Fic: You'll never get him out of there // PG-13 // Lydia/Jackson for waltzmatildah
I keep meaning to post and I keep forgetting. I'm quite flabbergasted that it's March 6th already. Usually February is a dreadfully slow month for me but this year, like the past few, it's flown by and I feel like every day I wake up with great intentions that fall to the wayside until AGES later when I poke my head up and exclaim, "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!"
Like this fic! I've had it finished for a little bit but needed to tweak it here and there and just... didn't. Not for lack of wanting but goddammit, I'm sure there's a blue box around here that's been screwing with my time!
I've been going to the gym and trying to keep on top of work and spending too much money and living life. I have fic challenges coming up I have to think about and icons for catteo to work on/finish and now the 3rd round of beacon_hills has started up!
Grab your weapon of choice and become a Hunter at beacon_hills and fight for control against the werewolves.
Enter challenges, earn points, and gain the upper hand in the war for Beacon Hills!
Apply here, let them know Marishna sent you | Got a question? Ask here
Seriously, you guys, I can't explain how much fun this comm is. I've never been much for interactive comms (I usually join with good intentions and that's as far as I get) but this is awesome! There's a great mix of stuff for everyone to do and the interaction between members is great. odd_one_around puts SO much work into this and it shows!
Do consider joining in!
And now, FIC!
Title: You'll never get him out of there
Pairing: Lydia/Jackson
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Kind of a character spoiler if you've been living under a social media rock since about October?
Words: 1800-ish, beta'd by happyevraftr
Disclaimer: No claim of ownership, just playing, blah, blah, blah.
Summary: For the first time Lydia didn't know what to say.
A/N: This was written for waltzmatildah, who won my services in the fandomaid auction a few months back. Sorry for the delay, bb! She asked for a coda between these two after the season 2 finale and I fulfilled it to the best of my ability. I hope this is okay!
For the first time Lydia didn't know what to say.
She wasn't used to being caught off guard, especially when it came to Jackson. She made it her mission to always be on point, to know what was going on and to control the situation.
She had never felt so lost.
Jackson sat up front with Derek, who drove them back to her house silently. Jackson wanted to run, wanted to try out his newfound abilities and find out what his wolf was like. He wanted to feel the power coursing through him.
Lydia could feel it in him and how it felt like an absence in her.
Derek nixed that idea and insisted on driving them, partly because Jackson was a brand new werewolf, against all odds. Also, he was naked.
Jackson argued, of course (even a totally-dead experience couldn't beat that out of him), but Derek was the alpha and when Derek used that tone Lydia knew it scared the bejesus out of Jackson, werewolf or not.
Small mercies.
Derek dropped them off outside Lydia's house with the demand to "stay here" until the next day when, hopefully, there would be some information about what the hell happened.
Lydia stood at the end of her driveway with Jackson at her side and looked up at her house, dark and silent, feeling dwarfed by it. Feeling like it was a stranger's house.
"Your parents?" Jackson asked.
"At a conference," Lydia replied quietly. "Won't be back for a couple days."
"Good." Jackson started up the driveway, uncaring of his nudity, and let himself into the house without a backwards look at Lydia.
She followed slowly, as if she were walking through a dream.
Once inside Lydia didn't bother turning on any lights, just followed Jackson's ghostly figure up the stairs to her room where he sank down on the bed slowly.
"You okay?" she asked, hollowly. It didn't sound like her voice. It didn't sound like anything.
"I'm better than okay," Jackson replied quietly. "I'm amazing." He flexed his arm, curling and uncurling his hand until he could force his nails out to sharp points.
At Lydia's sharp intake of breath he looked up with a smirk. "Scared, Lyds?"
"No," Lydia said weakly, wincing at how it came out. But she wasn't. She wasn't scared of Jackson or what he could do to her. She was scared for him.
She'd now seen, first hand, what this life did to people. She'd played a bigger role in that night's events than anyone realized, even herself, and now Jackson was part of it. He was that life.
