omg *-* did not know you like dydia!! so i'd like to ask for the prompt thing... dydia & "if you had just kissed me then, we wouldn't be in this situation!"
yessss!! they’re my favourite crack!ship *_* and thank you for asking for a dydia prompt!
“If you had just kissed me then we wouldn’t be in this situation!”
Derek whirled around, incredulity deepening the grooves in between his brows. “What?” She was crazy. She was certifiably crazy, and honestly, why the hell did he expect any different? He was a twenty-five-year-old hanging around a bunch of nineteen-year-olds. Yeah, he deserved this.
“I’m just saying that research has shown that public displays of affection make people uncomfortable, so therefore, they’re more likely to look away,” she snapped, that stupid infuriating holier-than-thou expression on her face. “If you had just kissed me, we could’ve avoided this whole mess.”
“I’m not going to just kiss you,” Derek replied gruffly, instead of acknowledging that her plan had merit. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “Now or ever.”
Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. He hated to admit it – and he would take it to his grave – but the tiny redhead scared him. Maybe it was her banshee powers that had once predicted his death, or maybe she was just terrifying in general. Derek wanted to say the former, but if he was being honest, it was definitely the latter.
“First of all,” she raised a finger at him. “Rude. Why the hell not?” She stepped a little closer and raised a second finger. “And second of all, it’s too late now, isn’t it? Unless Tyler can find us, we’re probably going to be stuck in this stupid basement that smells of feet for the rest of our lives.”
The basement did smell of feet. It also smelled of mold, urine and things he’d rather not think about. This was one of those times Derek wished he didn’t have a heightened sense of smell. But they weren’t going to be stuck here forever. He was going to find a way out. He had to.
Either that, or he was going to have to answer Lydia’s question and he had no intention of doing that. Derek placed his hand flat against the stone surface of the wall. There was mountain ash circling it on the outside. He could sense its power, but he wasn’t willing to admit defeat just yet.
“Hey, answer me.” Lydia stepped in front of him and blocked off his pacing around the square room. “You practically had a heart attack when I told you to kiss me.”
Derek glared at her, but unlike Stiles or Tyler, she was virtually immune to his glowering. Unfortunate for him.
“You’re a kid. I’m not kissing a kid.”
He heard Lydia huff, as he turned away from her. It made him smile, but he kept his face hidden from her.
“Kid? Kid?” She thwarted his pacing once more to face him. “I’m not a kid. I’m legally an adult. And not to mention, I’m the smartest person you’ll ever meet.”
She wasn’t wrong. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Lydia was so far from being wrong that it unnerved him. She wasn’t a kid. None of them were. They all had to grow up so fast and face so much of life’s tragedy than anyone should. And Derek had always had the utmost respect for all of them. But since Lydia graduated high school, Derek couldn’t help noticing the woman she was really starting to become. It was wrong. So wrong.
“Whatever, Lydia,” he sighed. “Does it matter?”
“You’re an ass.” The redhead placed both hands on her hips and stared him down. “I know it’s not because you’re not attracted to me.” She arched a brow as if to challenge him to deny her, which he wasn’t going to, even if he felt like he should. “So what is it?”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
Lydia shrugged. “We have nowhere else to be.”
All the breath left his lungs as he growled in frustration, feeling the animal in him demanding to be let loose, but Derek reigned it in as he stopped his inspection of the room to really look at her.
“I don’t want our first kiss to be because some asshole is tailing us,” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s it, okay? Happy now?”
She pursed her lips as she looked at him. “Not really.” He growled again and Lydia had the audacity to smirk back. “You still haven’t kissed me.”
In retrospect, kissing Lydia while being held captive was probably not his smartest move, but she had a smart mouth and he desperately wanted to know what her lips felt like against his own.
Dydia fic || ~4k || Five times Lydia drove one handed + one time she didn’t drive at all. || Read on AO3
One
Lydia’s car window won’t go up. She turns her car on and off and tries the button again. Nothing. She’d only rolled it down to get a spider out and now it won’t go up.
Lydia sighs and puts the car into drive anyway. At least she can park it in the garage at home, so security isn’t going to be an issue.
What is going to be an issue is the rain.
When she exits the company carpark it’s falling steadily from the sky. Lydia idles in the driveway. She’s got a twenty-minute drive home and no way of sealing her window. She could leave the car here overnight and call for a taxi or get the bus; she really doesn’t want her leather seats getting wet and mouldy.
As she’s debating her choices, the rain eases somewhat, and Lydia decides to brave it. She has an umbrella in her bag and in a move fuelled possibly by her hunger and sore feet, gets it out, sticks her arm through the driver’s side window and opens the umbrella. One hand for the umbrella, one hand for the wheel. Indicating might be an issue but she’ll take the back way home to avoid major roads.
Her arm starts hurting after the first few minutes but she powers through, thinking of what the water damage will do to her seats if she doesn’t. Besides, this way she can skip arm day at the gym.
