Inamorato

Stiles is a dreamer. It seems that it's one of the few ways he's able to keep his ADHD under control. But something soon starts to make his dreams restless, make them more vivid and panicked. Little does he know that his mate is looking for him. He's caused the leather-clad werewolf out of hiding and would stop at nothing for his inamorato.

Super huge thanks to LONEWOLFED on tumblr because a large part of this was inspired by her Sterek AU gifset! Check out her blog, it's AMAZING!

Chapter 1: Omega

The rough leaves crunch below his feet, the earthen, wild smell flooding his senses. He doesn't remember how he'd gotten himself in this situation, but it's unimportant as he runs, flying around trees and over hills. He has no idea where he's going, but he's running from the heels thundering behind him. His head starts to spin, his legs numb, chest heavy. Branches whip at his face and lash at his calves as he leaps over a rock and down the bank. The growling is gaining, but he sees headlights indicating that the road is up ahead.
'Almost,' he thinks, 'I'm almost there.'
A strangled cry erupts from his throat as a claw rips down his calf and grips his ankle hard enough to bruise, forcing him into the twigs and leaves on the forest floor. He thrashes, twists, catching a glimpse of the glowing scarlet eyes and the canines dripping with saliva, the horns on its head laced with blood. His fingers desperately search for a root, a branch, anything. His breaths were clipped and panicked as he prepares himself for certain death.
"DEREK!"
He ignores the burning sensation in his throat and screams again, his heart pounding out of his chest as claws bury themselves in his lower back.
"HELP ME!"
His honey brown eyes glance in front of him and standing at the edge of the road is a tall, brooding man, built and menacing. Tears stream down his face and he tries to ignore the feeling of his warm blood soaking his clothes and forcing them to stick to his body. He's really fucking done it this time.
"DEREK!"

—

He wakes up screaming in a cold sweat, sheets damp from perspiration. His body shakes violently, the only thing keeping him sitting upright are Scott's hands on his shoulders. The clock stares at him with scarlet eyes, its number showing the time of 1:23 am.
"Stiles, you okay?"
Chest heaving, he nods, a single bead of sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose. He kicks the blankets off of his legs and rubs his calf, looking for evidence of claws, of torn flesh, but coming up with nothing. "Yeah, just had a nightmare."
Scott sits on the edge of his bed and hands Stiles a glass of water, encouraging his best friend to take it. "Did you want to talk about it?"
Stiles sighs and ponders it for a moment, a throbbing pain in his lower back and his calf, but obviously nothing there. Did he really want to relive the hell he'd just gone through? Any normal person would've vouched on the hell no side, but then again, Stiles wasn't normal.
Deciding to make it as vague as possible, Stiles sighs, running his slender fingers through his unkempt bedhead. "I was in the woods, running from something. Presumably a wolf." Scott didn't need to know the whole truth.
"Was it a werewolf?" Scott was always curious though. So much for vague. "Would I know him?"
"Oh, for the love of—no, it was the fucking boogeyman. Yes, a werewolf, Scott!"
Scott exhales, his jaw clenching at Stiles's sarcasm. "Whatever."
"It caught me, it dragged me down and clawed me. I-I couldn't breathe, I—" he gasps, taking a deep breath, "I couldn't breathe."
Scott embraces him, removing the glass from his hands and setting it down on the nightstand beside his pillow. Stiles shook, half from fear, half from the open window Scott slid into his room through. "Scott, it's one-thirty in the morning," Stiles whispers. "Go before your mom finds out. Last time you were grounded it was a strict 'No Stiles' punishment. Don't let it happen again."
"I was worried is all. I heard you screaming from my house," Scott replies, tone full of concern.
"Thank you. For coming. It means a lot."
Scott nods and makes his way to the windowsill. "You're my best friend. I've gotta keep you safe."
Stiles smiles and yawns as Scott climbs out the window.
"Oh, and Stiles?"
He rubs his eyes. "Hmm?"
"Who's Derek?"
Stiles shrugs and watches as Scott leaves.

