#redxwail

❛   Touch me again and see what happens.   ❜ @redxwail

She looked at him the way you look at a man who just threatened you with a BUTTER KNIFE — one brow arched, mouth twitching at the corner, equal parts unimpressed and annoyed. ❝ 𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐒𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐬-𝐚-𝐋𝐨𝐭. ❞ Flat. Dry. Not even a little intimidated. ❝ 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐡𝐮𝐡? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧? 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫? 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫? ❞ And then — just to prove how deeply unfazed she was — she reached out and POKED HIM, right in the chest. Two fingers, sharp and sassy. A perfectly executed “what are you gonna do about it” gesture that landed like punctuation. ❝ 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝. ❞ Another poke. ❝ 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. ❞ And one more, for emphasis. ❝ 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞. ❞ _______________________________________________

Eyes narrowed as he watched the gears turning. He knew better. In fact, he immediately regretted the notion the moment it left his lips. Where others saw someone waving a yellow or red flag, Lydia saw a green one and took it as a challenge. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat. Each additional poke only pushed him further and further before he snapped. Derek's eyes began to shine a bright red, releasing a growl. He turned, forcing her back against the wall, his hand placed firmly around her neck. He wasn't holding with a grip to cause harm, but rather to scare her, his face now mere inches from her own. "For how much longer?" He scowled, an animalistic voice leaving his lips.

"thank you, miss martin." the words themselves may be formal, almost but not quite stilted, but it comes from a place of respect. floribeth would have called her lydia but that felt... too familiar.

so she didn't.

despite everything, her parents did raise her right.

"thing is, though," the words fell quickly from plump lips. "it does still burn - it probably always will - but it's too long a story to tell. i would have to draw you five flow-charts at the very least."

a little joke.

you know, for levity.

𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔢 𝔞🗣️𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔱 𝔮𝔲𝔬𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔰 !

                                                   -sss-

He was expecting this. Sooner or later, one of the pack was bound to come to him. To ask questions.

                          “Why are you still here?”

                                  “What are you planning to do?”

                                               “Why are you talking to Liam?”

                       “How dare you still exist when we don’t need you anymore?”

He didn't think they would send the Banshee though. Did they think she could scream him into submission?

But apparently the Alpha was too busy to run his errands himself.

He tried not to let his apprehension show on his face. He had no answers for her. Instead he put on a confident smile - he might as well be civil with her. He didn't need to make her his enemy - unless she still held her little vacation in Eichen against him.

           "Lydia."

Memory Headcanons | Open

Stiles’ b e s t memory of Lydia Martin?

Every moment she acknowledges his existence? 🤣

It’s hard to choose just one: the first dance he took her to sophomore year, her coming to his lacrosse games, bringing her home after an adventure, one on one problem solving together, their first kiss...every kiss after that....

No, but, in all seriousness....his b e s t memory and his w o r s t memory actually go hand in hand.

⚠️TEEN WOLF SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

“Lydia, please shut up and let me save your life.”

That night he pulled her out of Eichen, he remembers vividly how he thought he was going to lose her and how he couldn’t, under any circumstances, let that happen. Even if it meant he wouldn’t make it out of there alive, she had to. Someway or another.

A lot of it is a blur to him now, everything happened so quickly. From her screaming in the car till his ears bled, without him breaking his hold on her, not once. To her shrieks busting the Beacon Hills Veterinary windows till she passed out. He still refused to leave her side. But he can still recount every ache he felt in those moments. And when he thought he’d lost her...he was ready to lose his freakin’ mind...he felt like his entire world had just came crashing down around him and he couldn’t see anything but red. He’d never had his chance...the ten-turned-fifteen year plan to convince Lydia Martin to fall in love with him would never see it’s end. He would never forgive himself for this and every night he’d wish it were him.

“Stiles saved me.”

@redxwail

Only a handful of people knew Dean Winchester by his real name, and even fewer had direct digits to his main lifeline. It’d been almost three years since he’d seen Lydia Martin’s name pop up on his cellphone screen as an incoming call. Confusion was the best way to describe the weird feeling that had began to splay across his chest. Maybe even a little excitement. People like her only called people like him when they needed something. But hey, a guy could wish for a cross country booty call from one of his most memorable weekend-red-headed-hotties too, right?