#hesolved

The inquiry comes after just ten seconds of 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕 ( because apparently when alcohol was added to the mix, Stiles talked even more ), frustrated scoff thrown back his way. Having spent over an hour trying to find him, his vague texts her only form of navigation, the thought of pulling up to a grotty fast food place doesn’t sound remotely tempting to the girl. “I’m taking you 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄,” Lydia reminds Stiles stiffly, “Not stopping for a carbs at three in the morning.” She would make sure that he got something to eat back at his house, some bread or crackers that were lying around to soak up the alcohol in his system, but she doesn’t trust him not to throw up if they stop off anywhere. “Need I remind you that you can hardly even stand, Stiles?” She points out, 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒏 seeping through that stern voice she’s using, “How exactly do you think you’re going to be able to go up to a counter order a taco?”

    cosmo had to grab a hold of the wall guard to stop himself from rushing forward, every nerve in his body screaming at him to move while the stranger didn’t know he was there.   //  @hesolved  flashback  thread  for  langcollege  gv

❛  I never said I hate you,  ❜ strawberry blonde points out, index finger prodding the air to confirm her statement, ❛  I’m allowed to be displeased that you somehow 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎 when I was out.  ❜ Clearly, she was still under suspicion over all the bodies they were finding ━ either that, or this was another instance of him trying to keep her safe, once again, without her consent. Smile curves at plump petals a few seconds later though as frustration recedes, amusement blooming across features. ❛  Does that mean that you hate me, Stiles?   ❜ Lydia coos, ❛  I wouldn’t expect you to risk time for breaking and entering over someone you 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐄.   ❜

His words prompt a little scoff of a laugh from the girl, head shaking 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚. Maybe he was right, maybe she does deserve better, but she’s not the only one. He does too, as does everyone else within this compound. None of them deserve the life they lead, practically imprisoned here, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒔. She shrugs his hands away, tugging down her shirt to hide the scar he’d found on her waist, given by one of the men who made their lives here a living hell. “So do you,” she reminds him quietly, still somewhat rattled every time they speak freely up here, “But the only other option is 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 so...” So she has to settle for being Peter’s little pet, staying quiet to minimise her injuries, keeping Mitch safe too where she can.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she mumbles out suddenly, bare toes curling in his carpet, “I don’t — I don’t remember getting out of bed, I don’t know what I’m — .” Lips press together now as she lets out a 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓, features scrunching together as both hands jump up to cover up her face.

bc i’m going to drINK HER HAROLD

??????  BUT  WHY  YOU’RE  A  LL  QUALITY  AND  I’M  OVER  HERE  LIKE  THAT  WEIRD  STEP  AUNT  THAT  TRIES  TO  PINCH  UR  CHEEKS