Name The Pop/punk 2000’s Band

Heyy, I saw you were looking for requests and I was wondering if you would be willing to write Stiles Stilinksi asking reader on a date? What is your interpretation of his approach? What would the pining stage look like? Would he trip over his words? Is he still his usual cocky self? Would he be straightforward? Hopefully this gave you some inspiration and don’t feel pressured to write this if you don’t feel like it <3

I love this so much and it actually inspired me to write a New Year themed imagine, so thank you! Sorry it took so long to respond, but the holidays are a hectic time for everyone. I hope you like it and Happy New Year! 💜

A Date Before Midnight 🎉

Word count: 2,001

Stiles woke up on New Year’s Eve with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Everyone around him, all of his friends, even his father – they were all ecstatic about the fresh start and the chance to improve themselves again, as if all of those unrealistic goals weren’t going to disintegrate within the first few weeks, just like every other year. It was a waste of hope. But that’s not why Stiles was feeling so discouraged with himself.

That day was his last chance to achieve the goal he made 364 days ago: ask her out. One of his closest friends, favorite people, and biggest inspirations was the girl he met when he was a wee tot and had the privilege of growing up with. She always knew how to make him smile and she always let him go on lengthy rants, no matter how ridiculous they were. She listened and talked back, and made him feel normal and safe. This girl was everything he needed when he was lacking something. Somehow, she figured it out and did her best, resulting in a very happy and fulfilled Stiles.

He didn’t realize how truly drawn to her he was until last December when he saw the purity and kindness in her eyes as she handed him the thoughtful, personal Christmas present she made just for him. Plus, watching her go through and finish puberty was an excellent, yet sometimes painful, bonus (wink wink).

Every single day began with determination and ended with despair and frustration. He was so good at talking, it was one of his many talents, and he used it to give himself the advantage in all settings. So, he couldn’t understand why the words “Will you go out with me?” refused to make an appearance while he conversed with her. They constantly raced through his head, but shoving them out of his mouth was like forcing a mule to bake cookies.

Maybe it was fear, or doubt, possibly a dash of incredulity. Or maybe all of the above. Stiles had no clue because his desire to just say the damn words was eating him alive. His tongue was burning, but instead of putting out the flames, he subconsciously diverted his attention by bringing up some other lame conversation topic. He wasn’t sure if he had control of his own brain at that point due to how incredibly long this was taking him.

He decided to do it at the pack’s celebration at Scott’s house. He would pull her aside at some point and casually let it slip out, and it would all be fine. Right? The party was starting at nine, giving him two hours and fifty-nine minutes to figure it out. That’s plenty of time. Right? Right...?

Stiles was frantic and pacing around his room. He didn’t intend to put it off this long, he honestly and wholeheartedly wanted to achieve his goal before the year ended, but the stakes were getting higher and more intimidating. Plus, getting rejected would be a horrible way to start a new year. He had enough bad luck, he couldn’t handle any more.

“Fuck...” he groaned under his breath, running his hands through his hair and down his face.

“Do I need to pull out the swear jar from when you were ten?”

Stiles nearly broke his neck while whipping his head to look at the man standing in the doorway of his bedroom. “Dad? What- I mean, uh, no. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be doing your sheriff duties and arresting middle-aged drunk uncles?”

“I’m leaving for the station in a few hours, it’s only noon.” Noah wasn’t too excited to lead to night shift, especially on New Year’s Eve, and Stiles’ lips made a thin line when he realized that most people weren’t drunk yet. “Why are you so tense?”

“I’m not tense!” he spit back, a little too quickly, earning him raised eyebrows from his father. Stiles relaxed his shoulders as he attempted to make a smooth recovery. “I’m just mentally preparing for all of the self-improvement I’m going to be doing tomorrow.”

The sheriff remained unamused and disbelieving. “Like what?”

“Like... jazzercise?” Stiles winced as soon as he said such an absurd fib, knowing well that it wouldn’t get him out of his interrogation.

