「bf!Stiles Headcanons」 Pt2

PLEASE, I'M BEGGING YOU - REQUEST SOMETHING.

My problem is that I don't have any ideas, but I want to write and I feel bad that I haven't written anything in such a long time.

I don't know if I'll do straight-up smut, but I will gladly hint at it in a bunch of fluff.

I feel like I know Stiles' character the best, but I can try some of the others of Dylan O'Brien's if I've seen the show/movie before. Also, I'm totally up for dabbling in some Bucky Barnes stuff if anyone would like that too...

***I will most likely only do x female reader imagines (without y/n, pet names, or an original character to keep as many people happy as possible).

Yes, this is a cry for help: help me help you.

Thank you, thank you.

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

Heard you wanted stiles request! He is the main reason I continued watching the show.

Stiles x reader where she finally became his girlfriend, but has to tell him she has a chronic illness. She ends up in the hospital with Melissa having to break the news.

Happy ending but need some cute fluff! Stiles is my man 😍😍

Thanks!! I like to request similar situations to my life so I can truly escape into the storyline. You rock!

Hi! Thank you for reaching out! I recently wrote something very similar, so if you haven't read that yet, here you go :)

I might write more using that plotline in the future, but if you have any other requests, let me know! 💜

Write

Write one about stiles please, could be a imagine or a blurb, or smutt... 🫣 Anything, please babyyy🤗

Note: Thank you for the support! I have no idea if I'll ever write real, hardcore smut, but I guess we'll see... However, I did write something random and a little fluffy. I hope you like it :)

Break-In

Word count: 530

It was late when Stiles tumbled through his girlfriend's bedroom window with a thud as his lanky body hit the ground, abruptly waking her up. She quickly sat up and looked around with confusion, until his head popped up into her view.

Groggily, she questioned him and his ungraceful actions, "Stiles? What are you doing here? And what time is it? And can you not be so loud?"

He simply sighed and rolled his eyes as he crawled onto her bed, speaking with extreme sarcasm, "Oh, I woke the beast. Fucking fabulous."

"Excuse me?" Her tired eyes narrowed at him and he conjured a not-so-genuine smile. Seeing through it, she spoke bluntly, "Stiles, why are you here?"

His smile quickly faded, leaving him with a pout, "I miss you..."

She looked at him for a moment, searching his eyes for any hidden intentions. "Physically or emotionally?" she asked, with caution.

The question threw him off-guard, and he responded warily, "Why are those my only options?"

"Because you're acting suspicious," she stated bluntly.

He stared at her with incredulity, "Missing my girlfriend is suspicious?"

"I suppose not, but breaking into her house could be considered highly suspicious"

Stiles shrugged as he spoke, "Yeah, but I break into your house all the time. This is just normal behavior for me."

She looked down and nodded slowly in hesitant agreement, "True... So, what do you want?" Her eyes met his again, still filled with suspicion.

"Can you just trust me when I say that I honestly and sincerely miss you?" Stiles was getting tired of the interrogation, and desperate for the comfort he went there for. Although, he recognized that her tone was similar to one he'd used countless of times, and deep down, he felt a small sense of pride to know that his attributes rubbed off on her.

"Well, that brings us back to my first question: physically or emotionally?" she said, keeping her chin up, despite how groggy she still was from being woken up less than five minutes ago.

He couldn't believe that all this bickering led them absolutely nowhere, and his light frustration showed in his voice, "I-... Both!? Just..." He sighed before continuing with a softer tone, "Relax, and let me hug you."

Her expression dulled and she nodded, feeling a yawn catch up to her. Relieved by her compliance, Stiles scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. His familiar comfort consumed her as she breathed him in, and they slowly leaned back onto her bed, his body laying on top of her's. Feeling her hands move up and down his back and her lips planting a kiss to his hair brought a smile to his face. He lifted his head just enough to gently and slowly kiss her.

"For the record, I missed you too," she said quietly, unable to hide the smile she had, matching his.

A faintly smug look appeared on his face. "I knew it," he remarked, before closing his eyes to kiss her again.

It didn't take long for the cuddled couple to peacefully fall asleep, sharing each other's warmth and love after such a silly and meaningless debate.

Human talent is taken for granted these days and it makes me so sad. I couldn't even fathom using AI to write when I have my own brain that already enjoys doing it. I could see using it to get inspiration, but do the work yourself.

GET. AI. OUT. OF. FANDOM. Stop making headcanons with it, stop making fanfic with it, stop making fanart with it. If I see one more "asking chatgpt *blank* about *character/characters in a fandom* I'm going to lose my goddamn mind. Use your own fucking brain, stop asking AI to do everything. You could even ask other real people what they think. Just. Stop. Using. AI. In. Creative. Spaces.

Not possible, sorry 💜

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.

Dylan in Thailand!

I don't have time to write an entire drabble or whatever, but please, in honor of Christmas Eve, just think for a moment about Stiles frantically wrapping presents and making an absolute mess.

Imagine it's late, almost midnight, and he completely forgot to wrap the gifts he bought. He's huffing and puffing, shoving the paper over the boxes and other strangely shaped items, and smashing a ridiculous amount of tape on every corner and crevice. It's a shit show, but he needs to get it done.

In the middle of this chaos, his girlfriend calls him to wish him a good night and whatnot, and she can hear his rushed frustration and trouble with making his two lanky hands work the way he wants them to. She asks him if he's ok and what the hell is he doing?

He brushes her off and simply tells her that he forgot to do something important, yet again. She easily guesses the task at hand, thanks to all the noise he's making, and offers to come over and help him.

He quickly shuts her down in a slight panic, telling her that she absolutely cannot come over. She then pesters him about why he's so against the prospect, and eventually he caves: most of the presents are for her.

Merry Christmas Eve to everyone who celebrates and happy holidays to all! I hope everyone has a lovely day and good luck to those who are struggling! 💜

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 💜

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.