So what if… after the hale fire….
I don’t know. just thinking crazy things.
Gif source- I think?(x)
Showing posts tagged MY ART
Disney was great, but EVERYTHING reminded me of Prince among wolves.
So a Disney!P.A.W doodle. :D Derek didn't want ears so he got the next acceptable thing. Still manages to feel embarrassed.
I don’t even think they sell sunglasses like that. /oh well/
3 times this week, Derek has found Stiles sleepwalking.
3 times this week, Derek carries him home.
At least Stiles isn’t the kind to sleep naked.
Derek goes for midnight runs when he can’t sleep.
He can’t sleep most nights.
In wolf-form, he’s less conspicuous, just a dark blur darting through the trees in the forest, and he runs and runs until he’s too exhausted to dream about smoke and ash.
He stays in the woods mostly, but sometimes he ventures closer to the houses at the edge of the trees, just to see the neighborhoods quiet and dark, the streetlights flooding empty roads, and the only sounds are the crickets in their yards.
And sometimes he visits his pack members houses just to see that they’re asleep, so he can know that their nights are at least more restful than his.
Then he runs back home again, to collapse on his bare mattress in his broken house, tired and heaving and human.
So the night that he’s flying through the woods at the edge of BHHS’s soccer field and he sees a figure standing in the center, Derek almost careens into a tree.
He twists and narrowly misses it instead. When he scrabbles his way off the forest floor, the figure is still standing there, arms lifting and swinging in tandem as if casting an imaginary fishing line.
Derek lopes forward cautiously, scenting the air. As he gets closer it grows stronger, the smell of Old Spice, Cheetos, and Stiles. Derek huffs in confusion, until he registers Stiles’ sleep-steady heartbeat, sluggish movements as he appears to dream about playing lacrosse. He’s not even wearing shoes.
Derek listens carefully for any other heartbeats in the area, and when there aren’t any he circles in front of Stiles and whuffs softly.
Stiles’ only reaction is to mumble a stream of incoherent syllables. Derek might guess that he hears the words Scott and first-line though, and then Stiles proceeds to launch another several lacrosse balls halfheartedly over him.
It’s not freezing out, but Beacon Hills at night isn’t exactly balmy either. All Stiles has on is a t-shirt and a pair of bright-red boxers. He barks again, louder this time, but Stiles sleepwalks like the dead apparently, and there’s probably a zombie joke in there somewhere that Stiles would never let him pass up, but he’s a mile and a half away from home and even more defenseless than normal.
Derek circles behind Stiles and nudges his back, pushing him in the direction of home. All it does is make Stiles stumble forward, and then he stands there arms limp and head tipped forward. Derek tries again, to the same effect, and again until he finally gives up and trots in front of Stiles, sitting back on his haunches and scooting into his shins until Stiles loses his balance and flops onto Derek’s back.
His fingers dig into Derek’s fur the instant he lands, and satisfied that Stiles won’t slide off, Derek lopes back into the woods. No sense in alarming the townspeople - Derek’s the size of a small horse in wolf-form, and late-night equestrian activities would probably get noticed.
Over the whistling of the air in Derek’s ears, he can hear Stiles’ soft snores, the occasional mumble about ‘strawberry-blonde locks’ followed by nuzzling into Derek’s fur, and soon enough he comes to a stop in the trees behind the Stilinski house.
The sheriff’s heartbeat on the second floor tells Derek that he’s asleep as well, and since there’s no way to leap onto the roof without knocking Stiles off, he approaches the back door quietly. He huffs as he noses it open - Stiles didn’t even bother to shut it completely on his way out. Derek pads across the hardwood as lightly as he can, slips up the staircase and into Stiles’ room. He winces when the door creaks, loud as a shot to his ears, but the sheriff’s heartbeat stays steady down the hall.
Derek sidles up to the bed and lowers that side of his body, but Stiles has a limpet-grip on his fur and only slides a few inches. He tries again, and gains another few inches, before he finally does a full-body shake and Stiles tumbles onto the covers. Still he doesn’t wake, just turns over and hugs the pillow to himself.
Derek snorts in disbelief. And then he crosses the room, now that there’s no fragile cargo on his back, paws the window open and leaps down to the ground, and takes off back to his own cold, barely-habitable bed.
It’s not until he gets there and shifts back, does he feel the still-drying smear of drool right over his tattoo.
You made me happy. this gave me feels. I love you. Have some illustrations. X3
3 times this week, Derek has found Stiles sleepwalking.
3 times this week, Derek carries him home.
At least Stiles isn’t the kind to sleep naked.
