#lydia probably stood him up at the altar

[mara-phelion]

is garyon garrington just taryon darrington but if he didn't get that last persuasion check and had to marry lydia from the truscan empire

is gary just tary's villain arc

#critical role #critical role spoilers #taryon darrington #gary garrington #garyon garrington #taryon my wayward son #the plunder games #guest battle royale #also this post is mostly a joke this isn't a real theory #or is it? :eyes: #lydia probably stood him up at the altar #the blunder games #mara phelion: some thoughts head not that empty

[armageddontyoudare]

Forever and Always

Ryder x Reader (Into The Badlands)

So, since nobody was requesting, I decided to write something. I hope you like this....

Warnings: Mentions of torture, kidnapping, mutilation and sex. Pining. PTSD. Death. Angst angst angsttttt!!

Lydia was worried sick. Every waking hour, she stood by the window, silently cursing her heartless husband for choosing pride over their young child, Ryder. She didn't dare to imagine what those savage Nomads were doing to her baby boy. Was he tied up? Unconscious? Bleeding? Wounded? Or worse? She shuddered at the thought.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when a young girl of nine trotted up to her.

"Mama is asking whether you'll come down for dinner or will you eat up here." The child asked nervously.

Lydia smiled weakly. "Tell your mother to bring it up, Y/N." She told her handmaid's daughter.

She nodded and turned to leave, but didn't. Instead she asked, "Baroness, when is Ryder coming home?" The young girl had tears of worry and sadness in her eyes.

You see, Ryder and Y/N were barely 3 months apart in age, Y/N being older. The two had been close all nine years of their lives, and swore to keep it that way. Ryder and Y/N were practically joint at the hip, you couldn't find one without the other. They were like soulmates. This was the first time they had been apart for so long and young Y/N was worried sick.

Lydia sighed, "I don't know, dear. But I know he misses his best friend." She smiled a bit. Y/N did too.

The day Ryder finally returned, was the day Y/N realized what he was to her. Seeing her soulmate all bloodied up and mutilated lit a spark in the child, she knew that it was now her duty to protect her best friend, regardless of her status. She loved her partner in crime, and would go to the ends of the Earth to keep him safe. Even if it meant receiving training from Minerva, the wife of the Baron of Oils.

Y/N grew up to be a beautiful and formidable woman, the only female Clipper in Armadillo territory, and skilled enough to hold her own against Sunny. She became Ryder's personal guard and confidant, and stayed in the room next to his to keep an eye on him.

Eleven years later, Ryder and Y/N grew closer, but at the same time, the pair drifted apart. Y/N was still the one person he poured his heart out to, but ever since Jade became more prominent in their lives, it felt as though Ryder and Y/N were miles apart, even if they were sitting side by side.

The day of Ryder's 20th birthday, was the day she realized she was hopelessly in love with her best friend.

She loved the way his eyes gleamed when he was happy, she loved his scars, his endearing risque persona she had only seen with Dolls, his soft and curly hair, his painfully perfect plump pink lips, that curled into a rare smile, and his smile.... the beautiful smile that wasn't laced with sarcasm. According to Y/N, that smile of pure joy was probably the most beautiful thing to ever exist. She loved it when he laughed. He got little crinkles in the corners of his eyes, he lips would stretch out to form a huge grin, and he would laugh. It took all of her self control not to kiss him where he stood.

It broke her a bit, every single time he brought a Doll home. It broke her even more when she found out about Jade's affair with Ryder. She couldn't help but feel jealous every time she heard Jade walk into Ryder's room, wishing it was her instead.

When they were twenty five years of age, she pleaded with Ryder to let her accompany him to the Opium warehouse. But Ryder being Ryder, refused, claiming that he couldn't put her in danger. 'Put me in danger my ass.' She thought to herself, but let him go. That turned out to be a huge mistake.

The day Ryder barely clung to life, was the day she realized she would die for him. Y/N found herself crying in the barracks, spending many sleepless nights worrying about the young man who had stolen her heart.

One night Ryder dragged Y/N out of the barracks to get drinks. This was the night where Y/N got hopelessly drunk with Ryder, and spilled her heart out to him, the jealousy, the worry, the feelings, all of it. Thankfully, the young man was just as wasted as his best friend. The night ended with Ryder acquainting his best friend with a man's touch, more specifically, his own. The night was full of lust, love and passion, something neither of the two will ever regret. The morning after, however, was awkward, since neither one remembered anything from the night, apart from the passionate love making. They decided to put it behind them, and continue with their lives. This broke Y/N's heart, but nevertheless, she got over it. Or at least tried to.

The day of Ryder and Jade's wedding, was the day Y/N disappeared. She slowly and silently broke apart at the altar, standing behind Jade as her bridesmaid, she watched the love of her life marry another woman. This truly destroyed her.

That night, Y/N didn't sleep in the room next to Ryder's, and went to the barracks instead and disappeared in the night.

The day she disappeared, was the day Ryder realized how much she really meant to him. She was a constant in his life, she was always there. She held him when he had nightmares, she patched him up when he got hurt, she comforted him when he broke, she protected him, she gave him all the love he needed, but he never noticed. And now that she was gone, Ryder was lost. Sure, he had Jade now, but his Y/N was irreplaceable. He searched the entirety of the Badlands, leaving no stone unturned in the search for his best friend. Even the words 'best friend' couldn't describe what she was to him because she was so much more.

When he finally found her, all bruised and bloodied up, he feared he'd lost her for good this time. He tended to her himself, claiming that he should treat her as she did him.

But she never woke up.

Ryder broke the day her buried his soulmate, realizing that he had loved her all along. His heart had always belonged to his Y/N, but he never acted on it.

Truth be told, Ryder felt a twinge of relief as his father killed him. At least he would see his Y/N again, and this time they would stay together.

''Will you stay with me, Ryder?'

'Forever and always, my love.'

#oliver stark x reader #oliver stark #ryder x reader #into the badlands x reader #into the badlands imagine #into the badlands #angst

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

Have I talked on here about my fake exes bachelorette au?? I feel like maybe I haven’t. It’s something I obsess about like, once every six months so I’ll probably never write it, but let me talk about it for a minute.

Peter and Stiles are both contestants, competing for Lydia/Kira/idk Deaton maybe or whoever, and they immediately start off at level 10 snark. There is no off switch. They’re enjoying themselves immensely, and most of the cast and crew can see that their barbs aren’t actually hurtful, just a little abrasive.

But if you take away the context of their comments, like any good reality show does, their interactions instantly become much more Spicy.™

Sometime after a week or so of shooting, a producer gets them alone and suggests that they pretend to be exes.

Peter and Stiles are 100% up for the game.

Anyway here have a few snippets that are never going to grow into anything else:

“I didn’t come here to make friends, I came to win.”

“Really? What a bummer. ‘Cause, you know, the real treasure was the friends we made along the way, so that’s why I came. Plus the food. The catering is amazing, have you tried- where are you going?” 

