So I Decided Treat This Blog As My Sketchbook. 👀

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.

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.

THIS IS SO CUTE, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I LOVE THIS AAAAHHH!

stiles and sandman!reader blurb

a/n: this was inspired by the song “at all costs” from wish and i was going to do a full length fic but i can’t quite get it right so right now here’s a blurb! testing the waters to see if it’s smth y’all would want <3

you weren’t supposed to dream.

in all of your years, you had never dreamt. no terrifying nightmares, no reliving moments of your past, no outlandish fantasies that fleeted from your brain the second you woke. not even when you were little. it had never been unusual to you, knowing that your family were dream guardians— or more commonly known in lore, sandmen.

you weren’t sure when it had started, when the images of a boy with dark hair and equally dark eyes had started to come to you. but the longer it went on the more you grew attached, to look forward to sleep and to seeing the serene face in your dreams. there was no name, no identifying factor other than his soft features that brought you comfort rather than disturbance.

you kept it a secret. not because it was particularly dangerous or untoward ( as far as you knew ), but rather because it felt good to have something uniquely your own. and maybe because you were afraid if you told the other members of your family, the dreams would stop. and selfishly, you couldn’t let him go.

stiles had never kept track of his dreams. most of the time they were weird and nonsensical and filled with allusions to his favorite nerdy media. and they never repeated. sure, some of them had the same premise or started the same way but there was always something different about them, something that made each one different. that was, until a few months ago when he had begun to dream of a mysterious girl. the first time he figured it was a product of his imagination, a fantasy he had created to combat his lack of a relationship. but then he dreamt of her again.

and again. and again. and again.

always the same over and over. the girl frozen in time, her eyes gentle and her smile kind. she never spoke but it seemed like she wanted to. of course, he had to be going crazy. how could a figure in a dream want anything? wanting was so completely and utterly human, something he knew very well after dreaming of her for months. he wanted to know her so much it bled into his waking hours, leaving him desperate for the time he’d close his eyes and see her again.

he didn’t tell anyone. with all of the nonsense he and his friends went through, this small pocket of peace that he found in his sleep was something he wanted to keep to himself ( and maybe he was afraid they’d make fun of him for making up a literal “dream girl” ).

for months they dreamt of each other. always watching, memorizing until they could recall the features of the other as well as they could their own. neither of them understood the true depth of their connection, nor that it was real and more tangible than any dream had a right to be.

after all, the saying is “dreams do come true”.

I'm passing away

I'm opening Word right now, it'll be up tonight! Thank you all for your excitement!

WAIT I WANNA SEE DAIRY QUEEN STILES!!! PLEASE WRITE THAT EVEN IF IT DIDNT WIN THE POLL PLEEEEASE 😩😫😻

I'm planning on it, I promise! I keep thinking I'll have time to write, and then end up swamped. So I'm not sure when that will happen, but it's next on my list! I appreciate your excitement, my dear 💜

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.

This is literally my life right now, oh my gosh. I've never seen anything so relatable

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! 💜

what experiment were you doinf when you made the other acount?

Hi! I was just curious how much more interaction/attention little smutty posts get vs. fluffy oneshots, or if there was a difference. Turns out, there is. My other account has gotten more feedback in a much shorter amount of time. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but I do think it's interesting. However, we're all just humans with silly fascinations.

Thanks for asking! I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend 💜

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements