#well one boys on their knees looking up at me teary eyed = my kryptonite

[moonlitkissing]

Screw dating, I need to be a princess with my knight kneeling before me, vowing to serve me with his body and sword - and remind him of that very promise later that night while I'm fucking him outside my chambers where he was supposed to guard me

#she speaks #you may say 'eve why do you keep wanting to put those boys on their knees?' #well one boys on their knees looking up at me teary eyed = my kryptonite #two i'm tiny and like to feel tall occasionally #royalty kink my beloved #fem domme

[lydias--stiles]

stydia prompt: Stiles freaking out when he realizes the newest threat in Beacon Hills has been on the hunt for a banshee & Lydia isn't answering her phone

Here it is! I didn’t put in that Lydia didn’t answer her phone but it’s fine, it’s fine. Get ready for some angst dudes!

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Stiles’ phoneclattered on the ground, faintly hearing the worried voice from Scott throughthe speaker. No. This wasn’t happening. His head whipped to his investigationboard, where red tape connected articles and blurry photos of the coven thathad been hunting them down. It started with playing tricks with their minds,but when the witches realised this peculiar group wasn’t that easy to conquer, theystarted playing with fire.

Likehunting for a banshee.

Stilesinhaled deeply, helplessly trying to temper his erratic heart.  He grabbed a brush and began wiping somewords away, ripping photos apart, stripping tape off. Tears fell down his faceas the board. He screamed in agony, his head throbbing with a stabbing pain. Hepicked up a red marker, and in block letters, he wrote three syllables:

LYDIA

Her namecleared his head, made him think rationally. Maybe she was okay, maybe itwasn’t too late. Maybe the coven hadn’t reached her yet. Maybe. He subconsciously reached for his sneakers, shrugging them on without puttinghis heels in and trampled down the stairs. Stiles grabbed his keys and slammedthe front door behind him shut.Hold on, Lydia.

                                                           *

His carscreeched down the road, in the direction of her house. His fingers anxiouslytapped on the dashboard. Heart pumping and adrenaline lurched throughout hisbody. He felt miserable. Scott could catch a scent, Lydia can predict things.But Scott wasn’t here and Lydia – well.And Stiles, the derogatory comment screamed inside his head, you’re just human.His jeep nearly bumped into the car of Lydia as he came on their perfectlytrimmed lawn. Stiles jumped out of his car, running towards the front door. “Lydia!”, he yelled, pouncing the door with force. His hand hurt, but he didn’tcare. Lydia. “Lydia!”, he repeated, his voice wavering. “Wha…,” his turned around, looking at her car. The vehicle was here, but if shewas home she surely would’ve heard him. She wasn’t a deep sleeper.He groaned, tears about to spill again. No! He angrily wiped them away, handsshaking. Where could Lydia be? Where would a coven keep themselves hidden?Scott and the others had been searching for it the other week, but witches weremischievous, knew how to keep themselves in the shadows of the inklingdarkness. The school? The Nemeton? The clinic? An entirely new place? Beacon Hills wasn’tbig, but not so small that everyone knew each other. The vault?He gulped. Maybe. It would be a good hide-out and it stocked herbs and spicesto make magical potions. It was worth a shot. He rubbed his face, dragging hishair out of his face before taking his phone.“Peter, how do I get in?”

                                                      *

He swervedhis car onto the abandoned school’s parking lot. His blue car stood starkagainst the grey concrete and the dark night. He ran towards the secret passageway,easily running around gates and poles. After the school had endured so manymurders and attacks, not one security guard had dared to get a night shift. Sonaturally, the school had easy access. He sprinted down the stairs, nearly falling several times as his legs couldn’tkeep up with his speed and trembling heart. Please be there, Lydia. Don’t leaveme behind.

He unlockedthe door by the intricate code that was given to him by an arrogant Peter.(“Witches in my vault? Honestly, I’mnot surprised.”)The stone door parted, and he came eye in eye with a coven and a disoriented,teary eyed Lydia. “Lydia,” he whispered. The boy looked back up to see the witches snarling athim. He gulped. They looked nothing like on the costume ads during Halloween.Their skin was a dull grey, eyes small, black beads filling the empty space.They had meagre bodies, tall and wrinkled. Mouths wide and teeth sharp. They were horrifying. 

They whispered something to each other, in a lost and dead language no one, noteven Lydia, understood. Stiles grabbed a lone piece of wood near the door, this would do. Meanwhile, hepatted his phone is search of his phone. One witch slowly sauntered towardshim, grimacing menacingly. Stiles dialled Scott.  “Ah, Scott, come to the vault.”“What?”“Scott, just go!”, he yelled, dodging a witch with his stick.His phone gotsmashed to the ground, shattering in a million pieces. He groaned, just as adark witch snatched him by his collar. He gasped, feeling her sharp, long nailsdig into his chest. The creature slung him towards the other side of the room,his back hitting the wall and falling on the groaned with a smack. Stilesshivered, his arms pulling him up.

“Stiles, leave,” he heard Lydia frail voice whisper, choking on words. Hestared at her, how her eyes seemed lifeless and her hair, her usually beautifulstrawberry blonde hair, was matted down with streaks of blood. He shook his head, standing up with the help of the metal cabinet next to him.Red blood trickled down his forehead, covering his right eye for a second. Heblinked, wiping it away. He wouldn’t, couldn’t leave her. He had to stall thecoven from doing something terrible to her. Stiles had read about themendlessly. They were worse than Dread Doctors, worse than Valack, worse thanJennifer. They fell on first place with the Ghost Riders. Come on, Scott. 

