*Taps on your window* Imagine Derek Hale waking up late one morning in nothing but an oversized sweater, rolls onto his knees, terrible bedhead, rubbing at his eyes as he tries to adjust to being awake, probably yawning, his head MIGHT flop over once or twice in an effort to go back to sleep
If I was an artist, this is the part where I’d draw chibi!Stiles standing in the doorway of Derek’s bedroom watching all of this unfold and trying not to melt into the floor just to conVEY HOW MUCH THIS AFFECTS ME.
I think you killed me, nonnie. This soft, precious boy deserves all the soft, precious mornings. All of them.
ALL. OF. THEM.
*adds to list of things I want and need to fic*