fyeahsterek72

[fyeahsterek72]

the teen wolf sleeper agent in my brain just spontaneously combusted

[fyeahsterek72]

NOOOO! SAM!!! DON'T START TAKING STATEMENTS FROM PEOPLE!!!!!! SAAAAAAMMMMMMM!!!!!!

[fyeahsterek72]

Derek: ... Damn it!

[fyeahsterek72]

Bad dreams

[fyeahsterek72]

Stiles, Derek needs the CLEAREST signals. I'm talking foghorns.

[fyeahsterek72]

they're on a boat

wanted to capture the serenity of being out on the water on a warm afternoon

(they're listening to derek's playlist for once, rec under the cut)

[find this and my other sterek art on Redbubble!]

Had this on repeat while drawing it, thought the melancholic vibes fit ♥

[fyeahsterek72]

Oh, to be crushed underneath your werewolf boyfriend 💭

[fyeahsterek72]

the way that when a fic describes a character dragging their nose across someone else's skin has me by a chokehold (also the vulnerability of baring your throat *bites fist*)

crops of the parts that (as always) ended up being my favorite: ✨the hands✨

i keep spotting things i want to completely redo so it's time to let go before i scrap it completely ✌️

[fyeahsterek72]

[fyeahsterek72]

On the surface Sterek looks like a classic hot mysterious bad boy x sweet little nerd ship but when you actually watch teen wolf it turns out that Derek is indeed a hot mysterious bad boy but Stiles is a smart mouthed asshole who is way more likely to commit violence than his hot bad boy boyfriend. Also he is a nerd.

[fyeahsterek72]

The engine of Stiles’ Jeep abruptly rumbles to life, and the headlights click on to illuminate the forest in front of them.

“Oh thank god.” Stiles’ knees are weak with relief. “You’re the fucking best.”

Derek’s mouth quirks up, a small thing compared to how utterly pleased he is at Stiles’ praise. “Sure.”

Then Derek’s phone suddenly blares ‘OH BABY, BABY’ — the Britney Spears ringtone that Erica set for her own contact when she hijacked Derek’s phone. Derek picks it up, says a quick “I’ll be there in thirty,” and then promptly hangs up.

“It’s movie night,” Stiles realizes. He forgot about it because he turned down the invitation a few days ago to work on scholarships.

“It’s fine.”

“Fuck, dude, I’m sorry,” Stiles apologizes anyway.

“I told you, it’s fine. One of them is always late, and most of them usually end up crashing at the loft for the night anyway. I’m not concerned about it.” Derek crosses his arms. “I am concerned about how often this is happening, though. This is the second time this week alone.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, running a stressed hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll call Scott next time.”

One of these days, duct-tape and prayer isn’t going to be able to keep the Jeep going, and it’s looking to be a sooner and sooner future. There’s a laundry list of problems that need addressing, and Stiles has the allowance money for none of them.

“Not that. Always call me,” Derek brushes Stiles’ apology away instantly. There’s an indignation that Stiles would ever feel bad about needing his mate. “I just meant that maybe it’s time for a new car.”

“Sure,” Stiles scoffingly laughs, “with what money?”

Derek shrugs. “With my money.”

Another laugh bubbles out of Stiles’ throat, but swiftly dies because Derek is serious. Stiles can feel how dead-serious Derek is. “What?” Stiles blinks. “Dude, you can’t just— buy me a car. That’s ridiculous.”

Derek does that thing with his eyebrows that tells Stiles exactly what he thinks, no mating bond necessary. “What’s ridiculous about it?”

“What do you mean ‘what’s ridiculous about it?’ Thousands of dollars is what’s ridiculous about it, Derek!”

Derek simply shrugs again. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Stiles gapes at him.

He knows that Derek has money. That he and Peter have their stupid war bonds or whatever. That Derek and Laura got a shitload in life insurance after, you know, their whole family died. That they also inherited quite a bit because the Hale family was wealthy to begin with. He knows that Derek owns that entire building downtown.

So while he knows that Derek has money, actually hearing him speak like this is… wow.

Stiles stares at him incredulously.

“…How rich are you?”

“I live comfortably,” Derek says casually, leaning against the hood of Stiles’ Jeep. Comfortably, Stiles repeats to himself in disbelief. “Name me a make and model and I’ll buy it for you.”