A camera followed Hale as he walked away from Stiles, rolling his eyes. Stiles stayed where he was, smirking. His eyes were immediately drawn to the very well tailored retreating ass. After all, this was reality TV, ergo everyone here was unrealistically beautiful. It would be an insult to the genre for Stiles not to properly appreciate it. 

__________

“Where are my pants???”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Normally I would assume they’re on your legs, but apparently that’s not the case.”

Stiles wiped his still-dripping hair out of his eyes, just in time to see Peter’s eyes travel down toward the towel wrapped around his waist. It was tempting to make a remark, but there was a slightly more pressing issue. 

“My pants, Peter. Where are they. I left them my room when I went to the sauna and now every single pair is gone,” Stiles said with a scowl.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” Peter drawled. “I was doing laundry and I didn’t have quite enough for a load. I saw your full basket, and decided you wouldn’t mind if I did some laundry for you.”

Stiles stared, trying to decide whether or not he was mad. Sure, he had no pants, but on the other hand, he also had no laundry… he sighed. 

“Whatever. You had to pick through my dirty laundry and I’m getting clean clothes out of it, so whatever.”

And with that he let the towel drop and walked away to the private yard. Some sunbathing sounded nice. 

While a little disgruntled that Stilinski hadn’t been more irritated, Peter couldn’t bring himself to think of his endeavor as a failure. Certainly not when he was watching those magnificent glutes flex on their way out the door.

__________

It was one of the very few times the cameras were turned off and no sound was being recorded. Stiles, Peter and the producer, Braeden, stood in a dim spare room, filled with various props and filming equipment. 

“You want us to what?” Peter said with disbelief. 

Stiles grinned with delight. 

“Pretend we’re exes!! Oh this is gonna be great, I’m totally in.”

“What??” said Peter again. 

“The little feud you two have going is great for ratings, but we were thinking that if you made it a little more… personal, then this season is really going to catch fire,” Braeden explained. “You don’t need to say anything explicitly untrue, just… insinuate heavily.”

“Oh no, if I’m going to do this, I’m going All-The-Way,” Stiles said with emphasis. “ ‘He left me barefoot and pregnant in the snow’ all-the-way.”

Peter snorted. 

“But dear, who got the dog in the divorce?” he asked sarcastically.

“Oh honey, we never needed a divorce, you left me at the altar,” replied Stiles, turning big, mournful eyes on Peter. 

Peter shook his head, and said, “I guess this is what I signed up for. What the hell, I’ll do it.”

“We’re gonna get so many endorsement deals out this!” Stiles said gleefully.

“Endorsement deals for what? Tinder?” Peter asked, a dubious eyebrow raised.

“Tinder, Grindr; if we angle it right I bet we could make a deal with a law firm that does D-list celebrity divorces.”

“What lofty goals you have,” Peter said dryly. 

“It’s why you fell in love with me, sweetheart,” Stiles replied, gooey eyed and saccharine sweet. “That and my gorgeous ass.”

Peter looked down speculatively. 

“I could overlook a lot for an ass like that,” he mused. 

“Oh, this is going to be so good,” Braeden whispered. 

__________

“Damn it!” Stiles cursed. Why did the challenge have to be asparagus?? Who even likes asparagus? Besides Peter, apparently, because he’d eaten the whole goddamn casserole in seven minutes and 13 seconds. 

As Stiles bent over with his hands on his knees, willing the casserole to stay down, Peter passed by and clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“Better luck next time Stilinski,” Peter purred. 

Stiles’ eyes narrowed as he silently fumed. 

Two hours later, in front of the confessional cam, Stiles worked up an eyeful of unshed tears. 

“It makes sense that Peter would win today’s challenge… he’s always loved asparagus. I remember once, back when we were…” he let out a choked little noise. “…When we used to know each other, I once made him dinner. Asparagus and salmon… he never came home. He ‘worked late’ that night,” Stiles was sure to use air quotes for full effect, “like so many other nights. I ended up eating the leftovers myself.” Stiles gave a dramatic sniff and pasted a pathetic smile on his face. “I haven’t cared much for asparagus since then.”

_________

“… cared much for asparagus since then.” 

Shit, this was good. Bad for him obviously, thought Peter, but it was a good attack and it was really good TV. Braeden had been right. It was time to bring his A-game. 

_________

As the 9 remaining contestants rode the limo to the next destination, Peter leaned against the window and sighed dramatically, making sure his face was in full view of the car camera.

“Just look at that view! Stiles, look! Doesn’t it remind you of that trip we took to the Caribbean?” Peter said, with a fond look on his face. 

Stiles hummed noncommittally, unsure of where this was going, but knowing it probably wasn’t good for him. 

“The weather was gorgeous for that whole trip… it’s too bad I had to spend most of it inside that tiny hospital room.” Peter reached over and patted Stiles on the leg. “I’m just glad you didn’t let it get in the way of your fun while we were there. You still went scuba diving, and hiking, remember? And didn’t that nice dance instructor take you out for a practical demonstration? You hardly wasted any time in that chair next to my bed!” Peter chuckled. “I just hope you’ve gotten better at identifying what’s egg salad, and what’s crab salad. Don’t want to have to use my epi pen again!” 

And with that, they pulled up to their destination and Peter hopped out of the limo. 

Stiles’ mouth hung open for a moment before snapping shut. A few of the other contestants were staring at him, waiting for his reaction. Stiles shrugged. 

"We didn’t have a prenup.”

__________

“Shit!” Peter barely had time to catch himself with his hands before his leg gave way, sending him sprawling into the dirt. 

Their bachelorette waited at the end of the footrace, and while he’d been in the lead, Peter certainly wouldn’t be getting there first anymore. He eyed the hole he’d stepped in with vindictive anger, trying to ignore the throb in his ankle. 

He was just attempting to move it when Stiles shot past him, before almost comically windmilling to a stop. He turned around and jogged back.

“Peter? What the fuck are you doing on the ground?”

“Trying to get a date with the dirt,” he bit out through grit teeth, hissing when his ankle vehemently protested movement. 

“Stop it moron,” Stiles chided. “Look at it, it’s already swelling. Here-” Stiles swept his jacket off and balled it up, gently lifting Peter’s ankle to elevate it. Another contestant came around the corner and zoomed past them without a second glance. 

They both watched him go. 

“You just lost,” Peter remarked. 

“So did you,” Stiles pointed out, and then shrugged. “Whatever. Maybe this will win me brownie points.” He smiled a little crookedly. “Let me go get one of the production paramedics, and then we can get you an x-ray.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, firmly ignoring the soft little place inside of him that surfaced more and more when Stiles was around. 

“Stop being dramatic, it’s not broken.” 

Stiles looked at the ankle skeptically. 

“I dunno dude. Ankles aren’t usually that shade of purple. Or that puffy. You have like, the world’s largest singular cankle right now.”

“-Cankle?!”

“I’m your ex, you can trust me to call it like I see it.”

“Cankle!! I’m divorcing you.”

“We’re already divorced.”

“Fine, then I’m going to remarry you so that I can divorce you again,” Peter insisted. 

Stiles’ crooked smile grew. 

“I don’t think that’s the theme of the show, Peter.” 

