" Eyes up here, Sourwolf."
So after sobbing and wheezing and crying over how beautiful the Sterek fandom is, I decided to finally contribute.
Derek likes looking at Stiles’ lips. (◡‿◡✿)
"My eyes are up here, Sourwolf,” Stiles intoned, drawing the werewolf from his reverie with the slight up-tilt of his finger underneath his chin. Derek hadn’t realized that his gaze had begun to wander. Which really wasn’t his fault to begin with. At least not with Stiles there, in his personal space, smelling, well, like he did, with those hands and their long, dextrous fingers, and those big amber-brown eyes, the color of honeyed whiskey, that long, neck, flecked with moles and bracketed by lean cords of muscle, and those perfect, full lips, good enough to fucking eat.
"What? I wasn’t looking at-" Derek cut himself off before he made it worse, and Stiles just chuckled, sliding his hand along the stubble of his cheek up toward Derek’s ear. He leaned into it subconsciously.
"Uh-hunh," Stiles mused, sarcastic smirk deepening at the soft, content hum that was rumbling in Derek’s chest at the contact. "Right, because you totally haven’t been staring at my lips for the last ten minutes looking like you’re gonna eat them.”
Derek shrugged, reaching up to curl his fingers around the notch of Stiles’ hips to pull him close. “I’m allowed.”
Senior English major on a Shakespeare final. (via minininny)
WELL THEY’RE NOT WRONG
Whenever I feel sad, I just look at this gif and then I don’t feel so sad anymore
Finally finished! :D Thomas from The Maze Runner, a scene from the first book (:
Don’t ask me why the beetle blade has so many legs
i kinda changed the prompt a little
Someone is throwing pieces of a bread roll at Derek. Smirking a little, he licks his thumb and turns the page of his book as if unaffected. A crust hits his eyebrow, Derek raises said eyebrow as if fascinated by what he’s reading.
Derek shuts his book, and hears a sigh of relief. He glances over the blurb blindly, makes an interested sound, and then flicks the book open again.
Half of the bread roll lands in the middle of his page, and he sighs, looks up to glare at the beaming face across the table. The face belongs to Stiles, of course, who seems intent on disrupting Derek’s quest to finish Don Quixote. It’s been slow going, so he’s not entirely adverse to being distracted—especially by Stiles—but, he can’t say so. Instead, he looks impassively back at Stiles as Stiles wiggles his eyebrows, grins widely.
“Oh hey, did I interrupt your reading?”
Derek rolls his eyes, snatches up the bread roll and tosses it back at Stiles. Stiles opens his mouth and catches it, chews until it’s disappeared, and Derek wrinkles up his nose in disgust.
“You’re incredible,” Stiles retorts, “What are you reading?”
I can’t handle this