“Really? You too?”

The boy’s jaw dropped. There was no way... “Wait, what?”

Smirking, just like his son had done countless times, and turning to walk down the hall, he said, “I better not have to arrest you too tonight.”

Stiles let out a breath of relief and called out after him. “I’ll be on my best behavior! Don’t you worry, Pops!”

With clammy hands, he drove to Scott’s house, already losing time because he was running late. He may have cut himself while attempting to shave the peach fuzz on his chin, and there was a lot of blood. Embarrassing for him, but his intentions to look his best for the biggest night of his life thus far were undoubtedly sweet.

Parking against the curb across the street, he recognized the other cars around him, signifying that he was the last to arrive. The clock was ticking way too fast. He didn’t want to believe that it was already 9:38, but he sort of had to. He had shit to do.

He took a long swig of water from the plastic bottle that had been festering in the cupholder for who knows how long, took a deep breath, and swung his door open. Marching up to the front door, he tried to shake the anxiety out through his hands and focused on taking more deep breaths, but suddenly he was sweating all over and his mouth was dry yet again. These side effects made him shake his head and roll his eyes at himself. He’d known this girl forever, the worst she could say was no. Or laugh in his face...

He slapped his own cheek and whispered harshly, “Get it together, Stiles. Be a man. It’s just a few little words. You’ve had all year to do this. You’ve done enough preparing. Be a man.”

At last, he stepped into his best friend’s home and saw everyone seated around the coffee table, playing Uno with two decks: Aiden, Isaac, Allison, and Ethan were relaxed on the couch as Scott, Kira, Malia, Mason, Liam, and Stiles’ favorite gal sat on pillows and cushions on the floor. Well, except for Malia – she “didn’t care about a hard floor” and “grew up on them.”

“Stiles! You’re here!” That pretty voice and smile caught his attention. “Here, come sit with me, you can just be on my ‘team’ until this game is over,” she said, scooting over and making room for him on her cushion.

His heart just about melted and he quickly sat down next to her, against her, which sent tingles through his body.

The game continued, but all he wanted to do was demand that everyone leave them alone so he could spill his guts and beg for a date. He was beginning to feel a bit hot and queasy, and he repeatedly checked the time as the minutes slowly passed. However, he watched her closely during her turns and quietly whispered strategy advice over her shoulder to aid her in disposing of her cards. Hearing her whisper back, raving about how smart he was made him blush furiously.

“Hey, what happened to your chin?” she asked while Allison played her turn.

Stiles looked at her with confusion at first. “My what?” Realization washed over him as his fingertips brushed over the tender mark left behind from his earlier incident. The fact that she noticed made his face turn another shade darker. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. Basically a paper cut.”

“Basically?”

“Kind of. Almost.”

“Almost a paper cut? How does paper almost cut you and still leave a mark?” she said, a smile growing on her face.

Chuckling, he gave in. “Alright, fine. I cut myself while shaving. But I swear it wasn’t my fault. The razor just came at me out of nowhere!”

Hearing her laugh at his dumb joke made him grin like a doofus (a cute doofus).

“Wow, I didn’t know you even knew how to shave. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“Hey! I’ve been shaving for years, you just haven’t noticed because I’m so skilled at it. I’m as precise as a ninja.”

“Clearly not, since you cut yourself,” she pointed out, smirking.

“I told you; it was the razor!”

After a couple more games of Uno, the group diverted into other activities: chatting, dancing, snacking, arm wrestling, etc. But every time Stiles could pull away and hunt her down, someone would drag her into another conversation or game of Connect 4. Usually, he wouldn’t mind yanking a person wherever he wanted, however, that look of joy she wore made it impossible for his hands to reach out.

Additionally, a stronger feeling of guilt was creeping over him. The fear of somehow violating her and making her feel uncomfortable with their friendship formed a blackhole in his stomach. He couldn’t bear being responsible for flipping her whole world upside down. What if she didn’t want to see him again? Or what if she tells everyone that he’s a creep? What if he has to disappear forever?