They were still sniping when the paramedics arrived a few minutes later, bachelorette in tow, who had plenty of kisses for both the injured hero and the rescuer.

Anyway obviously this ends when they get caught making out because they forgot to take off their mics. 

#idk I really don't think I'm ever going to actually write it but these snippets are fun #steter #this blog needs a tag for my bullshit #tumblr fic and kinda fic

[theewritingroomm]

A Winchester - 9 (Fin)

Pairing: Liam Dunbar x Winchester!Reader (Teen Wolf x Supernatural Crossover)  Word Count: 1,222 Warning: mentions of kidnapping, A/N: Please tell me what y’all think, I live for feed back, and it’s what will get you the next part. 

--- Eight Years Later ---

Y/N always hoped she'd get married one day, but as a hunter she knew that the chances of her ever finding someone or living long enough to stand at the altar, were slim to none; so she'd given up hope. That was until her brothers took on a hunt in Beacon Hills, California. Now, eight years later, she was standing in front of giant oak doors, a beautiful diamond ring on her left hand, waiting to get married to the love of her life.

To say she was nervous might be an understatement.

"You know mom would be proud of you?" Dean asked, drawing Y/N out of her thoughts.

"Dad's probably rolling over in his grave." Y/N countered, hoping it would come off in a joking manner.

"He'd be proud of you too."

Y/N smiled and wrapped her brother in a hug. She quickly let go when she heard the beginnings of the wedding march begin to play.

"Let's go get you married." Dean whispered, trying to hide the crack in his voice.

Y/N took a deep breath as the heavy doors opened before them, the butterflies swarming in her stomach. She slipped her arm into Dean's and prayed she wouldn't trip as he walked her down the aisle. Y/N looked down once before picking her head up to lock eyes with Liam.

When Y/N met Liam in front of the priest she could see the tears welling in his beautiful blue eyes. She grabbed his hand, linking their fingers together and waiting for the priest to begin.

"We are gathered here today to join this loving couple in holy matrimony." The priest began, but it quickly became background noise as she stared into Liam's eyes.

"I understand you two have written your own vows." They nodded, and the priest told Liam to begin.

Liam cleared his throat and pulled a few notecards from his jacket pocket before beginning. "Y/N Winchester, when I first met you I was mesmerized by the cute new girl Scott had brought to our lunch table. And as I got to know you, the sweet, strong, loving, and badass girl you really are, I fell in love; and every day you do something that makes me fall in love with you all over again. And I hope that I can find new things to fall in love with every day for the rest of our lives."

Liam finished with a smile, wiping the tears that had fallen from Y/N's eyes. "Your turn baby."

Y/N giggled, grabbing her own notecards from Lydia. "I can remember the first thing you said to me all those years ago, I can remember how it felt the first time you held my hand, I can remember that god awful tie you wore on our first date, and I can remember when I fell in love with you. We were sitting on the roof of my apartment building looking at the stars and simply talking. Now I can't remember exactly what was said that night, but I can remember thinking that this was the guy I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I love you Liam Dunbar, and I can't wait to spend the rest of forever with you."

There was a collective 'aww' from their families and friends when they saw Y/N wipe a stray tear from Liam's cheek.

"Liam Dunbar," The priest started, "Do you take Y/N Winchester to be your lawfully wedded wife until death do you part?"

"I do." Liam answered, smiling down at Y/N.

"And do you Y/N Winchester, take Liam Dunbar to be your lawfully wedded husband until death do you part?"

"I do." You told him.

"Then you may now kiss the bride." The priest told Liam, smiling at the couple.

The words had barely past the priest's lips when Liam gently grabbed Y/N's face and pulled her up to kiss her for the first time as husband and wife.

"I now give you, Mr. and Mrs. Liam Dunbar."

---- Nine Years Later ----

Liam sat on his bed, his lip being held tightly between his teeth as he waited for Y/N to emerge from the bathroom. He could hear how nervous Y/N was though he knew that him hovering over her while they waited would only increase her anxiousness.

When the alarm Y/N had set went off Liam jumped, the shrill dinging tearing him from his thoughts. He hesitantly stood and walked to their bathroom door, but before he could touch the doorknob the door flung open and his wife had leapt into his arms.

"Oh my god, we're go to be parents." Y/N mumbled into Liam's neck, an airy laugh falling from her lips.

Liam didn't know what to say that would express just how happy he was. He instead settled for pulling her tighter against him and focusing his hearing on the quick heartbeat of their child.

The exam room smelt of disinfectant, hope, and anxiousness; it was an odd mixture that made Liam squeeze Y/N's hand tighter. Though he knew there was no reason for him to be as nervous as he actually was, he just couldn't help it; he wanted to know they were having.

"You two ready?" Melissa's voice broke through Liam's thoughts, snapping him back into reality.

Y/N nodded and tightened her grip on Liam's hand, her nerves beginning to show as Melissa turned toward the couple. She let them get settled into the room before returning and instructing Y/N to roll up her shirt. Once she had complied, Melissa momentarily stopped what she was doing to talk Y/N through the process.

"Now Y/N, I'm the one doing this for you two because I want know what it is before anyone else. But I don't do these regularly, so you're gonna have to be patient with me." Melissa smiled when Y/N laughed at her words. "Now I'm gonna warn you, this will be cold." She picked up the gel and squirting a generous amount on Y/N's slightly protruding belly.

Melissa placed the wand on Y/N's belly, moving it around until a quick thumping could be heard throughout the room.

"That's their heartbeat." Melissa explained, looking over to the teary eyed couple. "Let's see if we can find out their gender." She began to move the wand again.

It didn't take long for Melissa to stop her movements again. Liam looked at the monitor, waiting for Melissa to reveal the gender of the baby.

"Congratulations you two, it's a boy."

When Liam heard those three words he knew his life was complete.

Liam stood by Y/N's bedside, holding her hand and trying to take away some of her pain as she pushed their child from her body.

"I hate you Dunbar." She growled, squeezing his hand in hers. "You are never touching me again."

"I know baby. I know." Liam kissed her forehead.

Liam watched his wife suffer though labor for nearly another hour before the doctor told her she only had one more push to go. When he heard that Liam began to feel a flash of panic course though his veins. But it all melted away when he heard the beautiful cry of his baby boy.

"You want to cut the umbilical cord dad?" The doctor asked, holding out a pair of scissors.

Liam took them and tried to gently cut the cord. He watched the nurses take his son away to clean him up before bringing him back to his parents.

Melissa gently set the boy in Y/N's arms and stepped back to let Liam take his place at Y/N's bedside. No one said anything for a long moment, until Liam whispered one thing.

"This is better than any dream."

#liam dunbar imagines #teen wolf imagines #spn imagines #supernatural imagines #dean winchester imagines #sam winchester imagines #liam dunbar oneshot #teen wolf oneshot #spn oneshot #supernatural oneshot #sam winchester oneshot #dean winchester oneshot #liam dunbar fanfic #teen wolf fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic #liam dunbar #teen wolf #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester

[mordellestories]

The Babes with the Power

A Beetlejuice/Labirynth crossover.

