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hi! i am following you for the fic request post alone cause you sound awesome! also can i request sterek where there is miscommunication and one of them thinks he is getting friendzoned but actually the other one is pining desperately and then finally someone else just goes god you are both idiots idk mostly i am having issues with friendzoning people so i want to see how to solve it. do i make sense?

Oh lawdy. Haha hello welcome I hope not to disappoint immediately? -snorts- Uhm, I was just about to go to bed(see: read the new book I just got even though I’m sick and should theoretically just curl up and pass out for a while) but you sound super nice and this lil plot bunny sounds delightful and I’m probs not gonna give you what you asked for because it’s a chronic illness I’m telling you, but hopefully it’ll be a fun read? xDThis is completely like anti-canon like everyone’s alive but I’m not touching Kira cause I don’t know her character AT ALL so uh, sorry Kira? Same goes for Cora. This is just pack fluff. That’s it. Your theoretically angsty prompt turned into fluff in my head. From the perspective of an “outsider” as far as Sterek goes FOR UNKNOWN REASONS and also it definitely feels like something more season 2-ish, and barely that, with the exception of Kira and Cora being present. I blame illness.(COLLEGE AU BASICALLY AWAAAAAY)(You’ve released the kraken that is my Stydia brotp, beware)It started on Valentines day, as all the worst things usually do. Or so Lydia has found. For some reason, everyone in the pack had decided that they were all going to spend Valentines day together due to almost all of them being single. All non-single members were not invited. Unfortunately there was no way to ban those stuck in the pining stage of their relationship. Next year, there would be, Lydia vowed, sipping at the blended coffee contraption Stiles had gotten her. They had found, in the past year at school together, that it was an amusing game for Stiles to pick Lydia’s coffee, after Stiles apparently got fed-up with hearing her same long order every day. Today it was somehow chocolate, caramel, hazelnut AND strawberry, which sounded absolutely wretched in theory but was currently the only saving grace of this outing.Oh everyone else seemed to be having a grand time at the…park, for some reason. Scott was sprawled out with his head on Stiles’ thigh, talking to Isaac who had decided to sit on the back of the bench because werewolves. Allison was sitting right next to Isaac, talking to Kira who was sitting on Scott’s stomach because a) werewolf and b) Kira weighed about as much as your average cat and sat far more delicately. Occasionally the four’s conversations merged somehow, and overall it was actually a rather interesting dynamic. Lydia, Erica and Stiles currently had a lazy bet going about which of the four would make the first move, and on whom. For once, Lydia wasn’t even sure who would win.Erica was squished onto the bench next to Stiles, managing to get her legs partially in his lap despite Scott’s head being in the way, and they were talking about something nerdy. Lydia was officially a nerd after 378 movie nights with various members of the pack(almost always including Stiles, and rather frequently only Stiles actually) but she really wasn’t interested in the weird Catwoman/Batman relationship Stiles and Erica maintained long after making it clear that neither of them were even remotely interested in hooking up. It was vaguely creepy and Lydia didn’t like to think about it much if she could help it(because then she’d have to admit that she and Stiles had a similar relationship and she tried not to admit how much she liked the idiot unless thoroughly not-sober and thus not able to be held accountable for what she admitted, like that time she admitted she thought Jackson had been a little hot with scales). Cora and Boyd were literally playing chess, because there had been a chess table set up only a few feet from where they parked themselves. They were both uniquely terrible at the game and she was pretty sure that between the two of them they knew most of the rules.

Peter was actually sitting beside Lydia, albeit with a healthy foot between their two chairs. For once, Peter was not the problem. The problem was one very broody former-alpha sitting by the chess table. Watching Stiles.

