If they actually wrote him to have adhd (which btw in my experience is like one of the most “accepted” disibiltys to portray in media so it wouldn’t even be taking a huge risk to give stiles adhd) then that would explain his behaviors, why he takes Adderall, why people other him when he seemingly does everything right. It was only ever a joke to the writers and I think unfortunately the actors. It made it to where other fans of the show can shut down the idea that stiles has adhd cuz “they don’t ever directly say it. It’s frustrating and overall makes me so sad.

Next his trauma. They put this man through a lot and just gloss over it. They do this with most of the charecters. Huge traumatic incadent then boom Scott saves the day we’re all fine!!! (Can you tell who my least fav charecter is through this rant?) it’s just annoying. Stiles was litterly possessed leaving him a broken man but it’s kinda just… there? No real ptsd. Hell he doesn’t even really have to deal with anything. They briefly go over that his mom died and kinda just became a shell of a person and that made his dad an alcoholic. It just happens. None of that affects stiles outside of that story line. Was it too much to write ptsd? Idk it just seems that anytime they have to write a charecter that isn’t a ambiguously white or white nerotypical untraumatized “normal” person, they fall flat *cough* BOYD *cough cough* DANNY *cough* what was that? Who said that? Any way it’s just weird and upsetting.

All of this to say…. I think teen wolf had so much potential and so many good ideas that just… didn’t make it. They failed stiles stilinski, not only that! They failed all of their character’s but I’m not crazy Coocoo about their character’s and it 1:38 in the morning so I’ll leave it with stiles. If you disagree with me that’s so fine, I’d love to have a conversation about your opinions! Just from my knowledge and experience, I feel like they could have done so much better for stiles

(Like make him a bisexual neurodivergent icon but whatever)

Have a lovely day! Thank you for listening. If you ever want to talk about teen wolf, my dms are always open and I’m crazy.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

There was not much that could scare Edward and Lydia anymore. In fact, Edward could count the things he feared on one hand.

The Reaper— or rather, The Raven Queen. Becoming liches hadn't been a hasty decision. They had known full well what they were doing, what laws they were breaking, and they had broken them anyway. The Raven Queen did not take kindly to those who played the line with life and death, but unfortunately for her, that was Edward and Lydia's preferred line of work. Even so, it would be rather foolish of them not to fear the wrath of a god, or her little soldiers, either.

The End Of All Things. This one was rather simple. Or, well, Edward could pretend it was, until it arrived. But somewhere out there, maybe not in their Planarverse, but out there nonetheless was a world-ending destructive force. It had been described as the Hunger, and although he felt a level of kinship with the idea (who wouldn't when your life was fueled by the very same things that the Hunger was made of), the fear overrid his other emotions.

And being separated from Lydia, of course. After all they had been through with Keats, it was rather hard to not be afraid of losing her, too. But of all his fears, Edward would admit this one was the most unrealistic. There was no Edward without Lydia anymore. If one of them went, well… Edward wouldn’t have to fear much, after that.

Even so, Edward's relationship with fear was far from the norm. His fears? Unnecessary, at this point. Annoying, even. Other people's, though? Ohoho, Edward lived, quite literally, for other people's fears.

The traction Wonderland had gained when the Animus Bell had first fallen into their hands was starting to die down. Edward and Lydia were masters of stretching a life to its thinnest, of course— why kill off anybody in the first act when the second could turn out so much better? But even with these carefully toned tactics, Wonderland seemed to have hit a wall. And it didn't take long to figure out why.

The world had forgotten all about the Animus Bell. And thus, the world had forgotten all about Wonderland.

They had been through worse, of course. And sure, all it took was a few changes here and there— stop advertising the Animus Bell so directly, start up with the classics again: Fame, glory, money. Who in the world wouldn't kill for any of those? But it was frustrating, to have your main source of business cut off without any sort of explanation. Edward personally felt a little cheated. The Animus Bell was supposed to have lasted much longer. They had been promised business and success, only for it to be cut off all at once.

So when the woman responsible for all their recent failures waltzed into the building? Well, Edward and Lydia had no such reason to go easy on her. After all, Lucretia had taken everything from them— all the delicious pain and suffering suddenly gone in an instant. It was only fair she made up for it.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Heyy, love what you do. You're amazing.

I was looking for sterek fics where Derek has a dirty mouth, even porn couldn't compare to the things that come out of his mouth when he is with stiles. ♥️♥️♥️

Cover your ears ya'll.

A quickie in the janitors closet by pizzz_10

(1/1 842)

Stiles wanted to go lunch after class, but Derek has other ideas

Something to Remember Me By by 1lostone

(1/1 I 5,038)

At a graduation party, Derek makes some assumptions.

Stiles sets him straight.... so to speak.

Gordian Knot (Of Sex) by tourdefierce

(1/1 I 5,859)

Losing his virginity was hard enough when Lydia Martin was his sole focus. Now there are werewolves involved and this is way crazier. For one, there are a lot more dicks involved. (To be fair, in some of his fantasies, Lydia Martin had an impressive rubber cock.) Either way, Stiles doesn't know why he thought getting rid of his pesky virginity was going to be easier with Derek involved—the guy is practically allergic to doing anything the easy way and that includes Stiles. Being done. Because he's easy. What.

Things We Know, Unsaid by uraneia 

(1/1 I 6,036)

Stiles accidentally finds a trunk full of Derek's professional dom gear from when he lived in New York. They don't talk about it. Then Stiles turns eighteen, and they do.

*

If he thought Derek would be angry or embarrassed at Stiles finding a trunk full of quality BDSM gear in his closet, he’d have been wrong. “I used to do it professionally, in New York,” Derek says easily, and Stiles—Stiles doesn’t know how to process that. Because he’s seventeen and has eyes and an unfortunately vivid imagination, and if he lets it go there he’s not going to get any use out of any body part except his dick for several hours.

Feel You Breathing by sugareey

(3/3 I 8,400)

Derek: So, you need a distraction.

Stiles: Maybe Stiles: It’d be better if you were here to help me with that. Stiles: ;D

[Or: Sexy things start late one night when Derek gets a text from Stiles and escalate from there. A few secrets are revealed along the way.]

Melt Me Slowly Down by maichan808 (maichan)

(1/1 I 20,307)

The last thing Stiles expects when he walks into Lydia’s exclusive S&M club is to rescue a sub who’s obviously been mistreated for a long time. His name is Derek, and when he awkwardly reaches out, asking Stiles to be his Dom, the urge to shield Derek from more pain is too strong for Stiles to resist. But Derek is still recovering from his past and learning how to set boundaries, so they have to take things slow.

Incredibly Gifted Fakers by Fortem

(21/? I 76,596)

Stiles desperately needs a new scene partner and Derek desperately needs a job. They may just be able to help each other out, if they remember that this is all supposed to be acting.

Yoda Said It Best by OKDeanna

(21/21 I 99,128)

Derek Hale knows he as a problem. Contrary to what some might believe, he isn’t stupid. He knows the Jeep has meaning to him, real meaning. The kind of meaning that he doesn’t want to think about, let alone stop and have to analyze. Except… his son keeps pushing him about it, prodding at him, and then before Derek knows it, Stiles is back in Beacon Hills, driving the one thing in the world Derek wishes he never had to set eyes on again. If Derek isn’t careful, he could open himself up to a fall, and that would affect more than just his son but also his own traitorous heart. Because with Stiles back, Derek finally has hope again, and its making him want the things he knows better than to ever crave: a home, a future, a life—love.

Domestication by Arver7, Moit

(37/37 I 280,892)

Derek and Stiles are heat partners, but neither realises how invested the other one is. When Stiles winds up pregnant, their relationship gets more serious, even if neither of them knows how to handle it.

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 pt.2 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin Pairing(s): Stiles x you, Theo x you (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5.3k Tags: a fix-it for y'all bc i'm a pushover Warnings: Underage drinking (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), creepy guys in bars, emetophobia, new jersey slander (please forgive me jerseyans)

Request: for all you people i made cry with part 1. this is my love letter to you. A/N: you don't necessarily need to read part 1 to understand, but this is a follow-up to if i could lose you i would.

The night starts well enough. Theo’s hand is a warm, steadying weight against your lower back, and his cologne cuts through the vague funky smell clouding the bar. Lydia chose it; somehow, no matter the city, she always found the coolest, underground spots that seemed to only circulate within an elite circle of twentysomethings. It really isn’t all that shocking when you think about it as you nurse your bitter cocktail; every single person who catches a glimpse of Lydia immediately craves her attention. Unfortunately for them, Lydia always takes you as her date, though lately she’s been ending your nights out at a stranger's apartment more often than not. She’s never said it, but you know it’s because, ever since the disastrous end to her start-of-summer bash, Theo's made himself a permanent third-wheel on girls’ night. He’s never said it, but you know he started tagging along because you’ve been distant since Stiles poured into your bedroom and pressed on all the bruises his fingertips left behind when he left you. You really thought you’d washed them all away with 3,000 miles, 3 months, and 3 weeks of the scrape of Theo’s teeth. 

You sip on your fourth drink of the evening, sitting on a barstool because your legs are too wobbly to stand on, and Theo watches you watch Lydia spin a girl with a radiant smile and glitter tinsel in her hair. 

“You wanna dance?” he hums in your ear. You can barely hear him over the bass and the buzz of too much tequila. 

You nibble on your straw and hiccup around it, “Don’t think I can.”

Theo makes a move to grab the drink in your hand, and you bend backwards to keep it out of his reach. “Come on,” he frowns, “you can’t even stand.”