Drabble on Ao3 by mordelle

Summary: All Jareth wants to do is mope in peace, but he is faced with an unwanted guest. A certain poltergeist finds himself in the Fae Realm and needs to find a way into the Goblin King's good graces if there is to be any hope of finding his way back to his bride he unintentionally left at the altar. Can Betelgeuse con his way out this pickle? Not without finding some common ground with his Royal Glitterness, that's for sure. (AN: Rated M for language and handsy-ness. Post both films and utterly ridiculous.)

He was moping. Again. He had every right to his melancholic melodrama, thank you very much, because who wouldn’t curse their very existence after having been scorned by the person you had offered the very world to? True, their meeting was not supposed to take place until much later in Sarah’s life. She was a child for goodness sake! So immature. So whiny and predictable and he could not understand how she’d ever mature enough to catch his interest. Mortals grew older, but not necessarily wiser. However, she had said the words and he had to oblige. Those were the rules. And then it had happened. Somehow, she had gotten under his skin and he could see why his precious crystals had shown him they were fated to be together. Why had the gods hurried their meeting? Jareth was unsure. Perhaps it was to open his heart to her. Or maybe it was to curb her less than attractive, naive qualities. It hardly mattered now, the Goblin King had pledged his heart and soul to an ungrateful, spoiled, infuriating, beautiful, witty, powerful—

“WHERE THE FUCK AM I NOW?!” A grating voice blared and echoed in the unusually empty throne room.

Jareth snapped his head up to find a solitary figure wearing a grimy striped suit, smack in the middle of the large room, back facing him. The intruder growled and gesticulated wildly at the air right before whirling around. The unwanted guest suddenly rooted in place when he realized he was not alone.

“Oh! Didn’t see ya there, pal!” The dead man - yes, definitely a dead man - called out apologetically.

Jareth did have not the strength to bother with the lowly ghost so, he sighed and continued his lounging, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling once more. He barely had the strength to talk to it but he wanted to be alone. “Begone, specter,” he muttered forlornly, “I do not have the patience to entertain the dead tonight.”

The striped ghoul frowned and looked at his surroundings once more. Furrowing his brow, he edged closer to the... man? “Hey, uh, I’d love nothin’ more than ta get outta that beautiful mane o’ yers, but uh... I don’t even know where I am.”

Jareth sighed and waved a hand before him, a crystal ball appeared at once. He peered deeply into its depths to gather information on the soul. “You’re in my castle. In the Goblin City beyond the Labyrinth... Betelgeuse.”

“Ah shit,” the poltergeist pinched the bridge of his nose to keep from imploding with rage. “I’m gonna kill ya, Juno. The fuckin’ fae plane?! Really?!” He shouted, knowing full well his former boss couldn’t hear him. Betelgeuse checked himself quickly and changed his tone. “ Your castle?” He asked with sudden hope. “So, you the... eh...” he wasn’t sure whether to say King or Queen so, he settled for the safest route, “ ruler of this joint?”

The King vanished his scrying tool, sat straighter on his throne, and looked the ghost in the eye. “Indeed. I don’t really care, mind you, but how is it that you’ve come to be here? I made no summons.”

Betelgeuse sighed with relief. A Fae Royal would have enough power to send him straight to Lydia’s side, pass go, collect two-hundred dollars, and shove it down the old bitch’s slit throat! Fairies were tricky little bastards, though. To make a deal with one could have dire consequences. His Fae lore might be a little rusty, but everyone knew they were tricksters by nature. Just plain old common knowledge. Good thing he was quite the con man, himself. However, this was a Royal, he had to be somewhat reasonable… right? Betelgeuse decided to be cautious and give him as few details as possible. The fairy had already divined his name. Hopefully, his Royal Glitter-ness didn’t know anything else about him. He sighed heavily and dramatically.

“Long story, buddy. Don’t really have time to tell it. I need to get back the mortal realm as soon as possible. I’ve been gone long enough already. Ya see,” he began as he placed a moldy hand to his heart and put his most pitiful face on, “I’ve been tragically separated from my beloved bride.” He dried an invisible tear and sniffed. “She’s probably worried sick about me, ya think, maybe ya can send me home? Get me outta here? I don’t got the juice to get me that far and—“

“How tragic ,” the King interrupted, playing along with the ghouls pathetic tale. “Well, my unfortunate friend, it appears you’ve dropped in at a most interesting time.” Jareth smiled most mischievously as he stood up and meandered past the ghost to a window. “You see, I too have been recently robbed of my future Bride.” Jareth glanced at his destroyed city below him while the Goblins went around in circles trying to make repairs. Of course, they were getting nowhere.

Betelgeuse inwardly screamed in victory. What were the chances that he had his own little sob story about a chick? This gave them common ground, which was perfect to help lower the King’s inhibitions. Swallowing his impulse to cackle, the poltergeist moseyed his way near the Fae King and peeked out the window. “What are the odds, huh?!” At the sight of the destruction below, he let out a loud whistle and clapped a hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “What, uh, what happened here?”

Jareth sent a warning, sideways glance to the offending hand on his person. The ghost had the good sense to remove it. “ She happened.” He said with a mixture of annoyance and sadness.

Betelgeuse couldn’t help but snort with amusement. “She wrecked you too, huh? Women! Man, if I tell ya what my little lady put me through, ya wouldn’t believe it. There’s a reason they’re Eve’s progeny, know what I mean?”

Jareth raised an eyebrow and turned to the sexist ghoul. “Why do you seek her out, then? Do wish to punish her?” He didn’t care really, but his curiosity was piqued.

Betelgeuse was taken aback by the odd and ominous question. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably and scratched at his mossy, stubbled chin.

“Punish? Nah.”

He waved the thought away. Not that he wasn’t going to have more than a few words with her when he got back though. A deal was a deal. The little backstabber needed to understand a few things about loyalty to one's husband, but no, he had no intention of hurting Lydia. She was just a kid, after all. A fact he was unaware of until Juno gave him the lecture of a millennium. It didn’t really bother him. She was just a key to his freedom, but being a standup guy that he was, he had every intention of making sure his new wife got all the husbandly attention she would ever need... when she was ready, of course. Happy wife, happy afterlife and all that. He figured it’d take some years to get into her good graces anyway. He did leave quite a shit storm behind.

“I’m just a regular ol’ Joe in love,” he lied like a pro. Although, there was serious potential to fall head over heels for the sweet, little goth. She was pretty and loved the strange and unusual, and there was no one in life or death who was stranger or more unusual than the Ghost With the Most. “Plus,” he continued, again bringing a hand to his chest, “I take my vows pretty seriously. What’s a man worth if he can’t keep his word, huh?”

“Indeed.” Jareth nodded in agreement. Intrigued, the Goblin King turned around and made his way to the barrels of Fairy Wine. He conjured two goblets and tossed one to his guest. “Let us drink to our fair ladies then, spirit!” He poured himself some wine as Betelgeuse walked over to him.

“Ah, not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but you’ll be wastin’ yer fine vintage on me. Can’t taste the stuff or get drunk. Part o’ the whole being dead thing.”