Which was what it was. Derek had always been a bit of a creeper and him watching Stiles was nothing new but, but. Every time Derek looked away to maintain his pretending to watch Cora and Boyd fail at chess, Stiles looked at him. And Lydia and Stiles were now officially friends, alright. They’d gotten off to a rocky start, and made the terrible decision to try a romantic relationship which nearly broke their relationship altogether, but ultimately all of it had resulted in the two of them being thick as thieves. Besties, one might say if one had an IQ in the single digits, or if one was very inebriated. And she and Stiles had been very inebriated, together, on multiple occasions. In fact, Stiles had been drugged at one point and left to her care(the perpetrator had been left to the care of Lydia’s heel in a very sensitive area, since he was a mere mortal and there weren’t any werewolves handy) and that sort of thing pretty well solidified a relationship. But more importantly, the two of them had been drinking as well as study-buddies for several years now(the sheriff, of course, only explicitly knew about the “study” part of that) and they had enough blackmail on one another that both hoped that they were never not on the same side. Ever. They would destroy each other, efficiently and ruthlessly, along with everything in their path.

So, there had, perhaps, been a…few mentions of one broody, scruffy werewolf during what amounted to their blackmail exchanges, or what might otherwise be termed drunken confessions. Lydia would, of course, take those confessions to the grave, because while she did not make friends easily, she did not make them lightly either.

And so she knew exactly what those looks Stiles kept throwing to Derek’s turned back meant. What was more, she knew precisely what Derek’s only marginally more subtle glances meant.

There was longing. There was pining. And then there was pathetic.

Lydia’s teeth clicked together as the idiots missed each other’s glances again and she heard Peter sigh gustily.

Glancing over at him, she arched one perfectly manicured brow.

Peter looked to her as well, throwing on his own bitch-face. “What?” he asked, sassy as ever. If he wasn’t such an uber-creep, Lydia would probably like him for the sass alone. Or maybe she’d feel just as inclined to stab him with a stiletto, it was hard to say. “Don’t even pretend you haven’t noticed too.”

Lydia glared at him, then sniffed primly. “Are you implying that I am blind?” she inquired by way of response, earning herself a lecherous grin. She wondered if the wolf’s bane she had soaked into her heel was a fatal dose.

"What would you say to a temporary truce?" Peter drawled, unknowingly delaying a very likely painful scientific experiment. "To putting an end to this—" he gestured between two of their resident hopeless idiots—"tomfoolery?"

She didn’t get the chance to ask if he had seriously just used the term ‘tomfoolery’ on account of Jackson dropping into the seat beside her and asking, “Are we talking about Stiles and Derek? If so, can we please make them just fuck it out already? Pining apparently has a scent, and it’s ruining my life.”

Lydia kicked him in the shin with her pointy, $496 shoes, earning a hiss and a glower without much heat. Who knew true love could be platonic? Disney would be so upset. Anyway, Lydia sighed rather aggressively, and thought it over. On one hand, Stiles was rather her best friend—as was Jackson, surprisingly enough, and Allison was possibly wriggling her way into a very similar spot once more; Lydia didn’t know what to do with one “best friend” let alone three, but she seemed to be doing alright thus far—and she tried not to manipulate her friends overmuch.

On the other hand, it was Valentine’s Day and that date tended to make her particularly…vindictive.

"Fine," she decided, and both men(man-children more like) grinned victoriously.

They started immediately of course. It was simple; they gave Derek a cupcake, since he had proven in the past that he simply could not eat anything involving icing neatly. And they gave Stiles a straw. Sexually frustrate them into fessing up. Easy, simple, not quite foolproof sure but still, pretty good odds considering the eyefucking going on already.

Except it didn’t work. Nothing. Zilch. Nadda. Peter supplied with undisguised disgust that they didn’t even smell like arousal, probably because they didn’t fucking look at each other.

So they tried similar tactics about seven more times throughout the day—no one had ever accused Lydia of not being stubborn—and all they got was a faint blush when Stiles saw Derek with a lollipop, which was so cliche Lydia was almost glad it ultimately failed.

Alright. So. Valentine’s Day was a bad day for starting things anyway, they’d already established that. They’d just have to try again.

Next it was a fair, because apparently they lived in an 80s movie. A crappy, wannabe-circus fair, not even like a proper festival or an amusement park or something. Lydia very casually started to point out prizes that Stiles might like, which he was always sure to respond to enthusiastically. Derek could grumpily win him a toy and boom, feelings. Easypeasy.

