Sterek Library (a03 Edition)

A Likeness Of You (mature content)

This chapter is dedicated to SarahBroch thanks for your endless support 💝

By: Hopeless ships

Summary: Stiles is quick to notice that taking photos of werewolves can be a bit tricky, at least if you want to see their eyes and not have the whole image ruined by the flare from their eyes. Now Stiles for one would very much like to have photos of the chaotic group of friends that is slowly becoming his family and preferably some where it doesn't look like most of them have fallen asleep.
Being Stiles he quickly comes up with a plan, he begins to draw again and preserves them all forever in graphite and paper.

What his plan hadn't involved was a hidden sketchbook under his bed filled with drawings of Derek.

Work Text:

It all started when Stiles noticed that the flare of Scott’s eyes destroyed every picture he took of him. Well, all of those where he opened his eyes that’s was. Stiles decided that he didn’t want an entire life without pictures of his best friend or at least not only pictures where he closed his eyes. He had more than enough embarrassing sleepy Scott pictures to last a lifetime due to Scott’s ability to sleep anywhere if only tired enough. He didn’t need an entire life worth of memories only to have it look like Scott was sleeping though it all. Imagine the graduations photos, or prom. No, something had to be done about it because pictures were important, and if there was anyone who knew how important it was to have physical reminders of people it was Stiles.

The picture of his mom, from before her body turned on her and the chemo and cancer’s battle sucked the life out of her, that was standing on his nightstand was one of the most important objects in his life. Sometimes he would stare at it for hours before falling asleep, reminding himself of the way she smiled and how her eyes changed color depending on her mood, grey when she was sad and bright blue when she was happy, filling in the little details that was slipping away from his memories, slowly worn away by time. He was terrified of forgetting even the slightest detail. And with the constant fear of losing one of the werewolves he was slowly beginning to think of as family, he knew he had to think of something fast. 

If he lost one of them he needed that little piece of physical evidence proving their existence. 

Stiles, being the genius he thought he was, decided to start drawing again. He had drawn a lot when he was younger and had been really talented (or so people told him) but as he got older the ADHD had made it impossible to focus properly on it, his limps and mind to restless to focus on drawing as well as school, and once he started on the Adderall, well, there had been other stuff to steal his time and doodles in the margin of his notebooks was all that was left. 

With a plan I mind Stiles took the money his crazy aunt in Arizona sent him for his birthday and went to town, or rather to the local craft shop. Upon his return he was loaded down by sketchbooks in various sizes, pencils, both color and graphite and whatever else had caught his attention. (that book about nude drawing was an absolute must mind you.) 

And then he began. It was hard starting up again his hands didn’t want to do what his mind was asking and his fingers were stiff and uncooperative. The entire first sketchbook was straight for the bin, though Stiles just buried it in the back of the closet hoping he would never ever have too look at it again. 

But after some time his natural talent started to shine through and by the third sketchbook he was able to catch even the smallest details of his friends and he started his plan for real. Scott was naturally his first victim. He drew him sitting in class sneaking glances at his phone a content smile on his face, in lacrosse gear hair tousled and with a victorious smile as they won state and even wolfed out. Then he stared to add his other friends to the drawings. Boyd, Erica and Isaac sitting outside waiting for Derek and Scott and Alison cuddled up on the couch, even a little drawing of Derek, leaning against the Camaro as he waited for Isaac one late afternoon.