Lydia reached out and tentatively touched Jackson around the midsection where Derek and Peter had sunk their claws into him. His skin was smooth and unmarred, barely even a memory left of what happened.
"Wicked, right? I'm going to kick so much ass this year on the field. If McCall and Lahey-- hell, even Stilinski can up their game this year I'm going to dominate them," Jackson said cockily, leaning back on his hands to give her better access to his abs.
Lydia stopped dead, settled her gaze on Jackson's smug face and stared hard. "What?" He asked.
Suddenly Lydia slapped him on the stomach, her hand landing with a sharp crack that seemed to echo through the whole house. Jackson sprang up to face her, mouth agape.
"What the fuck, Lydia!"
"Is that all you care about? Fucking lacrosse? A stupid game? You were dead earlier today, Jackson. Dead. And then you were a giant monster that wanted to kill me! To kill Allison and her dad and every single other person there tonight! Do you have any idea what is was like to see you lying on the field? To not know what the hell has been going on except that you were never coming back? These past few months have been a horrible dream for me--a nightmare! A walking, talking nightmare and the worst part was that you died! But somehow here you are! And you're thinking about how awesome it is that you'll score more goals in a fucking game? Do you have a single clue what all this means now? Have you thought about what kind of life you have now? Have you even thought at all?"
As she spoke, her voice getting progressively louder, Lydia backed Jackson into the corner of her room until they couldn't move any more. Finally she punched him in the shoulder, then landed another fist to his jaw. Jackson didn't try to hold her back or resist the punches, he let them come.
Lydia beat her fists against Jackson's chest until she let out a heaving sob that threatened to bring her to her knees.
Jackson wrapped his hands around Lydia and held her, let her tears trail down his chest, and sank to the floor with her. Jackson was never good at awkward situations, especially with Lydia so it didn't surprise her that he didn't try to comfort her.
He buried his face in her neck and tightened his arms around her, murmuring mostly-nothings into her ear. The closer he held her the less she whimpered so he was damn-near squeezing her to him, trying to make everything go away and for Lydia to be okay.
Lydia's thoughts raced as she fought to catch her hitching breath. This is why it seemed Jackson didn't think about other people, she realized. It hurt too damn much. He would rather hurt than be hurt so he struck out first; he buried himself in ignorance and pretended the world could go fuck itself.
Jackson would never let himself be needy. He wouldn't be weak. Couldn't be.
He wouldn't allow it.
"Ow! Jackson!" Lydia heard a tearing sound when she exclaimed as he pulled his hand away, felt his fingers tangle in her sweater.
"Shit," he breathed as he realized he'd sunk his claws into her arms. They'd come out without him knowing and Lydia could see his fangs trying to poke through his gums, as well. It was painful, in more ways than one.
He scooted back on his butt, trying to tuck himself back into the corner. Lydia stayed where she was, touching the small holes in her arms his claws made carefully but he could see the blood on her fingertips.
"It's okay, Jackson," Lydia finally said in a shaky voice. "I'm okay. See?"
Jackson didn't say anything but he didn't pull away when Lydia approached him and held her hand out for him to take. He accepted it and allowed her to guide him to standing.
"You have to be careful now," Lydia said softly. "Okay?"
Jackson nodded, acting like if he opened his mouth to speak he'd throw his heart up on her shoes.
"I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Can we go to bed now?" Lydia asked, heaving a great sigh that showed her weariness.
Jackson nodded again and waited for Lydia to quickly wash her face, brush her teeth and change into her sleep shirt--an extremely edited version of her usual nightly routine. He stood awkwardly by her bed suddenly very out of place in her perfect bedroom.
When Lydia returned she slipped into her bed and lay down before turning the covers down on the other side of the mattress, where Jackson usually slept when he stayed over.
"Please?" Lydia asked at Jackson's hesitation. "Just hold me? We can worry about everything else in the morning."
