I'm Hoping To Write This Weekend, But Feel Free To Send Any Other Fluffy Ideas You Have! I Love Hearing

I can't stop thinking about clumsy Stiles...

Butterfingers

Word count: 460

Everyone knows that Siles Stilinski can’t be trusted with something fragile for too long. His dad didn’t let him hold baby until he was twelve. And where was the sheriff? He was less than a foot away with his hands ready to catch the infant, just in case he knew his son as well as he thought he did. 

Now that Stiles has the girl of his dreams, he does everything he can to protect her from any possible threat, no matter how big or small: open cupboards, hot plates of food, table corners, you name it. If he has to take the pain for her too, he will without hesitation. He welcomes those small, mysterious bruises for her sake.  

Though, sometimes he can’t stop those threats, and sometimes he’s the cause of them. Accidentally, of course, because everyone knows about his slippery fingers. Just like last week. 

His precious girl was perfectly draped against him as they relaxed on his bed. Thank goodness he remembered to hide the heap of laundry that was in their place just a few minutes before she came over. Anyway, her head settled perfectly against the front of his hoodie and she kept her arm tucked around his waist. Even as he scrolled through his phone, he couldn’t help but let his eyes flick downwards, unable to resist and needing to make sure that moment was truly real. 

Everything was so peaceful. Until it happened. This was far from the first time that his butterfingers got the best of him, and it wouldn’t be the last.  

The poor girl’s body jolted immediately after a hard block of technology crashed right into her head. Stiles’ eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He brushed his phone away as she lifted her head to look at him with a pout. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do that.” His words stumbled out of him as quickly as his hands began to gently caress her little injury.  

“Every single time, Stiles.” 

He looked at her with sympathetic eyes, frowning. “I know, I know, I’m the worst.” 

“No... You’re just a butterfingers,” she mumbled, settling against him once again and hoping the incident wouldn’t result in a headache later. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Guilty as charged.” He massaged her scalp, forgetting all about whatever he was looking at on his phone. 

“If I end up with a lumpy head because of you, I’ll kill you.” 

Stiles couldn’t contain his smile as he spoke softly, “Hey, I’d still love you. You wouldn’t have to go that far.” 

“Ok, fine. You can live,” she yielded, sighing as comfort washed over her again. 

“Oh, what a relief. Just don’t go bald, ok? I don’t want to see the damage.” 

P.S. I'm considering going back and adding word counts for all of my little imagines because they are so convenient and I just got a new laptop! Shout out to writers who add word counts lol 💜

Also, if you want to take a peek at my future plans/ideas, here you go. No pressure though!

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.

A Little Bit of Normal

Paring: Stiles Stilinski x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2 K

Summary: In the midst of Beacon Hills' chaos, you find solace in Stiles Stilinski's playful distractions and heartfelt words, gradually realizing that your friendship is evolving into something deeper. As he confesses his feelings for you, you both share a tender moment that marks the beginning of something real and meaningful.

It was another quiet afternoon at the library. The hum of pages turning and the faint chatter of a few students were the only sounds filling the room. You sat at your usual spot by the window, attempting to study for your next exam, but your mind kept wandering. The books in front of you blurred into a mess of letters and formulas.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about your grades—it was just hard to concentrate with everything going on in Beacon Hills. Between supernatural chaos, werewolves, and endless mysteries, school was the last thing on your mind. But you couldn’t just ignore it, not when your GPA was on the line.

“Hey,” a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. You glanced up to find Stiles Stilinski standing at the table, his trademark goofy grin plastered across his face.

“Hey, Stiles,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. He had that effect on you, always able to make even the most stressful days feel lighter.

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the table.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m trying. It’s just... hard to focus, you know?”

Stiles gave you a sympathetic look, his expression softening. “Yeah, I get it. Believe me, I do. But I have a solution.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? Do you now?”

He flashed his signature mischievous grin. “Of course. It’s simple, really. All you need is a little Stiles distraction.”

You laughed. “A distraction? I’m supposed to focus on my studies, not get sidetracked by your endless supply of weirdness.”

Stiles smirked, sliding into the chair across from you. “First of all, you’re welcome. Second of all, weirdness is an understatement. And third, who says you can’t do both? You study, I distract. We’ll call it a study session.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m adorable,” he corrected, leaning forward with a playful gleam in his eyes. “And I’m about to prove it.”

You couldn’t help but smile as he launched into one of his usual rambling monologues, jumping from one bizarre idea to another. He told you all about a “brilliant” theory he had about why every fast food chain’s fries tasted exactly the same and how he was convinced there was a conspiracy behind it. His enthusiasm was contagious, and before long, you found yourself laughing at his absurd theories and forgetting about the stress of school.

