My Dear Friends... I Have A Confession To Make.

hi any recs for other writers? love your work btw!

Hi! Thank you so much! And thanks for asking!

I'll be honest, I've barely read any Dylan O'Brien works recently because I've been obsessing over a different man... Yes, I feel guilty, but it's also fun to enjoy new media. This being said, I don't know of anything in particular at the moment, though I know of some awesome writers!

Anything from @darkintothedawn, @sibyllinebooks, and @obriengf is essentially guaranteed to be amazing, but I'm kind of biased 🤭.

Also, @dylanobrienstorieslibrary has a bunch of awesome recommendations that I used to scroll through all the time!

I'm sorry I can't be of much help. I feel like I'm failing the fandom 😭. But thank you again for asking! I hope you have a wonderful day, my dear! 💜

Throwback to this work of fucking art. Literally my fantasies put into words. Thank you, your majesty, for your beautiful creations you share with us thirsty peasants. 💜

I just know for a fact that while Stiles is still majorly crushing on his girl best friend, he continuously pokes her just to annoy the fuck out of her and get a reaction (even if it's very negative, anything counts), but deep down, he also really enjoys any physical contact, no matter how much or how little. I JUST LOVE THAT SILLY LITTLE GUY

PLEASE OKAY, this is going to be a whole thing now ~ i also literally took this way off book and just kept writing but please i agree 10000000% with your idea, clearly! also didn't expect to get an 18+ warning here but the last paragraph is not for minors!

it doesn't help that this beautiful specimen has too much energy; he is constantly moving, and the need to touch and feel becomes a necessity once he finds himself absentmindedly gravitating closer to you at every minuscule opportunity. and to an extent... you know that it is his language of needing comfort, a silent plea for grounding; so you allow the way his shoulder or thigh sits against yours at the lunch table, or how he steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder as he reverses the jeep. at the cinema, you even reached out to hold his hand when you noticed how he fidgeted with a fraying piece of string from the hem of his lacrosse hoodie.

you gave stiles comfort, and the schoolboy crush he had developed since he was fourteen only grew more rapidly. with this comfort came confidence - and his hands, or any part of his body, always found a way to be near you. he remembers clearly when the wind had been wild during one night of a lacrosse game, he watched as you pulled your coat closer to your shivering frame, but he focused more on tucking loose strands of hair back and away from your face. stiles' knuckles were so delicate as they caressed the velvet skin of your cheek as they rose from your smile and he knew in that moment that he never wanted to be apart from you again.

stiles so easily gains happiness from the small squeal you make as his fingers jab gently into your sides - how you'd jump, squirm, laugh at the ticklish sensation that shook your frame and he adored the sound. to no end. it was a reaction that fuelled him but even when the moment drew an annoyed sigh or slap away of his hands, he kept going - absorbing your energy, hearing your voice, feeling your hand against the sensitivity of his skin is what made his heart swell more for you.

when you hug him - man, he can hear angels sing, he can feel his body ignite with warmth as his blood courses with a shot of serotonin that would last hours. stiles would react immediately as his arms wrapped themselves around you, pulling your body close to his, his nose gently nuzzling against your temple. he would never feel more content than in these fleeting moments of an over-loving heart that brought butterflies alive within his chest. these were moments of pure happiness.

then, you had moments of pure angst. ones that caused his eyes to sting, and his heart to act in a completely different way - it would ache, a heaviness that clenched and twisted, that left the boy in pain. your fists were balled as they pounded at his chest, the sound of your cries piercing through his ears as he felt each fist clash with much more dismay than he thought possible. an argument, a fight, a case of miscommunication and anguish that led to two souls falling apart. stiles let you go as he stood still and your hands continued to push and pull at his chest, until he felt scared... he would do anything for you, even if it meant that he would break, but the possibility of losing you was much worse. so he would grab your wrists gently, enough to stop you as he peered into your watery eyes. he was on the verge of tears himself before he pulled you to him as close as humanly possible and he held you. tight. until the cries ceased, and your trembling arms held him back.

