Stydia One Shots

I Don't Mind

Okay so this is to make up for me being shitty. Excuse the fact that I didn't take the time to look up when school starts to get the month right. Also in this, act like Stiles/Lydia get together within the last week of summer.

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Stiles had flopped down on his mattress the second they entered his new room, even though he had promised to help her unpack his things. Lydia didn't mind. She didn't mind when he screeched Heathens at the top of his lungs during the three hour drive from Beacon Hills to here, she didn't mind when he stole more than half of her Cheetos bag.

Lydia didn't even make a noise besides a small whine when he continued to kitten-lick the cheese dust off of both of their fingers in an attempt to make them crash.

No, she just sat in the drivers seat, smiling like a lovesick fool as he told her a thousand horrible pickup lines. (It was a little embarrassing to find at this point in her life, any of them would've worked coming from Stiles.)

So when they finally reached his dorm it was no different. That was perfectly fine. Lydia didn't want it different at all.

Stiles muttered something along the lines of 'fuck high school' which Lydia ignored, paying attention to opening one of his cardboard boxes instead. She tore off the duct tape that kept it closed and pulled out the first thing in the box, which happened to be a photo of Stiles and Scott.

The two grinning boys had their arms around one another, each having lost their front teeth at the same time because they were weird like that. Scott's eyes held gold, and not scary, glowing werewolf gold, but a childlike amber that made everything okay.

Stiles on the other hand wasn't very photogenic. His mouth was open, probably in mid-sentence, and his short legs were blurry as a result of his inability to keep still.

Cute, Lydia thought to herself, and placed the photo on a wooden shelf in the corner.

She went through a few more things. Mostly old pictures, drawings, stupid kid mementos - a half eaten red crayon - that Lydia had no idea why he kept, and a polaroid camera that made her raise her eyebrows. The next thing she found also peaked her interest. It was a letter, surprising clean for the date written on the envelope in purple marker.

To: Lydia
From: (His real name was crossed out) Stiles

Lydia's eyes flickered to Stiles in curiosity. The boy lied there, silent with his arm covering his tired eyes. Lydia smirked, a little bit of mischief in her - and fuck, now that she knew things did that sound totally wrong.

"Dear Lydia," The girl read aloud, "I like your hair and how it looks like the sun. I like your eyes and how they look like the woods outside my puppy friend's house. I also like your smile and the way you're never mean. And your dresses too. They're pretty."

Stiles removed his arm from over his eyes. He took in the situation. Lydia, with note from the third grade. An alarm went off in his ears and the words 'code red' flashed behind his eyes in big bolded letters.

Lydia went on, "I know you like Jackson because he isn't afraid to go down the unstable slide outside." She giggled a little bit and Stiles sat up, glaring. "But Jackson is mean cause he doesn't give you gummy bears at recess. I'd give you all the gummy bears in the world and more if you-"

Stiles grabbed her by the waist and tugged her on top of him. He huffed, unamused. His cheeks had turned scarlet, the skin she could feel was heated and he stuck his lips out in a little pout.

"Did you seriously try to buy my love with gummy bears?" Lydia questions. One of her hands curls lazily in his hair and the other draws tiny circles on his chest. "I was seven." Stiles defends.

He drops his hand to her waist, pulls her farther up on his legs so she's straddling his lap. Stiles stares at her in amazement, tries to take in everything about her. Lydia's all bright eyes, rigorous math equations, and what seems like miles of delicate skin.

Stiles internally chuckles because the girl is everything but delicate. Lydia's a lightning storm, a 5'3 roaring hurricane in his veins. Her hair is fire, almost serving as a reminder that if he got too close he would burn. The boy simply didn't care- he'd get turned into a sarcastic pile of ashes if it meant loving her.

"Stiles?"

It was all a little overwhelming for him, because all of a sudden she was there, inches away from his face, eyes, nose, mouth. It was hard for Stiles to breathe, but he did. Terribly slowly, sure, but he managed to get air into his lungs.

"Yeah?"

This time Lydia kissed him, as if getting revenge on him for a crime he didn't commit. Stiles whined and Lydia was there to soothe him, biting softly on his bottom lip before swiping her tongue over the spot. It felt like they'd done this a thousand times before by the familiar way they molded together, all wet kisses and lingering fingertips.

Stiles broke away for a second but Lydia just wouldn't have that, and she was nipping at his jaw in seconds. He moaned, smiled, and went back to his brief hobby of horrible pickup lines. "I want to treat you like my homework- slam you on my desk and do you all night long."

Lydia suddenly broke into a fit of laughter, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She didn't have to look at his face to know there was a wide grin there and sunshine in his amber eyes.

Yeah, okay, if someone had told her that she'd spend her first day on a college campus cackling on top of Stiles Stilinski, she wouldn't have believed them. That didn't matter, cause Lydia loved the nerdy, bat obsessed boy holding her tight right now.

"You're such a fucking dork." Lydia muttered. She didn't mind it, though.

A/N

Short but I'm sick and I updated for once.

HOLY SHIT THAT KISS FUCK ME AND CALL ME DADDY

.......

okay, im calm.