When he saw you laughing, Stiles seemed to glow with a certain pride, as if he had just accomplished the greatest feat. His smile softened as his eyes met yours, and for a moment, you felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you in that little corner of the library.

“So, I have to ask,” Stiles said, his voice suddenly quieter, more serious. “Why do you always look so stressed, (Y/N)? I mean, I know Beacon Hills is... a lot, but you seem like you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders sometimes.”

You hesitated. The weight of his question hit you harder than you expected. You’d gotten used to the chaos, to the constant danger, but there was always that undercurrent of worry that never seemed to leave you. You pushed it away as best as you could, but it wasn’t always easy.

“I guess... I don’t really know how to stop worrying,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s just so much going on. I have to keep everything together, and sometimes, it feels like I’m barely holding it all in.”

Stiles’ expression softened even more. He leaned in closer, his voice low and gentle. “You don’t have to hold it all in. Not with me. You know that, right?”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes. Stiles was always the jokester, the one who made everyone laugh and took everything in stride, but in this moment, he was serious—genuine.

“I know,” you said quietly. “It’s just... I don’t want to burden anyone with my problems. Especially you.”

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat. His fingers lingered for a moment, the touch warm and reassuring.

“You’re not a burden, (Y/N),” he said softly, his voice thick with sincerity. “And if you ever feel like you are, I’ll be the first one to remind you that you’re not. We’re friends, right?”

You nodded, your throat suddenly tight. You felt something stir in your chest, a warmth spreading through you as Stiles’ gaze never wavered.

“More than friends, though,” you murmured, not even realizing you’d said the words until they were out in the open. You felt your cheeks flush, but when you looked up at him, you saw the surprise in his eyes.

“You mean...?” he trailed off, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

You swallowed, trying to steady your nerves. “Yeah. More than friends.”

There was a long beat of silence between you, a breathless pause where everything seemed to hang in the balance. You watched as Stiles’ expression shifted, the playful grin replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. He reached out and gently took your hand in his, his thumb grazing over your skin in a way that sent a flutter of nerves through you.

“I’ve been wanting to say something for a while now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t want to mess things up. But... I really like you, (Y/N). More than I should, probably. And I’ve been kind of terrified to tell you that, because... well, it’s you. You’re amazing. And I’m just... well, me.”

You felt your heart race as his words sank in, your chest tightening with emotion. You had no idea that Stiles felt the same way, and hearing it out loud made everything seem more real, more intense.

“You’re not just you,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “You’re Stiles. And that’s more than enough.”

He smiled then, the same goofy grin that you loved, but this time it was softer, more genuine. Slowly, almost like he was afraid you’d disappear if he moved too fast, he leaned in and kissed you. It was brief, but the moment his lips touched yours, a wave of relief washed over you. Like everything was falling into place, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

When he pulled back, his hand still holding yours, his eyes were full of that familiar mischief, but there was something deeper there, too—something raw.

“See?” he said, teasing once more. “Told you I was the best distraction.”

You laughed, your heart still racing. “I think you might be right about that.”

Stiles grinned, leaning back in his chair, but this time, he didn’t let go of your hand. It felt different now, more intimate, and you both knew that this was the beginning of something more than just a friendship.

In the middle of all the chaos, all the supernatural madness, you had found something simple, something real. And for once, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

more stiles fluff pls bc hes so lover boy

thank you SO much for asking i love stiles so much he IS lover boy i need him desperately

also sorry this is so short i’m still trying to kick whatever sickness i have </3

he’s so stupid in love it’s sickening ( or maybe that’s me but )

constantly talking about you and/or wanting other people to bring you up so he can talk about you more

he’s so big on PDA, it really doesn’t matter what form. he’s just so in love with you and he doesn’t care who knows it.

lingering hugs and forehead kisses and ruffling your hair and staring at you fondly while someone else is talking to him

“stiles are you even listening to me” and the answer is always no. not when you’re around. his thoughts are always preoccupied by you.

if you’re not too big on PDA though, he’ll try to tone it down and settle for holding your hand or playing with your fingers while you’re standing next to each other. he’s fidgety and he likes touching you, he can’t help it.

i feel like if you’re watching a movie together, you’re in his arms. you claim it’s because he’s a nice pillow ( and he is ) but really, it’s the feeling of being safe.

you know as long as you’re with him, nothing and no one is touching you.

he always searches for you in crowded rooms. you’re the first thing he looks for, the first person his eyes settle on. he doesn’t always have to be with you but he at least has to know you’re around.

i feel like he’s only ever fully vulnerable when he’s alone with you. his whole life is sarcasm and jokes to cover his real feelings but with you, it’s so easy to let it out.