“So?” you purse your lips petulantly and punctuate your point with a loud suck, draining the last few drops of your lime margarita through a few chunks of leftover ice.

Theo looks tired as he studies your face. “What the hell is going on with you? I see you every day, and I still don’t have a fucking clue.” 

You’re too drunk to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. Hiccupping again, your nose scrunches, “I’m just…I wanna go home.” Theo pats his jacket pockets for his keys, and you shake your head a few too many times. “No, not there.” Your stomach turns when you finally realize what you actually mean. You want to hitch a ride on the melting ice in your glass and dissolve into knotted hair on Sunday mornings, freckled skin washed with the shifting sun, and pouted pink lips, cursing the snooze button and your cold toes. You don’t say that. You’re drunk, not cruel. “I wanna go back to Stanford. I hate it here.”

Theo’s eyes are shadowed in the dim light of the club, but they’re calculating. “You really think that’s far enough?” 

Blinking slowly, your mind spins with the drinks in your stomach as you try and fail to think of something clever. “Feels far,” you mumble, and Theo doesn’t look reassured. It’s hard for you to differentiate pain from anger through watery eyes and the brume of tequila, but whatever emotion is darkening Theo’s expression, you think it’s justified. He’s smart enough to know what you mean. 

 His face goes blank as he searches for his keys again, “I think that’s enough fun for tonight.”

You shake your head and wriggle down further into the cradle of your hips, “I wanna stay.”

Theo exhales through his nose and runs a hand over his face, “I thought you wanted to go home.”

Your tongue is thick as you struggle for words, sniffling as they tease you from the fraying edges of consciousness. “Not there.” You know you sound like a baby, recycling the handful of words you can remember, and you know that tears will only make it worse, but they still bubble along your lash line.

“Stay at Lydia’s then,” Theo spits out through gritted teeth, but he shoves a napkin towards you to mop up your running mascara, so you forgive him. It’s your fault, after all. At least, you think so as you watch him leave. 

“Boyfriend troubles?” Your head lulls to the side as you blink dumbly, all big-eyed and glassy, at the stranger leaning against the bar beside you. He’s tall, well-built too, but you’re mostly focused on his pungent cologne. It’s hard not to; you’re suffocating in it. 

The man laughs and grabs your chin, shaking your head a little, “You’re adorable. How could anyone stay mad at you?” 

You recoil, wrenching your face from his sweaty grasp, and run your tongue over your teeth. “He’s not…” your protest gets lost in your throat when he steps into your space and slides his hand along your spine, just shy of your ass. Your dress is backless, completely exposed to his wandering gaze, and your skin crawls with the sensation of his fingertips grazing your back.

His breath is hot and wet on the shell of your ear, “You want to forget about it for a while, angel?” 

“No,” your head jerks from side to side, eyes screwed shut, “I don’t—I think I’m gonna puke.”

A wave of relief rolls over you when a red-taloned hand slithers between your bodies. Lydia shoves the stranger’s chest sharply, sending him stumbling into the stool behind him, and his hand falls from your hip. 

“Does it look like she wants to contract something from a limp-dicked lowlife in tacky shoes?” The top of Lydia’s head barely reaches his shoulder, but her eyes are sharp and her sneer is venomous. The creep has the good sense to look a little afraid. “You have exactly two seconds to get the hell out of here before I personally ensure you’re on every public sex offender registry from here to Quebec.”

She grabs your hand before he has the chance to disagree and pulls you into the bathroom. In comparison to the loud, muggy dancefloor, it’s a wonderful reprieve: an oasis of cold air and muffled bass. 

Lydia fusses over you for a minute; you wave off her concerns and push yourself onto the sink even though your arms feel distinctly gelatinous. You can tell she doesn’t believe you, but men preying on drunk women is a tragically large and present underbelly of girl world, so after a moment she turns her intense focus to the lighted mirror. She looks perfect—she always looks perfect—but she won’t believe anyone except her own reflection.

The aching strain in your arches slowly dissipates to a faint tingle the longer your feet dangle from the counter, your heels discarded below. They’re black strappy things from the back of Lydia’s closet, and so is the scrap of black silk that Prada had the audacity to call a dress. You are grateful, however, for the short hem and open back now that your skin finally has the chance to breathe. 

You watch Lydia apply her lipstick with a precision brain surgeons could only dream of, smiling lazily. She’s graceful with the slender brush, like Botticelli stroking a swathe of red silk over a canvas of smooth skin. You envy her, with your eyeshadow already melting below your waterline, but mostly you love her. So proud to have such a goddess for a best friend. 

Her head tilts as she smiles at you, and she must be at least a little godly because she doesn’t smear her lipstick when her mouth curves. “What?” she hums around her puckered lips. 

“Nothing,” your words slur together, “you’re just perfect.”

She tucks her lipstick into her clutch and shakes her head, “And you’re so drunk. Lethal, babe.”

“I love it,” you sigh as she starts fixing your hair, clicking her tongue when you start to fidget. You slump into her careful touch and watch her fingers smooth through a few knots near your ends. “Being drunk is my favorite.”

She twirls her finger, indicating you should turn around, and begins twisting your flattened curls into an elegant bun. “I’ve noticed,” she mutters through the bobby pin clutched between her teeth, “you’ve been drinking more than you’ve sober lately.”

“It’s summer!” You blow a curl off of your nose and close your teary eyes so that your mascara doesn’t flake onto your cheeks, “You’re supposed to be drunk.”

Lydia hums and pulls a few strands of hair loose to artfully frame your face. “I didn’t realize alcoholism was seasonal.”

“You,” you bop her nose and giggle when it scrunches under your finger, “are being a major buzzkill. Don’t kill my buzz; that’s murder in the first.”

“Someone has to be.” Lydia leans her hip against the sink, and her brows curve, “Where’s Theo? I thought he was your DD tonight?”

You let the intoxication sweep over your senses because it’s easy and knock your ankles together like a child on the swings. “He left,” you chirp.

“He what?”

Your bottom lip juts out a little, “I think I hurt his feelings.”

Lydia is incensed. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and mutters a few choice words under her breath, “I’m going to hurt a lot more than that when I find him.” You curl in on yourself a little, and she sighs, unwinding her fingers from tight fists as her eyes soften. “He really left you here?” she asks quietly.

You shrug, refusing to feel sorry for yourself, and make grabby hands at her sleeves, “It’s okay. You’re here, and you’re my best friend, and I love you.”

She laces your fingers together and squeezes your hand, “It is not okay. That creep had you halfway to his car.”

You shudder at memory, and feel the ghost of the stranger’s clammy hand against your lower back, “But you rescued me. So it’s okay.” 

You frown at Lydia’s frown and push her cheeks together, squishing her mouth into a crinkled half-smile. She rolls her eyes a little and takes your wrists in her hands gently, “He shouldn’t have left you. It was a shitty thing to do, babe.”

“I made him sad, I think.” You hiccup a little, “I think I always do.”

“He can’t leave you blackout drunk in a skeezy bar just because you’re in love with someone else,” she huffs.

You tease the tip of your tongue through your front teeth, swinging your legs back and forth below the sink, “It wasn’t skeezy when you picked it.”

Lydia huffs again and folds her arms over her chest, “That was before I saw tall, dark, and creepy try to take you home.”

Your playful grin crumbles as your drunk-numb mind finally catches up with the burning behind your ribs. “I’m in love with someone else,” you say, voice sticky and thick in your throat. 

She lets out a sigh so soft you wonder if you just imagined it and takes both of your hands, “I know.”

Whimpering quietly, you turn your nose into your shoulder, slightly embarrassed by the sound. “I’m sad about it.”

“I know,” Lydia combs a few strands of your hair off of your tear-tacky face and smiles a little, “let’s get you home, okay?”

Another round of nausea hits you as you finally realize that you’re truly, really, horrifically drunk, and you still can’t forget him. 

“I don’t think I know where that is anymore.” 

Lydia was able to corral you into an Uber after you puked a few times. She held your hair back and helped you brush your teeth. You cried a little when she wiped the sweat off of your face with a makeup wipe, watching her take care of you with big wet eyes, as she tucked you into bed like the baby tequila and heartbreak had turned you into. She made you promise to call her in the morning, and then she left you to sleep off the ache in your throat and the six margaritas in your bloodstream—or was it seven, you can’t remember. 

You can’t remember much, it seems. You scroll through your feed for a while and squint at the blurry splotches of color, trying to recall if you were good enough friends with the girl from software systems to leave a comment on her post about how hot she looks in red. Your fingers drift, swiping away from Instagram to the only thing you remember. The thing you’ll always remember.

The phone rings exactly two times.

“Hi.” It’s the only thing you can think of besides, ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. Please make it stop.’

“Hey.” You listen to Stiles breathe on the other side of the line and snuggle further into your pillow. “You there?” 

His voice is soft in your ear, and your eyes go lidded, “Uh huh.”

He clears his throat, “What are you doing up this late?”

You twist around your sheets, and the tip of your tongue pokes out at your phone. Apparently, you’ve also forgotten that he can’t see you. “What are you doing up this late?”

“It’s uh,” Stiles pauses and there’s a rustling sound on his side of the line, “almost 8 here.”

You blink and frown at the time on your screen, “Nuh uh.” 

There’s a pause; you hate it. You want him to keep talking until you fall asleep. He finally sighs, “Are you drunk?”

Your tongue pokes out again, “I’m not the one who can’t tell time.”