Jackson crawled into the bed and curled up behind Lydia. She wiggled back against him and pulled his arm around her, refusing to comment about his fingers clenched into fists instead of flattening against her belly like usual.
It took a long time for Lydia to drift off but Jackson waited until he could hear her steady, rhythmic heartbeat and her even breaths. He leaned over her and brushed her hair out of her face before whispering, so low even another werewolf might struggle to hear,
"I'm sorry."
*********
The next morning Lydia woke up once the sun made its way around the house to shine into her room and across her face. She awoke hot and sweaty, with her hair stuck to her neck and face and entirely in a way unbecoming of Lydia Martin.
She rolled over, instead, and flattened a hand across her bed, seeking out Jackson.
The bed was empty.
She sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of the way, and looked around the room, listened hard for noises in the house. Jackson making a mess trying to figure out their coffee maker, or watching stupid sports scores at an ungodly loud volume.
Nothing.
She slipped out of bed and made a quick trip to the bathroom. She noticed her shower was bone dry and her toothpaste wasn't left out on the counter with the cap off, as per usual with Jackson.
"Jackson?" Lydia finally called once she emerged from the bathroom.
She padded down the stairs, noting how chilly the house seemed and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
"Jackson!" She called again. "If you're planning to jump out and scare me with your stupid fangs you can forget that idea right now!"
She threw the backdoor open and stepped onto the patio by the pool. "Jackson Whittemore, you answer me!"
Silence except for the birds and Mrs. Nash's yappy dog a few houses down barking its fool head off.
Lydia's stomach started to tighten and she ran back inside, up the stairs to her room. She looked around her room, under her bed, in the closet for any sign of him.
Her bed... her bed looked like only one person had slept in it. And the cashmere sweater she left on her desk chair was gone.
Gone.
She caught sight of a slip of paper out of the corner of her eye, stuck into the edge of her mirror with Jackson's hasty scrawl on it.
I'll be back for it.
J
Lydia stared down at the key sitting on top of her dresser and knew that he meant her. He'd be back for her. Because when it came to everyone in the entire world, no matter how hard she tried, she would always be the one left out and left behind.
With a snarl that would rival the fiercest Alpha, Lydia picked up the key and whipped it across the room and prayed she would never find it again.
Like this fic! I've had it finished for a little bit but needed to tweak it here and there and just... didn't. Not for lack of wanting but goddammit, I'm sure there's a blue box around here that's been screwing with my time!
I've been going to the gym and trying to keep on top of work and spending too much money and living life. I have fic challenges coming up I have to think about and icons for catteo to work on/finish and now the 3rd round of beacon_hills has started up!
Grab your weapon of choice and become a Hunter at beacon_hills and fight for control against the werewolves.
Enter challenges, earn points, and gain the upper hand in the war for Beacon Hills!
Apply here, let them know Marishna sent you | Got a question? Ask here
Seriously, you guys, I can't explain how much fun this comm is. I've never been much for interactive comms (I usually join with good intentions and that's as far as I get) but this is awesome! There's a great mix of stuff for everyone to do and the interaction between members is great. odd_one_around puts SO much work into this and it shows!
Do consider joining in!
And now, FIC!
Title: You'll never get him out of there
Pairing: Lydia/Jackson
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Kind of a character spoiler if you've been living under a social media rock since about October?
Words: 1800-ish, beta'd by happyevraftr
Disclaimer: No claim of ownership, just playing, blah, blah, blah.
Summary: For the first time Lydia didn't know what to say.
A/N: This was written for waltzmatildah, who won my services in the fandomaid auction a few months back. Sorry for the delay, bb! She asked for a coda between these two after the season 2 finale and I fulfilled it to the best of my ability. I hope this is okay!
For the first time Lydia didn't know what to say.
She wasn't used to being caught off guard, especially when it came to Jackson. She made it her mission to always be on point, to know what was going on and to control the situation.
She had never felt so lost.
Jackson sat up front with Derek, who drove them back to her house silently. Jackson wanted to run, wanted to try out his newfound abilities and find out what his wolf was like. He wanted to feel the power coursing through him.