Jaw somewhere on the floor, Stiles slowly holds up a finger. “Okay, first of all, that’s insane. You’re insane.”

Derek frowns. “I’m not insane for—”

“You are. That is insane and you are insane. Do you know how much my dad would flip his fucking lid if I came home with a new car that someone else bought me? Let alone you?”

“It’s—”

“He’d blow straight through all his blood pressure meds and die of a heart attack, Derek. He’s still not entirely convinced I’m not your sugar baby or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s giving him stomach ulcers.”

Derek scowls.

“Second of all,” Stiles continues… then hesitates. His mouth twists on the words, and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he scuffs his sneaker against the grass. “I just… want to keep the Jeep for as long as I can.”

Stiles can feel Derek probing along the bond, trying to pilfer through Stiles’ mess of emotions with the sudden shift in atmosphere. “Why?” He eventually asks.

Stiles shrugs weakly. “It was my mom’s.”

Derek goes quiet.

Stiles stares down at the ground as he listens to the wind rustle through the trees that line the side of the road. Stiles never really knows what to say when he brings up his mom.

“Okay,” Derek says after a moment. “We’ll get fixed, then.”

Stiles hesitates.

To get the Jeep completely fixed up at a shop it’s going to cost a pretty penny, way more than the actual car is worth. Derek might have the money for it, but to Stiles it doesn’t feel much different than Derek cashing out a brand new car for him.

“I still don’t want you spending that much money on me,” Stiles admits.

“Then I’ll fix it.”

Stiles’ head shoots up. “You… will? You know cars?”

Derek pats the hood of Stiles’ Jeep with a smirk. “I did this, didn’t I?”

Stiles’ face lights up.

He’s been waiting for the Jeep to give out and die any moment now for quite a few months, half-mourning that he’s going to lose yet another piece of his mom. He’s aware that the Jeep will eventually stop working regardless, but Stiles just… isn’t ready to let go yet. The thought he might be able to keep it for a few years longer sort of makes him want to cry.

“It’ll be a lot of work,” Stiles argues, even though he can’t even try to stifle his grin.

Derek pushes off the hood of Stiles’ car as he approaches him, and Stiles accepts him into his space as easy as breathing. Derek’s arms rest around his waist to the small of his back, and Stiles instinctively grabs the front of Derek’s shirt.

“It’ll be a fun project,” Derek says, smiling down at him. “You won’t have it for a few days at a time while I’m working on it, though.”

“That’s fine,” Stiles grins back. “I’ll get rides from Scott.”

It’ll be cramped on his stupid motor bike that Stiles told him not to get, but that’s fine. If it means Stiles gets an actual, functioning car then he could deal with bumming rides on something that probably isn’t meant for two people.

“I’ll drive you,” Derek insists.

“To school? Everyday?” Stiles raises an eyebrow.

Derek’s thumbs slide over Stiles’ sides as he moves his head a little closer. “Would you believe me if I said I was looking for an excuse to?”

Stiles throws his head back with a laugh. “You’re so stupid. You need a hobby. Or a job.”

“I have hobbies,” Derek frowns, “and I don’t need a job.”

“You might need a job. My dad keeps asking me if you’ve ‘done something with your life yet’.”

Derek’s frown deepens to a scowl. “But he thinks you’re my sugar baby?”

“Guess I have pretty low standards for one— ow!”

[fyeahsterek72]

Erica, Lydia, and stiles are the mean girl council of the hale pack.

Sometimes Issac and Boyd will join them but they are more like reserved members.

It starts as a joke within Beacon Hills becuase icons obvs. They are generally untouchable. But then when another pack pass through Beacon Hils and catches wind of the “council” and they realize it’s made up of

1. The alpha mate, who is a legendary spark, son of the sheriff

2. The mate of the alphas sister, who is a banshee

3. The enforcer of the Hale pack who is also mated to the second of the Hale pack.

And they freak. The introduce themselves to the “Hale alpha and Council”. And literally no one corrects them. And when hunters come, they watch as the council plan and fight like it’s war. They see magic that shouldn’t be possible. When they leave they thank the goddess that they are allies with the Hale pack.

So the tale of the council spreads. Other packs start reaching out for the council. And they grow ever more famous.