“Baby,” your heart skips and your breath hitches, and he must be tired because he doesn’t seem to notice the slip, “we’re in different time zones.”

Your heart stumbles over the skip this time, and it feels a lot like flatlining. “You went back already?”

“I, uh,” he shifts, must be in his desk chair because you can hear something rolling, “my lease started. Figured if I’m paying to live in Philly, I should actually, y’know, live in Philly.” 

“Oh.” One little syllable, and it’s heavy with so many things you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. 

“Yeah.” 

“So, uh,” you hear him scratch at something, most likely the back of his neck because he sounds anxious, “why’d you call?” He’s quick to correct himself, words overlapping like ripples in a creek, “Not that I’m not glad you called; I’m stoked you called—or maybe something a little less embarrassing—but I, uh,” there’s that scratching sound again and a quiet thudding of drumming fingers, “I really didn’t think you would.”

“Dunno,” there’s a smile in your voice, but you aren’t sure if he can hear it through the wobble, “just started dialin’, n’ I ended up here.”

He stands, and the phone shifts against his cheek as he starts to pace, “Where are you?” He sounds worried. You frown—you don’t want him to worry. You want him to hold you.

“Home,” you pause, nose wrinkling because that’s not quite right, and then add, “my house.”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Clearly.”

You can hear the eye roll from the other side of the country when he huffs into the phone, “I meant water. Did you drink any water?”

“Uh,” you nibble on your lip, “yes?”

He huffs again, but this time you can tell he’s smiling, “Get up and get some water—Advil too. Put it on top of whatever book you’re reading so it doesn’t get lost in your pile of shitty chapsticks and hair thingies.” 

Your eyes cross, affronted, “They are not shitty.”

“They’re an endless cycle of chapped hell.”

“But they taste good,” you grumble, cuddling your pillow to your chest.

He’s smirking; you know it. “Oh, I know.” 

You both just breathe through the line for a long moment, remembering the same slick slide of lips and tongues. 

“I miss you,” you whisper. 

Stiles inhales sharply, “I miss you too.”

“No,” you shake your head, smearing mascara on your pillowcase, “I miss you.” Your mouth is dry, and you can’t find the right words to explain it, how he’s apart from you even when he’s standing right there. There just aren’t enough words in the English language to explain the ache in the marrow of your ribs, how he still lingers inside your skin like some kind of fucked-up, agonizing osmosis, how you love him so tortuously, so effortlessly. Indefinitely. 

You can’t explain, but when he whispers, “Yeah, me too,” you know he knows. 

You sniffle and hiccup a few times, and a sigh crackles through your speaker. “Drink some water for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You roll onto your stomach and sit up a little on your elbows, “Will you stay?”

“Yeah, baby,” his chair squeaks as he sits back down, “‘till you fall asleep.”

“Promise?” Your voice is thick, like you’ve been crying for hours, and Stiles’s voice is tight when he finally replies. 

“Promise.”

You wake up with dry eyes and a rank taste in your mouth. There’s a glass of water and a handful of Advil on your nightstand, and you just know. You’ve known for a while actually, maybe forever, but you can’t pretend you don’t anymore. 

Theo seems to know why you invited him over so early on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t even look sad when you officially end it, and you wonder if it’s because he knew it was over a long time ago. You wish, selfishly, that he would’ve let you in on the secret so that you could’ve avoided all this. You hug him before he leaves, and it’s stiff and awkward, and you feel a little shitty about the whole thing—but it doesn’t feel wrong. 

You feel like yourself for the first time in a long time, and that feels good.

Summer is almost over, and you don’t have the time to obsess over all your wanting. All the air leaves your body sometimes, no room for anything but honey, veins, and new stubble, but you have so much to do. There’s no time for drowning when you’ve only got a few weeks before the semester starts. 

You don’t even have the time to acknowledge the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until you’re standing in front of a black door. Your screen is lit with the address Scott texted you, along with roughly 100 exclamation points and a dozen or so brain explosion, party popper, and happy face emojis. They steady you as you knock on the splintering door. The unit is cute and quaint, and you distract yourself by getting a better look at the sage green columns. 

Stiles opens the door, looking disarmingly soft in his worn sweatpants and stretched-out t-shirt—like cuddling on the weekend, like playing video games until sunrise, like home. 

He blinks at you slowly, pretty pink mouth slightly ajar, and you shift on the soles of your sneakers, jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Hey.”

He blinks some more and seems to be only capable of repeating what he hears, “Hey.”

“So,” you dig the toe of your shoe into the porch, staring at a warped patch, curved from seasons of melting snow, and shrug, “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.”

He recovers from his stupor and leans against the doorframe, hands tucked under his armpits. “You were in the neighborhood,” his head tilts with his arched brow, “in Philadelphia.”

“Well,” you try not not to smile, “it was on my way.”

Nodding, Stiles rubs his chin and purses his lips. You want to kiss the smirk off of his stupid face. “Right, the classic eastbound Stanford route.”

“Not quite.” You adjust the strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder, easing some of the ache pinching at the base of your skull, “New transfer orientation is on Monday. Turns out Princeton’s comp sci department is decent.”

His face becomes guarded, but there’s a little something like hope behind the uncertainty, “4th in the country.”

Something warm inside your stomach flutters. He knows. Of course, he knows. He probably researched it all the way back in high school. You brush your hair out of your eyes and hum, “Mhm.”

Stiles slides his socked foot back and forth, slipping on the polished floor of his cozy entryway, and he catches himself on the doorknob. You laugh until he says, “Stanford’s 2nd.”

Your shoulder lifts, stiff and sharp, “That's correct.”

His chin dips as he searches your face for something. You smile at him, and he swallows; it looks painful. “You turned down MIT because it was too far from home.”

“That's also correct,” you say quietly with a jerky nod. 

His eyes go wide as he shakes his head, almost violently, and he almost slips again with the dramatic effort, “MIT’s 1st in comp-sci.” 

You steady him with a palm against his chest, swiping your thumb over his ribs. His heart thrashes under your touch, and your face lifts with a timid, tender smile. “Sure, but Princeton’s ranked #1 nationally. Overall champs, baby. Suck it.”

Stiles finally smiles, but it’s hesitant. “You don’t say.”

You let a breathy exhale and drop your hands to your sides, curling and uncurling your fingers into tight fists. He’s still looking at you, a cute little wrinkle in-between his brows, waiting for something more. Fair enough. He kind of laid it all out on the line the last time you spoke—he kind of deserves to stew a little after everything, but you’ve forgiven him, decided you want to be happy more than you want to punish him.

You roll your shoulders back and tilt your chin to meet his gaze. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Stiles’s face goes sour, and he crosses his arms firmly over his chest, mouth twitching between a pout and a frown. “You stopped in Philly just to tell me tha—”

You rock onto your tiptoes to press a finger to his lips, biting back a smile when they pucker like a fish, and say, “Will you kindly shut it for a minute? I need to get through this. I practiced a lot on the plane.” His eyes narrow, sullen and irritated, but he keeps his lips pressed together, waiting impatiently for you to finish. You slip your finger from his mouth to cup his jaw, thumbing just below his cheekbone, and his body goes lax, irritation slowly seeping from his lanky limbs to the floor.

Grinning, you poke the tip of your tongue at him, and he swallows hard as he tracks the movement. “As I was saying,” you smile through the snark and slide your hands to his chest, resting against the vibration of his thudding heart, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I don’t think there’s just one person out there for everyone—but that’s a good thing, right? I mean, the entire concept of a soulmate is basically just a blackhole. You’re falling, and falling, and falling—and there’s no end; you’re just trapped. There's no choice. I don’t want to love like that—I don’t want to love you like that.” 

It’s cute, the way his face screws up around a theory. It’s a familiar expression, and you can’t help but melt at the knees while you watch his eyes flick back and forth, adding up all your expressions and trying to calculate the meaning. The corner of your mouth pulls into a slip of a smile, “If I turned around right now and never saw you again, I’d be okay. I mean, I wouldn’t drop dead or anything.” 

He sucks in sharply, head jerking back, “What the fu—”

“Hush, I’m almost done.” You keep going before he can interrupt you again, rushing through the rest of your speech, running out of air and restraint, “I think that I could get over you, eventually, years and years from now—but the point is—what I realized is: I don’t want to. I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want to find someone else. Stiles, I love you—I’m in love with you, and I really think tha—”

His lips are wet and warm against yours, and you whine softly into his mouth at the familiarity. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops on your jeans and yanks you closer, until your chests are pressed together and you can feel him breathe. You were right—the beard burn is delectable.

The kiss slows into something less desperate, something more like forever, and Stiles brushes his lips over yours in a few chaste pecks. When your lashes finally flutter open, you see that he’s grinning at you. It’s so wide, so happy, and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he says, “Sorry, you just would not shut up, so I figured it was either kiss you or shove something in your big mouth—and I’m not super confident in my CPR retention. Scott and I really spent most of the time figuring out how many pencils we could fit into the dummy’s mouth.”

“I take it back.” You push his face away from you, but a laugh bubbles past your swollen lips when Stiles pinches your waist. “I hate you.”

“Nope. No refunds.” Stiles shakes his head solemnly and wraps his hand around your hip, squeezing possessively, “You kiss it, you buy it. That’s what Coach said about the dummy.” 

“Well,” your arms find their way around his neck, and your fingers wind into the soft hair curling behind his ears, “you are a dummy.”

