Latest Posts by kowbelll - Page 6
TEAM. I NEED YOUR HELP.
I'm contemplating writing a Stiles x supernatural reader series (childhood best friends to lovers trope), but I'm torn between two ideas. To be frank, I can't promise when or if this will actually happen, but in case it goes at some point, I want to know ahead of time so I can start planning in the back of my mind.
• Option 1: Wampus Cat.
-I've done research on this legend, but if I write about it, I will twist it a bit. Or a lot. In my version of it, there's a curse that gets passed down to every first born son's first born daughter, giving her cat-like and hypnotic abilities, some of which are similar to or opposite of werewolves. Obviously, I will go into more detail in the series, but that is a quick glimpse.
• Option 2: Guardian Angel.
-For this idea, Stiles finds out that his girl best friend is actually his guardian angel, wings and all (including some extra pizzazz), when she rescues him. There will be some "angel rules" that are broken and some other religious themes, but I, personally, am not religious and do not intend to offend or invalidate anyone's religion or religious beliefs.
Thank you for your help! If this does end up happening and you'd like to be notified, I can make a tag list, just let me know. 💜
Maybe like a cuddle fluff where he’s laying on top of you and playing with your curls?
Wow, it's been a long time since I got this. I'm so incredibly sorry for the wait. I have no excuse other than falling into the rabbit hole of Sebastian Stan... So, yeah, I had no inspiration for anything else. Again, I'm so sorry. I hope this turned out ok...
P.S. This can apply to natural curls or heat curls, whichever works for whoever is reading :)
P.P.S. I just realized that I misread the request. Shit.
The Recoil
Word count: 573
He was mesmerized, to say the least. He always had been. He'd stare at the back of her head as she walked in front of him, watching her luscious curls bounce with every step. He'd constantly be dying to touch them, and he'd try until his fingers were clutched to himself closely, rubbing the ache away after having them get whacked a few too many times. Apparently, some people don't like having their hair meddled with.
Thankfully, that's not the case for his girlfriend anymore. Now that they're happily dating, he gets to touch whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and he's made that very clear. She no longer minds Stiles' insistence because she is officially sure that it's out of affection, not annoyance.
The two snuggle up during any free time they can spare, and for as long as they can get away with, in countless positions and arrangements. They take turns spoiling the other with caresses, paying extra close attention to the other's hair and scalp (Stiles' favorites). There's a certain smirk that appears on his face when it's his turn to get his hands on the precious silk of hers.
Stiles lays on his back with his girlfriend's head placed gently on his chest, and their legs tangled. He brushes all the hair back and over her shoulders, away from her face. His eyes are focused but keep a delicate gaze. One by one, he lightly pulls on each spiral with his calloused fingertips until it extends to its full length, then lets go, watching it constrict again. His smile grows slowly in adoration, not noticing the confusion that grows on her face.
"Stiles...?" she asks softly.
"Hm?" He barely glances up to her face before he continues his attention on her hair, only halfway through her mane.
"What are you doing?"
"Just, you know. Enjoying the recoil."
She tilts her head back to look up at him. "The what?"
"Hey! You moved," he says, scowling.
"Yeah, thanks for noticing," she retorts. "What are you doing?"
His defensive words get a bit jumbled up and a heat spreads across his cheeks. "I'm just, you know. Right? The recoil. The hair, your hair, and the curliness, and the... you know? The recoil."
She can't hide the big, loving smile on her face as she keeps looking up at his.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" he says, staring right back at her.
"You're very cute, Stiles."
"No." He practically glares at her. "No, I'm not. Absolutely not. Just, just put your head back the way it was and stop worrying about it, ok? Relax."
Stiles' girlfriend chuckles softly and does as he says, resting her eyes again and enjoying the gentle pull of his fingers. There's no point in teasing more than he can take.