Except when Derek finally looked like he was going to storm off and win Stiles that damned prize dammit, Stiles walked up to the stand and won the stupid stuffed wolf(of course) himself.

Lydia was officially Perturbed, and also Determined. And possibly Obsessed.

Nobody bested Lydia Martin.

So, obviously, their next step was to lock them in a closet. Together, of course. Not an especially tiny closet of course, in fact it was a fairly roomy one and it even had a light, because Lydia Martin was a very generous woman. Also because it made it easier to hide the wire she had made Peter purchase.

Even that failed, because Derek and Stiles were idiots and Lydia loved them but she was going to strangle them. To explain, the conversation they overhead went as such:

"Oh my god did they seriously lock us in a closet?" Stiles, of course.

Lydia could actually hear Derek glowering. Stiles sighed.

"Let me guess; mountain ash across door?" Derek grunted an affirmative, because he was such an impressive conversationalist. Lydia was seriously taking him to some sort of speech therapy class or something. "Right, sorry, this is—Lydia and Jackson and possibly Peter have gotten this weird idea in their heads that we like each other—like, like each other, in a full-homo, romantic, sexual way.” Lydia was mildly proud of him for realizing it. They had admittedly not been trying overly hard for subtlety. Stiles lost all his brownie points by babbling on however. “But that’s ridiculous, of course. I mean, I like you, and you like me, but we’re just friends. Good friends, but just friends. Which is great, I love being friends with you, you’re totally my bro. We’re like—like brothers. You’re like my big brother or something, right? Right, okay, let me see if I can get the mountain ash for you and you can get the door for us.”

Jackson bashed his head into a table, Peter slapped himself in the face, and Lydia threw a pen at the wall so hard it stuck.

Great. Now there was actual, legitimate, completely unnecessary and inaccurate friendzoning. They had friendzoned each other, Stiles with his babbling, Derek with his silence which Stiles tended to take as agreement when agreement was the worst possible way he could take it(he alternately took it as disapproval, hatred, or really just any way that was the worst way he could take it and usually reflected his seriously inconvenient self-esteem issues).

"I know a guy who claims to make really good love potions," Peter offered. Lydia stabbed him with her eyes.

"The day I turn to love potions for matchmaking is the day I turn in my matchmaker’s card,” she hissed, and for the record she did have a Matchmaker’s Card. Stiles had designed it and had it laminated for her when she successfully pushed six couples together in one day. She kept it behind her driver’s license at all times, not that she would ever tell anyone. Not even with liberal application of tequila or under threat of death. Never.

They tried a few more things after that, all of them pretty much straight out of fanfiction which wouldn’t have mattered except Lydia wasn’t the only one coming up with these suggestions. She was so snooping on Jackson and Peter’s laptops. Also, Allison, Erica and Isaac had joined in their matchmaking shenanigans, but Lydia had already known the three of them were total fangirls. They tried handcuffing them together, they tried putting them in various romantic-ish situations together by way of calling a pack gettogether then backing out and forcing everyone else to back out as well(which resulted in pretty much everyone falling into the matchmaking thing, except Scott because, well, Scott). They sent them to movies, restaurants, theme parks—everywhere. Sometimes they didn’t even spy on them! They tried fake love letters, they tried spaghetti for crying out loud. They tried all of the things.

And Lydia was a pretty patient person generally, but really, there was only so much one woman could take.

Naturally, it was Valentine’s Day again when Lydia sort of…broke. It had been a year! A year! And had Lydia mentioned how much she hated Valentine’s Day? Because she did, she really did. Her parents split, her sister moved out, she and Jackson realized they were better off as friends, she and Stiles tried romance, an actual psychotic Cupid showed up—nothing good ever came of Valentine’s Day but goddammit, something good was going to! Just this fucking once!

They were all at the damn park again, although they were all…spying on Derek and Stiles, who were chatting amicably over lunch since the pack had decided for once last attempt at the ditch-them-and-make-them-talk trope. But all they were doing was eating and exchanging smalltalk. There wasn’t even footsie! Or staring longingly into each other’s eyes! Or—or anything else sickeningly cute and romantic and exactly what Stiles and Derek should be doing on Valentine’s Day.