“Nonsense!” The King exuberated while he poured his guest a glass and held it out for him. “I insist.” There might have been a hint of warning in his tone. He did not like defiance.

Betelgeuse caught his drift and smirked. “Sure.” He took the goblet and waited for the guy’s next move.

Jareth smiled and held up his glass. “To love, however treacherous and ungrateful she may be.”

“Cheers ta that!” They clinked their goblets and drank. The moment the wine hit his lips, Betelgeuse’s eyes bugged out. “Holy Mother o’ Pearl!” He could taste its sickly, sweet bouquet, and not only that, he could feel it warming his essence. Betelgeuse started to chug.

Jareth’s genuine laugh rang out as he watched the ghoul finish the contents of his glass. Betelgeuse wiped his mouth with his sleeve and let out a belch that could rival a giant’s. “You’re welcome,” Jareth snickered and motioned for him to get a refill. “Have as much as your dead heart desires.”

“Don’t mind if I do, yer majesty!” It was a done deal, the tall weirdo was his new favorite person.

Jareth took his seat on his throne and eyed the ghost with interest. “So, Betelgeuse, your bride is mortal?”

After downing another glass with gusto, he hiccuped and poured himself another. “Oh, uh, yeah. Heh! I was hauntin’ her house, nothin’ personal, just business, ya know? And, uh, well, as soon as I saw her, I just knew she was special. Know what I mean?”

“I do, in fact.” He could tell the ghost was already feeling the effects of the wine when he wobbled for a moment and blinked in confusion. “Might want to slow down, old man.”

“Yeah.” He burped again and decided it might be best to sit. After all, he hadn’t gotten hammered since his living days and had no idea how this would affect him. He pulled up a chair near the King and sipped at his beverage. “Anyway, she asked me to do her a favor, huge favor by the way, and then…” he shook his head and suddenly burst into tears, “she hasn’t called! Not once!” He heaved and sobbed, then stopped suddenly, disgusted with himself. “Why th’ fuck amma cryin’?!”

“Because your drunk,” Jareth said simply with a tilt of his head.

“Damn! Thiz iz some shit!” He was chuckling again.

The King scowled. He could sympathize with the poor fool. “I too went out of my way to cater to my lady and she scorned me. I manipulated time, created a portal between our worlds--”

“Speakin’ o’ dat,” the drunk slurred and held up a finger, “wanna he-HIC-help a brother--”

“She left me for her mundane, mortal world.”

“Chicks.” Betelgeuse shook his head. “Kent unnerstand why anyone wou-would leave, uh…” He gave the fairy a once over and scrunched up his face in an attempt to come up with a compliment. “Sucha, uh, hair, like you, ya know?”

“A hair?” Jareth raised a brow questioningly.

“Heir! Ya know, heir of, like royalty n’ shit.” He thought it was a nice save considering his current inebriation.

“Ah, well, I suppose it couldn’t be helped.” Jareth sighed and stared into his goblet. “I pushed her away. Scared her off for her own good. Still hurts like hell though.” He took a swig.

“Wait. Whuuuut? Why’dya do that for?”

“Because she’s fifteen in mortal Earth years. Barely a woman yet.”

“What the hell ya doing messing with a kid?!” He conveniently forgot Lydia’s age at the moment.

Jareth’s eyes turned to daggers at the insinuation. “She and I are fated to mary in the future. I, however, did not seek her out. She came to me .”

It was like someone had slapped Betelgeuse in the face. What the fuck was this guy saying? Who the fuck was this fruitcake talking about? The stories were too similar from what he was hearing. Two powerful, supernatural beings both dumped by teenagers. Or… teenager? He pushed down his rage and tried to think logically, which was proving to be difficult. He needed to be careful, but he also needed answers.

“Heh, sorry there, your Highness. Don’t mind me… I guess I’m just… erm… projectin’. Yeah, that’s right. See..” he set his goblet down and hunched over, placing his forearms on his lap as if to tell him a secret. “I’m on the same boat.” He gave the King a wink.

Jareth narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “How so?”

“Well, I don’ wancha ta get the wrong idea or anythin’ but…” he paused for dramatic effect, “my mortal is fifteen too.”

All of Jareth’s former amusement vanished. “Is that so?” He took a casual sip from his glass.

Betelgeuse no longer kept up any pretenses. He could sense the tension rising between them as they stared each other down. It was time to get his answers. “Yeah. Poor kid. She wanted to be saved from her pitiful, boring life and come to the other side.”

Ever so slowly, the Goblin King set his goblet aside and sniffed loudly. “You remind me of the babe.” He said as he surmised the same thing Betelgeuse had thought.

There was no way in hell that he’d give up his freedom to Mister Buldge, yeah he saw it, no way he’d ever give up his babes. With a snarl, Betelgeuse shot to standing and jutted a finger in the fairy’s direction. “WHAT BABE?!”

Jareth stood quickly and braced himself for a fight. “The babe with the power!”

“What the…?” That threw him. “What power?”

“The power of voo--”

“What the fuck is her name ?!” The poltergeist had lost all patience.

“How do I know you won’t pretend she is another to save your hide?” He spat as he pointed his horse crop at the ghoul.

Betelgeuse threw his hands in the air in frustration, then came up with a solution. “Okay, how ‘bout this? We say her at the same time. Okay?”

“Fine.”

“Alright, one, two, three--”

“LYDIA” “SARAH” They yelled in unison.

There was a pregnant pause before Jareth’s laughter bounced off the walls. The threat extinguished, Betelgeuse relaxed and chortled.

“Well, well,” Jareth smiled, “what a pair we make. You’re quite amusing, poltergeist.” He magically refilled their goblets and beckoned Betelgeuse closer. “I’m glad to have you as my guest for as long as you’re staying.”

“Yeesh,” the ghost looked at his watches and grimaced. “Yeah, about that. I was hopin’ you’d open a portal fer me? Now that were pals?”

“Not possible.” He replied resolutely.

“Aw, c’mon, help a guy out!”

“I can only open a portal when someone wishes aloud for me to take a baby away.”

Betelgeuse blinked twice. “So, yer sayin’ that you… can’t leave… without being… summoned.”

“That’s correct.”

He was trapped. Again. “And, uh, how often would you say that happens?” He asked dryly, knowing the answer.

Jareth smiled wickedly as he wrapped an arm around him. “Let’s just say we’re going to be the best of bosom companions.”

“Fuck me,” Betelgeuse breathed.

“I’d be delighted,” the King murmured into his mossy ear with a leer.

Betelgeuse slowly turned his guarded gaze to his host to see if he was serious. He was serious. “I’m sortuva... ladies man, ta tell ya the truth,” he gruffed quietly.

“I see,” he replied, his smile never faltering. “Well, we have plenty of goblin women who I’m sure would be interested.”

The specter shuddered. He had seen what those goblins looked like when he peered out the window into the city. “No, er, humans, female fairies?”

“Afraid not, old chap.” He tightened his grip on his new favorite toy and gave him a suggestive wink. “We need to wait for our young brides to grow up anyway, and who knows how long it’ll take for us to leave this realm. You know what they say,” he gave the specter another lecherous grin, “time flies when you’re having fun.