Meanwhile, he can't contain the red heat which is traveling down his neck. Stiles doesn't understand and never will understand how she can make him react like this. Usually, he's easily able to keep a cold, sarcastic front, but not with her. Not with that smile. Not with those eyes. Not with her dreamy curls. And certainly not with her laying against him.
In the end, he's still smiling fondly, noticing her thumb that slipped underneath his shirt to brush across his waist. It's the little things that get to him most and drive him absolutely crazy for the love of his life.
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.
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.
SOMEONE SEDATE ME
(Not mine! All thanks to Pinterest :))
Imagination
Word count: 370
Stiles loves his girlfriend with his whole heart. She's perfectly beautiful and she's always right by his side to keep him levelheaded. However, no one knows that she's his girlfriend and no one knows how much he loves her. In fact, he's the only one who can see her outside of the television. This beautiful girl who he adores is just a character from his favorite TV show, but those feelings he has are just as real as the ground he walks on.
It wasn't always like this. At first, he just liked thinking about her personality and funny quotes that are engraved into his brain. As soon as he got home from school, he would rewatch his favorite episodes and skip through them, just to watch the scenes she's in. He memorized every movement, every mannerism, every line, every tone.
This was all good and well until he couldn't get her out of his head. Innocent thoughts turned into intricate daydreams. What he thought was an admiration for a fictional character, became an uncontrollable infatuation. He had never experienced love before, but now he is confident that what he feels for her is exactly that.
He can't stop himself from picturing her right next to him wherever he is, no matter how unrealistic that might be. There are no limits: classrooms, the library, the passenger seat of his Jeep, the shower, his bed, etc. He imagines interactions with her based on whatever situation he's in, which consumes his entire attention.
He knows that Scott would tell him he's insane if he ever found out, but he just can't help it. Thinking about her presence, even though it's not real, makes him comfortable, keeps him calm, helps his anxiety, and makes him feel loved. Why would he worry about being alone if he can just pretend he isn't? If this makes him delusional, then he doesn't care. As long as he has her, nothing around him matters. His imagination is a powerful tool, one he wields every day, almost every moment, to make him feel better than anyone else can.
Stiles is in love with his imaginary girlfriend, and that love makes him happy, regardless of the reality of it.
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 :)
Pen
Word count: 632
(This is definitely based on Jess and Lane in class from Gilmore Girls, but not exactly the same. Season 2, episode 19 for anyone who's wondering :))
Stiles, late as always, comes stumbling into his first period classroom, practically falling into his seat, which is conveniently right behind his girlfriend's. He looks around at the students next to him in confusion, not having a clue what they are working on until the teacher not-so-kindly slams the test on his desk. His eyes widen as he flips through the many pages and scans the countless questions. He sighs and reaches into his backpack, loudly rummaging around before freezing. He removes his hand and taps on his girlfriend's shoulder. Stiles' girlfriend, trying her best to focus on the test she surprisingly tried to study for the night before, ignores the obnoxious tapping and furrows her brows.
With a huff of frustration, Stiles whispers her name, and when he gets no response, he whispers it more harshly.
Clearly bugged, she whispers back, "What?"
Stiles leans over his desk, hoping that she won't keep ignoring the urgency in his voice if he's closer to her ear. "Give me a pencil."
"I don't have another one," she mutters.
His eyes narrow at the back of her head, "Then give me a pen."
"We only have like twenty minutes left."
He enunciates excessively due to his irritation, "Then give me the answers."
She sighs and shakes her head before responding quietly, "There's a pen in my bag."
Stiles glances at her backpack on the floor. "I can't go through your bag"
"Yes, you can"
He speaks frankly, his hushed tone slipping away from him, "My mother would crawl out of her grave and barbarically kill me if she knew I did something so immorally against her teachings." Receiving an aggressive shush from the teacher, he ducks his head down.
She rolls her eyes and successfully maintains her whisper, "You've done far worse and survived this long." Begrudgingly, she fishes out a pen from her bag and reaches behind her to hand it to him. "Just take it and shut up."