“The dumbest,” he agrees. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sincere, cloudy with guilt. “Baby, I never should’ve—”

You take great satisfaction in your turn shutting him up with a kiss, tugging on his hair until you’re on your tiptoes and he’s groaning into your mouth. “I think we’ve been miserable for a long time,” you whisper, breath ghosting across his shiny lips. He shivers, and you press your temple against his forehead, “I think I’ve had enough of it. How ‘bout you?” 

Stiles nods quickly and dips in to kiss you again. “Can I say sorry one more time?” he mumbles, kissing the ridge of your ear.

“I suppose,” you sigh and fall back onto your heels. 

He takes your bag from your shoulder and guides you into his apartment, kicking the door shut so that he doesn’t have to let go of your hand. There’s a thud as he drops the duffle bag onto the floor, and you barely have the time to take-in the ratty little sofa and coffee table piled with empty pizza boxes before he’s on you again. “I’m,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, and it twitches with the contact, “so,” his lips trail to your cheek, “very,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “truly,” to your hairline, “forever-ly,” to the tip of your nose, “sorry,” to your mouth. 

You sigh as he settles in for a real kiss and fall back onto the couch with him on top of you, disrupting his rhythm with a breathy giggle. He braces his weight onto his arms, and you wriggle down until your face is directly below his. “Hi,” you trace his bottom lip with your finger, smiling when he purses his lips to kiss it. 

“Hey.” He looks drunk: cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with pleasure, body loose and free from critical thinking—and you think to yourself that you’d do just about anything to make sure he’s this happy for the rest of his life. 

Stiles rolls, bringing you into his side with an arm around your waist, and presses against your lower back until you're crushed against him. Still, you squirm closer. Neither of you say anything for a long time, content with the sound of each other’s breathing, and then Stiles hums in his throat a little and plays with the ends of your hair, “So. You’re gonna live in New Jersey.”

“Yup,” your mouth pops with the ‘p.’

He grins, “Wow. You must, like, really love me or something.”

“Or something,” you tease, and he bites your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Jersey isn’t so bad,” his voice is muffled against his teeth, still embedded in your sweatshirt. Well, his technically.

You laugh, “It’s not?”

“Nah,” Stiles pulls back to look at you and scratches at the back of his neck, lifting a shoulder, “wouldn’t mind living there for the…beaches.”

“The Shore, you mean?” you grin, trying to imagine Stiles with a bad spray tan and slicked back hair. 

He grins right back and strokes your cheek, “Yeah, I’d move there for the Shore. I’ve actually been searching for just the right opportunity to show off my scrawny arms and pasty complexion. It’s like, what, a 40 minute drive to Penn?”

“Trenton would be around that, but I was thinking Pennypack would only be 30 from Princeton.” Stiles looks at you through lidded eyes, suspicious. You grin, “For the cheesesteaks, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he quips, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. His face turns serious as he whispers, “You don’t have to do this,” into the quiet air humming between you. “I would’ve transferred to a school in California if I knew you still wanted me.” A flash of something ignites behind his eyes, warming the amber to whiskey, and he sits up a little, reaching over your head for his phone, “I’ll do it right now.”

You clutch his wrist and shake your head, pulling on his arm until he’s close enough to feel your lashes brush against his skin, “That’s why I didn’t ask. You’ve been dreaming about this program your entire life.”

Stiles is unusually still as he stares you down. His incisor digs into his bottom lip with a cruel bite, “What about your dreams?”

You huff, “What part of #1 don’t you get? I literally just told you to suck it. In case you forgot, I cordially invite you to suck it again, #6.” He smiles, but his eyes remain unconvinced. Your face softens, all the muscles and cartilage going gooey with affection, “It was never about Stanford, Stiles. It was about home. Guess it took you going away to figure out home is with you.”

His lashes flutter slowly as he blinks, shaking his head, tongue running over his teeth as he struggles for air and words in equal measure. You kiss him until he finds them. “I know you don’t believe in it,” Stiles breathes out, “but I don’t think I could survive you being gone. Not again.”

You stroke over the planes of his face and hum thoughtfully, “I believe you wouldn’t want to.” Your shoulder twitches with a quick shrug as you add, “I know I don’t.”

His mouth chases your fingertips, pressing kisses to them every so often, and he closes his eyes heavily—like he hasn’t slept in months, maybe since the night he broke up with you. “These last few months have been just the fuckin’ worst,” he finally manages a smirk after you kiss his nose in agreement, “like a fuckzillion times worse than the summer I broke my leg, and you and Scott signed up for rec soccer without me.”

“You’ve got to let that go,” your voice is high and whiny, and Stiles’s smirk widens, “we didn’t even win any games.” You tickle him, heart leaping into your throat when he laughs and squirms away from your relentless fingers, “Didn’t have our good luck charm with us, obviously.”

“Obviously,” his grin is smug with satisfaction. Stiles tangles your legs together, legs clunking clumsily but that’s just part of the delicious charm, and hooks his chin over your shoulder, “So, Pennypack, huh.”

You nod, “I really don’t want to live in Jersey.”

You can’t see him, but Stiles peers at you, a little dubious, a lot fond. “And it’s not just for me?”

You grin, caught, and shake your head firmly, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s for the cheesesteaks,” his brow arches, and he seems to finally understand when the room becomes a swathe your smile, of your bubbling laughter: He makes you as happy as you make him. 

“Obviously.” You mean, I love you, I love you, I love you, and I never ever want to stop.  Stiles hears it, of course he does, and he says it back, sealing it with a kiss, “Obviously.”

[renjunniex]

Thank You, For Being You

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader Series

Omega Part 1

Omega Part 2 | Shape Shifted | Ice Pick | Abomination | Venomous | Frenemy | Restraint | Raving | Party Guessed | Fury

A/n: This mini-ish series will take place from season 2-3. Also just a disclaimer I’m not POC and when i write i always imagine myself in the situation I’m writing and then describe it accordingly of course i will do my absolute best to keep this inclusive for everyone however if i make a mistake please feel free to let me know! This is also my first ever x reader story, I’ve always done OCs when writing on other platforms so be patient with me please! Thank you and love you guys! <3

Prompt: after everything that happened with Peter had finally been resolved it was time to watch over Lydia, unfortunately not everything goes to plan.

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You were sitting in the hospital waiting room with Stiles, who was unfortunately snoring and very clearly dreaming about Lydia. Stiles rolled over in the chair, mumbling some nonsense you could care less about. However, it still made you chuckle, he’s been in love with her since you could remember and while you wished he would just leave it alone you knew he couldn’t.

Melissa walked through the door with Lydia’s father, he glanced at you and Stiles before pointing to you guys, “He’s been here all morning.” Melissa’s eyes met where the man was looking, “He’s been here all weekend.”

You chuckled and looked over to Stiles just in time to see him unknowingly freak out a poor staff lady with his sleep talking, “Sorry, he’s little… well as you can see, an odd sleeper.” She rolled her eyes before walking away, clearly not wanting to be bothered. You bumped Stiles in the stomach with your elbow and he shook awake making the balloon that was tied to the chair swish in his face.

“I’m going to get going, I’m exhausted and these chairs were not made for sleeping, even though you seem to have figured it out.” He glared at you before sitting up completely, “Did you want me to drive you home?”

You shook your head slightly, “No, don’t worry about it, Melissa’s house isn’t too far from here and I could use the fresh air after everything that’s happened.” He nodded understanding what you meant, from Scott’s werewolf problems, to Peter being an absolute menace to our grade point averages, and to top it all off your new abilities that awoke when Scott was bitten (you guys still have no idea what it is), it seemed that you guys didn’t even have time to breathe for a while.

“I’m just going to let Melissa know that I’m heading home and then I’ll be on my way,” You smiled and with a wave exchange between the both of you, you turned and made your way to the front door, where Melissa was standing behind the desk. You gave your parting words and she gave the motherly warning of “be careful” that you’re beyond used to at this point.

You see you are Y/N L/N, no relation to Melissa McCall or her son that you’ve known since you learned to talk, but your parents were in some accident when you were little and from then on Melissa and Sheriff Stilinksi took care of you. At first it was just them switching off every few weeks, then after Scott’s dad left you stayed exclusively with the Sheriff and when Melissa was able to move on from that event she took you in completely. You’ve been with her ever since, Stiles and Scott were like your brothers, always there for you when you needed it. Never made you feel like you were the odd one out, even though you were. That didn’t matter though, because you had all you needed, the perfect family in your eyes.

Your thoughts got interrupted by the sound of a machine, you turned your head in the direction of the sound only to realize you had reached the cemetery without realizing and it was Isaac Lahey working the machine. ‘His dad must’ve made him work a night shift, again.’

You actually knew the boy pretty well, you were in Chemistry together, even had a project you two were paired together for. He was such a sweet guy, insanely cute too although that you would never admit to anyone but yourself.

You knew to a slight degree of what his dad has done to him, you wanted to tell someone but the tall boy had a panic attack at just the thought of the idea. He said it was because if things were to go wrong he couldn’t bare the thought of his dad trying to hurt you.

You decided you were gonna stop by and keep him company for a while before making your way back home. You walked into the dark graveyard, making your way towards the rig that Isaac sat on so clearly focused on his work. He only noticed you when you raised your hand in the air and let your voice ring out.

“You seem quite focused over there, you wouldn’t mind some company, right?” You questioned with a slight smile on your face.

You could see his eyes just so slightly light up to the point where you could’ve probably made yourself believe you imagined it. “No, no, I wouldn’t mind, so long as you don’t mind being slightly uncomfortable in this one person seat.” He smiled so softly and you have to admit it made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

You put your hand over your heart and with a sarcastic look and tone you gasped, “Oh no, stuck in a one person seat with the ever so charming, Isaac Lahey? How ever will I cope?” He chuckled at your response and reached a hand out for you to take.