Lydia’s vision is impaired by her solid black umbrella, but she drives slow, a few clicks below the speed limit, and makes sure to check her rear-view constantly. She notices the patrol car behind her but doesn’t think much of it until its lights start flashing and it indicates for her to pull over. She does so, not having to bother to roll down her window seeing as it’s already stuck that way. Instead, she just raises the umbrella so she can see out, and waits as the deputy gets out of the patrol car with his own much larger, much sturdier umbrella.
“Evening, ma’am.”
“Evening.”
The deputy isn’t anyone Lydia’s familiar with. Unsurprising, seeing as she only knows one person who works at the station and she’s currently on leave.
“May I see your license, please.”
Lydia hands it to him and waits while he checks it over.
“Are you aware that driving one handed is illegal?” He hands back her license.
“Yes, I am aware,” Lydia replies, trying not to show how near the end of her tether she is right now, arm aching and cold from holding the umbrella.
“Do you normally choose to break that law?” He asks, with some sarcasm that is not helping Lydia’s attitude.
“No, deputy, but my window won’t roll up and my seats are leather.” Lydia smiles with bite, hoping he’ll just give her a ticket so she can get herself home.
What she doesn’t expect is for the deputy to do the opposite. Which is, to not give her a ticket.
“Did you turn your car off and on again?”
“Several times,” Lydia says, with a bit of desperation creeping into her voice.
“Okay,” the deputy says, then looks over to his car. He stares for a bit, during which Lydia can’t help but admire his profile – strong cheekbones, straight nose. He turns back to her and leans down so they’re closer to the same level, taking away some of his authority. “I’ve got plastic wrap and some duct-tape in my trunk. Would you like me to cover the window?”
“Oh.” Lydia was honestly expecting the ticket. “That would be really great, actually. Thank you, deputy.”
“No worries. I’m afraid I’m going to rope you into to helping me though,” he says with a polite smile.
“That’s fine, it is my car.” Lydia turns off the engine and gets out, but is then stuck. She’s still using her umbrella to shield her car, but it’s left her standing in the rain.
“Here.” The deputy hands her his umbrella.
“Swap instead?” Lydia offers.
“Sure.” The deputy waits until Lydia takes his umbrella, the handle warm from his hand, and then takes her much smaller umbrella and jogs over to his car. He turns the flashing lights off while he’s there, which drains some pressure from the situation. The umbrella looks comically small as the deputy is noticeably taller and broader than Lydia.
He comes back with the sheeting, and a fat roll of duct tape. The shoulders of his uniform are slightly rain-speckled, and the bottom of his pants are beginning to cling around his calves. He collapses Lydia’s umbrella and then Lydia holds the larger one over them both as he cuts a length of the sheeting using a pocket knife, then double folds it and starts taping it on the outside of her car.
“Let me know if the paint comes off with this later and I’ll see what I can do about getting your paint fixed.”
Lydia is touched by his thoughtfulness. It’s clear that she’s found one of the deputies who’s chosen the career out of a pure heart and not a hard-on for power.
“I’ll be alright. I probably need to get the window checked by a mechanic anyway.”
The deputy finishes up, then takes his umbrella back from Lydia. They share it for a moment.
“I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but Miss Martin?” He waits to make sure she’s paying attention.
“Yes?” She cranes her neck upwards so she can look into his eyes more comfortably.
“Next time, keep both hands on the wheel.”
“Alright,” Lydia agrees easily.
The deputy nods and smiles at her. He opens her passenger door, leaning closer to her to do so. He’s warm and smells like rain and coffee. He holds the umbrella over her as she gets in, then shuts the door, raps his knuckles on the roof, and heads back to his own car.
Lydia watches him drive away, mood unexpectedly lifted by his kindness. She resolves to ask her friend about him when she’s back from leave.
Two
Lydia’s driving home from a half day at work, taking the afternoon off to meet with Allison, who she hasn’t seen since she returned from her honeymoon a week ago.
Lydia’s phone rings while she passes the corner of Dermont and Heather, and when she goes to accept the call via her Bluetooth, remembers she’s had it disabled for days.
“Crap,” Lydia looks ahead for a space to pull over, but can’t see any.
Ordinarily she’d let the phone ring out, but it’s probably someone from work, and she did tell her staff she’d stay on call. She pulls over to the side lane, slowing down so others can pass her, and reaches blindly in her bag. The ringing stops before she finds her phone.
“Well, I hope that wasn’t urgent.”
The phone starts up again. This time Lydia turns the corner into a side-street, but there’s no-parking signs along the roadside so she reaches into her bag again, keeping her eyes on the road, this time managing to find her phone and answer it.
“Hello?”
“Lyds. Hey! How are you going?”
Lydia smiles as Allison’s enthusiasm comes through her phone. “Allison. Hello. I’m very well. Looking forward to lunch.”
Lydia turns without indicating into another unknown side-street. Thankfully, there are cars parked along this one, so she scans the street for a spot.
“I know, me too. I’ve missed you.”
Lydia smiles and laughs. “It was only a month. But I get you. I—” Police sirens start up behind Lydia. “Hang on a sec, Al.”