Smiling victoriously, "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Stiles' eyes linger on the back of her head before looking down at the test and sighing. He races through it, barely reading any of the words printed on the pages. By some miracle, he finishes in time despite guessing on pretty much all of it.
As the couple walk down the hallway after class, Stiles' girlfriend gives him an impressed look while speaking teasingly, "You really finished the whole thing in less than twenty minutes?"
Stiles shrugs and uses a cocky tone, "Oh, yeah. Anyone with at least two brain cells could. I guess your singular brain cell is just inferior to my three."
She laughs lightly, nudging him with his elbow. "Makes perfect sense. So, wait, why were you so late?"
He sighs as he answers, "There may have been a minor issue with a certain vehicle..."
"I feel like this Jeep is doing you more harm than good-"
He quickly interrupts her, knowing what she's insinuating and speaking firmly, "Absolutely not. No. Never."
She looks at him with a hint of sympathy, "I'm not telling you to do anything, I'm just making an observation."
Stiles stops in front of his locker and faces her. "The only thing you get to observe is me fucking your brains out in my beautiful Jeep after school," he pauses, realizing what words just came out of his mouth. His face turns slightly red but he decides to take a leap of faith and roll with it, his voice turning softer and more sincere, "Please?"
His girlfriend smiles and looks around to make sure no one heard his blunt words. "Return my pen to me after the last period and you have a deal."
Stiles' face lights up and he makes a firm fist, elated by his success.
To His Left
Word count: 938
It was Dylan's first day at his new school, the one he was transferring to in the middle of October during junior year. It wasn't very convenient timing, but his old school was a headache and a half. He was hopeful for his future in the new environment, regardless of the shy feelings creeping up on him.
He took a deep breath as he walked into his new English classroom a few minutes early, not wanting dozens of eyes on him in an instant. He immediately saw the bright smile of Mrs. Nixon, a young (mid-twenties), short, brunette, and cheerful woman who would be teaching him from now on. Her expression seemed to quickly ease his nerves, and he smiled back at her as he began to walk up to her desk.
He barely took his first couple steps before Mrs. Nixon spoke exuberantly, "Hi! Are you my new student? Dylan, right?"
He held onto the straps of his backpack tightly as it rested on his shoulders and nodded, his words falling out of his mouth, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's me."
"Perfect! I'm Mrs. Nixon, and oh my god. Sorry, I'm just so excited. This is a good class to join, as far as my junior classes go, I'm glad you were put in this period," she spoke rapidly, her ecstasy evident.
Dylan couldn't help but smile at her, appreciating her happiness just because of his presence. It felt good, so he tried to keep the conversation going, "Oh yeah? Do you teach another class?"
She sighed, then rolled her eyes as she spoke, "Yes, unfortunately. Half of my periods are full of freshmen."
Their comfortable chatter continued, and neither of them noticed that the bell had rang until his soon-to-be peers started flowing in. He looked around, realizing that he had no idea where he was supposed to go. Mrs. Nixon noticed his confusion and pointed to an empty desk, "Oh, Dylan, you can sit right over there, desk twelve."
He nodded as he walked over, trying not to let his face heat up when he heard Mrs. Nixon inform the class of his new presence and saw the eyes of everyone on him. He forced a polite smile and nodded as he sat down, and seconds after, his attention was grabbed by the gorgeous girl sitting to his left. His eyes widened a little and he hoped she didn't notice while she introduced herself with the most flattering smile he'd ever seen.
His words left him before he knew he was even speaking. "Nice to meet you, I'm Dylan," he said, feeling his hands get clammy.
"So I've heard," she spoke casually, making him chuckle nervously when he realized that Mrs. Nixon literally just told the entire class his name. "And it's nice to meet you too. If you have any questions about what we're learning about or the school, let me know."