They had separate fries, for the love of all things fashionable!

"That’s it," Lydia snapped, then she stood up and stomped out of their stupid hiding spot, straight over to the stupid couple with their stupid burgers and stupid fries and stupid not-fucking. They were both already looking at her by the time she reached the table—her heels weren’t exactly subtle—but she slammed her hands down on the table anyway. "You two are a perfect match, okay. You are sickening and mutually pining and I am so done with it. Just bang already, please, for the sake of the pack."

Stiles grinned, cocky and arrogant, suddenly leaning back and propping his feet up on Derek’s lap.

Lydia stared at him.

Oh no.

Oh.

No.

"Yes," Stiles said with a slow, taunting smirk.

"You," Lydia hissed. Stiles’ smirk grew.

"Me," he agreed. Derek’s ears were pink, which was pretty cute, but he was grinning too. Which was not cute, not even with those stupid bunny teeth Stiles had practically waxed poetic about at one point.

"For how long?!" Lydia squawked, vaguely aware of the pack drifting closer behind her. Stiles’ grin was downright shit-eating.

"Six months," he supplied. "Thanks for paying for so many of our dates, by the way."

Lydia stared. And stared. And then she lowered her head to the table, sitting down in a chair Jackson politely pulled up for her. She reevaluated her life for a few moments.

Then she looked up, looked straight at Derek, and declared, “Stiles dated six people in freshman year. All of them looked even more like your relative than Cora. He thinks your bunny teeth are adorable, he wrote a terrible poem about your hair, he wants to lick your abs, and he wrote ‘Stilinski-Hale’ over and over on napkins for three hours straight once. He also has ‘Derek’ circled in hearts in most of his notebooks. He does the straw thing on purpose sometimes and he likes chickflicks more than I do. He also does this thing when he wakes up—” Stiles’ squawking and flailing turned into him covering her mouth and whispering quiet pleas and apologies that tripped over each other so fast they didn’t actually make much sense. She arched her brows and waited him out, and when he pulled his hands away she didn’t list anymore of his drunken confessions. Her point had been made and vengeance had.

Stiles groaned and buried his face in his hands. Lydia stole his drink. And then she watched, pleased despite what an absolute little shit Stiles was, as Derek reached out, leaning over the table, pulled Stiles’ hands down gently by the wrists, and then kissed their freckled nerd so ridiculously soft and tender Lydia actually heard Kira aaaw behind her. And then wow that was not a chaste kiss oh wow hey Lydia would really not mind just sitting here for a while if it was all the same to you—“No, really, I don’t mind,” she insisted, and could hear Allison echoing the sentiment, but they allowed themselves to be dragged off, leaving Stiles and Derek to their date.

Lydia pulled out her Official Matchmaker Extraordinaire card sitting with the pack minus Derek and Stiles in a cozy little diner not far from the park. She stared at it for a little while. Then she looked over at Allison, Scott, Kira, and Isaac.

Well. It wasn’t like she had actually failed yet.

Jackson sighed beside her, and then muttered, “I’m in.” Peter took a moment, then rolled his eyes, stole a mozzarella stick from Jackson, and agreed.

Lydia wasn’t normally was to say it, but, Fuck yeah.

What the fuck did I just write. It got off to a good start and then I just got lost along the way. I couldn’t remember any tropes! And I think I forgot the actual prompt about halfway in. I DON’T KNOW. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT I WAS INTENDING TO HAPPEN.

PSA: CHICKEN’S FICS ARE HIGHLY QUESTIONABLE WHEN CHICKEN IS SICK.

UH. I’M. I DON’T REALLY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO SAY. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN. THIS IS NOT WHAT WAS REQUESTED. AT ALL. WTF. Alrighty then.

I LIKE. FORGOT DANNY AND THE TWINS AND...VARIOUS OTHER CHARACTERS EXIST. I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN TW IN LONGER THAN I'D CARE TO ADMIT. OOPSIE. I REALLY NEED TO REFAMILIARIZE MYSELF WITH EVERYONE.

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