sure, you talk about the deeper things that he doesn’t tell most people but it’s more than that. you make his racing mind quiet. you calm him in a way that he hasn’t had in maybe ever.

in those moments, it’s just you and him laying in bed and he looks so peaceful, so gentle it makes your heart ache. your fingers are running through his hair and his arms are around your waist and his head on your chest and there’s never been a more perfect moment.

i feel like the first time he says i love you is an accident. he’s been overthinking on how to tell you for ages, worried you may not say it back that it just comes out.

and of course you say it back. after that, he says it all the time. you could be sitting in the passenger seat of his jeep and he’s driving and he’s staring at you instead of the road and you ask him why he’s staring

“i just love you, that’s all” and he shrugs like that’s the only possible answer he could give

stiles is the type of boyfriend who sends you random articles about a subject just because you said you liked it once.

he does like seeing you in his clothes so he will always lend them to you. but also, he likes getting them back once they start to smell like you.

he’s also the type to sing you cheesy love songs off key to annoy you ( but you also find it endearing— not that you’ll tell him that )

he drives you to school a lot. he says it’s better than the bus and you’re not even that much out of his way so it’s really no problem ( and it’s 100% an excuse to spend more time with you and make sure you get to school okay. whether you actually get there on time is not relevant. )

he’s always telling you about the crazy shit he overheard from his dad’s phone calls and about school gossip ( because let’s be honest, that boy yaps. he knows shit. )

he shares his snacks with you. ( it’s such a simple thing i know but where i come from, sharing food is a love language )

speaking of food, i feel like you guys have dinner together a lot. if the sheriff has to work late, you’re either inviting stiles over to eat with your family or you and stiles bring food to the sheriff’s office to make sure his dad eats too.

and on the subject of the sheriff, he adores you. he’s not really the type to say it aloud but he can see how happy you make stiles and how much you take care of him. and he does appreciate that you take care of him too. it’s been a while since they’ve had someone else to look out for them both.

stiles will do matching stuff with you. halloween costumes? check. matching pajamas? check. same flannels? check. he may have complained about it at first but once you convinced him he was hooked. he thinks it’s adorable.

Dad update for anyone who remembers that whole shit show area of my life:

He said to me today, "You could be an oleander of death."

I couldn't agree more, thanks dad 💜

making stiles and stuart be twins and share a girlfriend is kinda weird and kinky don't ya think?? like they wouldn't do that irl

Well, it's a good thing that we both have freewill, right? I get to write whatever I want and you get to read whatever you want 💜

Guys, I appreciate the support, but @obriengf knows I exist... Let the poor gal be 😭

WOW. THE DEDICATION. I COULD NEVER. Beautiful work, though, wow. And you sound just like my dad! He never picks favorites. Ever. But what a lovely palette! I'm ready to sprint to the nearest courthouse at any second to be honest.

FAVORITE COLOR? I like navy blue 🤭 Also I'm in love with you

FAVOURITE COLOURS! THE AGE OLD QUESTION (I am so proud of this actually). I, uh, don't actually have one. I don't really have a favourite anything because to have a favourite seems like such a big thing to me and I just can't comprehend loving a colour THAT much. However, I am obsessed with green, a light coral blue, beige/cream, and soft browns!!!! I think I might be in love with you too actually. Marry me when?

stiles introduction

hii! this is my first time requesting, buuut could possibly you write something with stiles and a popular reader? maybe they’re paired together on a project and realize they have a lot in common? maybe a sort of an enemies to lovers type thing 🙏

No worries! I actually love this idea, thank you! I just got kind of busy and couldn't put much time into this, but I tried my best so hopefully you enjoy it :)

Alright folks, here we go...

Project

Word count: 1,241

(Stiles' POV)

You know those incredibly rare days when you wake up and don't immediately hate everything? When you have a sliver of hope for something good to happen? Yeah, those lovely, delicate, beautiful days, I know you know what I'm talking about.

So my point is, I had (or thought I had) one of those days when my alarm went off one morning, but evidently, I was wrong. And not just a whoops-a-daisy type of wrong. No. I'm talking about the utterly horrific, catastrophically disastrous type. I realized this when I heard who my math teacher paired me with for the graph poster project.

Hearing her name made me immediately roll my eyes and I had to force myself not to audibly groan in agony. I glanced over at her from across the room and saw the same look of distaste on her face that I had on mine. 'Great,' I thought, probably still glaring at her.

