Prince Among Wolves request.
- Reblogs my post: Oh cool, thanks. :D
- Reblogs my post and removes my comment: Oh... well okay i guess it didn't need that anyway...
- Reblogs my post and removes my comment only to write the same exact thing to make it look like they wrote it: (⊙‿⊙)
Thunk
Months had gone by. Months without seeing his face, hearing his voice, smelling his earthy and musky werewolf human scent that Stiles placed somewhere between sandalwood and wet dog.
He didn’t even like him. Derek Hale was an annoying and bossy alpha that didn’t know what he was doing. He’d be thrust into a role that he never expected to attain at the worst possible time and he handled it badly. Not that Stiles could say much more for himself but he’d scored quite a few goals during that lacrosse match he was tossed into last minute.
Now he was gone. Not even Scott had caught a whiff of him for the longest time and Stiles felt his skin crawl with anxiety. There was no one to tell him he wasn’t needed, no one to throw him up against a wall, no one to threaten to leave dying on the side of the road only to get bullied into possibly sawing off that someone’s limb, no one to challenge him.
Scott was his best friend, for life, for as long as he could remember. He was there for him and he took the balls Stiles threw as hard as he could across the field at him any time Stiles got himself worked up. But there was something missing that Scott couldn’t give him…
It came to the point where Stiles would go for long walks in the woods on his own, a thought deep in his mind that he would never admit to having kept urging him on. “Maybe Derek will magically show up in front of you. Like the first day you met him.”
Only weeks passed and Derek didn’t show up. Stiles sat in the woods on a rock, carving away absentmindedly at a rock with his pocket knife and not once did Derek Hale saunter by with his brooding quality that Stiles may or may not have found attractive once or twice.
…
“Stiles.” Was all he said the first moment they saw each other in the woods, where Stiles constantly found himself waiting for hours. Derek probably smelled Stiles all around the clearing, considering how often the boy ended up sitting here, throwing rocks at the target on the tree he’d carved to pass the time.
Stiles blinked at him when he turned around. Truth be told, he heard him coming first. As stealthy as Derek was, any time he was around… Stiles’ hair stood on end, he got a feeling in his stomach, the deities themselves alerted him of Derek’s presence… well probably not that but he knew he was there and he’d testify to that.
He’d turned his body around on the large rock he’d been sitting on long enough to make his butt checks numb to the point where he wouldn’t risk standing up and looking like more of an idiot than usual.
Stiles simply stared at Derek, who stared back at him. Eyes locked and Stiles didn’t try to convince himself that Derek couldn’t hear his heart beating a mile a minute. Instead he glanced down at the stone gripped tightly in his hand. Over the months he’d successfully carved an incredibly visible “I miss you” into the rock. Now he clutched it, glancing between the rock and the man, both of which he knew he cherished but sacrifices had to be made… on both ends.
It had been months. Stiles arm rose without his full awareness.
Derek’s lip curled up, flashing his fangs as a warning. “Stiles, I swear if you-“
Thunk. The rock his him square in the forehead even though he probably had enough time to dodge. Stiles wasn’t fazed by the deadly glare he was receiving, he simply stood up, played off the limp he possessed from his very asleep ass by brushing off his pants, and started walking away.
“Serves you right, sourwolf.”
Stiles didn’t hear any protests, only the soft footsteps as Derek followed him home.
I’ve made myself sad.
I now have this really sad head cannon that Castiel’s wings are wilting and his feathers are falling off because he couldn’t find God and he now has this irreparable sadness inside of him because he’s lost all hope and so now his feathers fall out when he walks and Dean’s loved his wings forever so he knows that these feathers are precious and lovely so he’s going to pick up every single one, because in the picture Sam is holding the feathers with both hands, which means he was only holding the feathers, not picking them up. He’s holding them for Dean when Dean picks up too many to carry because he knows how important this is to Dean and Dean is too focused in his task of picking up each and every one of Cas’s feathers because he can’t just leave Castiel’s feathers on the dirty ground.
This was actually the exact reason why i drew it as Dean picking up the feathers.
Pls continue to draw fox!Stiles whenever you get the urge, because all your versions of it are too cute and yeah they're just adorable.
Asked by Anonymous
Haha! Thank you! Though if i really did draw them every time i had an urge, that’s all you would see on your dash. XD
Well, I think your piece is beautiful just the way it is. Because Destiel or no Destiel, Sam and Dean are a team, and Cas is Sam's friend too. (This is assuming that what everyone was angry about was the image of Sam and Dean picking up Cas' feathers. Otherwise please ignore me ^^; )
Asked by Anonymous
Thank you. :) It was.
Sam, dean, and Castiel are all friends and i don’t know why i’m not allowed to draw a picture of just that. Not everything has to be about the chemistry between two characters. and your right, Sam and Dean are a team and Sam would want to help Cas just as much as dean no matter what.
As much as i enjoy Destiel, i don’t think Sam is that bad. Sam’s pretty cool to me. :) I’m pretty sure he cares for Castiel’s well-being Too.
It’s just a drawing. Something that popped up into my mind.
Also, wow, you did a good job editing Sam out (x) It could be a nice Destiel drawing if it wanted to.
But y'know, i guess enjoying other things rather than just this one ship is bad. /shrugs/