it was straight out of a romantic comedy the first time he kissed you. stopping you in the middle of talking, his willpower to control himself slowly sinking away until he thought 'fuck it'. you were shining so bright, epitomising the sun and he loved it. he leaned across the small space between you both as you sat in the jeep, his hands grabbing at your cheeks as his lips pressed to yours. he was so gentle with you, as if one ounce of roughness would break your delicate composure. you were gorgeous, porcelain fragility in the palm of his hands and he wanted to treat you so well, so right. the prodding of one's tongue, a moment in which was so whimsical neither could remember who initiated it, however, it was a moment indeed that sealed every emotion that was bubbling within the boy. the depth and caressing, the dance of tongues and harmonious rhythm as you both moved... it was his favourite touch, by far.

stiles felt both at ease and completely on edge when he was inside of you. a strange concoction of a racing heart that was utterly peaceful, the sensation of running a marathon and taking a well-earned deep breath, melting from a fiery heat whilst also chasing cooling tranquillity. the way you hugged every vein and ridge as he plummeted into you, over and over again, was a dizzying effect. his fingers digging into your exposed skin as he held you so close - one unit moving together over plaid bedsheets, friction burning against his skin as you soothed it with wandering hands that covered every inch of him without fault. his lips dragged lazily as he panted, your neck, your chest, your lips, swelling with purple-pink hues. nothing could beat the feeling of having you fall so beautifully apart around him.

stiles stilinski's love language is touch, abso-fucking-lutely.

who do you ship stiles with in the show?

That's a tough question because I wish I could ship myself with him haha. Anyway. In all seriousness, I like Stalia more than Stydia... I don't know, they just seemed like a better match and I loved their dynamic. Also, their breakup was so confusing which bugged me, but regardless... I just feel like Lydia's feelings for Stiles weren't expressed well enough for me to like them together, but that's just me. And I don't really like her that much to begin with but that's a whole different rant I could go on.

Thanks for asking! 💜

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 :))

Can someone explain why we're shipping Stiles with Bella Swan? Did I miss something? What is happening?

Well fuck. This is actually kinda sad... I don't know how I got to this point, I'm so sorry. What is wrong with me? I promise the ending is fluffy.

Anyway. Sorry for ranting. Don't mind me. I hope everyone is having a good Monday!

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 :))

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! 💜

Sorry to ruin everyone's day, but Stiles holds hands when he cries, without a doubt.

Maybe he holds his love's soft palm against his own cheek while he speaks with a tremble, using it as a tether to help him work through his emotions. Their hands are practically soaked from all of his tears, but he doesn't even notice. He's only focused on her and all the love he feels radiating from her touch.

Or maybe she's sitting with him while he waits for his appointment with his therapist after a long, hard day. He squeezes her hand, trying to take deep breaths and ignore how much his leg is shaking. He wipes his face of the tears that escape with a bit of annoyance at his vulnerability in a public space. Sure, there's only a few other people in there with them, and they're all there for the same reason - to get help - but Stiles has always been good at bottling his emotions up. Why couldn't he do it now?

And especially during his panic attacks, when every muscle in his body feels like it's on fire and when his lungs can't grasp the air he's reaching for, he uses both of his hands to hold onto hers, so tightly that they shake. Sometimes he presses their hold against his chest or his forehead, needing to know that it's real, she's real, she's there with him.

Also, just imagine little Scott holding little Stiles' hand as they walk home from their elementary school after getting into another fight with the biggest bully in the second grade. Maybe boys aren't "supposed to" hold hands, like everyone says when they're eight years old and clueless. Stiles doesn't care, though, he knows he needs this (yes, he waited until they were in his neighborhood, away from any curious gazes).

The moral of the story is that sweet, sweet Stiles needs physical touch to survive. Everything becomes easier when he has a hand to hold, and this goes far beyond just crying.

Stuart Twombly exchanges lots and lots of sassy, bratty remarks with his girlfriend until they inevitably make out and touch every inch of each other.

Thank you for your time.

HELL YEAH, GUYS!!!! I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH.

More fics are coming soon it's just this one request has made me realise how much I hate a character and that's put me off writing so much. No hate to the requester of course, that's my bad for accepting it and this is just the consequences of my own actions. However, I am wanting to write something so if you wouldn't mind filling out this poll underneath it would be greatly appreciated!!!

I'm begging on my hands and knees, please pick one!!!!

The "as long as it's" repetition is killing me omg.