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Hi, friends! I hope everyone is doing well.

If I have time this week, I'd like to write some fluff for the twins (Stiles and Stuart) trope, but I don't have any ideas or inspiration. If anyone does, please let me know! I absolutely love hearing from you all! Thank you! 💜

Stiles: You can do it Scott!

Stiles: But if you can't, at least your death will be quick, painless, and really cool to watch.

AHH! You are always welcome, beautiful! 💜

you ever see a fun interaction between two people who are mutuals and think damn i wish i could be their third

Ok I'm finally working on some Stiles fluff. I'm hoping to get it done tonight, don't expect anything great or long or whatever. I'm sorry but I feel like such a carcass. Who knew existing would be so exhausting?

I don't know when I'll have time to write again, which I apologize for - it makes me sad too. However, when I do get around to it, what would everyone like to see first?

(The Wampus Cat AU has a reader x Stiles childhood friends to lovers trope :))

Just busy thinking about that trope where Stiles and Stuart are twins and they share a girlfriend...

Both of them are probably a bit possessive of her, showing it with their eyes as they watch the other around her, but don't say anything, knowing that the conflict would only end up hurting her in some childish argument.

Stiles is definitely more open about his desires to show his affection with physical touch. Stuart probably has just as deep of a desire for that but isn't as bold. He's definitely more subtle and isn't big on PDA.

The two probably internally compete to give her the most pleasure when in the bedroom, but refuse to be vocal about it, because, again, it'd only cause her more stress.

Noah has probably walked in on the three of them snuggling on the couch and quickly moving away from each other more than a few times. They do their best to keep him from finding out because they don't even want to imagine his reaction.

Perhaps they take turns going out with her on somewhat public dates for personal romance purposes, but they try to be a bit discreet so that no one suspects the truth about their situation and judges them for it. Plus, the secrecy adds to the fun.

And all of the cuddling possibilities... They probably refuse to be anywhere but on either side of her. Why would they miss out on her touch by being next to their brother? So, she stays in the middle, turning over every so often to face the next twin after some time with the other. Maybe sometimes she has to forcibly decide their positions to vanquish their petty bickering and greedy hands.

She really tries to treat them equally, give them plenty of attention, and make sure that neither of them feels left out, and they couldn't be more grateful. In turn, they are always there to listen and support her when she's upset or going through a hard patch, looking at her lovingly, wiping away her tears, holding her hands, and giving her sweet words of encouragement.

Just some thoughts though...

P.S. If anyone wants an actual blurb about this, let me know :)

Tumblr... Please. Just stop. Please. Why are you doing this? What is going on? Do you need medical attention or something? Take a fucking breath and relax, oh my gosh.

I'm so excited, I don't think you understand...

i have this idea in my head but i don’t know if i should write it out properly or just do a bullet point post for it. i feel like i’m better at bullet point format posts but what would you guys prefer??

YES. This is everything I want in life. 10/10. I'm reading this again tonight and tomorrow and probably every single day of the rest of my life 💜

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 | 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

The Jeep’s windows were fogging up, the scent of old leather and Stiles’s cologne mixing in the heated air between you. You were straddling his lap in the driver’s seat, your fingers tangled in his hair, and Stiles—oh, Stiles—was a mess beneath you.

You kissed him again, slow and deep, dragging your nails lightly down the back of his neck. He whined.

You grinned against his lips. “Was that a whimper, Stilinski?”

He huffed, breathless. “No—shut up—”

You rolled your hips experimentally.

Stiles let out a choked guhhh sound, his head thunking back against the seat.

You giggled, thoroughly enjoying the way he was coming undone beneath you. “You really don’t have a filter, do you?”

“It’s—not—my fault,” he panted, gripping your waist like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “You’re—you’re doing things, and my body is just—reacting, okay?”

You kissed his jaw, letting your lips brush over the sensitive spot just beneath his ear. Stiles yelped.

“Oh my God,” you laughed. “I love the noises you make.”

His hands spasmed on your hips. “I hate that I make noises.”

“Well, I don’t.” You nipped at his earlobe, delighted when he let out a full-body shudder and another strangled groan. “It means you like this.”

Stiles let out a weak, breathy laugh. “No, yeah, I hate making out with my ridiculously attractive girlfriend in my Jeep. Terrible experience.”

You hummed, pressing your forehead against his. “Want me to stop then?”

His eyes snapped open, panicked. “Do not test me.”

You grinned, tilting his chin up to kiss him again. This time, he met you with desperation, his fingers gripping your waist so tightly you knew you’d feel it later.

Then—

THUD.

The sound of a fist knocking on the Jeep’s window made you both freeze.

“…Stiles,” came Scott’s unimpressed voice from outside. “I can hear you from the parking lot.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Stiles groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder.

“Scott,” he whined, voice muffled. “Can I please make out with my girlfriend in peace?”

A pause. Then:

“Not when you sound like a dying cat, man.”

