Stydia One Shots

Chapter 1 (Infinitesimal)

PLEASE READ:

So I started writing this new stydia fic a little while ago, and the original plan was to finish writing it then spam all the chapters at you guys in the middle of nowhere and totally freak y'all out.

I'm sort of horrible at keeping secrets, though, and I want to know if I should even continue writing it because I don't know if you like it or not..

So without further ado, here is the first (unedited) chapter of Infinitesimal.

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He wore wrinkled flannels that reeked of cannabis, the outline of a pack of in his pocket always standing out in his denim jeans. Though, he'd look bare without it, like a dog does without a collar. Anyone could find him behind the school, alone - always, always alone - leaning against a red brick wall. His eyes would be puffy and pink, set up towards the sky as if daring it to rain down on him. If you approached him, his response would be a throaty 'piss off', smoke punctuating each word he spoke.

"God, I would totally call him daddy." Malia says, gawking without shame from across the field at Stiles. Her Chanel-caked lips are pulled up into a smirk. The makeup she's wearing is supposed to make her seem sexy but she looks cheap and desperate - at least, that's what Lydia think, but she's not sure any of the boys would agree with her.

"I mean really, when did he get so sexy?" Malia questions, mostly to herself, but everyone can hear her. Lydia let's her eyes wonder over to the boy too, a little more cautious with her gaze than Malia is being. His attractiveness is undeniable, something about his hair messy and scattered like he hadn't put effort into fixing it at all made him weirdly sexy.

Isaac snorts loudly and laughs at his sister's childish crush on the boy, while Scott takes the opportunity to dip two fingers into the bowl and steal some of Malia's guacamole - skipping the chips completely. The two boys are oblivious to anything around them, joking and laughing while punching each other in the arm hard enough to leave bruises, but they can't be bothered with that.

The small strawberry blonde girl, Lydia, is really just observing their lives rather than living hers alongside them. She joins in on their laughter, smiles and nods at the questions they ask and narrowly misses the softer, playful punches they throw her way. Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey and Malia Lahey aren't her first choice for a friend group, nor is she sure they're really friends at all, but they're the only people she could find on campus that don't know about her sickness.

Scott wears a thick large coat, covered in lint and white dog hair that was only noticeable since it was, well, everywhere. He probably never took it off, even when he went to the dog park to play fetch on Saturdays with Roscoe, his German Shepard. Lydia had never seen it come off his body, and she enjoyed making up strange theories about why he didn't remove it. Her favorite was that in a stupid prank gone wrong the coat ended up glued to his body and now he couldn't take that thing off without his nipples ripping off or something.

Isaac is dresses equally strange with jeans and a t-shirt on in the snow - apparently he doesn't feel the cold. Though, his neck must be unlike every other part of his body because it's wrapped up in a bright purple scarf that might just be for fashion reasons. Scott teased him about it every time he saw the scarf, calling it 'gay', which made Isaac exclaim in faux surprise that he didn't know his scarf had a sexuality.

"Guys," Lydia finally speaks up after a long moment of watching them flick guacamole at each other, "Can we go? I'm freezing my ass off over here."

Isaac and Malia respond at the same time, talking over each other in a signature Lahey fashion.

"It's not even cold." Isaac responds.

"Let's wait until Stiles finishes his cigarette." Malia says.

Lydia groans and rolls her eyes but reluctantly stays quiet in her seat, picking at a half-eaten slice of Hawaiian pizza. It's freezing cold in New York City, and Lydia's sure she's going to die of hypothermia.

Her skin has turned paler than usual, the beanie she wears to cover what little hair she has isn't doing much to keep her head warm. She swears, eating lunch outside in the snow so her friend can fantasize about Stiles Stilinski isn't worth speeding up her death. Granted, Lydia had grown up in California but she'd been living in NYC for years now, and she felt as if snow was practically ingrained in her veins. So she rarely felt it was cold unless it was actually fucking cold.

"Come on Scott, don't say you're not cold too. You look like you're turning into a popsicle." Lydia tries to persuade Scott into coming back inside with her. She really wants to go on with the rest of their events today - they're not usually that pleasant, but at least she'll be warm while they go to a party and get wasted in someone's dorm.

"Good." Isaac comments, his grin wolffish and aimed at Scott. "Maybe if he turns into a popsicle girls will finally start sucking him off."

Isaac laughs at his own joke while Scott glares and hits him in the shoulder again, which does nothing to stop the blonde boy's crazed laughter. She throws in a few chuckles of her own to seem interested in the conversation, but Lydia could really care less about who sucks who off. It doesn't seem important to her, except that's exactly what you'd expect a pure virgin girl like herself to say.

"Shut the fuck up, Isaac. Girls suck me off." Scott protests, but his argument sounds lame.

"Yeah, when you pay them." Isaac responds easily. He's good at this, knows all the words and how to use them to come across as charming. Lydia's a little amazed at how easily he banters with people, she could never do that. Even now their exchange scares her back into silence, the idea of going inside wiped from her friend's minds completely.

"I didn't have to pay your girlfri-" Scott starts, only to be cut off by Malia.

"Would you both stop arguing, you're giving me a headache. Let's go inside already, poor Dia looks like she's going to die over there." The girl says, getting off the bench they were previously sitting on. Lydia glances over at Stiles, not surprised to see him stomping out a cigarette and retreating behind one of the buildings.

It's as easy as that, they go inside because Malia says to. As they all shuffle back towards the deliciously warm dorms, Lydia hides her shudder at Malia's words, mainly the last sentence. She looks like she's going to die.

A/N

Should I continue this?