Lydia checks the rear-view mirror and sure enough, flashing lights are approaching behind her. She pulls over, assuming the car will pass her, not realising she’s the one being pulled over.
“Oh shit.” The police car stops across the way from her, pulled into a driveway.
Allison’s voice comes through muffled from the phone Lydia’s holding away from her ear. “—going on. Lyds? What were the sirens about?”
“I’ve been pulled over,” Lydia admits.
“What for,” Allison demands, cop voice making an appearance.
“I assume talking on the phone.”
“Lydia!”
“I know, I know,” Lydia rushes to say, “I forgot to enable my Bluetooth. I thought you were work and there was nowhere to pull over.”
“Babe, I think you’re just going to have to take the ticket,” Allison tells her.
Lydia doesn’t mind that much. It’s not like she can’t pay, and she knows she was driving illegally. Still, no-one likes getting a ticket.
A deputy steps out of the police car. It’s the same man from the other day, the one she was going to ask Allison about.
“Well, I should probably hang up. If you want, I—”
“No, wait,” Lydia interrupts. “While I’ve got you on the phone, I was meaning to ask you about a new deputy at the station.”
“I’ve been away for a month,” Allison points out.
“And back at work four days already,” Lydia counters. Lydia watches the deputy get approached by a young boy, who he stops to talk to. Thank god. “He’s tall, broad shouldered, very kind, incredibly muscled, dark hair—”
“Derek Hale. I think, at least. The only other newbie was a woman, so—wait, how do you know he’s kind?”
“He pulled me over the other day for driving one handed.”
Allison laughs. “Well, you’re definitely getting a ticket then.”
“Didn’t get one last time,” Lydia says absently, watching as the deputy, Derek Hale, nears her car.
Allison’s silent on the other end.
“Al?”
“Sorry, sorry, just picturing the beginning of this terrible porn I saw once. I hope it didn’t go down like that?”
“Okay, one, I’m flattered and offended, and two, could you talk him out of giving me another one? Here he is.”
Lydia holds her phone out the window to Derek, who’s now arrived, having helped the boy chase down his dog, an event which Lydia has been watching with amusement while talking to Allison.
Derek stares down at her phone.
“It’s Deputy Argent,” Lydia waves the phone. “She wants to speak to you.”
Derek picks up Lydia’s phone like it’s an explosive, and holds it to his ear. He turns his back to her and Lydia takes the time to look him over. Derek’s on the phone less than a minute before he’s giving it back, looking both amused and confused.
Lydia accepts the phone and goes to talk to Allison.
“I hung up,” Derek says.
Lydia puts the phone down in the drink holder. “What did Allison say?”
“That I should give you two tickets.”
“Huh.” Lydia leans her arm out along the opened window.
“You were driving one handed and talking on your phone,” Derek says in a disappointed tone that sparks a gut reaction.
“Yes, I had noticed,” Lydia replies with sarcasm, riding the line between indolence and flirtation, aware on the one hand the Derek is an officer of the law—and a new one at that—and on that other hand, that he’s an attractive man near her own age.
“License please,” Derek says, and Lydia retrieves it for him without fuss.
She bites her lip while Derek writes out a ticket for her. Probably best not to do anything to add a third ticket. She takes the first slip and her license when he holds them out for her, then waits. Derek puts the notepad into his back pocket.
“No second ticket?”
“I told you it was a warning, not a ticket. I’m not changing my decision.”
Lydia hums. “I admire that.”
Derek nods at Lydia, then turns to leave.
“Hey. Derek.”
Derek looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at the use of his first name.
“Argent?” He asks.
Lydia shrugs. “Who else?”
“Deputy Hale,” Derek corrects, then adds, with a bit of emotion. “I’m on duty.”
“Deputy Hale. I just wanted to say sorry.”
Derek turns back fully to Lydia. “What for?”
“For sassing you earlier.”
Derek smiles for a half-second before it disappears. “Sassing me?” He asks flatly, but Lydia can see his lips quirk at the corners.
“Which time,” he delivers like an insult and not a question.
Lydia laughs, surprised by the sly humour, and Derek not only smiles again, but laughs along. She watches in wonder as the action brings a new life to his features.
“Anyway,” Derek says, after abruptly stopping his laughter. “I should get back to patrol.”
“Okay,” Lydia says easily, still smiling.
“But, Ms. Martin—”
“Lydia.”
“Ms. Martin. I’m on duty.” It’s almost a friendly reminder; a joke.
Lydia rolls her eyes.
“Next time, keep both hands on the wheel.”
Derek walks away after giving Lydia a look of emphasised reprimand. Lydia waits until his car is clear of the street, then parks properly and calls Allison back, hoping to get some insider information on the state of Derek’s romantic life.
Three
Lydia fidgets in her seat, rubbing her back against the car seat to try and reposition her bra while she’s driving. There had been an incident with her washing machine, and also a lot of long shifts at work, and two separate birthday dinners for friends. Somewhere in the middle of all that, Lydia’s washing didn’t get done.