“Thank you my dear Prince Charming.” You said with a fake accent.

“Prince Charming, huh?” He inquired while holding onto your hand. You smiled and gave him a proud nod, “Yep, only a prince would allow a peasant like me to sit in this amazing contraption.” You gestured to the yellow machinery. He huffed amusedly before silently going back to his work and for the next ten minutes you both just basked in each other’s presence. You looked down and saw your hands still interlocked, you could almost feel your heart stop in that moment. Without even thinking more about it, you gave Isaac’s hand a small squeeze and right away you felt him squeeze your hand back.

You looked up at him, “Hey Isaac?”

“Yes, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I just was wondering if maybe you-”

Your phone rang before you even got a chance to finish, you sighed and gave him an apologetic look to which he shrugged it off in a light hearted manner. You looked down at your phone, which was still ringing, only to see a name that instantly made you worry.

Stiles?

Why would he be calling right now?

You answered the phone, only to hear the stuttering and chaotic mess that is the young Stilinksi boy, “Y/N!” You pulled the phone away from your ear, it caused Isaac’s head to snap to you, his eyebrow raised.

“Stiles, what could you possibly need right now, I’m kind of busy,” You huffed.

“LYDIA!”

“Lydia? What about Lydia?”

“She just left out the hospital window!” Your eyes widened, “She WHAT?”

“Yeah you heard me, look I’m gonna come get you, Scott already knows so we’ll regroup and find her.”

“There’s no need to come get me, I’m not that far right now, I’ll be there soon and then we can get Scott,” you glanced at Isaac hoping he wouldn’t be upset at the situation but he just gave you a look that said ‘it’s alright, I understand’ and you knew it would be okay.

“How are you not home yet?”

You sighed, “Now’s not the time, okay I’ll explain to you later.” You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone.

“Isaac, I’m really sorry but I have to go it’s an emergency,” you looked at him as he gave you a slight wave off, “It’s alright, I’ll see you at school.” You gave him a smile and without a second thought you kissed him on the cheek and hopped off the rig, starting your jog back to the hospital. “I’ll see you at school!”

Little did you know, you left the tall boy slightly red with his hand on his cheek.

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a/n: andddd that’s part one, i thought about doing the full episode in one part but i feel like that’s a lot to read over. Tbh none of this has been read over either lol ANYWAYS let me know what you think and if you see any mistakes let me know!

[cultofdixon]

That’s okay, I’m here

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Established Relationship • Even when the others put the blame on her, you were always so kind. Loving. Caring. Exactly what Lydia needed, especially when she was at her lowest • ANGST/SFW/NSFW • TW: Past Abuse / Injuries / Scars / Canon Violence / Mentions of Pregnancy / PTSD

Requested by: Anon

“Gotta eat something before we go” Y/N smiles setting a plate for Lydia down before sitting across from her at the picnic tables.

Lydia started to pick at her food while the rest of the Kingdom packed up ready to go. Her guilt started to get to her all over again, and flashes of the pikes blocked her vision for a moment.

“Hey”

The poor girl looks up seeing Y/N’s concerned expression as she extended her hand for her to take. But Lydia was hesitant at first before gently taking it.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re going to like Alexandria.”

“What if—-“

“No.” Y/N sudden with her interruption made the negative thoughts fade instantly. “You’ll be safe and if anybody tries to mess with you, they are going to have to get through me.”

Why is she so protective of me… Lydia frowns releasing her hand so that she could finish the food that was given to her.

“Y’all ready?” Daryl approaches the two once h finished helping Carol get her and Ezekiel’s belongings on one of the wagons. “Think we’ll beat most of the storm but as long as we get our people where we need to go, it’s all good.”

“We’re finishing up.” Y/N smiles up at Daryl before rising from the picnic table. “I’m gonna grab my coat for Lydia. Then we’ll head out” she continues to smile as she left to get such leaving the two alone for a moment.

“Is she always so optimistic?”

Daryl felt a bit of a smile creep up on his lips as he held the strap to his crossbow tightly.

“No”

The group started to make their way to Hilltop, their first stop, through the storm that was calm for a start. Carol kept close to Daryl the entire trip as she watches Y/N stick with Lydia making sure she was okay this entire ride. Even when some of the residents they walk with were being rude.

“Why are we letting her in our group?” Alden frowns gripping the leads to his horse. “It’s her fault. Should leave her to the undead”

“Alden” Y/N glares at the man moving Lydia to the other side of her. “Stop it”

“What. I’m just—-“ Alden was suddenly bucked off his horse making the group stop a second to collect themselves.

Lydia frowns stepping away from the commotion as she looks at Y/N confused on what just happened. Alden unfortunately picked Y/N’s horse to take. A horse that is trained in reading. Making it stand up. Hence why he fell.

“Don’t listen to him, okay?”

“It’s hard to ignore when everyone is like that…”

“Takes time, kid” Daryl chimes in checking her person before helping them get back on track.

The mourning mother watches how protective her close friends were to this traitor that got a lot of their own killed. Her son’s head on that pile will forever haunt her and she won’t ever know, when she’ll stop blaming the girl.

When they reached a certain moment in the trip back that lead to Lydia straying from everyone. No one spoke up if they saw such happen or even when Carol decided to follow her. The second her disappearance was caught on by Y/N she started to panic.

“Someone could’ve killed her D”

“Don’t jump to that conclusion so fast”

“Well I’m sorry! I’m sorry that I care! That I care about the poor girl not only getting attacked by one of our own, but by her abusive fucking mother who believes in physical punishment. It’s not just our goddamn own that I’m worried about” Y/N snaps through blurred vision caused by her tears feeling herself get pulled into Daryl’s embrace squeezing her to calm her before this gets worse for her.

“We’ll find her. I promise, alright?” Daryl reassures her the best he could.

Thankfully, Carol brought Lydia back. Y/N felt a wave of relief when Lydia came back to the group as she didn’t hesitate to hug the girl feeling her return the hug along with a few tears breaching.

“I’ve gotcha, kid” Y/N reassures, rubbing circles on her back to soothe her.

As the two reunited, Daryl turned to Carol seeing the confusion linger on her expression as he was going to ask what’s wrong but she had other matters to address.

“Can I stay with you?”

“What about Ezekiel?”

“Daryl…”

“You’re more than welcome to, yknow that. Just when are yea gonna talk about—-“

“Not now” Carol interrupts Daryl and physically leaves the conversation to get the group moving once more.

Finally returning home lead to some wholeheartedness that was much needed after the heart breaking days…

“Mom!” Judith came running toward Michonne with the biggest smile on her face as her mother met her halfway hugging her tightly.

The warmth Lydia felt by watching the little ones meet with their parents like it’s been ages. She suddenly flinches when a snowball was thrown right at her, making her look at the culprit for tossing it which happened to be a little girl that looked to be around four years old. Her piercing blue eyes stared right at her making Lydia feel a bit anxious until she rolled up another ball and tossed it at her. That lead to Lydia finally doing the same and tossing at the small child that bursts out in giggles before going to get others with snowballs.

The snowball fight brought much needed happiness and the sounds of laughter from the children made a few of them forget temporarily about what happened.

As Lydia was pelted by a few more snowballs, she spotted the same child that first hit her run straight for Daryl and without a second thought he picked her up. She’s never seen him smile that much before and it clicked to her.

“Daryl has a daughter?” Lydia questions Y/N as she couldn’t help the laugh that escapes her.

“Yes, yes he does” She smiles making her way to the two as Lydia was even more surprised seeing the little one reach for Y/N and be moved into her embrace.

Y/N returns to Lydia with the little one in her arms and the archer trailing behind her.

“Robin, this is Lydia. She’ll be living with us”

The little one Robin looks at Lydia with those piercing blue eyes once more, the same pair she shares with Daryl before giving her a questioning look.

“Do you like bunnies?”

“Yes?” Lydia was afraid that answer was wrong when Robin whipped her head toward Daryl, but she had nothing to worry about.

“See! You gotta stop killing bunnies, bozo!”

Daryl rolls his eyes taking Robin from Y/N’s embrace and carrying the little one like she was luggage as she started to squirm and giggle like crazy.

“She looks so much like Daryl…”

“Which pisses me off given I carried that girl for nine months” Y/N laughs slightly. “Ready to go home?”

Home? Lydia nods following Y/N to the house as she couldn’t remember the last time she stayed in one. Even her childhood one growing up before all hell broke loose.

“I’ll get your room and Carol’s set up, relax while I go do such” Y/N smiles squeezing her shoulder before heading upstairs leaving Lydia to hesitantly enter the living room where Carol held Robin in her lap as she shows her aunt the drawings she’s made.

Daryl watches her shoulders tense as it was for Carol’s glaring in her direction. He sighs petting Dog when he brought his head to rest on his knee, knowing part of him was upset. Robin watches the two as she got up from her aunt’s lap setting her drawings down on the coffee table before going upstairs to grab something from her room.

“She has too much energy for me” Carol laughs softly receiving a small smile from Daryl in response as he got up to go check on his girl to see what’s taking her too long. “I’m not going to bite. You can sit” she suddenly tells Lydia the second the archer left the room as she took Daryl’s seat hesitantly.

Which resulted in Dog returning his head on now Lydia’s knee waiting for the much needed head pats that she provided. He should be a therapy dog. Because that made her relax finally.