Betelgeuse took stock of the feminine-looking male next to him and scratched his head. The flowing blonde hair, the makeup, the glitter… he ignored looking past his belt. Maybe with a little more wine…? Throwing his head back, the Ghost with the Most swallowed the entire contents on his goblet. His vision blurred some when he finally looked to his shimmery host again.

“Well-ah, like my dear ol’ mom always said… ‘a hole, is a hole, is a hole.’” He shrugged his shoulders. “Fuck it.”

Before he could regret his decision, he turned into his host swiftly, grabbed a handful of bulge and sighed. “Yep-ah. Definitely a dick.”

THE END.

Hey there! If you read and enjoyed this drabble, please consider leaving a kudos and comment on Ao3! 

#beetlejuice/jareth #two villains shooting the shit #evil bastards #lecherous fiends #beetlejuice/labyrinth #beetlejuice movie #Labyrinth #jareth #Beetlejuice #the ghost with the most #the goblin king #beetlejuice drabble #labyrinth fanfiction #beetlejuice fanfiction #labyrinth fan fiction #october stories #because I can

[aang-shadowhunters]

(Happy Birthday to @magnusbicon!)

Title: I’m Overcome in this War of Hearts

Rating: G

Words: 1,012

Summary: Malec’s first kiss from Magnus’ POV.

Read it on Ao3

Come to me in the night hours, I will wait for you. Shadows creep and want grows stronger, thoughts of you consume.

The short portal trip from his apartment to the Institute seemed like an eternity to Magnus. His heart was racing so fast, he could feel it pounding against his chest. As nervous as he was, he only had one thing on his mind; Alec was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, and he had to try and stop him before it was too late. After the way Alec made it clear that nothing would ever happen between them, Magnus decided that he might as well just give up, but then a visit from an old friend made him change his mind. He had to save Alec from himself, even if Magnus wouldn't be the one he chose to be with.

As he walked down the halls of the Institute, he could hear the sound of soft music wafting through the corridors, leading Magnus to the wedding chapel. He walked in just as Lydia was about to draw the Wedded Union rune on Alec’s hand, and without even looking directly at his face, Magnus could see just how unhappy he looked, and it broke his heart.

Both Alec and Lydia looked up at Magnus as he walked in, and the look on Alec’s face was unreadable; it was a mixture of shock, confusion and relief, and whichever one he was hoping it would be, he wasn't sure. Once he made eye contact with Alec, he refused to let go, hoping to convey that his decision was entirely up to him. Even as Maryse tried to get him to leave, he made it clear that this was between him and Alec, and that he would leave only if he asked.

After what seemed like an eternity of silent communication, Alec stepped down from the altar, faced the crowd consisting of his family, friends and Clave representatives, and started walking down the aisle towards Magnus.

Magnus continued to keep eye contact with Alec, even though he wasn't sure what was going to happen. Would he kick him out? Would he yell? Would he thank him? He didn't know, and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. Magnus stood there completely still as he watched Alec, his fingers fiddling nervously. Maryse once again tried to stop what was happening, but Alec confidently said “enough,” silencing her.

Alec finally walked up close to him, and Magnus would be lying if he said his didn't stop for a few seconds as Alec grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, and pulled him in, pressing his lips against Magnus’.

In that moment, the world around Magnus seemed to freeze; feeling Alec’s lips against his own is a feeling he never thought he’d ever get to experience. Magnus sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Alec’s waist to deepen the kiss further. The kiss was sloppy and out of sync, this being Alec’s first kiss, but the fact that he was putting his whole self into the kiss warmed Magnus’ heart nonetheless. Alec pulled away for a moment, and it gave Magnus the chance to look at those beautiful hazel eyes up close. He could see the pure relief in his eyes, the relief of finally not having to hide who you are anymore. So when Alec pulled him back in, Magnus smiled a little, and their lips came together once more, this time even more passionate.

“I’m glad we finally got away from all those people. It was so intense!” Alec said, the two of them now alone.

Magnus was beaming, his cheeks starting to hurt from all the smiling he’s been doing.

“I have to hand it to you, Alexander. You sure do know how to make a statement,” Magnus said, Alec now smiling back at him.

Their giddiness was interrupted by Alec’s parents walking into the room, Maryse visibly fuming. Magnus stepped back a bit to allow Alec to speak with his parents, Magnus not really paying attention, relaying the events of the past half-hour through his head.

He was brought back to the present by Maryse storming out, and he saw Robert speaking to Alec, though not as harshly as harshly as his mother was.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Robert asked. “Are you two...in love?”

“Love? What...no!” Alec stammered out. “It’s, um, sort of different...um-”

“It's all very new,” Magnus cut in before Alec started rambling, placing his hand on his arm.

Robert nodded, smiling at his son, then walked out.

Magnus heard Alec let out a deep breath; the events of that evening had been quite emotionally draining for the both of them.

“Hey, you know what I just realized?” Magnus asked, hoping to calm Alec’s mind. “We still haven’t gone on our first date yet.”

Alec smiled his lopsided smile. “Yeah, you're right. Do you want to, I don't know, go out for a drink sometime?” He asked, his expression hopeful.

“I would love that,” Magnus replied excitedly.

“Great,” Alec said, smiling brightly. Alec’s face grew serious for a moment before turning to Magnus. “So, um, I wanted to thank you, Magnus. You know, for coming in there and knocking some sense into me. Theoretically, of course.”

Magnus chuckled softly, placing his hand on Alec’s shoulder. “That was all you in there, Alexander, you made that decision all on your own; I only helped guide you.”

Alec’s face was thoughtful for a moment, then he took in a breath, and leaned down to press his lips against Magnus’. It was very brief, as if Alec was too nervous to let it last any longer. It didn't give Magnus much time to react, but he could tell Alec was trying to show his thanks.

Smiling again, Alec reached out for Magnus’ hand.

“C’mon, everyone is probably wondering where we are,” he said.

Magnus took it gently, thinking to himself how lucky he was to have Alexander Lightwood in his life.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #magnusbicon #shadow-bellum #my fics

[bellsblake-archive]

the butterfly effect

happy stydia positivity week @hufflepuffkira!! i’ve loved talking to you about stydia this week, and i hope you enjoy this! :D (btw this is kind of a “what might happen if the plot of 6b never happened and everyone was just able to go to college and live their lives” kind of fic)

In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the phenomenon whereby a minute localized change in a complex system can have large effects elsewhere. In other words, a tiny cause can create a catastrophic and unpredictable reaction. When Lydia was first learning about chaos theory, one of the articles she read used the example of a butterfly flapping its wings in California and, days later, causing a hurricane in Japan that formed from the smallest air currents produced by its wings.

In the life of Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski was the butterfly.

Or: Lydia reflects on all of the tiny causes that led her and Stiles to the place they are today.

word count: 3255 words

Lydia wakes in the tiny bed in Stiles’ dorm, her face pressed against his chest and his arm flung over her body.