She’s down to her third last pair of clean underwear, and her least favourite bra. She’d forgotten why until she’d been wearing it for a few hours, after which the underwire went from being noticeable but not annoying, to digging into her skin and irritating it. She’s been hyper-focused at work trying to take her mind off it, but now that she’s in the car, not even listening to music at a loud volume and singing along can take away the annoyance of her bra.
“That’s it, I’m fucking taking you off.”
Lydia untucks her shirt from her skirt one-handed. The car doesn’t stay that straight but it stays on the right side of the road so she doesn’t care about that as much compared to how good it’s going to feel to have her bra off. With her shirt untucked, she goes for the clasp at the back. Undoing it is an immediate relief, and she awkwardly rubs her hand over the indents it’s left.
After that it gets trickier and more confusing. Trying to pull the straps down past her long sleeves is impossible with one hand. Luckily, she remembers she’s wearing her versatile bra and can just unclip the straps which she does. Then she unbuttons the top few buttons on her shirt and pulls the bra out.
Victorious, she throws the bra onto her dashboard and sighs out, closing her eyes for a second longer than she should.
She turns the music back on after she’d cut it off in her frustration earlier, which is why it isn’t until the car pulls up beside her that she notices, yep, that’s Deputy Hale again, asking her to pull over.
She does so without fuss, window down and wallet open, ready to retrieve her licence.
“Ms. Martin, this is—
Derek cuts off. Lydia looks up to see Derek’s mouth slightly open, and his cheeks somewhat flushed. His gaze is focussed on her dashboard.
Then Lydia remembers. Her bra is sitting there.
Lydia considers moving the bra, but now that he’s seen it, that seems pointless, so she simply takes out her license, and holds it out to Derek.
“Here’s my license,” she says, when Derek doesn’t move immediately to take it.
Derek blinks and looks down at it. “Right,” he says, grabbing it and clearing his throat.
He’s writing a ticket and not looking at her when he asks gruffly, “So, uh, have you… been somewhere?”
Normally, Lydia would lecture whatever cop was trying to pry into her personal affairs on the illegality of their actions, which would not only be ironic in this circumstance, but also, not the right fit for their dynamic, which feels almost friendly after the banter of their last meeting, and for the fact Lydia knows Derek has asked Allison about her (and that she’s done the same, and now knows more about Derek than other deputies she’s known twice as long).
So, Lydia feels fine to simply answer Derek’s question.
“Work,” she says simply.
Derek’s head comes up so fast Lydia’s worried about his neck. He looks between her and her bra.
“Work?” His voice pitches higher than normal.
“At the courthouse on High Street. Had a case with housing court,” Lydia expands. “There’s a whole story with my laundry and life and uncomfortable underwear, but I, uh, don’t think our relationship is quite there yet.”
“Oh.” Derek sighs out. He finishes filling in the ticket then gives it back to Lydia. “Which firm are you with then?”
It’s more personal questions, and normally in this circumstance Lydia wouldn’t engage with small talk. It’s Derek, though, and she senses he’s asking with legitimate interest and friendly intentions. She can’t resist the opportunity to answer.
“Simpson Watercress.”
He nods in recognition then leans down to her window and asks, “Do you know Danny Mahealani then?”
“Yeah, I know him.” Lydia is surprised Derek knows anyone at her firm, with how recently he moved into town. “He’s great. We went to high school together.”
“I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Oh, how do you know him?” Lydia asks with genuine interest.
Derek purses his lips before surprising Lydia again by saying, “He’s an ex.”
“Oh.” Lydia’s gut clenches at the new information, and she finds herself feeling suddenly dejected.
“I’m pansexual,” Derek answers the unspoken question.
Lydia’s never been great with people coming out to her. She’s not sure what to say. Thankfully Derek’s radio solves the problem for her.
“Promise me you’ll keep both hands on the wheel next time?” Derek asks after replying to the message.
“Promise.”
“And buy yourself more comfortable underwear.”
Lydia’s left gaping.
Four
It’s not a good day for Lydia. Work seems intent on screwing her over, several stupid little inconveniences piling up, and back to back meetings in the morning meaning she doesn’t get a proper lunch. She gets chastised by her boss for the half-day she took last week, and her backup files get corrupted and it takes IT almost two hours to retrieve them, during which Lydia has to fight not to burst into tears.
She saves those for her car trip home, taking the back way so no-one’s around, sobbing messily to get the tension out of her shoulders. She reaches into her bag when she’s on a quiet street to pull out her tissue packet, slowing down but keeping the car moving. She blows her nose while still driving.
Red and blue lights flash in her rear-view mirror. It’s really not her day.
She tries to stop the flow of tears but she’s got too much stress to get rid of, that she continues to bawl as she pulls over and parks, winding down her window, and reaching with shaky hands to get her license from her bag.
“License and registration,” Deputy Hale asks, because of course it’s him. Of course.
“Give me a sec,” Lydia hiccups, drawing in shaky breathes. She can’t find her damn ID. “Sorry. I swear it’s in here. I just can’t—I can’t find it.”