He grabbed a glass jar from the cabinet. Mountain ash. A witch lurched at him again, but right on time he threw the mountain ash intothe air, securing him in a perfect circle. The creature screeched, coming in contact with the field. He frowned.Supernatural couldn’t surpass mountain ash, but they never gotten hurt becauseof it. Was this their kryptonite? 

He bit his lip, the taste of iron on his tongue. He had to do something now. heglanced one more time at a squirming Lydia, who was held back by ropes aroundher neck, arms and legs. Her eyes held a fear so big it could dissolve hercompletely.

Fear got replaced with anger. Lydia didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve anyof this. He screamed out on impulse, his war cry. The coven startled, turningback to him who they had momentarily forgotten about. His hand, filled withash, made a movement as if he would throw a Frisbee and sliced it through theirbodies. Cuts, many cuts with black blood oozed out of their scrawny bodies. Theyscreamed, screeched, fell on ground in agony. One witch’s eyes turned a murderousred. Stiles stumbled back, in the general direction of Lydia. She must be the leader.The creature chanted something, and the fallen bodied on the ground resurrectedfrom black dust, materialising into much stronger witches. 

“Lydia, Scott is coming- just- I-,”“Stiles,” she trembled, he glanced at her. Her emerald eyes that a second agoheld torment, now had a spark of determination. “Cover your ears.” The lastword squeaked out of her, the scream already bubbling to the surface.Stiles,on impulse, threw himself to the ground, just as Lydia’s piercing, agonisingscream split the room in two. Every piece of glass shattered, cabinets trembledand the waves of her strength slammed the coven to the ground. Snapping andbreaking of skulls traumatised the eyes of Stiles. His heart thudded loudly. Shenever- Lydia, she never – he couldn’t think straight. 

The girl that was bound to the table fell silent, her eyes rolling back. Every timeshe used her powers, litres of energy got drained from her small body. 

“Lydia,” he slowly stood up, knees wobbling. She opened her eyes, tears fallingdown. She pursed her lips, keeping the sobs in. “I killed them.” 

His heart fell. Lydia always helped, she helped and she figured out themysteries. She contributed to the world in a positive way. She did not kill. And yet today, her power, herdoomed, sinful power, had killed an entire clan of creatures. They might nothave been good, but no one deserves death. The voices, whispers in her headwere painful, she pitied anyone who had to face them in reality.Stiles didn’t respond, quietly pulling her loose from the tight ropes. Once shewas loose, he pulled her up, and without thinking, hugged her tightly. Her bodyfelt limp in his, so he embraced her with all his might so Lydia could feel hiswarmth, his love, that she knew that he cared.

“You protected yourself, Lydia. You saved me.Lydia, without you, I don’t know what I would’ve done,” he whispered in hergreasy hair, which still held a faint scent of her signature shampoo.She nodded, finally putting his arms around him. They both sighed. They lovedtheir embrace, how close they got. It felt like coming home. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled. He pulled back, wiping a stray tear away from her cheek with his callousedthumb. Stiles’ eyes stared at her softly, smiling, “I will always find you,Lydia.”She smiled back, closing the space between them for another embrace. They heard someone storm down the stairs. Stiles looked up, alarmed. More? Luckily, it was a worried Scott and Malia, who assessed the situation with a dumbfoundexpression. 

“How-“, Malia started, frowning. Stiles sighed, “It’s over. For now, at least.”Scott exhaled relieved, glancing at Stiles in appreciation. The human, whoeveryone – even Scott himself – usually underestimated, saved Lydia. The twostared at Stiles as he helped Lydia of the table, stabilising her back with hishands. “We’re bringing you home,” he said, clutching her waist so she wouldn’t fall.She bit her lip, “Can I stay with you? My mom isn’t home.”His lips parted, nodding. “Of course.”“I’ll stay here, ah, cleaning this up and I’ll call Deaton to come over,” Scottexclaimed, getting back to the case. “I’ll get Peter,” Malia enclosed her jacket around her body. It was quite coldfor a September night. “He probably knows more about these covens.” Scottnodded, urging Stiles and Lydia to leave. “Call me when you know anything,” Stiles stared at Scott, and his friendcomplied.

Stilescarefully placed her in the passenger seat of his Jeep. He sighed, once heslammed both doors shut and he was in the driver’s seat. “You okay?”Lydia stared up at him. “I am now.”Stiles bit his lip, slowly encasing her hand with his. “We’re going to be okay, Lydia, eventually. I promise you.”The girl sighed, tightening her grip around his hand. Her other hand went tohis cheek. “Stop putting yourself in danger because of me.”He edged closer, “I won’t stop, Lydia. You know that.”She sighed exasperatedly, “Well, you need to stop. I don’t want you to die.”“Lydia, nothing will stop me from protecting you.”The girl exhaled, tired. “Why?”He stopped, searching her eyes for something. He didn’t know if he should tellher. He didn’t want to wreck anything. This bond. This friendship. 

“I love you.” Her eyes shot up, lips parted. He awaited her answer in fear. He didn’t knowhow she would respond. And she didn’t respond. Instead, Lydia held his cheeks, soft and carefully, and placed her cracked lipson his beaten ones. His hands went around her waist, being careful not to presstoo hard. Tears welled up. Lydia felt the same. They parted, foreheads touching eachother, shy smiles gracing both faces. He caressed her hair as her fingersstroked his shoulders. 

They didn’t went home until the early sun came to the horizon, as they hadembraced up until then, never letting go of each other again.

REQUESTING PROMPTS IS OPEN!

#STYDIA #stydia fanfiction #stydia prompts #anon answered #stydia one shots #one shots #tw #teen wolf #stiles x lydia #angst #canon-divergence