He couldn't stop himself from smiling. She seemed so nice and laid back, as if talking to him was the easiest thing in the world, whereas he was struggling to contain all of his various emotions. She was either really good at this, or really good at pretending to be good at this. Either way, he enjoyed every second of their conversation.
"Sweet, thanks. I'll make sure to do that," he was a little disappointed when his attention was diverted to the lesson, right after he spoke.
As soon as the lesson was finally over, his gaze turned toward the girl to his left again. He really just wanted to talk to her again, the only problem was that he had nothing to say. He searched his scattered brain until she finally spoke and snapped him out of his staring, "You good?"
Dylan's eyebrows raised when he realized how weird he might have seemed, just looking at her without a word. He quickly tried to defend himself with a clearly forced tone of nonchalant, "What? Oh. Yeah, yeah, I'm all good. Just got distracted. But technically, it wasn't my fault."
She gave him a look of suspicion and tested his ability to keep his cool, "Oh really? So it's someone's fault that you got distracted?"
He smirked, hoping with his entire soul that he wouldn't mess this up, "Exactly. See? You're getting it."
Her eyebrows furrowed but she couldn't hide her small smile, "Getting what? What the hell are you talking about?"
He hesitated for a second, looking away. Screw it, he thought, and he shrugged his shoulders as he looked right at her again, "You're distracting me. I mean, come on. How am I supposed to not look at you?"
A bit of blush crept onto her cheeks and her smile unintentionally grew. She paused for a second, letting his words sink in and trying to think of how she could possibly respond to something so bold from someone she just met that day. She collected her wits and responded as confidently as she could make herself seem, "That's interesting, coming from someone who doesn't even know me. Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered, but have you considered the possibility that you just suck at focusing on anything other than girls?"
He suddenly felt his own face heating up, not having expected such a sassy accusation. He chuckled, mostly nervously, "I plead the fifth."
She simply rolled her eyes with a smirk as Dylan kept smiling like a dork. They knew that this seating arrangement was going to be entertaining for both of them, and Dylan was excited to have a pretty girl to look at during English, directly to his left.
Note: I have no idea if this is good or not, but if it somehow is and someone wants me to keep this storyline going, then I happily will. Just let me know :)
Lost in the Dark
Word count: 798
"Stiles, where the hell are we going?"
Stiles' focus remained on the road as his girlfriend of just a few months (and best friend since preschool), sat in the passenger seat of his Jeep with growing anxiety. His narrowed eyes didn't leave the dark road as he tried to answer casually, "Don't worry about it."
She looked at him gobsmacked and her voice slightly raised with panic, "How on Earth am I supposed to not worry? We've lived in Beacon Hills all our lives, and I have never seen this road. Ever."
Stiles, trying not to panic just as much as she was, did his best to scan the area as he drove. "Psh, we've been here plenty of times. Remember a couple of years ago, when we, uh... we, you know... uh..." Sighing in defeat, he caved, "Ok, fine. I have no idea where we are."
Hearing him admit the truth made the reality of the situation sink in quickly, making her exclaim with worry and annoyance, "Stiles! You promised me a relaxing, late night drive, not a trip to the middle of nowhere!"
He rubbed his forehead regretfully, trying to remember what mistake he made that led them to this road in the first place. "I know, I know, but maybe it isn't so bad. Just look at all the... thousands of trees surrounding us that all look the same..." He glanced over at her and caught a glimpse of the intense glare she had, pointed right at him, causing him to marginally wince.
"If I don't make it home safe and alive, you can bet your ass that my father will hunt you down, whether you're still alive or not." Stiles simply nodded as she spoke, avoiding the thought of her dad and his menacing scowl.
As Stiles continued driving down the unfamiliar roads and paths, and making 'educated' guesses on how to get back home, his girlfriend shifted nervously in her seat. At one point, Stiles slowed down and squinted his eyes into the inky woods, towards the passenger side, and spoke ponderously, "Oh, look. Maybe we can ask that guy for directions."