Daryl reached the second floor finding Y/N holding their daughter as Robin was whispering something to her before stopping when he reached her line of sight.

“You okay bunny?” Daryl frowns seeing her upset look as Robin tugged at Y/N’s shirt to be let down and instead of going to him she ran right into her room. “Y/N did I—“

“No, it has nothing to do with you.” Y/N states about to check on their little one when she came running out with one of her studies and right into the spare room for Lydia. “Think she’s okay?”

“Robin?”

“Carol”

“No, I don’t.” Daryl frowns leaning against the stair railing. “I don’t know how we’ll talk about it.”

“It’ll take time, hun” Y/N approaches her husband bringing her arms around him as he straightens up to hold her properly. “When she’s ready, she’ll talk about it”

The archer sighs to such worried for his best friend but Y/N was right. He couldn’t really do much until she was ready to talk about such. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t check up on her.

The first few nights were uncomfortable. Getting used to a new environment and Carol trying to wrap her head around how easy it was for Y/N to let Lydia in. The ones on the pikes meant to more than just those who stumbled across it…

Y/N woke to tiny hands touching her face as she instantly checks the window to see it was still dark. She reaches for the lantern on the nightstand turning it on knowing that would stir the man beside her but given it was Robin that wanted her attention, Daryl would’ve wanted to be awake for her.

“What’s wrong love?” Y/N frowns rubbing the sleep from her eyes as Robin squeezes the bunny plush she had.

“Lydia’s crying, mommy…” The worry in her tone instantly struck Y/N as she slowly gets up from the bed. Y/N picks up Robin placing her in her spot in the bed before going to check on Lydia.

“I’ll take care of it, get some sleep love”

Robin frowns from her new spot as Daryl brought himself to sit up in the bed bringing himself against the headboard before letting his daughter snuggle up in his embrace resting against his chest. Dog instantly jumping and bringing himself as close as possible.

Lydia quickly wiped away the tears when she watches the door be pushed open seeing Y/N in her boots with her jacket on and another held in her hands.

“Come on, let’s take a walk”

The poor girl was even more confused but trusted Y/N enough to go do such. She even let Dog come with them once he heard the front door open. Winter was finally leaving and the snow was melting as it was nice enough not to wear multiple layers but still a jacket would be nice. Lydia waited and waited for Y/N to talk or anything but they just walked most of Alexandria.

Right as they started to head back to their residence ending up back on the main street, Lydia stops Y/N.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? After everything…everything I’ve done”

“Their deaths weren’t your fault. It was Alpha—“

“My mother! My mother killed them…killed Henry. You guys should’ve just given me back”

“And let her hurt you? Use you? And for what? Tell me what she would’ve used you for that benefits you.” Y/N frowns as there’s no answer to such. She knows that. “You matter too, Lydia. Your life matters and we—-Henry—-helped you get out of that situation.”

“Why do you care so much…I’m not worth the trouble, Y/N…”

“Yes. Yes you are. I will tell you every day for the rest of your life if I have to. That your life matters. Your feelings matter. And you didn’t deserve to be in that situation…” Y/N watches the tears spill from Lydia’s eyes as she carefully wipes them away. “As much as it is the apocalypse and nothing is the old normal anymore, you deserve a normal life just like the rest of us. I’m not letting Alpha ever lay a hand on you ever again.” She brought Lydia instantly into her arms holding her for however long she wanted and to be frank, the comfort she was receiving—-Lydia didn’t want to let go ever.

“You understand don’t you…”

“All too well, hun”

Once spring came around, Alexandria started the gardening process along with Aaron developing the training camp he’s planning to commence the second summer comes. For now they were simply doing routine. Building back up and trading with the remaining communities.

“Do you even understand this?” Lydia frowns reading the same thing Robin was as she shrugs.

“Daddy can barely read it”

“Hey” Daryl scoffs playfully crossing his arms as Robin couldn’t help the mischievous smile but it got Lydia to laugh. “I can read it. Don’t be rude now”

“I’ve got mama’s smarts” Robin smiles kicking her feet on the bar stool as Daryl sets down the water for her.

“Ain’t denying that for sure” Daryl chuckles along with Lydia as she went back to reading when Y/N finally came out of their bedroom after packing. “You really wanna go alone? I can with yea. Rosita can come check on the girls every now and then”

“She just had a baby, plus Carol is in the house. But yes…I’m fine going on the run alone. Have to drop something off anyway”

“Did she leave a letter last time?”

“No but it’s worth a shot at least from my end” Y/N and Daryl were referring to the exchanging of letters with Maggie since she’s left Hilltop with her son for some time now.

“I’ll go with you”

The two turn to the stairs finding Carol is packed and ready. Clearly she listened to the two talk last night about the run, Y/N was heading on.

“Carol we’ve got shit to do here”

“Swear jar!” Robin yells from her seat watching Daryl take out a coin from his pocket handing it to her.

“You have Lydia and everyone else. I can go with Y/N on this run” Carol states firmly as Y/N tended to such and even more so when she turned to her. “Right?”

“Sure, I’m leavin’ now”

“Great. I’ll meet you outside” Carol steps out and Y/N gave Daryl a concerning look as she grabs his vest carefully.

“If I don’t come back in a week, she would’ve murdered me”

“Mmm. Well that’s too bad then” Daryl smiles getting smacked in the chest as Lydia turns to Robin seeing her not phased expression. She’s their kid. She’s used to the antics.

“Seriously though?”

“You know I’m comin’ after yea regardless if you don’t come back in a week” Daryl gives a quick kiss to his girl before letting go so that she could give Lydia a hug and Robin a kiss on top of her head.

Once she left, Lydia gave Daryl a concerned look as she still didn’t know Carol that well but she didn’t have a good feeling.

“Y/N is tough. She can handle Carol if she gives her trouble. But she also cares to much and would let Carol speak her mind of everythin’”

“Even if it hurts her?” Lydia frowns as Robin quickly turns to her dad with the same worried look she shares with her mother. Daryl frowns not knowing what to say to such.

Even if it was yes.

“What are we looking for?”

“More baby stuff for Coco. Some clothes for the new arrivals from the Kingdom and the usual. Cans. Containers. Weapons. Etcetera.” Y/N continues to lead the way after they had gotten out of her truck. “Even check snares in a few places that I’ve set up”

“Daryl didn’t?”

“Well, I know how to set them up and during those times he was searching for something important so I took up that job”

“Mm. He’s probably proud huh? Back at the prison when you cut your hand open setting up a trap, he swore not to let you do it anymore” Carol laughs slightly, picking up the pace to walk beside her friend.

“Eh never said I was good at setting them up. They get placed eventually. After a few mishaps”

The traps were first before checking a warehouse they manage to find on the drive. Carol kept her composure the entirety of the run but when all they talked about was what they were doing, how Robin is, and everything else that falls under the category of “don’t talk about the pike moment and how it happened”…she was starting to get fed up.

Reality was that Y/N didn’t care if she came or not. She was going alone originally with a task at hand, routine stuff. She expected normalcy and not to talk about such unless Carol really needed to do so.

But instead of trying to find some ease in what happened, Carol went for the throat.

“Can you enlighten me on something?”

Y/N looks up from the squirrel she was skinning and nods to Carol. Even if she knew this wasn’t going to go well.

“How can you let her in so easily?”

“Lydia?”

“Who else would I be talking about?”

“She doesn’t deserve this treatment from you or the others who are just as angry. And my actions are only to protect her and remind her that what happened to her, doesn’t define her”

“What happened to her?” Carol scoffs rising to her feet. “What did happen to her? That tops her existence in our communities that lead to her mother taking the lives of plenty and my SON.” She snaps which lead to Y/N skinning more than the rabbit in her hand as she tosses the naked vermin on the rack for their fire leaving the fur in her lap while she assessed her hand. “Why are you ignoring—-“

“I’m not ignoring! What happened, happened. You have no idea how much I wish that something could’ve changed that outcome—“

“I—-“

“Without giving Lydia back to her mother” Y/N suddenly hissed to the pain from the gash in her hand and instead of helping her, Carol continued to glare at her friend while she reached for her pack. “She deserves to feel safe in this hellish world”

“You shouldn’t care so much…because please, trying to save this girl from her abusive mother won’t make up for no one saving you from yours”

That flipped the switch in her mind that not only made her want to lash out for the words one of her closest friends had said to her, but to also shut down. Clearly. One took over the other.

“Go home”

“What?”

“Take the truck, with what we’ve got and go home.”

“Y/N. No I’m not—-“

“Just. Go. Before I do or say something I’ll regret” her tone was more stern this time compared to the other things she has said. Carol was smart this time to do what was suggested.

________

Daryl frowns from his spot on the bottom bunk watching Y/N get dressed, which he’s done so many times but he didn’t notice the cigarette burn scars on her right shoulder.

“Who gave you those”

Y/N tensed instantly finding it difficult to put her shirt on as she balled it up in her hands.

“My mom” Y/N frowns staring at her feet. “It’s not the only ones. They’re just…not cigarette burns…”

“…You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable”

“You showed me yours…”

“Doesn’t mean you have to as well” Daryl rises from his seat wrapping his arms around her bringing her close. “Just know they don’t define you, shows that you survived…a smart sexy lady told me that once” he couldn’t help his smile listening to her softly laugh to such. Knowing she told him that.

“I’ll tell you one day”

“In the mean time…I’m gonna continue loving on my woman” He states kissing her shoulder then her neck and cheek making her smile return.

