Fyeah Dydia Shippers

idk if you’re taking prompts or not but I saw that set of Holland Roden you reblogged earlier and I have a DYDIA prompt: Derek taking care of Lydia after she gets a sunburn or Derek is in charge of making sure Lydia has sunscreen properly applied so she doesn’t burn

The sun is bright, the air is sticky, and everyone in Beacon Hills is out laughing and having a grand old time, so of course, that means Derek Hale is fucking miserable. Despite what Stiles likes to tell people, he’s not allergic to fun, but crowds make him antsy. There are always too many people bumping into him or trying to engage him in small talk and Derek hates small talk more than he hated Kate Argent and he really fucking hated her. 

Truth be told, he doesn’t really know how to talk to people. He’s never had to. Having a traumatic childhood and an even more traumatic adulthood sort of means Derek is better at isolation than he is at being sociable. Scott, Stiles and those kids were the first group of ‘friends’ he’d had since high school and they’re not exactly a normal group of friends either. Besides, they’re so much younger than him; it didn’t really feel like ‘friendship’. Most of the time, it felt like he was babysitting children, especially if he had to spend more than ten minutes with Scott and Stiles simultaneously. 

Watching them now, however, Derek has to admit he doesn’t really have that excuse anymore. They’re not kids. Unfortunately (or maybe, fortunately, he hasn’t decided yet) they’re all adults now. They’re twenty-one and he’s twenty-eight, and fuck, where had the last decade gone? 

“Hey Sour Wolf.” 

Derek sighs, barely glancing at her as she comes to stand beside him. “Will that nickname ever die?” 

“Not when it’s still true,” she says, and he can practically hear the smirk in her voice, as she bumps her hip with his. “What’s your deal?” 

“Nothing’s my deal,” he huffs because he’s an anti-social asshole and he’s never gonna change. 

She chuckles softly. “God, you really are allergic to fun, aren’t you? It’s a summer fair, Derek. Smile.” 

He turns to give her his most sardonic smile but freezes instead when he catches sight of her. He didn’t have the chance to see her when she got into town yesterday afternoon and Lydia Martin hasn’t been back in Beacon Hills in over a year, so seeing her now for the first time in far too long, Derek is dumbfounded. She was always a pretty girl but in a peripheral sense that didn’t really register to someone seven years her senior. Fuck it if Derek isn’t noticing her now though. Lydia is all soft smooth pale skin, bright copper hair that glints like it’s on fire under the glare of the sunlight and those full pink lips that’s just begging for him to taste, and – Jesus fucking Christ, Hale, get a grip! 

“What?” she demands, and suddenly, Derek sees the girl he used to know because that girl is scowling at him and it’s oh-so-familiar again. 

“You’re showing an awful lot of skin, Martin,” he points out, boldly fingering the thin strap of her sundress, and if his touch lingers just a little too long, she doesn’t say anything. 

“Is that a crime?” Lydia arches her brow. “I didn’t realise you were such a fashion police.” 

Derek snorts. “You’re going to burn. Have you even got sunscreen on?” 

“Oh my god, what are you, my mom?” Lydia exclaims, but her lips are quirked upwards and there’s a glint of amusement in her hazel eyes. “Yes, I have sunscreen on.” 

“What SPF?” he asks because if he doesn’t act like the babysitter with her, he’s going to flirt with her and that’s just a bad idea. Adult or not, he’s still significantly older than her. He’s known her since she was sixteen. It’s wrong. Very fucking wrong. 

Lydia rolls her eyes but she humours him. “Fifteen.” 

“Yeah, you’re going to burn,” Derek groans. He takes her by the wrist and starts to drag her from the festivities of the fair. She doesn’t really protest, but he can hear her telling him he’s turned into a complete weirdo. He happily admits that he is. Maybe he’s just been alone for too long. Since they left for college, Derek doesn’t really have much to do aside from drinking and poker nights with Parrish and his friends. Occasionally, Braeden will swing into town and they’ll fuck every which way to Sunday, but yeah, Derek has turned into a weirdo now. 

“Are you seriously mothering me?” Lydia says, as they come to a stop in front of his car. Derek unlocks the backdoor and rummages through the gym bag he has in the back. He comes away with a half-used bottled of sunscreen SPF 30. 

“I’m not your fucking mother,” he says with a sigh. “But I am your friend, right? And you’re a redhead. You’ll burn in this sun.”

Derek squirts a dollop of sunscreen into his hand and then realises belatedly that that means he now has to touch her. He really did not think this through. 

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