You Survived Another Week In A Very Tough World, Even Though At Times It Felt Like You Wouldn’t, And

Hi,

First of all, I love your work! 😍

Aaaand can I ask for some (over)protective/ jealous Stiles, preferably at a party...maybe he sees someone flirting with y/n...or at school maybe and he gets touchy 🥺❤️

Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Hey! I apologize for taking so long to answer, but life has been absolutely wild lately. But, thank you very much for the request and the love! I twisted it a little bit, making his paranoia the cause of his jealousy instead of someone else... I hope that's ok and I hope you like it! :)

Fiasco

Word count: 1,052

Saying that Stiles wasn't thrilled to be at some random freshman lacrosse kid's party on a Friday night instead of being snuggled up on the couch with his girlfriend and ignoring a lame movie to make out was an understatement. He didn't even know what the kid's name was and he didn't care. The pipsqueak barely made the team anyway, it was doubtful that he was any better than Stiles (which was kind of an ego boost). But alas, there he was, walking into an unfamiliar house behind his group of friends, tightly clutching his girlfriend's hand in hopes of relieving his grumpy mood.

Unfortunately for him, this method failed as his anchor was swept away to the kitchen with Malia and Kira. He sighed defeatedly as he plopped himself down on the couch next to some imbecile who was wearing a scarf, and no, surprisingly, it wasn't Isaac.

All he wanted to do was go home and lock himself in a room with the love of his life. She always made everything feel better because she always knew what to do to make that happen. It's like she had his brain in the palm of her hand, all to herself to read and understand completely and thoroughly - she knew him better than anyone, including himself. So yes, he wished that she could magically heal his grouchiness and clear his mind of all the shit that was going on in his life, preferably immediately.

However, when his scowling gaze met her figure in the living room again and he saw the look of enjoyment on her face, disbelief struck him. He wondered how in hell she could be having fun right now, with these losers, wannabes, and tryhards, thus dragging his mood to deeper depths of negativity.

He watched every movement she made: step, shift, glance, smile, laugh, sway, sip, turn, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera... But then his focus shifted to the people around his girlfriend. He narrowed his eyes as he observed drifting eyes, brushing hands, and hungry smirks.

His emotions swirled and bubbled inside him until they became a jealous and protective boil - one he could not contain.

Stiles stood up suddenly, charging towards his other half with a look of rage. He harshly grabbed the forearm of one of his adversaries and glowered at the boy as he scolded, "If you put your disgusting, perverted hand on her, I swear to God, I will chop your fucking hand off and shove it up your fucking-"

"Stiles!"

Like a bright ray of sunshine breaking through a wall of charcoal storm clouds, her voice broke through his haze of fury, retrieving his sanity. He looked at her and her disbelief, then blinked a few times and glanced around. That's when he realized he realized whose arm he was gripping: it was Ethan's, who looked like he was about to laugh in Stiles' face. He released Ethan and then saw Scott, Kira, Malia, Danny, Boyd, and Isaac, all staring right back at him.

Stiles' cheeks quickly darkened to a crimson and his whole body heated up, feeling incredibly stupid for losing his mind like that. He silently cursed himself, trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

His girlfriend, being the amazing woman she was, acted quickly when she saw Stiles' return to reality and the shame on his face. She took his hand and hastily led him outside, weaving through all the teenagers to reach the front door.

"What the hell is going on with you?" she asked worriedly, facing him on the driveway.

He stuttered, unable to ignore the lingering feeling of jealousy roaming through him, "I, well, I... I don't know, I just..." He let out a breath and looked down in an attempt to form a coherent sentence, looking up at her again after a short moment. "I don't want to be here. I want to be in my house with you, alone and away from everyone and everything."

"So, you flipped out instead of asking me to go home with you...?" she spoke, confused.

Stiles bit his lip, hesitating, before he continued, "No, I flipped out because I was jealous."

She smiled and raised her eyebrows with amusement. "You were jealous of Ethan? The guy who is dating Danny, another guy? The Ethan who is very gay and very uninterested in girls?"

"No!" he said, glaring at her, "I was jealous of how much fun you were having and how happy you looked..."

His girlfriend's smile softened and turned sympathetic.

"Well, and," he continued, "all the touching, and the looks, and the creepy smirks, and the rubbing, and the staring. I didn't like that either."

"What are you talking about?" She was suddenly filled with confusion again. "There was no touching, or rubbing, or creepiness, or staring."

Stiles' eyebrows furrowed as he replayed the earlier events in his head. He wasn't hallucinating, he knew what he saw. Or did he...?

"Stiles, seriously, what is going on with you? These are our friends. There's nothing to be jealous of," she said, getting his attention again.

