Same! It Was A Beautiful Era

hee hee hee my hottie

I'm so happy to hear that! I wish you luck with your journey though, I'm sorry that it's still an issue.

And thank you so much! You are far too kind! 💜

Hi! Just wanted to check in and ask how you're doing? I hope all of your illness drama is resolved or will be soon! (Big fan of the queue!) 💜

I love the queue 😩 it's an absolute weapon hahah, still so much more to add on too!! and I'm also much better thank you for asking. I figured out what triggered it (kinda..?) and have made some adjustments but it still comes on sporadically which is so frustrating!

I hope everything is going amazing with you! So proud and amazed to see all the writing pieces and blurbs you've put out 🤗❤️

◇◈◆ Introduction & Navigation ◆◈◇

Hi! I go by KC on this platform and am a young adult female who aspires to be a writer. I struggle with consistency due to my marvelous procrastination skills, but I do my best to somewhat quench our thirst for Dylan O'Brien with fluffy imagines. Requests and feedback are appreciated! 💜

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◆ Masterlist

◇ This is updated as I go, so every imagine/oneshot I have written is up!

◇ Emojis symbolize holiday-themed prompts.

◈ Please do not copy, publish, translate, or duplicate any of my work, even if I am credited.

◆ Request Guidelines

◇ Everything you need to know before making a request is found here.

◆ Messaging

◇ Feel free to message me for any reason other than hate or slander (you will be blocked). I will get back to you when I can!

◆ Side Blog for Smutty Thoughts

◇ @panthressa

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.

I suddenly wish I was a snorkel...

Hii 🥺

Could you write a Dylan O'brien fanfic about meeting his friends for the first time?

Thank you in advance ❤️

I LOOOOVE YOUR WORK! 🥰

Aw, thank you so much! I'm so, so sorry that it has taken me this long to post this. You are so sweet and deserve better smh. Anyway, I genuinely can't tell if this is shit or not, so hopefully it's not a disappointment after all this time...

Ten Minutes

Word count: 895

Dylan's girlfriend was peacefully perched on his couch, wasting the day away while he was off in the shower, trying to make himself presentable. Of course, she had no idea that was his goal, or why he abandoned their position on the cushions.

Minutes later, he returned, wearing fresh clothes as the strands of his hair still flopped soggily. He smiled as he approached her again, standing above her.

She looked up at him and tilted her head. "You're wearing real clothes?"

His head tilted to match hers. "'Real clothes?' What do you mean?"

"Yeah, like," she started, glancing down at her loose t-shirt and sweatpants, "clothes that you would face the public in."

Dylan couldn't help but laugh as he spoke, "What? I just want to look somewhat decent when they come over. Is that a crime?" He watched as the color drained from his girlfriend's face and her eyes widened.

"Wait, what?" she stammered. "Who's coming over?"

"Some of my buddies from the Maze Runner cast, remember?"

She shook her head and immediately sat up straight. "No... No, I don't remember, because you never told me anything about that."

"I'm pretty sure, I did," he said, his eyebrows furrowing.

"No, you did not, Dylan! When are the fuck are they coming over?"

He dug his phone out of his pocket to check the time. "About... Ten minutes or so?"

She sprung out of her seat on the couch and scrambled over to his bedroom to clean herself up as fast as possible, crying out, "Dylan, you bitch! This is my first time meeting your friends, who are famous by the way, and you didn't even give me a heads up!? I have ten minutes! I get ten minutes to turn myself into a pleasant representation of Dylan O'Brien's girlfriend!? Are you kidding me!? I'm going to look like a crazy person! They're going to think I'm a disgusting slob and shun me!"

He bit his lip from the living room, trying not to laugh at her frantic distress. "I'm sure you'll look as beautiful as you always do!" he called back.

"You're just saying that because I fucked you this morning!"

Although her words were spiteful, he had to quickly cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his burst of laughter. Obviously, he felt guilty for forgetting something that mattered so much to his girlfriend, but her reaction was priceless. And he knew appearances meant something, but watching her move so speedily was probably one of the most amazing spectacles he'd ever witnessed.

As she viciously brushed her teeth, she could hear the faint voices of the arrivals. By some miracle, she was (more or less) ready to be seen and introduced. She anxiously made her way back into the living room and put on her most welcoming smile.

There they were: Thomas Brodie-Sangster, Ki Hong Lee, Kaya Scodelario, and Will Poulter, standing in the living room. She couldn't believe it. Their faces were so real, but the moment didn't feel like anything close to reality. How in the world was she going to pull this off?

She took a deep breath and stepped to Dylan's side. He glanced down at her and gave her a gentle, reassuring smile - exactly what she needed. However, she could still feel her face heating up and her hands getting clammy, as if right on cue.

Her boyfriend was clearly quite comfortable with his crew and had no problem introducing her, and unfortunately, teasing her. She may have stumbled over her words here and there and hoped with her entire being that no one noticed those clammy hands mentioned as she shook each of theirs. But all things considered, the greeting went smoothly. Dylan, being the loving man that he is, made sure she felt grounded with soft touches on her back or arm, and he guided the conversation to ease her mind of that responsibility.

As they sat down on the couch, sharing stories and drinks, she realized that there hadn't been a single awkward moment yet. She smiled on the inside, proud of herself for making do with the ten minutes Dylan gave her, and even more in love with him after seeing the way he raved about her in front of his visitors.

When the door closed and the room was left to the two of them again, finalizing their departure, she let out a deep breath, mumbling, "I guess that wasn't so bad..."

Dylan caught it and smirked. "See, you had nothing to worry about. Ten minutes is plenty of time."

"'Plenty' is an exaggeration, but yeah, I guess I made it work."

