7 Works in Lydia Martin/Scott McCall/Malia Tate
Listing Works
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Summary
A collection of stories centering around the sexual exploits in Beacon Hills. This takes place alongside the main story but with smut involved. Lots of smut.
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Stiles asks a question. One that changes everything(not really).One that he should know not to ask. But hey it wasn't his fault that he was curious or that he was born without a filter . If they had a problem they should take it up with the manufacturer.
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Allison was resurrected following the Battle of the Nogitsune, unknown to her friends and family. Ten years later, on her own path, she stumbles into a familiar face, bringing up memories and hope for a new future.
Nowhere near as lighthearted as the summary suggests, but not quite a dark!fic either.
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Malia was young when everything ended. The power went out after a few weeks, the food in the kitchen didn't even last her family that long. Now, she just wanted revenge. And to forget.
Scott was searching for Stiles. He had to find him, had too. He was all he had left.
Lydia had lost everything. Sheltered even in the end of the world, she left her settlement after an attempted forced marriage between her and the leader. She finds that things are more exciting outside the walls.
But how will they fair against The Souls?
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It's their seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when Scott McCall, Lydia Martin and Malia Tate really come into their own. With a snapshot of each month, the three of them navigate the school year, Quidditch and the N.E.W.T.s and their relationship. The latter is only slightly more difficult than something entitled Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. Something to look forward to, really.
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Lydia doesn’t fight over boys.
So with this thing with Malia? Lydia is in very uncertain territory.
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A few years ago, when she was a sophomore and intensely self-regulating, Lydia would probably be embarrassed by how she looks right now. She isn’t up to her usual standards of fashion. Her hair is down, falling into its natural curves, and she’s wearing soft clothes, a t-shirt and old, cotton shorts. The only jewelry she’s wearing is a bracelet, a small one made of multicolored beads that she only just fastened there herself. She should probably feel silly or vulnerable, bare-faced aside from a little lipstick and comfortable, in warm, fuzzy socks, but it actually feels natural, especially when Malia’s sitting next to her with a flower clip holding up her grown-out bangs, all of her clothes soft and unmatching, in pastel colors.