#thebxnshee

[hale-the-king]

YOUR SOUL FOR A SPELL

the-bxnshee

It had been about a week since he had found himself in Lydia Martin's bed with no recollection of how he had come to be there. The nightmares had continued but since that night he hadn't woken up in an odd place again, but that was not the source of his worry. He had seen Lydia in his nightmare and he had begun to wonder if in fact this was some sort of sign of things to come. If perhaps she had also had a dream because she was the herald of death and he could feel its dark presence creeping into Beacon Hills once more.  

In an odd show of maturity and tech-savvy  he had left Lydia a voicemail asking her to meet him at the loft. A few hours later there came a knock on the door, breaking his concentration from the book he'd been pouring through for the last hour. He had felt her coming before her knuckles even made contact with metal, rising from his seat to let her in. "Uh...thanks for showing up. I know this is a bit...odd." 

It's actually extremely odd but that's neither here nor there.

[ofbats-archived]

ships meme;; Stydia

Married Life Meme

rpprompts:

Send Me A Ship And I’ll Say Who:

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor ; Stiles

forgets to run the dish washer ; Stiles

pumps gas for the car; Lydia

drives when they’re going somewhere ; Both of them

rearranges the furniture; Lydia 

falls asleep with the TV on; stiles

gets to use the bathroom first; stiles

decides the temperature for the ac/heater; Stiles

sets up holiday decorations; both of them

leaves the lights on ; both of them

uses the bathroom with the door open ; Stiles

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber) ; Lydia calls the plumber since Stiles is not good with his hands.

[hale-the-king]

the-bxnshee:

Lydia didn’t usually sleep with her window open, not with everything that went bump in the night in Beacon Hills, but this was California and even this late in the fall the nights could be sweltering and she would rather risk a night with an open window than suffocate in a stuffy room. Sleep was already hard for Lydia to come by now adays and she didn’t need being physically uncomfortable making it worse. The occasional breeze that came through the window help Lydia sleep, and as she slept she dreamt which was probably why she didn’t hear her window push open more or hear the heavy footfalls as someone stepped into her bedroom.

What did get Lydia to wake up was a shift in her bed and she startled awake, disoriented as she looked around in the dark, her eyes focusing on a large but soon familiar figure that was settled next to her on the bed. “Derek?” She didn’t say his name because she didn’t know who he was, but because she didn’t know what he was here—especially at three o’clock in the morning. Normally she was the one who was wandering around in the middle of the night, going to people houses and waking them up from a dead sleep—not Derek. 

He doesn't remember the walk, nor does he recall waking from his latest night terror. There had been a voice pushing him toward the Martin house, a warm and soothing undercurrent that combated the nauseating waves of terror. When he regains consciousness he is in a strange bed that does not belong to him with Lydia Martin staring at him. 

Oh shit. "Mother fuc--" He cuts himself off, burning with embarrassment he moves to swiftly remove himself from her bed but his foot catches on the sheet and he falls to the floor with an audible THUD! "How long have I been here?" A pissed whisper passes through clenched teeth as he struggles to disentangle himself.

Eyes search the sky outside the window and it's still dark. "What the fuck is going on?" More to himself than to the strawberry blonde in the room.