Of course, these scenarios he was conjuring were completely unrealistic; he knew that because he knew her. He knew almost everything there was to know about her. He studied her soul with interest and delight because she was so enticing and alluring to him. She was like a beautiful mystical creature who blessed him with companionship. Though, as the time inched closer to his deadline, he seemed to lose his sense of reality.

Before he knew it, the pack was gathering around the TV, watching the countdown on the local News, and finding a couch, chair, or fireplace to jump off of and into the New Year. Stiles’ heart was thumping and he felt faint. He was pulled up onto the couch by the hood of his jacket, and he looked over to see that pretty smile again, but he only frowned as people began counting down.

“10, 9...”

“Stiles?”

With a shaky jaw, he bit his lip.

“...8, 7...”

“What’s wrong?”

“...6, 5, 4...”

“Stiles-”

“...3, 2...”

“Will you go out with me?” he finally blurted, feeling hot tingles rush through him in waves.

Her jaw went slack.

“...1! Happy New Year!”

Everyone jumped down and cheered in celebration, blissfully unaware of the thick air surrounding the pair who awkwardly stepped down from the couch.

Stiles stared at her blank face before deciding to let his stupid hopes and dreams die in that living room. He didn’t want to keep looking into those eyes with the knowledge of the inevitable consequences that would soon be coming his way.

She glanced around and saw a couple kisses being shared, but when her gaze returned to Stiles, he was turning away, preparing to walk out of there as quickly as possible. Letting her instincts take over, she grabbed his shoulders, turned him around and placed a sweet but firm kiss on his cheek.

The boy’s eyes widened and his face and neck turned bright red, once again.

“Yes, I will go out with you.” She beamed at him with rosy cheeks.

Stiles kept staring at her with wide eyes until he cleared his throat and somewhat pulled himself together. “Oh, yeah, cool. That’s, um, really cool.”

“Cool? Stiles, I’ve been waiting forever for you to ask me out, and now that you have, all you’re saying is ‘cool’?”

His eyebrows shot up, realizing how insanely inappropriate his reaction was. “Oh my god, I am such an idiot, that is not what I meant at all, I swear-” He stopped suddenly. “Wait. You’ve been waiting for me to ask you out forever?”

She simply smiled at him again. “Happy New Year, Stiles.”

You survived another week in a very tough world, even though at times it felt like you wouldn’t, and I’m so proud of you.

I'm melting, someone get a mop.

Do you feel Bonita?—Stiles Stilinski

c/w: kissing, fluff

───────────────

ᥫ᭡

You’re kissing Stiles, well aware of the lipstick on your lips being transferred to his.

You snicker at every peck—lipstick reddening his lips. Stiles was too into the makeout to realize you ever so often giggling. Until now, where he’s about to faint from being so flustered. He parts his lips from yours, leaning back on his elbows.

You snicker once again, the lipstick shade matching his flushed cheeks. He raises a brow, confused.

“What?” He says.

You take your phone out of your pocket, showing him his reflection.

“Oh.. my god.” He says, attempting to wipe the color off—but instead smearing it.

You laugh, trying to compose yourself to help him out. You lift your thumb to his lips, cleaning up any color that’s out of his lip-line.

“Much better,” you respond.

Stiles puckers his lips, looking into the camera.

You snicker once again—“Do you feel.. Bonita?”

Stiles’ eyes quickly look to you, playful disappointment on his face.

You lose your composure, busting out laughing.

Stiles smiles, laughing with you.

“Yes, I feel very Bonita. Thank you.”

He kisses your cheek, planting a stain, and chuckling.

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.

That bicep though...

I thought I was going to write today, but then I passed out, landed on my nightstand, and injured my back, so... I don't think that's happening anymore.

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.

 I N S P .

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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! ❤️