Lydia could feel it in him and how it felt like an absence in her.
Derek nixed that idea and insisted on driving them, partly because Jackson was a brand new werewolf, against all odds. Also, he was naked.
Jackson argued, of course (even a totally-dead experience couldn't beat that out of him), but Derek was the alpha and when Derek used that tone Lydia knew it scared the bejesus out of Jackson, werewolf or not.
Small mercies.
Derek dropped them off outside Lydia's house with the demand to "stay here" until the next day when, hopefully, there would be some information about what the hell happened.
Lydia stood at the end of her driveway with Jackson at her side and looked up at her house, dark and silent, feeling dwarfed by it. Feeling like it was a stranger's house.
"Your parents?" Jackson asked.
"At a conference," Lydia replied quietly. "Won't be back for a couple days."
"Good." Jackson started up the driveway, uncaring of his nudity, and let himself into the house without a backwards look at Lydia.
She followed slowly, as if she were walking through a dream.
Once inside Lydia didn't bother turning on any lights, just followed Jackson's ghostly figure up the stairs to her room where he sank down on the bed slowly.
"You okay?" she asked, hollowly. It didn't sound like her voice. It didn't sound like anything.
"I'm better than okay," Jackson replied quietly. "I'm amazing." He flexed his arm, curling and uncurling his hand until he could force his nails out to sharp points.
At Lydia's sharp intake of breath he looked up with a smirk. "Scared, Lyds?"
"No," Lydia said weakly, wincing at how it came out. But she wasn't. She wasn't scared of Jackson or what he could do to her. She was scared for him.
She'd now seen, first hand, what this life did to people. She'd played a bigger role in that night's events than anyone realized, even herself, and now Jackson was part of it. He was that life.
Lydia reached out and tentatively touched Jackson around the midsection where Derek and Peter had sunk their claws into him. His skin was smooth and unmarred, barely even a memory left of what happened.
"Wicked, right? I'm going to kick so much ass this year on the field. If McCall and Lahey-- hell, even Stilinski can up their game this year I'm going to dominate them," Jackson said cockily, leaning back on his hands to give her better access to his abs.
Lydia stopped dead, settled her gaze on Jackson's smug face and stared hard. "What?" He asked.
Suddenly Lydia slapped him on the stomach, her hand landing with a sharp crack that seemed to echo through the whole house. Jackson sprang up to face her, mouth agape.
"What the fuck, Lydia!"
"Is that all you care about? Fucking lacrosse? A stupid game? You were dead earlier today, Jackson. Dead. And then you were a giant monster that wanted to kill me! To kill Allison and her dad and every single other person there tonight! Do you have any idea what is was like to see you lying on the field? To not know what the hell has been going on except that you were never coming back? These past few months have been a horrible dream for me--a nightmare! A walking, talking nightmare and the worst part was that you died! But somehow here you are! And you're thinking about how awesome it is that you'll score more goals in a fucking game? Do you have a single clue what all this means now? Have you thought about what kind of life you have now? Have you even thought at all?"
As she spoke, her voice getting progressively louder, Lydia backed Jackson into the corner of her room until they couldn't move any more. Finally she punched him in the shoulder, then landed another fist to his jaw. Jackson didn't try to hold her back or resist the punches, he let them come.
Lydia beat her fists against Jackson's chest until she let out a heaving sob that threatened to bring her to her knees.
Jackson wrapped his hands around Lydia and held her, let her tears trail down his chest, and sank to the floor with her. Jackson was never good at awkward situations, especially with Lydia so it didn't surprise her that he didn't try to comfort her.
He buried his face in her neck and tightened his arms around her, murmuring mostly-nothings into her ear. The closer he held her the less she whimpered so he was damn-near squeezing her to him, trying to make everything go away and for Lydia to be okay.