“Ms. Martin?” Deputy Hale sounds concerned. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. No.” Lydia exhales and shakes her head. “It’s been a bad day.”
She looks out the window to Derek, who’s leaning down toward her window, expression filled with concern. Lydia wipes at her eyes and holds her breath to try and stop the tears.
“Wait here,” Derek says, then hurries back to his patrol car. He comes back with a travel thermos which he passes through the window to Lydia.
“What is it?”
“Green tea. I thought you might like it.”
Lydia bites her lip and stares up at Deputy Hale.
“I shouldn’t—This is your mug.”
“I have several,” he replies earnestly. “Got a lot from various family members when I told them I was becoming a deputy. They’re not that good at organising presents.”
It’s more of the same personal confessions Lydia heard from Derek last time they saw each other. Lydia likes it. Likes the little smile on his face talking about his family has brought out.
She feels a new rush of tears coming on and she struggles to get her seatbelt off, opening the door in a rush and throwing her arms around Derek, who’s surprise only lasts a moment before his arms come to rest lightly on her back.
Lydia hugs him until she’s calm enough to realise that it’s inappropriate for her to be doing so.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” she says, pulling back. “It’s just, you’ve made my day, honestly.”
“Don’t mention it,” Derek says, looking away from Lydia.
“I got mascara on your uniform,” Lydia points out when she realises.
Derek looks down and presses his fingers over the marked spot. “Don’t worry,” he shrugs. “I’ve got plenty of these at home.”
“Let me pay for dry-cleaning or something, please?”
“Lydia, don’t worry.”
The use of her name stops her, and Lydia blinks at the deputy.
“You—okay. Okay.” She takes a deep breath and drops her shoulders on the exhale. “I won’t.”
“Good.” He smiles at her. “You feeling alright to drive now?”
Lydia nods at him, and pulls the mug she’s still holding against her chest, feeling it warm against her skin (though not as warm as Derek had been).
“I’ll see you around then. You can keep the mug. Oh, and next time,” Derek says, “keep two hands on the wheel.”
Lydia laughs for the first time today.
Five
Lydia’s driving around the streets of Beacon Hills aimlessly, eyes out for a certain patrol vehicle whose license plate she’d gotten from Allison in return for the promise of a Jason Bourne marathon.
She’s gone through an entire playlist on her Ipod already before she spots the car, parked by the side of the road with a portable speed camera.
Lydia smiles to herself and tries not to feel too Kristin Wiig as she winds her windows down, drives past the car, and lifts both hands off the wheel.
Derek levers himself off from where he’d been leaning against the front of the car holding the speed camera. He raises his arms at her in an exaggerated shrug, and shakes his head. Lydia does a u-turn on the deserted road and does it again, no hands on the wheel.
Derek tilts his head at her and Lydia waves.
She does another u-turn. Derek leans in through the open window of his car to start the lights up. He points obviously to her and gestures her in.
Lydia smiles and parks the car in front of Derek’s.
“Ms. Martin,” Derek says, with arms crossed over his chest. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Getting your attention. Did it work?” Lydia stops a few steps away from Derek and holds his gaze.
Derek keeps a stern look on his face, and Lydia watches for signs of a smile.
“You do remember me telling you to keep both hands on the wheel, yes?”
Lydia nods and takes a step closer to Derek.
“And you are aware that you had no hands on the wheel just now?”
Another nod. Another step.
“Well, you’ve got my attention.”
“Good.”
“What did you want it for.”
“You should take me on a date.”
Derek’s eyes widen noticeably. Lydia smiles openly at him, and he clears his throat.
“Lydia, I, uh…” Derek shuffles and his stance goes from formal, to more relaxed. “I think we both know you’d be taking me on a date.”
Lydia’s heart flips.
“Well then,” she steps forward. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night after your shift.”
“I didn’t say yes,” Derek states.
“But you said ‘Lydia’, and you’re on duty.”
Derek looks away and shakes his head. Lydia takes the opportunity to step up and kiss him on the cheek.
Derek startles and turns back to face her.
“You know this is the absolute strangest way anyone has asked me out.”
“I try to be original.”
Derek’s look softens, and he replies, “I don’t think there’s anyone else like you.”
Lydia’s cheeks heat. She looks away from Derek.
“Hey, Lydia.”
“Yes?”
“You’re not getting out of the ticket just because we’re going on a date tomorrow.”
Derek holds out a slip for her. Lydia narrows her eyes at him, but takes it. It’s worth it.
+ One
Derek is in the driver’s seat, taking Lydia back to his place after their dinner date. Lydia’s playing soft music from her phone, and looking out the window at the streetlights.
Something warm lands on her hand and she looks down to see Derek’s hand wrapping over hers. She flips her hand over to lace their fingers together. Derek takes his eyes off the road briefly to smile at her. She returns it easily, leaning her head fall back against the head rest, feeling warm inside.
“Derek?” She lifts their entwined hands to kiss his knuckles.
for the sentence of dialogue thingy - dydia - "it's taking everything in me to not harm you the way you've harmed her"
Oh my god, a Dydia request!!! No one ever requests Dydia! *_*
Thank you, beautiful Anonny!