Lifting her head slowly, she removes herself from beneath his arm carefully, trying not to disturb him. His arm drops gently to his side, his hand landing right next to his mouth, which is smushed against the fluffy pillow that’s muffling his soft snores. This is a common occurrence, Lydia waking up before Stiles; she’s always been an early riser, while Stiles could probably sleep through an earthquake without even rolling over.

She studies the sharp planes of his face, the way the light coming in from the window paints him in shades of gold. With a light touch, she traces the hollow of his cheek, the shadows under his eyes, the slight upward curve of his nose; he doesn’t even stir. 

Three months, she thinks, a little wistfully, as she looks at him. Three months, nine months.

Three months of love. Three months of having him by her side and being able to call him her boyfriend when she introduced him to people. Three months of kissing him on the cheek just because she could, and swinging their hands when they walked, and making out in the back seat of his Jeep. Three months spent curled against his side watching cheesy movies, and talking about random things at three in the morning when they were supposed to be asleep, and sleeping in the shirts he’d leave behind in her bedroom (the soft fabric always smelled like him). 

And then, a week ago, they’d left on this epic road trip to Washington. Well, it was really just a trip to drop off Stiles at George Washington University before she headed to MIT, but they’d made it as epic as possible. Sightseeing and ridiculous photos and stays in slightly shitty motels that felt a little like home and making out in every state they passed through, from the west coast to the east. It was one of the happiest weeks of Lydia’s life. For once, they weren’t running or fighting. They were just living.

But starting tomorrow, she would be en route to MIT, and Stiles would be here in Washington D.C. and preparing for his start in the pre-FBI program on Monday. They’d be apart for nine months, the length of the school term.

Nine months of separation. Nine months of Skype calls and text messages that would certainly make her face light up with happiness, but would never hold a candle to the feel of his hand in hers or the way he holds her. Nine months of an empty space beside her where he should be. Nine months of counting the days until they’re together again.

She knows she’s strong and capable and can manage to be away from her boyfriend for a little while. But it’s the last thing she wants. 

Even before they got together, Stiles was a constant in her life throughout most of high school. She’s going to miss him so much, more than she already misses her friends back in Beacon Hills, because he’s different. She realized that when she was sixteen and kissed him on the floor of the locker room and just knew.

If someone had told her a year before then that one day she’d fall in love with Stiles Stilinski, she would have laughed in their face and carried on with her day.

But there she was, fallen. Here she is, fallen. Still falling, every day.

In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the phenomenon whereby a minute localized change in a complex system can have large effects elsewhere. In other words, a tiny cause can create a catastrophic and unpredictable reaction. When Lydia was first learning about chaos theory, one of the articles she read used the example of a butterfly flapping its wings in California and, days later, causing a hurricane in Japan that formed from the smallest air currents produced by the momentum of the insect’s wings.

In the life of Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski was the butterfly.

For a long time her life was this incomplete puzzle. Most of the pieces fit together, but there was always one missing piece, one that wouldn’t fit into place no matter how many times she turned it. 

Stiles ended up being that missing piece. He was the one who completed the puzzle, who pulled everything together. He was the butterfly who created the hurricane, a hurricane that whirled through her life and made her into someone stronger, someone real.

Sometimes, she wishes she had realized it sooner.

Sometimes, she wonders if their story would be the same, if she had.

(She wouldn’t trade it for the world.)

By the time Lydia reached high school, she had lost herself. She was already hiding the true extent of her intelligence, sacrificed on the altar of popularity. She was falling into the trap of parties full of booze and dancing - because maybe, if she threw the best ones, people would like her. She was dating Jackson, devoting almost her entire life to please him and then letting him turn around and treat her like shit. And she was miserable, more miserable than anyone knew.

All she wanted was for people to like her more than she hated herself.

It didn’t start that way, but that’s where she was when it ended.

She knew she was spiraling out of control, into a life she didn’t want, but she didn’t see a way out of the endless cycle of hate. Jackson made things worse, and every time he verbally abused her, and compared her to other girls, and told her that she wasn’t pretty enough or good enough and threatened to leave her, she wondered, why is this what I want?

And then, she met Stiles.

All of a sudden he stumbled into her life, dragging Scott and their supernatural drama with him, and saved it. He saved her life, in more ways than one.

Even before she knew about the supernatural - before she knew that she was supernatural - Stiles and Scott were always trying to protect her. She never understood it; she hadn’t been friends with them since elementary school, and she mostly ignored their existence for a long time. Stiles, especially, always seemed to be there when she needed encouragement, which was a lot of the time.

Lydia vividly remembers the day she sat in her car sobbing about Jackson and Stiles stood at her window and tried to comfort her. She remembers when Allison set them up to go to the school dance together - god, Allison always knew what was best for Lydia - and Stiles told her she was beautiful when her own shitty boyfriend wouldn’t. And she remembers the fear she felt, the excitement she felt, when he accused her of being the smartest girl he knew, because she wondered how he could be so perceptive when he barely even spoke to her. But someone knew the real her, and that was enough.

She remembers being fully sucked into the supernatural, remembers the hallucinations and delusions she experienced as the occult grappled for a hold on her. Somewhere along the way, she realized Stiles was in love with her.

Of course, Lydia didn’t know what to do about that. She wasn’t convinced that she liked Stiles as more than a friend, and she was already so far gone with Jackson that breaking up with him wasn’t even an option in her mind. She still continued to fool herself into loving him, even after everything.

But she remembers the way Stiles looked at her as he stood in her bedroom, a nasty scratch on his cheekbone and conviction in his eyes. The tremble in his voice as he told her that if she died, he would lose his mind. 

He saved her he saved her he saved her

She’d thought about death before. On a particularly bad day, a day when Jackson told her she was a waste of space and she felt like her true self was lost forever and she had been crying in her bedroom for hours, she’d considered swallowing a bottle of pills and ending it. The only reason she hadn’t gone through with it was because she didn’t want her mom to have to find her; they’d already lost her dad.

And now, Stiles was standing in the same bedroom and telling her she had to live.

She never thought about death again - only about running from it. To fill the gap, she thought about Stiles.

Days spent holding her tongue and nights spent between Jackson’s sheets began to fade away, replaced by nights spent sitting in the back seat of Stiles’ Jeep discussing literature, mathematics, psychology, politics, the supernatural, and any other subject they could think of until they were blue in the face. Years spent with a fake smile plastered on her perfectly painted face gave way to genuine bursts of laughter - the first in a long time - that Stiles managed to coax out of her by cracking stupid jokes at two in the morning, when they were both already half delirious.

She remembers long days spent in Stiles’ bedroom while he rearranged the yarn on his detective board, as she liked to call it. She’d lay on his bed and read and offer some occasional input. By the end of the day, they were on the verge of solving the next supernatural mystery. Their minds fit nicely together, she thought.

If Allison was her best friend, Stiles was her platonic soulmate. He understood her in a way that no one else did, and he loved her unconditionally even after she internally decided she didn’t have a romantic interest in him. They fell into something easy, and casual, and special, and real. When she was around him, she didn’t have to put her mask on.