________

When Y/N’s truck returned to Alexandria with no Y/N, Carol watches her daughter’s happiness face when her mother didn’t exit from the vehicle.

“She’s safe and will be back soon” Carol knelt down to the child’s level as Robin reached for who was beside her, in this case Michonne.

“Why did you leave her?” Lydia becoming a bit more bold when talking to Carol.

“She told me to come back—-“

“So?” Lydia frowns crossing her arms. “You don’t have to like me or care about me…but you don’t have to punish Y/N for doing so…she’s still your family”

Damn girl Carol frowns watching Daryl approach the crowd as she straightens up about to tell him exactly what happened but instead when there was no sign of Y/N—he turned around to get his bike and head out without any word from her.

“Let’s go inside, Robin. Your mama will be back soon” Michonne reassures the small child as Robin latched onto her leg trying not to cry.

It was night, and the archer started to worry that Y/N may have crossed the enemy line. Not that that would stop him from saving her. He knew she can handle herself if anything were to happen but something did and she’s not home. She normally comes home. His worry started to blind his actions as he didn’t bother hiding his bike well enough to follow the skid marks left by her truck.

Daryl hesitantly enters the warehouse they were holding up in and finding the fire still lit in the center of the facility. His whole body relaxes finding Y/N still sitting by such, but with tears in her eyes.

“Love…”

Y/N looks up from the fire seeing her husband approaching her with the worry radiating from him causing the tears to spill more.

“She didn’t hurt me”

“She did. Just not phys—-“ Daryl stops seeing the bandage on her hand. “Did she—“

“No. I was skimming the rabbit and just. Lost my train of thought” Y/N frowns wiping away her on-going tears making her sigh. “Motherfucker…”

“What did she say to you” Daryl frowns sitting beside her and keeping his attention on her while she kept hers away to avoid crying even more. “Y/N…”

“No one deserves a mother like Alpha. I had a mother like her and I had no one. So yeah…maybe that influenced why I want to protect Lydia with my life. But using my trauma to hurt me? To make me feel guilty for what I decided? Tell me why that’s the only thing that stayed the same from the old world” She bites down on the inside of her cheek trying really hard to stop the tears. “Using people’s trauma against them”

The archer brought himself closer taking her injured hand into his being careful with holding. But the gesture lead her to rest her head against his shoulder. “A lot of our people are heartbroken by what happened, but that doesn’t justify what Carol did.” He kisses the top of her head feeling her relax against him and the tears slow. “You’re stronger than most not to lash back”

“I wish it would be easier…”

“What, love?”

“To talk…fall apart…everything”

“It’s easier when you’re not alone” Daryl rests his head on top of hers. “I’m right here”

It took a minute for Y/N to let it all go, that’s something she shares with Daryl. They do their best to stay put together for those around them but keeping it all together for so long will one day unravel. At least they have the other that understands.

When returning to Alexandria, Lydia woke the sleeping Robin from her spot right beside her on the couch as she slides off running tiredly to Y/N’s open arms. She held her baby until Robin fell asleep comfortable in her embrace adjusting to bring her attention to Lydia approaching the three.

“Are you okay?” Lydia frowns watching Y/N nod as she rubs circles on her little one’s back.

“Are you?”

“No…”

“That’s okay, I’m here”

[cookies-and-music]

Ghost. I suggest listening to Creep by Rediohead (or Kelly Clarkson's cover)

PAIRING: TVA!LokixOC

RATING: ALL

SUMMARY: Loki meets sombody at the TVA he once knew. Unfortunately she doesn't seem to remember him.

Part 2 here

When he saw her one day, wandering through the shelves of the TVA library, he thought she was a ghost. Loki would have sworn it was her but not exactly her. There was something different; her hair, for example, was brown, not red, and she was much more smiling than he remembered. Loki initially had doubts about whether it was her, but then he spent days observing her—watching how she furrowed her brows when concentrating on reading a file, how she leaned against the railing to gaze at the city suspended in time, how she always chose apple pie in the cafeteria. Every day was a stab to his heart until he decided to approach her.

"Miss Princhett," Loki approached the cafeteria table carrying a cup of tea for himself and a cup of coffee. "May I join you?" he offered her the cup.

Lydia Princhett. Shield agent. She had red hair and a stern face. Died in 2012.

"Of course, even though I don't think we've ever been introduced," she grabbed the cup, giving him a slight smile. Loki tightened his lips.

Lydia Princhett. Consultant at the TVA. She had brown hair and a relaxed expression.

"I'm Loki, from Asgard."

"I know," she brought the cup to her lips, and for a moment, Loki was filled with hope. "Everyone knows about the new consultant with Mobius," she laughed almost mockingly. "I'm a consultant too. I was supposed to be disposed of, but in my timeline I was a bounty hunter, and they thought I could be useful," she shrugged.

Loki knew. That's why he’d kept her. No one knew better than her how to find someone and, conversely, how to hide them.

"And are you? Useful?"

"I sincerely hope so, otherwise, I don't think they'll wait long before getting rid of me," she chuckled lightly.

Loki remembered the first time he heard her laugh. He had tried to make a toast and burnt himself. Her laughter sounded like a bell, and the burn was absolutely worth it.

But none of that had ever happened for her.

That Lydia had never fought against him, lost, and spat at his feet, telling him how he would never be feared and respected like Odin.

She had never tended to his wounds after a fight, even under coercion.

She had never looked at him with pity when she realized that, in turn, Loki was under someone else's influence.

She had never agreed to hear his story and had never told hers.

"What was your Nexus event?" Loki didn't think before speaking; it just came out.

"Don't you think that's too personal a question?" Lydia raised an eyebrow but decided to answer anyway. "I decided not to go to work one day; I had absurd cramps," she leaned closer, whispering and eliciting a light laugh from both of them. "I didn't think the world would change much just by not going to work for one day."

Loki tilted his head. "When was it?"

Lydia shrugged. "I don't know exactly how long ago, time is a mess here, but it was in 2012."

Loki nodded, lips pressed into a line.

That Lydia had never known him, and she had never been a causality during the New York attack.

There was a moment of silence in which she observed him, and Loki felt tiny under her gaze. It seemed like she was analyzing his soul, exposing every secret.

"Do you know me, Loki of Asgard?" Lydia tilted her head, offering a smile.

He looked at her for a second. "No."

"But did you know me?"

Loki didn't answer, lowering his gaze.

Lydia finished her coffee, placing the cup on the table and sighed before standing up. "Well, thanks for the coffee; it was delightful," she gave him a forced smile and began walking towards the exit. Loki opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Lydia stopped after a few steps.

"For what it's worth," she turned to him, "I'd like to get to know you, Loki of Asgard."

Loki gave her a slight smile, the saddest he had ever made, and with a nod, he bid farewell to her ghost before finishing his tea and returning to work.

[lacydoe]

hi there! my name is lydia aka lacydoe and I'm a hunger games/tbosas enthusiast! I love writing about it, reading about it, and seeing people post their opinions on it.

I'm working on my own fic (a tbosas au) and I would love to share my thoughts and ideas on Tumblr before posting it anywhere else! I don't hear much about tbosas—as it was, unfortunately, a very short lasting era in 2023—but I'm still talking about it, and I wanna talk about it with other people!

If you wanna talk about tbosas or hunger games please DM me either on here or ask for my discord user. thank you!!!

[the-slytherin-writer-12]

Give up some heartbreaking stiles angst for us please but with a happy ending I beg of you

Your wish is my command 😌

A Fine Line

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Stiles x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, then fluff

A/N: there will be a part 2. I didn’t have time to finish this like I wanted, but I felt bad for not answering this earlier

*credit to gif owner*

Teen Wolf Masterlist

General Masterlist

Beacon Hills was a concoction of different supernatural species: werewolves, werecoyotes, banshees, hellhounds, etc. But one thing is constant…..Stiles’s chaos.

Being the only human in the pack, Stiles knew what it felt like to be left out. Only having a bat and sarcasm as his only defense, he often felt alone. Until Y/N came around.

Y/N Whittmore was Jackson’s cousin. After Jackson moved away, his parents felt like the house was empty. So following Y/N’s parent’s unfortunate deaths, they invited her to live with them. She started at BHHS at the beginning of her junior year. Scott, being the kind person he is, took Y/N under his wing. Naturally, she was accepted by the entire pack and become one of their own.

Stiles, on the other hand, didn’t like her. She had an ‘attitude problem’, as he liked to say. It wasn’t her fault that she could stand up for herself, or that she had a strong personality.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Stiles and Y/N to get into fights. Most of the time, it was Lydia that played the middle-man, well woman.

Currently, the pack was at a warehouse. Scott and Malia were leading them inside, with Lydia and Liam following closely behind. Stiles and Y/N were sitting in Roscoe.

Y/N was on her phone, watching videos and getting on Stiles nerves. Stiles sat in the drivers seat with a scowl on his face. At one point, Y/N laughed quietly at a video. Stiles huffed and whipped his head around.

“Do you mind?!”

Y/N paused her video, and looked up at him, confusion clouding her face.

“I’m sorry?” She tilted her head to the side. Stiles chuckled dryly.

“Yeah, you should be,” he muttered. Y/N’s face then shifted into annoyance.

“What did I even do?”

“You-you’re just annoying!” He huffed. Y/N turned to face him in her seat.

“I haven’t even done anything, you idiot!” She spat. Stiles rolled his eyes and shifted his body to face her as well.

“You have and you don’t even realize you have! You sit there, acting all perfect. You waltz in here and-and you just worm your way into the pack. You steal MY friends, you try and insert your self in any way you can! And, you don’t even do anything when we’re out-“ he was cut off by an angry Y/N.