But as it is, a far more traditional alpha comes looking for the legends. One that gives no heed to the warnings, who doesn’t believe in them. He is met with a trio.

On the right stands another wolf, with blonde curls and a feral smirk. One with just to much teeth. Claws out. The alpha swears he can hear and smell blood drip off of them. His blood. But he isn’t injured. That doesn’t stop the feeling of pain like she’s already gutted him.

On the left stands another girl. Hair as red as blood on a corpse. Sickeningly vivid green eyes. Wearing a face of displeasure, pursed lips. The alpha thinks he hears her whisper but her mouth is firmly closed. But the sounds remain like cold dirt on his skin, sounds of people long dead. Figures seem to appear in the corner of his eyes the longer he looks at her. Hands that aren’t there grab at him.

And last is the boy who stands in the middle. A completely black bat resting in his hand. It’s covered in glowing runes that seem to have a life of their own. Standing unnaturally still but seeming to sway in place, like he was folding into reality itself. An unnatural halo of golden eyes that can see into his soul.

The alpha raises his hand, whether in an act of self defence or aggression. It doesn't matter, he is never heard from again.

Those who do make enemies of the Hale pack always beg for anyone but the council.

And the alpha isn’t doing fuck all to stop it. He, Cora, and Peter actually make it worse by deferring to them and spreading rumours.

[fyeahsterek72]

[fyeahsterek72]

It’s been six months since the Nogitsune. Since he was the problem. Since he was the monster.

Everyone keeps saying he looks good now. Healthier. That he's back to himself again.

But the truth is, Stiles hasn't felt like himself in a long time. He wakes up some mornings and stares at the ceiling for an hour, wondering if the feeling in his chest is dread or just emptiness. He jokes, because it’s easier than explaining. He smiles, because they expect him to. He says he’s fine, because what else is he supposed to say?

“I’m fine,” he tells Scott when he checks in.

“I’m fine,” he says to his dad, who comes to his room with home cooked meals more than he used to.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles when Lydia hugs him a little too tight.

But he’s not.

He’s tired. His bones ache in a way that has nothing to do with age and everything to do with the weight of remembering. He can’t sleep without dreaming of bandaged hands and bitter laughter. Of what he did. What it did. Same difference, right?

The worst part is no one blames him. They should. He does. Every time he sees the scar on Derek’s shoulder or the lingering fear in Isaac’s eyes. Every time Allison’s name comes up and the conversation stalls just a second too long.

Stiles is broken in a quiet way. Not like when he lost his mom and fell apart. This time he’s shattered on the inside - a neat, presentable mess. Like a house with the lights on but no one home.

Therapy helps, a little. Talking to someone who wasn’t there, who doesn’t look at him like they’re waiting for the punchline, helps. His therapist tells him healing isn’t linear. That sometimes surviving is the brave part. That sometimes you have to sit in the darkness to see the cracks where the light gets in.

He wants to believe that.

And then, one night, he finds himself sitting on the porch of the rebuilt Hale house. It's quiet. The air smells like pine and the distant promise of rain.

Derek finds him there.

Doesn’t say anything. Just sits.

They don’t talk often, not like they used to. But Stiles always found something safe in Derek's silence. It doesn’t demand anything from him. Doesn’t ask how he’s feeling or if he’s okay.

Derek just is.

After a while, Stiles speaks.

“I’m not fine.”

It hangs between them. Raw. Ugly. True.

Derek doesn’t flinch. He just nods, slow and deliberate.

“You don’t have to be.”

And maybe that’s the first step. Admitting it. Saying it out loud.

Maybe that’s how you start to become something more than a collection of cracks.

Maybe one day, Stiles will be fine.

But tonight, it’s enough that someone finally heard him say he’s not.

[fyeahsterek72]

[fyeahsterek72]

Okay here’s the final piece, Basketball Captain Derek hale at college.I am going to explore this universe further as I have so many more ideas.I also have a video of the rendering process of Derek if anyone wanted to see it, somehow half it wasn’t recording which could be a mistake on my half.If anyone wants a step by step process please let me know and I’ll figure a way out to record and upload the process in the future without the quality going to crap.( it’s Procreate if anyone knows how to do that thanks )

[fyeahsterek72]

Stiles Roscoe a Robin’s Egg Blue 1980 CJ5 Jeep