“It’s taking everything in me to not harm you the way you’ve harmed her.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. She was fine, practically unharmed, but leave it to Derek to get his knickers in a twist because some two-bit werewolf decided to kidnap her. It wasn’t even the first time she’s been kidnapped in the years since discovering the supernatural world, and Lydia highly doubted it would be the last.
“Then do it!” the other werewolf sneered, an Omega desperate to become Alpha to a pack of his own. His eyes glowed blue, as laughter spilled from his lips. “You don’t have it in you, do you! You’re no Alpha!”
Derek roared, the sound echoing in the hollow chamber Lydia had been kept in for the past day or two. She couldn’t really tell anymore how long it’s been, but the rumbling in her stomach gave her some indication that it’d been a significant amount of time.
“My god, can we all please tone down the testosterone match?” Lydia cut in, waving her hand to grab their attention. “If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t showered in days and I’m starving, so draw some mountain ash around this idiot and let’s go.”
As if startled out of a revery, Derek’s face shifted back to his normal self and he closed the space between them in two long strides. “Lydia, are you okay?” he asked, gripping both of her shoulders and bending down to level their gazes.
She shrugged out of his hold with an exasperated sigh. “I’m fine, I told you. Can we just go?”
“You know you could act a little more grateful,” Derek huffed, dark brows narrowing at her, and there it was, the signature Derek Hale brood. It almost made her want to laugh, if she wasn’t already so exhausted with everything.
“Thank you, Derek.”
“What’s your problem?” It was clear he wasn’t just going to let this go and Lydia couldn’t very well storm out considering she wasn’t even sure where they were. “You could’ve been seriously hurt or worse. Do you not get that?”
“Of course I get it!” she snapped back. “I am literally surrounded by death all of the time, so of course, I get that he could’ve hurt me. But…” Lydia paused, staring up at him, before sighing loudly. “I wasn’t worried, okay?”
“Why the hell not!”
“Because I knew you were coming for me! I knew you’d find me!”
Lydia’s chest heaved with the effort it took to yell at him. She must’ve been stuck down here for longer than she thought. Every movement was taking much more effort than she initially thought. The human body could survive three days without food and water, before blood levels began to drop. She was feeling faint, a little dizzy on her feet. Lydia was likely just on the cuff. If it had taken Derek any longer to find her then –
“Woah, Lydia?” Derek caught her just as she began to collapse. His arms cradled her body to his. “Shit, we have to get you out of here.”
“Thank you for finding me,” she whispered against him.
Derek’s chest rumbled with laughter, before she felt his lips press into her hair. “I’ll always find you, Lydia.”
“Always?” she couldn’t help asking, while simultaneously hating how small her voice sounded. She blamed it on the dehydration and dangerously low blood pressure. That was it.
“Of course, always,” Derek answered a little gruffly, as he carried her away from the chamber after making sure the mountain ash was secure. “It’s not like I’m in love with you or something.”
The last thing she remembered before waking up in the hospital was pressing a chaste kiss with dry, cracked lips to Derek’s cheek, and his responding hum of contentment.
Yeah, she loved that big dumb wolf too.
+ send me a line of dialogue and i’ll fill in the rest +
idk if you’re taking prompts or not but I saw that set of Holland Roden you reblogged earlier and I have a DYDIA prompt: Derek taking care of Lydia after she gets a sunburn or Derek is in charge of making sure Lydia has sunscreen properly applied so she doesn’t burn
The sun is bright, the air is sticky, and everyone in Beacon Hills is out laughing and having a grand old time, so of course, that means Derek Hale is fucking miserable. Despite what Stiles likes to tell people, he’s not allergic to fun, but crowds make him antsy. There are always too many people bumping into him or trying to engage him in small talk and Derek hates small talk more than he hated Kate Argent and he really fucking hated her.
Truth be told, he doesn’t really know how to talk to people. He’s never had to. Having a traumatic childhood and an even more traumatic adulthood sort of means Derek is better at isolation than he is at being sociable. Scott, Stiles and those kids were the first group of ‘friends’ he’d had since high school and they’re not exactly a normal group of friends either. Besides, they’re so much younger than him; it didn’t really feel like ‘friendship’. Most of the time, it felt like he was babysitting children, especially if he had to spend more than ten minutes with Scott and Stiles simultaneously.
Watching them now, however, Derek has to admit he doesn’t really have that excuse anymore. They’re not kids. Unfortunately (or maybe, fortunately, he hasn’t decided yet) they’re all adults now. They’re twenty-one and he’s twenty-eight, and fuck, where had the last decade gone?
“Hey Sour Wolf.”
Derek sighs, barely glancing at her as she comes to stand beside him. “Will that nickname ever die?”
“Not when it’s still true,” she says, and he can practically hear the smirk in her voice, as she bumps her hip with his. “What’s your deal?”
“Nothing’s my deal,” he huffs because he’s an anti-social asshole and he’s never gonna change.