“Last time I checked, I don’t have any sort of supernatural powers, Stiles. And neither do you! So don’t go pointing fingers at people with no purpose because you don’t have one either!”

Stiles just stared at Y/N with anger in his eyes, his faces screwed up.

“You know what, you should go in there with them next time. Maybe you’ll be useful for something like being bait or maybe even a distraction,” he started, sneering. And he leaned close enough to where she could see specks of green in his eyes, “and maybe you’ll get killed. It’ll do us all a favor.”

Y/N reared back in shock. Her mouth dropped open and tears sprung to her eyes.

“Screw you, Stiles. All I’ve ever done is be nice to you! I’ve never hurt you, never gotten in your way, nothing,” she spat. “Never, ever have I thought someone so nice an-and kind could say something so hurtful and s-so malicious.”

With that, she opened the car door, got out, and slammed the door of the Roscoe. As she walked away, she could hear Stiles’s groan of frustration in the Jeep.

————————————————————————

As Y/N was walking home, she heard a car driving behind her. She tightened her arms around her torso and sped up walking. She heard the car slow down when it got beside her.

“Hey pretty girl, need a ride?” Said an unfamiliar male voice. Y/N just kept walking and ignored the man. “Hey now that’s no way to treat someone trying to help.” The man chuckled as he said this.

Y/N continued began jogging. She heard a car door slam shut and reached into her pocket, trying to grab her phone. She pulled it out and opened the phone app, clicking on Scott’s name. Just as she hit the dial button, she felt the man wrap his arms around her waist and pick her up.

“You’re coming with me.”

And then everything went black.

[themultifandomgal]

Hello can you please do one of Chris Argent we’re he is a overprotective and jealous husband and father to her wife y/n ( she is pregnant with their second child is a girl) and daughter Allison and I love your work seriously

Chris Argent- Not Much Of A Secret

Yes Chris and I had Allison young and yes we married young, but 18 years later we’re still married and now expected our second baby, another girl. We always wanted another baby, but unfortunately we had a few miscarriages. So we gave up trying. 1 drunken night though ended up with us being pregnant. Of course we are ecstatic even if we’re both much older now.

My family have always been hunters so of course I knew about the supernatural when we arrived at Beacon Hills. Now us and the wolves are allies, something I never thought would ever happen, but here we are. Although, Peter and I don’t get on. He likes to annoy me which always gets under Chris’ skin. So whenever we have meetings we try to stay away from one another.

I have been staying away from the pack since I found out I was pregnant due to the morning sickness, but now that’s finally passed I’m joining Chris at a meeting at the Hale Loft.

I walk into the loft holding Chris’ hand in mine. Chris guides me to a sit and we sit down. Annoyingly Peter sits down next to me smiling

“What do you want?” I roll my eyes

“I know your secret” I frown looking at him. He leans in and whispers “you’ve got 2 heart beats. Your pregnant. Is that why we haven’t seen your pretty face around here?”

“Yeah and so does every wolf in here, but they aren’t saying anything because they’re respecting mine and Chris’ privacy” i hiss back. Chris places his hand on my thigh trying to sooth me

“Feisty” Peter carries on smirking. I cross my arms and turn away from him to focus on Scott in front of us ready to talk about the newest threat.

An hour goes by and Chris’ hand never leaves my leg and I can tell he’s irritated by Peter sat next to me. He keeps glancing at me trying to get under my skin. We finish up with our meeting which causes a sigh of relief from Chris, but before we can leave Peter stands up and clears his throat

“So aren’t you going to make the announcement?”

“Do we really need to?” I reply “everyone knows here. Well except Lydia and Stiles, sorry”

“What’s going on?” Stiles asks confused

“Peter leave it. If they aren’t ready to talk to us then it’s not up to you to tell everyone. Give them some privacy” Derek scolds his uncle

“I’m lost” Lydia frowns

“She’s pregnant” Peter smirks

“Peter!” Derek yells. Peter walks towards me and and Chris, but Chris stands protectively in front of me

“She’s having a baby that’s why we haven’t seen her”

“What’s the problem with that? I don’t understand why your acting like it’s some big scandal?” I frown

“Nothing wrong. Just like winding you up” he laughs walking past us

“I don’t like him” Chris huffs

“Well I guess we should say congratulations” Lydia smiles

“Thank you” I smile back

“I’ll talk to him about raining it in” Derek says

“Thanks”

“Come on let’s go home. Allison are you coming come with us?”

“Actually, Scott and I are going on a date”

“Ok just be home at a decent time” I tell Allison who nods in response.

[maracujatangerine]

I woke up thinking about this so I'm asking! How would Cory fair if, for some unimaginable reason, Lydia had no choice but to have Wayland watch him for the weekend??

84. Unfortunate Circumstances

CW: NSFW, non-con, institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

“Of course, dearest. You and Lydia should enjoy your girls’ weekend together and I’ll keep an eye on the pets.”

“Are you sure you are all right with looking after Cory-boy, too?”

“No problem, Ceci. It isn’t more than right considering your friend took care of Brutus for our trip. We should help her in return.”

Mistress Cecilia pouted prettily.

”But that sounds so boring and full of drudgery, dear. Perhaps I should stay to keep you company?”

Wayland gave Cecilia an affectionate kiss. “Don’t you worry! I’ll have some fun too. I might have a few friends over tonight.”

“That sounds better.” She wrapped him in a quick hug. “See you in a couple of days!” Looking at Absalom, Brutus and Coriander all kneeling in line, she added. “Be good, pets.”

And then she was out of the door.

*

Handcuffs clinked as Wayland locked Cory’s hands behind the pet’s back. Then, he pushed him down to kneel on the cold floor. Brutus watched helplessly as Coriander, naked, lowered his head. His scarred back, the vulnerable arc of his spine, the blonde hair falling freely around his face. The fair-haired pet looked… broken.

Wayland rubbed his hands together, grinning.

”Don’t worry your sweet little head, pet. We are going to have fun together. First, Absalom is going to make you feel so good. He is a wizard with that mouth of his. He knows exactly what to do.” He smiled languidly. “And then, Brutus here, will take you from behind.”

Wayland reached up and patted Brutus’ upper arm a couple of times. Just like you would pat your horse or your hunting dog. For once, Brutus didn’t feel the elation that praise from his Master usually gave. Instead, he felt a sick, cold dread roiling in his stomach.

“You’re going to pop some pills, boy.” Wayland said. “So that you can stay nice and hard for a long, long time.” He chuckled to himself. “This will be a show for me and the lads to enjoy. I have heard from Cecilia that your dear Mistress Lydia doesn’t even play with her boy toy.” He spat. “Just what you could expect from that fridgid bitch, am I right?”

He reached out to smooth over Coriander’s hair in a mock caress, only to violently fist his hand into the silken, blonde tresses and force the shivering pet’s head up. Tears glimmered in Cory’s grey eyes, catching the lamplight, but the pet did not let them fall.

“Hmm.” Wayland almost purred at the sight. “But that should mean that you are nice and tight.” He laughed. “Perhaps too nice a treat for a simple guard dog, maybe all of us should have you? Brutus can get his chance when we are all done.”

He looked up, behind Brutus’ shoulder. “What do you think, Absalom? You little whore. I’m sure you have all the experience in the world when it comes to these matters, don’t you?”

The romantic gracefully sidestepped Brutus’ hulking form and sashayed into the room. When he passed the guard dog, he turned his head and locked eyes with Brutus. The eye contact somehow electrifying, meaningful, as if he wanted to share a message. But Brutus had no idea what Absalom meant to convey, and the moment passed.

“That’s right, Master.” Absalom stepped close to Wayland, let his hand glide lightly down the bigger man’s chest. He looked up at him through his eyelashes. “But..” Absalom said slowly. “Why would you bother with these… amateurs?” The pet tilted his head upwards, as if inviting a kiss. “I can give you and your friends all the entertainment you need.”

He turned his head slowly towards the door. Again, that meaningful glance towards Brutus. An expression of urgency flickering over his face, only to be completely erased when Absalom looked up towards Wayland again. “You can send them away.” He suggested, coyly. “We can have some privacy to enjoy ourselves before your friends arrive.”

“Aha, I know what you want.” Wayland said. “You just want to have the chance to curry some extra favour for yourself.” He laughed. “That’s kind of sly. Smart for a pet, at least.” He grabbed Absalom’s chin, forcing the pet’s head further upwards. “It will be fun playing with you. But me and the lads, we probably want some novelty as well.”

He looked over all the three pets with a calculating expression that chilled Brutus’ blood.

”Maybe..” he said, and the glint in his eyes held no hint of clemency or compassion. “Maybe I’ll just take all three of you at once.”

Brutus awoke, heart still beating fast with fear. The familiarity of the sparse room. The shapes of his weights on the rack at the end of his bed, each of them glistening silver in the light from the street lamps. The hard cot beneath him. It all brought him back to reality.

Coriander was safe, at home, with his owner. Absalom probably asleep upstairs.

It had all just been a dream. But the uneasy feeling stayed with Brutus for a long time.

*

The ‘it was just a dream’-trope is a bit of a cheap cop-out, I agree. Sorry about that. ☺️

I don’t think Lydia would ever leave Coriander with Wayland. She would rather leave him to stay home alone.

Thank you for the fun ‘what-if’-inspiration, Anon! ✨💖✨ (I love getting asks, but I am very slow in responding to them.)

*

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