a/n: spoilers for 5x16, major character [almost] death
dear winona, it's me! your teen wolf secret valentine 3 i just wanted to wish you a happy valentine's day and i truly hope you enjoyed the fic that i've written for you. it was a pleasure to write, and it's probably one of my personal favourites out of my writing collection. so, without further ado, let's get this show on the road! xoxo, your friendly neighborhood tw secret valentine, kayla
He was eight when the letters started appearing on his skin. One by one, he saw the faint scrawl, the gentle capital L and the flourished y that followed it, until the name was inked right above his heart.
Lydia Martin.
Stiles never dared to speak of the name that was inked on his skin, not to anyone but his loyal best friend Scott McCall, but he was sure other students knew the name that he bore. He had no shame in the awe he felt when he saw Lydia walk by in the hall, even when she ignored him. He just wished maybe one day, she'd talk to him. He had always believed they were a perfect combination, or at least, she was the perfect girl for him. He knew how smart she really was. In fact, Stiles knew a lot of things that no one else knew about Lydia, like the fact that she was left handed, or the fact that her hair was actually strawberry blonde and not completely red. Her eyes were the colour of summer foliage, lined with flecks of brown and gold.
Even when he dated Malia, the name and all his thoughts about Lydia stayed with him. The darkness of the letters intensified, even, as if a painful reminder that Malia was not the one that his heart belonged to.
And then Lydia was locked up, and everything changed.
Stiles became desperate to get her back, worried that something was going to happen to her, and rightfully so. He woke up in a cold sweat on more than one occasion, imagining her hooked up to machinery, having a drill enter into her skull in the spot on her scalp that had been shaved. He had looked it up. Trepanation. Something that Valack had done to banshees in the past to try and increase their powers. Something that had killed them all.
He had to get her back before it was too late and he lost her forever. Before he went out of his mind.
Before he became the boy with the name of the dead girl on his chest.
A name he could never get over.
It was only when he brushed the glass off her eyelids that he noticed the writing on the right side of her neck. It was hidden by her hair, mostly tucked behind her ear. Her eyes were closed, her face pale and all of a sudden, Stiles' entire life flashed before his eyes because there, in small black font, tucked behind her ear, was his name. And so he begged, and he pleaded for his soulmate to open her eyes because he could see it, the scrawl hidden by her strawberry blonde mane. The girl he had loved since he was eight years old was dying. Lydia was going to die and he never got a chance to tell her the three words he wanted to say the most to her.
It had been a minute and a half, and the silence was deafening. He could see Deaton lower his head, and Stiles almost broke down completely as he looked at Lydia's lifeless body lying there on the operation table.
And then he heard something. And all of a sudden she was awake and Stiles nearly burst into tears because he had come so close to losing her once again, and he was still not ready to go to her funeral. Especially not now. Especially with his name sitting behind her ear.
Stiles said nothing to Lydia about the tattoo, but it wasn't long before she came to him. After the Dread Doctors had come and gone, she asked to see her name that was written over his heart. He showed her eagerly, tracing over the L with his index finger like he had done so many times before. She followed suit, letting her finger touch his bare chest and gently pressed her hand to the entirety of the name that filled his left pec.
A few tears fell from her cheeks. Stiles gingerly wiped them away as he watched her pull her strawberry blonde hair away from her right ear, and he saw it again. His name.
"When did it happen?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"Eichen," she responded, tears threatening to run down her cheeks as she spoke. "When you visited me. Catatonic or not, I felt it burning into my skin. I wanted to reach out and tell you that you were going to die, all of you. I needed to warn you but I couldn't, and I realized that there was no way I could have moved on if you died," her voice broke. "Stiles… I… I…"
He took her in her arms, a gentle embrace as he ran a hand down her head protectively. "Hey, you'll always have me. I promise I'm not going anywhere."
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you, too."