Lydia's thoughts raced as she fought to catch her hitching breath. This is why it seemed Jackson didn't think about other people, she realized. It hurt too damn much. He would rather hurt than be hurt so he struck out first; he buried himself in ignorance and pretended the world could go fuck itself.
Jackson would never let himself be needy. He wouldn't be weak. Couldn't be.
He wouldn't allow it.
"Ow! Jackson!" Lydia heard a tearing sound when she exclaimed as he pulled his hand away, felt his fingers tangle in her sweater.
"Shit," he breathed as he realized he'd sunk his claws into her arms. They'd come out without him knowing and Lydia could see his fangs trying to poke through his gums, as well. It was painful, in more ways than one.
He scooted back on his butt, trying to tuck himself back into the corner. Lydia stayed where she was, touching the small holes in her arms his claws made carefully but he could see the blood on her fingertips.
"It's okay, Jackson," Lydia finally said in a shaky voice. "I'm okay. See?"
Jackson didn't say anything but he didn't pull away when Lydia approached him and held her hand out for him to take. He accepted it and allowed her to guide him to standing.
"You have to be careful now," Lydia said softly. "Okay?"
Jackson nodded, acting like if he opened his mouth to speak he'd throw his heart up on her shoes.
"I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Can we go to bed now?" Lydia asked, heaving a great sigh that showed her weariness.
Jackson nodded again and waited for Lydia to quickly wash her face, brush her teeth and change into her sleep shirt--an extremely edited version of her usual nightly routine. He stood awkwardly by her bed suddenly very out of place in her perfect bedroom.
When Lydia returned she slipped into her bed and lay down before turning the covers down on the other side of the mattress, where Jackson usually slept when he stayed over.
"Please?" Lydia asked at Jackson's hesitation. "Just hold me? We can worry about everything else in the morning."
Jackson crawled into the bed and curled up behind Lydia. She wiggled back against him and pulled his arm around her, refusing to comment about his fingers clenched into fists instead of flattening against her belly like usual.
It took a long time for Lydia to drift off but Jackson waited until he could hear her steady, rhythmic heartbeat and her even breaths. He leaned over her and brushed her hair out of her face before whispering, so low even another werewolf might struggle to hear,
"I'm sorry."
*********
The next morning Lydia woke up once the sun made its way around the house to shine into her room and across her face. She awoke hot and sweaty, with her hair stuck to her neck and face and entirely in a way unbecoming of Lydia Martin.
She rolled over, instead, and flattened a hand across her bed, seeking out Jackson.
The bed was empty.
She sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of the way, and looked around the room, listened hard for noises in the house. Jackson making a mess trying to figure out their coffee maker, or watching stupid sports scores at an ungodly loud volume.
Nothing.
She slipped out of bed and made a quick trip to the bathroom. She noticed her shower was bone dry and her toothpaste wasn't left out on the counter with the cap off, as per usual with Jackson.
"Jackson?" Lydia finally called once she emerged from the bathroom.
She padded down the stairs, noting how chilly the house seemed and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
"Jackson!" She called again. "If you're planning to jump out and scare me with your stupid fangs you can forget that idea right now!"
She threw the backdoor open and stepped onto the patio by the pool. "Jackson Whittemore, you answer me!"
Silence except for the birds and Mrs. Nash's yappy dog a few houses down barking its fool head off.
Lydia's stomach started to tighten and she ran back inside, up the stairs to her room. She looked around her room, under her bed, in the closet for any sign of him.
Her bed... her bed looked like only one person had slept in it. And the cashmere sweater she left on her desk chair was gone.
Gone.
She caught sight of a slip of paper out of the corner of her eye, stuck into the edge of her mirror with Jackson's hasty scrawl on it.
I'll be back for it.
J
Lydia stared down at the key sitting on top of her dresser and knew that he meant her. He'd be back for her. Because when it came to everyone in the entire world, no matter how hard she tried, she would always be the one left out and left behind.
With a snarl that would rival the fiercest Alpha, Lydia picked up the key and whipped it across the room and prayed she would never find it again.