Lydia finally felt like a human being again, not a porcelain doll about to shatter.

As the seasons collapsed into each other, she and Stiles only become closer. And she was happy. For the first time in months, in years, she was so genuinely happy.

When she kissed him to stop his panic attack, she never thought it would mean something to her.

Of course, he meant something to her. He was the first person she had truly been herself with, and he liked who she was in a way Jackson and all of her fake, popular friends never had. 

But she’d decided he didn’t mean this to her.

This: the soft press of his lips on hers, the way her entire body broke out in goosebumps when she realized what was happening, the warmth in her chest, the stars in her eyes. He held onto her like a lifeline - and she hoped that was what she was to him, because it was the only way she could ever repay him for being her lifeline, once upon a time.

As she kissed him, she was terrified.

Terrified because she hadn’t been in love since Jackson, who was now long gone. Terrified because last time, being in love had almost ruined her life, even with as forced as that love was. Terrified because even the quiet beginnings of love could be enough to destroy her.

She wasn’t strong enough yet to fall apart all over again.

Her head knew Stiles wouldn’t do that to her. Her head knew Stiles loved her more than his own life.

Her heart said, this is dangerous.

When she pulled away and opened her eyes, he was staring at her with a mixture of shock and awe, an expression she was sure he saw mirrored on her own face. Something was tugging at her, a tiny stirring in her chest. (A butterfly, perhaps, flapping its wings in her rib cage. Ready to cause the catastrophe.)

Dangerous.

She wasn’t ready to give her heart away again, not after she’d spent so long trying to pick up all the pieces that Jackson broke. She decided to hold onto her heart for a little longer, to nurture these stirrings of a feeling, to be rational about all of this before acting. 

(Later that day, she found out that she and Stiles shared an emotional tether. If she’s being honest, she wasn’t even surprised.)

One day, she finally let her love for Stiles consume her, until she was going down in flames.

She was laying on her stomach on his bed, bare feet and faded red lipstick and layers of her hair falling out of their pins, wrapping a piece of red string from his detective board around and around her fingers. And she was upset, because she’d had a false banshee premonition that got Stiles in trouble.

When Stiles noticed how upset she was, he walked over from the board and knelt in front of her. He told her not to doubt her abilities, and that he’d go back to school and search all night to prove to her that she was right.

And in that moment, her heart swelled with love for him, and she allowed it to overwhelm her. He was looking into her eyes, wonderstruck, as if she’d hung the moon and painted the constellations in the sky, and she knew that he had to be the one for her. Their lives didn’t intertwine like this for nothing.

Oh, she thought, her hands trembling a little as he carefully unwrapped the red string she’d looped around her fingers. Oh. This is what it feels like.

Like falling. Like flying.

Maybe she was the butterfly now. 

For a while, Lydia thought she’d lost him completely.

After Allison died - unexpectedly, horrifically - and Lydia felt the pang of it down in the tunnels, and she held onto Stiles and screamed and screamed until her throat was hoarse, Stiles became distant. Lydia knew he felt responsible for Allison’s death, and she knew that guilt manifested itself in nightmares and panic attacks. She shoved her confusing feelings aside, telling herself she’d deal with them at a later time, and tried to be there for Stiles the way he’d always been there for her. But every time Lydia tried to reach out to him, he seemed to push her farther and farther away.

She spent many a night curled up in bed, hugging a pillow to her chest and sobbing until her eyes burned. She’d lost Allison, and now it looked like her other best friend was lost to her, too.

And then Stiles started dating Malia, and Lydia couldn’t help but wonder why he’d allowed her into his life and not one of his best friends. She buried her feelings deeper and deeper until she thought they’d finally shriveled away. She made her peace with the fact that Stiles wasn’t the same thing to her anymore.

When she was locked in Eichen House, she wasn’t even sure if Stiles would come for her.

But then there he was: her salvation, her destruction, hurricane and hope all wrapped into one body, and she realized she still loved him despite everything. Dimly, as he unhooked her from the bed, she thought, Is this it felt like for you, all those years you loved me and I didn’t love you back?

He saved her, again. He was always saving her.

After Eichen House, Lydia finally regained some of her old friendship with Stiles. A little distant, a little awkward at the start, but soon they were falling back into old habits. She found herself in the back of his Jeep again, but now instead of talking about academics, they were sharing nightmares. 

Stiles talked to her about Allison, whose blood wasn’t even on Stiles’ hands, and the chimera boy Donovan, whose blood actually was on his hands. He talked about the way he thought he saw them everywhere, out of the corner of his eye, and about the panic he felt when he did. And she talked to him about Eichen House, about the experiments they tried to perform on her, and he’d listen quietly and hold her and stroke her hair over the scar the Dread Doctors drilled into her head.

It wasn’t as easy as it was before. Back then they were children; now, they were broken, and it took a while before their jagged edges fit together just right. But for Stiles, it was worth the extra effort. 

And then Stiles was taken by the Ghost Riders, and she felt like there was some crucial piece of her soul missing and she had no idea what it was. Like someone had taken a knife to her heart and carved out a little piece to keep without her noticing. She’d stand by her locker, waiting for someone to walk her to class who never came. She’d remember loving someone, but when she tried to think of his face, she drew a blank.

A little lost, a little unmoored. Determined to find him and remember him and bring him home.

And when she finally did remember, it was while replaying their story in her mind. Everything came filtering back, piece by piece, but it wasn’t enough. She was searching for the memory that would open the floodgates. She was searching for the butterfly that would cause the hurricane.

She wandered away, led by some inexplicable force to the locker room - significant, although she didn’t know why. And then she saw herself, sitting on the ground beside a boy weighed down by anxiety and fear and guilt and sadness - all of the things she’d been weighed down by before he stumbled into her life - and she saw herself kiss him.

She saw the light dawning on her own face - he saved me, I love him - and then it all came flooding back.

Remember I love you.

In that moment, she knew she was right not to ever give up on him.

When she woke from that hazy dream, she woke with tears in her eyes, sobbing  to Scott that she never said it back, and Scott understood because he’d watched them dance around each other for three years. He’d watched his best friend love her for nearly ten. And Lydia was also crying because it was still hard to believe she was that special, so special that Stiles suffered through an unrequited love for her for ten years when loving him for two had almost killed her. It was hard to believe that the lost girl she’d been could be so lucky.

And when she finally reunited with him and kissed him again, and she realized he’d loved her all along, she finally had the good sense to think, to know with all certainty, this is what I want.

When she finally stops reminiscing, she notices that Stiles has woken up and is blinking at her sleepily. “What are you thinking about?” he mumbles.

The corner of her mouth turns up, just a tad, and she leans down to kiss his lips. “You,” she whispers, like a prayer. “Us.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she hums. “And I’m going to miss you so much when we’re at different colleges, but I know we’ll be okay.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “You’ve been so worried about this all week, and now you seem like you’ve made your peace with it. Why?”

She smiles. “Because of the butterfly effect.”

#stydia fanfiction #stydia #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf #stydia fanfic #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #stiles x lydia #hannah writes #this was gonna be longer but i ran out of time #love ya tho