She chuckles softly. “God, you really are allergic to fun, aren’t you? It’s a summer fair, Derek. Smile.”
He turns to give her his most sardonic smile but freezes instead when he catches sight of her. He didn’t have the chance to see her when she got into town yesterday afternoon and Lydia Martin hasn’t been back in Beacon Hills in over a year, so seeing her now for the first time in far too long, Derek is dumbfounded. She was always a pretty girl but in a peripheral sense that didn’t really register to someone seven years her senior. Fuck it if Derek isn’t noticing her now though. Lydia is all soft smooth pale skin, bright copper hair that glints like it’s on fire under the glare of the sunlight and those full pink lips that’s just begging for him to taste, and – Jesus fucking Christ, Hale, get a grip!
“What?” she demands, and suddenly, Derek sees the girl he used to know because that girl is scowling at him and it’s oh-so-familiar again.
“You’re showing an awful lot of skin, Martin,” he points out, boldly fingering the thin strap of her sundress, and if his touch lingers just a little too long, she doesn’t say anything.
“Is that a crime?” Lydia arches her brow. “I didn’t realise you were such a fashion police.”
Derek snorts. “You’re going to burn. Have you even got sunscreen on?”
“Oh my god, what are you, my mom?” Lydia exclaims, but her lips are quirked upwards and there’s a glint of amusement in her hazel eyes. “Yes, I have sunscreen on.”
“What SPF?” he asks because if he doesn’t act like the babysitter with her, he’s going to flirt with her and that’s just a bad idea. Adult or not, he’s still significantly older than her. He’s known her since she was sixteen. It’s wrong. Very fucking wrong.
Lydia rolls her eyes but she humours him. “Fifteen.”
“Yeah, you’re going to burn,” Derek groans. He takes her by the wrist and starts to drag her from the festivities of the fair. She doesn’t really protest, but he can hear her telling him he’s turned into a complete weirdo. He happily admits that he is. Maybe he’s just been alone for too long. Since they left for college, Derek doesn’t really have much to do aside from drinking and poker nights with Parrish and his friends. Occasionally, Braeden will swing into town and they’ll fuck every which way to Sunday, but yeah, Derek has turned into a weirdo now.
“Are you seriously mothering me?” Lydia says, as they come to a stop in front of his car. Derek unlocks the backdoor and rummages through the gym bag he has in the back. He comes away with a half-used bottled of sunscreen SPF 30.
“I’m not your fucking mother,” he says with a sigh. “But I am your friend, right? And you’re a redhead. You’ll burn in this sun.”
Derek squirts a dollop of sunscreen into his hand and then realises belatedly that that means he now has to touch her. He really did not think this through.
Lydia, however, seems completely oblivious to his sudden distress as she sighs and turns around, pulling down the straps of her dress so he has full access to her bare back. And oh fuck, Derek really doesn’t want to be touching her bare back with his bare hands and rubbing into her smooth skin. He really, really doesn’t.
Coughing, he steels himself for the inevitable and thinks of Chris Argent naked as he rubs the sunscreen onto her skin. As if that isn’t bad enough, he hears the sudden intake of Lydia’s breath and it’s doing horrible, horrible things to his body. “So…” he hedges, trying to find any distraction. “How’s college?”
She shrugs. He feels her muscles moving as she does so, and how the hell can that turn him on too?
“It’s okay,” Lydia says, seemingly unperturbed or even aware of Derek’s complete meltdown behind her. “I’ve only got a year left and then I’m thinking about taking a year off before doing my masters.”
“Wh-” Derek clears his throat. “What do you want to do in your year off?”
She’s quiet for a moment as Derek’s hands trail up her back to the base of her neck. He wants to bend his head and kiss her right there, taste the salt on her skin, and maybe pull her into the back seat of his car and taste more than that, but instead, he just continues to smooth the sunscreen over her shoulders.
“Is it dumb if I say I miss it here?” Lydia snorts. “I spent all of high school desperate to leave this place, but… I miss it. For all the bad memories, there were some good ones too.”
“It’s not dumb,” Derek answers. He’s done so he turns her around and hands her the sunscreen bottle because like hell is he going to apply to her front too. “It’s home. You can’t just… erase that.” He averts his gaze when she begins to smooth the sunscreen onto her neck. “But for what it’s worth, Lydia, you’re made for much bigger things than Beacon Hills. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I never went to college, but you’re a literal genius. You can get out. You should.”
She stops and he sees her watching him in his peripheral. “You’re not an idiot either, Derek. You know you can leave.”
“I could,” Derek replies, shrugging. “But… my family protected this town for many years. We helped rebuild it. And with Cora in god-knows-where, I’m the only one left to take on the job.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“I’ve got Parrish and Chris,” Derek says, turning now to wink at her. “It’s not too bad.”
Lydia rolls her eyes before she abruptly steps into his personal space. “What if I move back for a year?”
“Then you can join in on our Sunday night poker game,” he says, trying not to fucking tremble just at her proximity.