You lost it, shaking with laughter as Stiles muttered every curse he knew into your neck.

▸ Everything

@alexxavicry

Hi! Thank you for being a huge inspiration. I am trying to be a writer too, but I can't stop checking for notifications every couple of minutes to see if people like what I've written. Any advice on not thinking about the results and not caring about the gratification? 💜

Hi, nonnie! It means the world that I've been able to inspire you in some capacity. I know it's difficult to not check notifications or look at note count. And let me preface this by saying that it's more than okay to want feedback. Every now and then I see negativity come out to play when writers/artists/gif makers/creators say that they want feedback for the creations they worked hard on.

Some things I do at times:

I congratulate myself for my accomplishment. Writing is hard. 50, 5k, 50k, it should be celebrated.

Log out of the app/desktop completely helps to not look. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak.

I remind myself that my writing worth isn't tied to my note count.

Comparison is the thief of joy. The second I start to compare my writing/word count or anything to others, I step away.

I remember that my feelings are valid. I'm allowed to feel down if feedback is low, but I do not allow myself to say in the headspace.

I sometimes go back to other fics of mine and reread feedback. Past positive affirmations give me a boost now and again.

NEW FOR 2025 - I want to put my energy back out there. If I post something new, I want to reblog a fic from someone else. Focusing my energy on others in a positive way shifts the negative feelings swirling around inside me.

Lovelies, please feel free to jump in and add more. Nonnie, sending you all the good vibes. Love and thanks! ❤️

I'm about to go to bed, I can't take this heartache right now - I just can't.

stiles misses you

a/n: i have no excuse for this except i’m on my period and i love crying. this can be interpreted as the reader is dead or they broke up, whichever makes you cry more. xoxo 🫶🏻

stiles misses you.

he misses the sweet scent of your perfume when he walks past you and the lingering daze he’d be in from looking at you. he misses the saccharine smiles you’d give him and the playful ones you’d respond with when he winked at you in class. he misses the color of your hair and the way it shone in the sun like a beacon signaling home. he misses the sparkle in your eyes when you finally figure out something that’s been bugging you.

he misses the sound of your laughter, bright as bells and unapologetic, echoing through the halls and in his brain and how it was so much more intoxicating when he was the one who made you laugh. he misses your kind words, the gentleness in your tone and the way you can make anything sound sweet. he misses how you’d comfort him when he cried and whenever he had a bad day, rubbing soothing circles into his back and quiet murmurs of reassurance.

he misses the familiar sound of your voice, the way he hears it first out of every sound that goes through his adhd-riddled brain. he misses hearing your voice and knowing everything would be okay because you’re here and you’re safe and you’re all that matters to him.

he even misses the way that you fight. riding in silence in his jeep until you can’t take it anymore and yelling until you can’t breathe until you finally give in to one another and have it out the way you need to. whether it’s harsh or disappointing or all-consuming heartache, he misses all of the feelings you give him.

he misses your heartbeat. the steady sound of it pounding in his ears as his head lays across your chest and your fingers thread through his hair as you hum softly to him. he misses the constant calmness that comes with you being around when he’s alone, mind racing with anything and everything that won’t let him sleep at night.

he misses your clothes, the ones you’d leave around his house after sleepovers or just in case you ever needed an outfit replacement after some supernatural horror ruined yours. he misses the way they smell like you because the ones he has are beginning to fade and he’s afraid he’ll forget what that smell is. the smell of home.

he misses driving around beacon hills with you in the middle of the night when you’re stuck doing werewolf patrol, the silly games you’d play and the way you’d make up some outlandish rules to twist the odds in your favor.

he misses the way he always had someone on his side, how you would always believe him no matter what anyone said or did. you always held firm in your belief that stiles was right. he misses having someone to stick up for him about his ideas and having someone in his corner, rain or shine, right or wrong. he misses the feeling of togetherness, of being half of a whole.

stiles misses your stupid texts, the ones you’d send him while bored in class, not caring if you got caught and had your phone taken away. he misses the heart emoji you’d always put at the end of every one as a reminder that you loved him. he misses the texts in the middle of the night about questions neither of you can answer, whether philosophical or entirely improbable. he misses the way you’d text him good morning and how you’d always text him to make sure he got home okay.

he misses the hours-long phone calls talking about everything that was going on in your world, supernatural or not, good or bad. he misses being able to say whatever he wants to say without fear of judgement or apprehension. he misses the stretches of silence that come after you fall asleep on the phone together, your voice slurring as you fight sleep but you don’t want to hang up because you just want him. he misses knowing that you’re on the other end of the line, always waiting for him.

he misses you so bad that it chokes him, hot tears on his pillow as he looks at the picture of you two that he keeps on his nightstand. he misses you so bad he can’t breathe through the pained sobs that plague him every night, holding onto the pillow you used to use when you slept over, trying to cling to the memories that are starting to fade.

stiles misses you.