Usually, I don't mind popular girls because they're so far out of my league and don't give me the time of day to even reject me in the first place. However, when it comes down to this girl - no. That is way too kind. This evil, mocking, slimy, sinister, know-it-all wench was too intolerable for me to cope with that day. Despite the fact that I've never actually had a conversation with her or even said a word to her, I always had a bad feeling about her. I just didn't trust someone who was so clearly sucking up to her teachers to get away with stuff. Ok, fine, I didn't know if that was exactly true. But how did no one else hate her? How did she even get that popular in the first place? It didn't add up and I didn't like it.

Once the bitch who destroyed my hopes and dreams for the day finally finished blabbing about the damned project, I waited for my infuriatingly slow partner to come sit down at my table so we could start. For some odd reason, when I looked over at her, she was still sitting in her seat, apparently waiting for me to go over to her. She tried waving her hand in her direction to draw me in, but I held my ground, scoffing at her sad attempt. Rolling her eyes, she reluctantly got up and sat down next to me, clearly having an attitude. And then we just sat there for a moment, festering in uncomfortable annoyance until she eventually looked at me.

"Are you going to start the project, or not?" she said bluntly, which caught me off guard.

"Um, excuse me? Am I? Me? Are you serious right now? Do you know what the definition of a partner is? Because I highly doubt that tiny brain of yours does if you think I'm doing this shit by myself," I hissed back.

"Wow, you are just as dramatic as I thought. Obviously, I'm not that dumb, I was just trying to piss you off enough to actually speak instead of just scowling in your seat."

I stared at her in disbelief, incapable of understanding the audacity that girl just had. However, begrudgingly, we started the project.

"You're doing that wrong by the way," she spoke casually. My eyebrows furrowed and I stared intensely at the equation I was solving.

"Uh... No, I'm not."

For some reason, she started getting frustrated with me, even though she was delusional for thinking I was doing absolutely anything incorrectly, saying, "Um, yes you literally are. Have you not been paying attention this entire unit?"

I looked at her with incredulity as I spoke unconfidently, "I... Well... More than you have, for sure. You're always busy chatting with your little minions. Besides, I don't even need to pay attention. Math isn't that hard for people with more than three brain cells."

"Then how come you're doing it wrong?" She looked at me with amusement and it almost made me nauseous.

Then, I snapped at her - probably more aggressively than I should have - but she earned that reaction when she intentionally pissed me off. And so, our spiteful jabs continued as we worked on the project.

By the time we finished, things started getting quiet between us. She pulled out a small book from her backpack and began reading to fill the extra time left in class. I tilted my head as I read the title: "The Fellowship of the Ring." I couldn't help but smirk to myself, but unfortunately, she noticed.

"What?" she said, her eyebrows furrowing.

My eyes quickly lifted to hers as I spoke, trying to sound innocent, "I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, but your face did."

My lips parted, suddenly feeling like I had switched roles and was talking to a version of myself. I've said those exact words about a hundred times - what parallel universe did I just teleport to?

Suddenly, her pencil hit my face, snapping me out of my apparent staring, and she continued, "Is there a reason why you're looking at me like that, or are you just a creep?"

"I, yeah, um... No. Wait, what?" I stuttered, making a fool of myself.

"Are you on drugs or something?"

"Um, no, definitely not."

"Ok, then what the hell is wrong with you?"

I quickly rubbed my face, trying to get a grip. Truth be told, I had no freaking idea what was wrong with me. I couldn't even form a coherent sentence. For the first time since I was in the womb, my mind was empty.

Finally, after looking like an idiot for way too long, I cleared my throat and tried again in a nervous tone, "Do-... Do you like the movies?"

"Huh?" She looked at me like I was crazy.

"The movies. The Lord of the Rings movies. You like them, or...?"

"Oh, um, yeah. I've been wanting to read the books for a while but kept forgetting to renew my library card." Her expression seemed to soften quickly, which made me smile slightly for a reason I didn't understand at the time.

"Yeah? It's been a while since I've seen them, but they were some of my favorites as a kid, after Star Wars, of course."

It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that only a month later, we were cuddled up under a blanket on her couch, binge-watching The Lord of the Rings movies to celebrate her completion of the books. I looked down at her, enjoying her company more than whatever Frodo was complaining about, and just smiled.

I never thought that I would have a conversation with the most well-known girl at Beacon Hills High School, let alone hold her hand around the halls, hug her before class, or kiss her before dropping her off at her house after a date. But, apparently, all those corny quotes that English teachers love are, in fact, true: you really can't judge a book by its cover, and you also can't fold the corner of a book page (your girlfriend will smack you in the face). Oh, and also, your hope getting snatched away by your math teacher doesn't mean that nothing good will come out of the experience that you get from it. Who knows, maybe you'll end up falling in love with and losing your virginity to the most beautiful, wonderful, perfect girl in existence, just like me.