She steps closer and pushes him until he’s backed against his car. “What if you find a different night to pencil me in?”
Derek is suddenly very aware that Lydia Martin is twenty-one and there’s a fire in her eyes that makes him his body alight with want. Emboldened, he reaches out to curl a hand around her waist. He tugs her a little closer. “That could be arranged,” he murmurs, leaning in. “But just one night?”
Lydia places her hands on his chest. “I don’t know if you can handle me for more than a night.”
“Challenge fucking accepted, Lydia Martin,” Derek growls out as he captures her lips with his, curling the other hand around her waist and pulling her flushed against him. She’s so small, so slender and petite in comparison to his six feet, but god does she fit against him so well.
He trails his hands down her lower back, desperate to just tug this damned sundress off of her and feel every inch of her skin, but it occurs to him they’re still in broad daylight. Granted, they’re in an empty parking lot, but it doesn’t seem ideal to fuck Lydia against his car at two in the afternoon where any of their dumb friends could catch them.
But Lydia seems to be having similar thoughts and fewer qualms about it as her hands fist into his shirt, slowly pulling it upwards, all the while kissing him as passionately as he’s kissing her. He almost gives in, but he stills her hands and pulls back.
“Not here,” he murmurs against her lips, chest heaving rapidly.
“Prude,” she murmurs back, but she leans back slightly to smirk at him. Her lips are rosy red and swollen, and it turns him on so fucking much that Derek throws a little caution to the wind by pulling her in for another kiss while drawing one hand up her thigh under her dress, just skimming the tops of her underwear. Lydia moans against him. “Fucking,” she pants, “tease.”
It’s his turn to smirk now and he does so, as he rubs a thumb over her slit through the thin cloth, before pulling away altogether. “Get in the car, Lydia. We’re going for a ride.”
Lydia arches her brow but does as he says with a chuckle. “Yes, sir.”
As they race back to his loft, Derek has to admit that he’s never been gladder that all those annoying high schoolers he met nearly a decade ago are now adults, especially the breathtaking, fucking ridiculously sexy redhead in the seat beside him.
And if she wants, he’ll schedule her in for every goddamn night of his life so long as he gets to keep kissing and touching her.
The nightmares are becoming more and more frequent and Lydia’s worried of what they could mean. Last time she had such vivid nightmares, she had been used and manipulated by Peter Hale. However, at least this time, it’s Allison that stars in them and she seems determined to tell Lydia something. If only Lydia could figure it out.
Emotions are easy to smell if one knew how to differentiate between them. Tragedy is pungent and thick and Derek can smell it rolling off of Lydia in waves. He’s determined not to care but she had saved him once and he feels an unfortunate debt to her.
Chapter 3 Teaser:
The sound of growling behind her had Lydia whirling around. She caught the last few seconds of Derek’s bared teeth and glowing blue eyes just as Prada went whimpering into another area of the house. She scowled darkly.
“I would really appreciate it if you would refrain from scaring my dog.”
Chapter 9 has been posted, and the work is complete (*does a happy dance in celebration*)
Three Years Later
“So Lydia,” Lydia glared over the top of her laptop at the blonde haired, leanly muscled guy lounging in her desk chair. “Any chance you want to go on a date with me tonight?” She rolled her eyes, preparing herself to turn him down. Again.
“Mike you complete dumbass,” her roommate Jose yelled from his bedroom across the hall. “How many times does she have to tell you she doesn’t fucking date?!” Mike groaned good naturedly, spinning himself lazily with one foot.
“But whyyyyy,” he whined, head tilted back to expose his tan, muscled neck.
“At this point it’s because you’re really fucking annoying.” Lydia grumbled, tapping her chin as she searched through CMC’s online scientific journal database.
“And she’s pining for her fucking GQ model back in Beacon Hills!” Jose yelled back, breaking into a giggling fit when Lydia threw a pillow in the direction of his room.
“I’m not pining,” she denied under her breath, at the same time as Mike glared at the cork board hanging on her wall.
“You sure you didn’t hire him to take these pictures? Are people even this fucking shredded in real life?” Lydia sighed, eyes lighting up when an incoming Skype call appeared in the corner of her screen. Her heart skipped a beat, tripping over itself in excitement as Jose started cracking up in his room. Lydia hated werewolves. She really, really did.
Lydia slowly blinked back to consciousness, not at all surprised to find Scott kneeling beside her. He always came to her when she screamed, arriving faster than should be possible, gripping her hands as she came back into the real world. “Lydia, Lydia, look at me.” She swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Scott’s eyes burned red, that familiar alpha power jolting her back to reality. “Are you okay?” His big hand stroked slowly up and down her arm, her heartbeat slowing to match the calming rhythm. She noticed belatedly that Kira and Isaac were there too, shifting uncomfortably behind Scott.
“Yeah I’m fine,” her voice scratched against her throat, like it always did after she screamed. Her throat clicked as she swallowed, gratefully accepting the glass of water Kira handed her.
And then she remembered.
“Derek.” Her eyes flew open, and she scrambled to her feet. “We need to go now.”