With a spark of hope present in her, she turned her attention to where he was looking. However, that spark was quickly put out and replaced with frustration and fear as she exclaimed, yet again, "Stiles, that's a fucking mountain lion!" Stiles' eyes widened and he quickly drove off and further down the road. She ranted on about how much of an idiot he was and how much she no longer trusted him to escort her anywhere.
He interjected defensively, "It's pitch black out here, how am I supposed to distinguish a man from a mountain lion in these conditions!?"
She didn't hesitate to snap back, just as snarkily, "Well, maybe if you hadn't gotten us lost in the first place, you wouldn't have to worry about that!"
"Oh, excuse me for not having a GPS built into my brain!" Stiles looked at her, bugged by her matched fieriness.
"It's a real shame you don't, we should definitely look into that!" The tension between the two seemed to be reaching its peak until both of their attention was drawn to the vehicle as it slowed down. Her tone turned into one of confusion, "Stiles, what are you doing?"
"I'm not doing anything," Stiles frantically looked for the source of the problem as he spoke, still holding onto the steering wheel. He, too, was very confused by the turn of events, until the realization hit him. He hesitated to speak, knowing that the information he was about to reveal would only make him seem like even more of an idiot.
Nevertheless, his girlfriend knew him better than she knew herself, and she could easily read that adorable face of his. And so, she spoke warningly, "Stiles... Just say it."
He sighed, trying to build up the courage, and leaned his head back against the headrest. He looked over at her apologetically, and his voice softened with a hint of nervousness, "We're out of gas..."
She stared at him blankly, slowly digesting his words. After a moment, and after Stiles was about to freak out from the way she was looking at him, she just burst into laughter and bowed her head from the intensity of it. He was completely unprepared for that reaction and looked at her with concern.
"Wha-... What? Why are you laughing? You are laughing, right? What's happening?" he spoke cautiously, yet worriedly.
She lifted her head, still very amused, and barely got the words out between her inapt giggles, "We're so fucked."
And so, Stiles couldn't help but laugh along with her, choosing to enjoy his girlfriend's presence and her sweet laugh, despite the predicament they were in.
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.
Slow Morning
Word count: 339
As Dylan slowly and comfortably begins to wake up from one of the best rests he's had in a while, he pulls his girlfriend closer, pressing her back to his chest. He hums contently and mumbles softly against her hair, "Morning, sleepyhead."
When he doesn't feel any movement in response from her, he lifts his head and looks at her peacefully sleeping face, bringing a smile to his lips. Evidently, she's still recovering from the previous night of fun they had after not seeing each other for a week, which felt like forever to them. He moves her hair away from her neck and presses lazy kisses against her skin.
"Wake up, sleepyhead... I need my morning affection," Dylan whispers as his pecks to her face and neck continue, causing her to softly groan and recoil, curling up into a ball underneath the covers. He chuckles, noticing her desperation to keep sleeping. "Hey, come back up here," he says, while wrapping his arms around her torso and pulling her back into the cuddle.
She sighs softly, letting her body relax again, until she feels a gentle bite to her neck. In a groggy and somewhat whiney tone, she protests, "Dylan..."
He chuckles again and uses an innocent tone, "Hey, I was being gentle. Just relax and let me wake you up."
"I don't want to wake up though..." Her words slur a bit due to her present sleepiness.
His hold on her gets a little tighter, "But think about all the benefits of waking up, like eating breakfast, and kissing your boyfriend, and listening to LA traffic, and kissing your boyfriend, and... and kissing your boyfriend..." He laughs lightly and buries his face into the crook of her neck.
A small smile appears on her face, yet she keeps her eyes closed. Her tone becomes more content and even a little cheerful, "Ok... But give me like, ten minutes."
Dylan laughs again and nuzzles into her neck more. "Ok. Ten minutes. But after that, I need your cooperation."
"Deal."