I heart you
sorry girls! I’m still alive :p
time to change and go running or i’ll be late to get ready for dinner. Baaai ♥
ps: if i don’t survive the run all the porn goes to Nia, Verity and Heather.
OOOOOR I shouldn’t write it because I have too much on my plate as it is. GODDAMIT! *goes to write*
and then he makes everyone (or at least derek) watch QaF with him XD
you should write it u_u
I’ve basically swapped the nicks on the 2 accounts i have so, if you wanna follow me for fandom stuff, this is the account i use (it’s a locked one but just tell me if u follow and i’ll add you asap) now https://twitter.com/Joji387 .Yes, the nick is the like the “old” one but it’s now the same ;)
Verity is a great name
hahaha yes it is!
What did you get?
samsung galaxy s advance! In white… And i need to find it a name now XD…
ehm, i clicked the “unfollow” button instead of “view” XDD
*bookmarking for later*
when you have a million fic ideas but can’t write
when you have a million art ideas but can’t draw
It’s not often that he gets them both like this, both quiet and still in the mid afternoon light.
Derek leans against the door frame and watches Stiles’s chest rise and fall easily, the shadow of stubble dark against his jaw and baby Ela, named after Stiles’s mom, pressed to his side like she belongs there.
It’s been tough, the transition from just them, him and Stiles (and the Pack) to his little family which needs protecting. Derek feels the surge of love as Ela’s fingers twitch where they’re resting on her cheek and her face screws up in her sleep.
Stiles looks pale against the horrific sheets he made Derek buy, the bright green sucking the colour out of his skin, and there are dark shadows under his eyes and Derek looks back at Ela, a picture of innocence when last night Stiles had to walk around the house muttering to her to keep her from screaming the rest of the Pack awake.
Derek wants to kiss Stiles awake, wants to remind himself of the sleepy smile on Stiles’s face whenever he does that, the way Stiles’s hands run through his hair, or the smell of Stiles’s skin when he comes. But Stiles is exhausted and Derek feels the tug of sleep in his own body. He pushes himself off the door frame and slides into bed next to his daughter, resting his hand on Stiles’s stomach. Stiles shifts, turns his face towards Derek and a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners od his mouth.
“Love you,” he slurs and Derek presses his hand into Stiles’s skin in a silent answer.
Love you too.