"But I thought... Oh my God, I'm a mess." He ran his hands over his face. "I don't know what's wrong with me, but every little thing just pissed me off more and more, and then my grumpy mood turned into a wild rage, and then a whole fiasco. I'm a fiasco."

She softly smiled at him and cupped his face with her hands. "You are not a fiasco. But if you were in a bad mood, why didn't you just say so? We could've just stayed home and watched some lame movie instead."

Stiles' heart just about melted. He looked at her with all the love he had for her before pulling her closer by her hips and pressing his lips to hers.

"I'm sorry for imagining things and getting jealous. I'll definitely let you know about my bad mood before we go to another party," he said quietly, then gave her another peck.

"Thank you," her smile grew as she looked up at him, "but just so you know, I still love your imagination, even if it makes you do some questionable things."

He chuckled awkwardly as he spoke, "Yeah, I should probably go apologize to Ethan too..."

"Yep!"

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.

YES YES YES. PLEASE AND THANK YOU

lazy cuddles with stiles sound sooooo good rn

like maybe you’ve had a long day or maybe you took a day off just to be together. but you’re both in bed with light filtering through the windows as you talk about everything and nothing.

his arms around you and his head on your chest, your hands running through his hair as you hum softly. maybe it’s the tune of a song you like or maybe it’s random notes in a non-sequential order but nonetheless it’s a soothing sound.

you focus on his breathing at certain times, just to make sure he’s still there. reveling in the fact that he’s real and this is a moment you want to remember forever. it’s pure domesticity and bliss and you wish that it was always like this.

maybe he asks you questions or maybe he’s telling stupid jokes to make you smile because that’s his favorite sight in the world. maybe his hands move to tickle you because your laughter brings him unfettered joy. and when he settles, he just looks at you like you’re his entire world. because you are.

soft, sweet kisses at sporadic moments just because he loves you so much and the urge overtakes him.

just. ugh i need stiles comfort rn.

Thank you for including me, gorgeous! Of course, I had to add another dob character 🤭

Tags: @inlovewithdob @navybrat817 @julianasversee @c19ulo44 💜

; 𝘁𝗮𝗴 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲 .ᐟ

It's time for another tag game everybody! This one's because I missed valentines day... So here ya' go! Sweet treat from Joy 🤍

; pick a fictional character, a small gift and a sweet treat. Your date is perfect now!

npt: @pizzaapeteer @moonpascal @foodiegoogie @notyaslol @lov3notts + anybody who'd love to join!

Have fun, hun 🤍

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 :)

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

Hi, how are you? So, I have a fic idea. I don't know if you've ever watched Supernatural, but it's kind of a mix of Teen Wolf and Supernatural. The character is Dean and Sam's younger sister (she's a witch, but doesn't know it yet.) One night, they were in a city, hunting monsters as usual, nothing out of the ordinary. Then she finds her father's diary and discovers that he didn't want to be with her when she was younger because she was something she had no idea about. She discovers that the thing that killed her mother is the same thing that killed Dean and Sam's mother. And she also discovers that this thing had killed her too, but she survived the fire, the whole house had not resisted the fire, but her crib was intact, no sign of fire. After she read the diary, she felt sick. Everything started spinning and a buzzing sound echoed in her head. She heard her brothers calling for her, but she was unable to respond after a flash filled her vision. When she woke up, she and her brothers were in a house and she had no idea how they got there. It takes place between the first season of Supernatural and the first season of Teen Wolf, right when Allison and her family arrive in town. The Winchester brothers too, but in that reality, they are related to the Argent's (I don't know if I wrote his last name right😭) Anyway, I don't know if you want an idea for a short story, but this would easily make a good fic. I have a big twist for the ending.

That's it, I think I got a little carried away lol. I hope this helps😋 (Sorry if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language

Hey! I'm alright, thank you for asking. How are you?

Unfortunately, I have not seen Supernatural. But your idea sounds very interesting and well thought out! I would love to hear more about it, as well as your twist. And don't apologize - I enjoyed reading it!

So, since I don't know those characters and the storyline, I won't be writing a story about them. I'm sorry if I'm letting you down, but I wouldn't know where to begin and I don't want to not do them justice.

Thank you for reaching out though! Feel free to message me if you just want to get your ideas out. I find that very fulfilling and would love to do that for a fellow dreamer 💜

The other day, my sister made fun of me for liking Tootsie rolls. This is how we found out that all of the guys I've liked are easily comparable to them. Tootsie rolls are my type. How do I go on from this epiphany, I-

HAHA YESSS

wait isnt kinky part of it? i thought that was like the undertone vibe or something?

I mean... Yeah, pretty much lol

Yes! He deserves all the love. And so do 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.