His smile only grew as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "They loved you, you know," he said, his voice lowering.

Her cheeks tingled as they changed shades, and she rested her arms around his neck. "Really?"

"Yes, really," he nodded, brushing his nose against hers.

The girl's eyes fluttered closed, relishing in the feeling of his wandering hands. They glided up her back after sneaking under her shirt. Clearly, he knew what he was doing and the effect he had on her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For making everything work out."

His smirk returned and he began pulling her in the direction of his bedroom. "Oh, I'm not done yet."

Throwback to this work of fucking art. Literally my fantasies put into words. Thank you, your majesty, for your beautiful creations you share with us thirsty peasants. 💜

I just know for a fact that while Stiles is still majorly crushing on his girl best friend, he continuously pokes her just to annoy the fuck out of her and get a reaction (even if it's very negative, anything counts), but deep down, he also really enjoys any physical contact, no matter how much or how little. I JUST LOVE THAT SILLY LITTLE GUY

PLEASE OKAY, this is going to be a whole thing now ~ i also literally took this way off book and just kept writing but please i agree 10000000% with your idea, clearly! also didn't expect to get an 18+ warning here but the last paragraph is not for minors!

it doesn't help that this beautiful specimen has too much energy; he is constantly moving, and the need to touch and feel becomes a necessity once he finds himself absentmindedly gravitating closer to you at every minuscule opportunity. and to an extent... you know that it is his language of needing comfort, a silent plea for grounding; so you allow the way his shoulder or thigh sits against yours at the lunch table, or how he steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder as he reverses the jeep. at the cinema, you even reached out to hold his hand when you noticed how he fidgeted with a fraying piece of string from the hem of his lacrosse hoodie.

you gave stiles comfort, and the schoolboy crush he had developed since he was fourteen only grew more rapidly. with this comfort came confidence - and his hands, or any part of his body, always found a way to be near you. he remembers clearly when the wind had been wild during one night of a lacrosse game, he watched as you pulled your coat closer to your shivering frame, but he focused more on tucking loose strands of hair back and away from your face. stiles' knuckles were so delicate as they caressed the velvet skin of your cheek as they rose from your smile and he knew in that moment that he never wanted to be apart from you again.

stiles so easily gains happiness from the small squeal you make as his fingers jab gently into your sides - how you'd jump, squirm, laugh at the ticklish sensation that shook your frame and he adored the sound. to no end. it was a reaction that fuelled him but even when the moment drew an annoyed sigh or slap away of his hands, he kept going - absorbing your energy, hearing your voice, feeling your hand against the sensitivity of his skin is what made his heart swell more for you.

when you hug him - man, he can hear angels sing, he can feel his body ignite with warmth as his blood courses with a shot of serotonin that would last hours. stiles would react immediately as his arms wrapped themselves around you, pulling your body close to his, his nose gently nuzzling against your temple. he would never feel more content than in these fleeting moments of an over-loving heart that brought butterflies alive within his chest. these were moments of pure happiness.

then, you had moments of pure angst. ones that caused his eyes to sting, and his heart to act in a completely different way - it would ache, a heaviness that clenched and twisted, that left the boy in pain. your fists were balled as they pounded at his chest, the sound of your cries piercing through his ears as he felt each fist clash with much more dismay than he thought possible. an argument, a fight, a case of miscommunication and anguish that led to two souls falling apart. stiles let you go as he stood still and your hands continued to push and pull at his chest, until he felt scared... he would do anything for you, even if it meant that he would break, but the possibility of losing you was much worse. so he would grab your wrists gently, enough to stop you as he peered into your watery eyes. he was on the verge of tears himself before he pulled you to him as close as humanly possible and he held you. tight. until the cries ceased, and your trembling arms held him back.

it was straight out of a romantic comedy the first time he kissed you. stopping you in the middle of talking, his willpower to control himself slowly sinking away until he thought 'fuck it'. you were shining so bright, epitomising the sun and he loved it. he leaned across the small space between you both as you sat in the jeep, his hands grabbing at your cheeks as his lips pressed to yours. he was so gentle with you, as if one ounce of roughness would break your delicate composure. you were gorgeous, porcelain fragility in the palm of his hands and he wanted to treat you so well, so right. the prodding of one's tongue, a moment in which was so whimsical neither could remember who initiated it, however, it was a moment indeed that sealed every emotion that was bubbling within the boy. the depth and caressing, the dance of tongues and harmonious rhythm as you both moved... it was his favourite touch, by far.

stiles felt both at ease and completely on edge when he was inside of you. a strange concoction of a racing heart that was utterly peaceful, the sensation of running a marathon and taking a well-earned deep breath, melting from a fiery heat whilst also chasing cooling tranquillity. the way you hugged every vein and ridge as he plummeted into you, over and over again, was a dizzying effect. his fingers digging into your exposed skin as he held you so close - one unit moving together over plaid bedsheets, friction burning against his skin as you soothed it with wandering hands that covered every inch of him without fault. his lips dragged lazily as he panted, your neck, your chest, your lips, swelling with purple-pink hues. nothing could beat the feeling of having you fall so beautifully apart around him.

stiles stilinski's love language is touch, abso-fucking-lutely.

name the pop/punk 2000’s band

You don't like Lydia? 🥺Why not? ?

I don't necessarily dislike her, I just don't think we'd be friends if she was in this world because of our clashing personalities. But she definitely had an important role in the show!

Thanks for asking! 💜

Hi, friends! I hope everyone is doing well.

If I have time this week, I'd like to write some fluff for the twins (Stiles and Stuart) trope, but I don't have any ideas or inspiration. If anyone does, please let me know! I absolutely love hearing from you all! Thank you! 💜