—

"DEREK!"
That was all it took to get him out of the house. It's not like he sleeps anyways. Ever since he started focusing on how his house smells of anguish and remorse, he can't close his eyes without seeing his house up in flames and the hands reaching out from the vent in the cellar as his family burned to death. To him, the soot and the charred remains of the manor smelled like the terrifying memories of intense heat and burning flesh, combusting hopes and diminishing the lives of harmless people. They weren't all wolves. Only a few. Like Kate gave a shit. She was mistake number one. If Derek hadn't fallen in love with her, his family may still be alive. She hoped Derek was in that fire. She only wanted to rid the world of the Hale pack once and for all because if you lived in Beacon Hills, the Hale family was dangerous. Derek was a threat. He was an alleged murderer and arsonist, not to mention an extremely hot one to boot. His pale green eyes and jet black hair accented the chiseled edges of his jaw and his almost never shaven scruff. His physique was fantastic; strong shoulders and molded abdomen added to his looming figure and brooding features. That's why people stay away and that's why Derek has been in hiding for the past three years.
Needless to say, his older sister, Laura, had survived the fire as well as his uncle, Peter. And Derek's real stab in the ribs was when Laura died a few weeks ago, sliced in half. They'd found her and he'd known, it was an alpha. And to jab another blade into his already sensitive wound, that alpha was Peter. To avenge Laura, Derek had found his uncle and slashed his throat, Derek's blue wolf eyes fading to red, indicating he was the new alpha. But Peter had been reborn during the worm moon, now the beta that Derek once was. Derek was definitely reluctant to trust him, but he had to because what Derek needs now is a pack. He needs everything he's been avoiding for the past three years. He's definitely scared about what's to come because Derek knows by now that things around Beacon Hills don't stay quiet for long.
"HELP ME!"
And that snaps him out of his thoughts. He doesn't know where he's going, but after putting off his wolf needs, specifically his mate search, for about three years, hearing someone screaming his name in desperation is definitely enough to spark his interest and maybe…a protective instinct?
"DEREK!"
And he's flying around trees and through the underbrush in his bare feet. With a twitch of his neck, his running becomes more aboriginal. His eyes glow a bright scarlet and his animal instinct drives him down to all fours as he speeds in the direction of the scream. A growl erupts from his throat as he leaps over a bank and makes his way toward the road, catching a scent. It's fresh and crisp, like a newly fallen rain, earthy and natural like a soft blanket of snow. It draws Derek in, steers him in the right direction.
By the time he arrives at the house, his mind is whirring and he hears voices.
"Did you want to talk about it?"
` Derek analyzes, 'Boy, sixteen.'
"I was in the woods, running from something. Presumably a wolf."
Derek's heart thumps loudly in his ears. He knows he's the one. 'Also boy, sixteen.' Derek can sense his fear and panic. He also senses that he isn't telling the whole truth.
"Was it a werewolf? Would I know him?" Derek can tell the first boy is curious.
'Figures,' Derek thinks, scrunching his nose, 'I knew I smelled a beta.'
"Oh, for the love of—no, it was the fucking boogeyman. Yes, a werewolf, Scott!"
 Derek gives a small grin at the use of heavy sarcasm. He hears the first boy, Scott, exhale.
"Whatever."
"It caught me. It dragged me down and clawed me. I-I couldn't breathe. I—" Derek hears the other boy gasp, taking a deep breath before he continues, "I couldn't breathe."
Derek frowns, his heart clenching at the pain he detects in the boy's voice. 'Who is this kid?' He snaps out of his thoughts and crawls to the other side of the roof as he hears Scott climbing out the window.
"Oh, and Stiles?"
Derek sighs. 'Stiles.'
"Hmm?"
"Who's Derek?"
Derek's keen hearing picks up the sound of Stiles's shoulder popping as he shrugs. He holds back a growl as Scott runs off, giving him some time to calm down. His heart still pounds in his ears and his breathing is still choppy from the exhausting run over here. He grunts, moving into a sitting position on the roof, taking a deep breath and purring at the earthy scent that was emanating from Stiles's window. Derek's jade eyes flutter shut and he finds himself drawn to the window, sliding it open quietly and climbing into the small bedroom.
He has to prevent himself from moaning because damn, the bedroom smells delicious. A wave of air hits him and his heart picks up again, thumping fast, making his chest feel as if it were on fire. He closes his eyes and lets the scents flood in, pictures of the woods, fall, leaves, rain dance behind his eyelids. Stiles smells like nature, and it's absolutely intoxicating. Derek opens his eyes and glances at a sleeping Stiles before he vanishes out the window.

—

Derek wakes in the woods the next morning, alongside a fallen tree. Almost immediately, he longs to smell the rain and the soil that is Stiles. Taking a step forward, his ears perk up and the sound of approaching footsteps tells him to run.
So he does.
He bolts straight ahead, toward the road, dodging trees and rocks when an arrow whizzes by his head and lodges itself in the tree behind him. He leaps forward, another arrow missing him barely. With a twitch of his neck, he roars, his eyes flaring red, canines bared in the direction of which the arrow had come. He can feel the bones in his back reshaping, twisting as fur sprouts all over his body. His feet turn to paws and his body writhes until he's fully shifted into his wolf form.
Growling, he takes off once again, weaving through trees when suddenly, he's thrown backward by the force of a bullet penetrating his lower ribcage. He feels the stinging pain and picks himself up to keep running, as his instinct tells him to.
His speed decreases as he pads across the road and he feels the warm blood dripping from the wound. Stopping to rest, he's too weak to shift back, so he stands for a moment in the road before continuing across to lie in the underbrush in the woods on the other side.

—

'Are you close?'
Stiles grumbles, kicking a stick as he treks through the woods. "Sure, Scott. Just gimme a minute, I woke up late." Stiles grimaces as the lies slip past his lips.
'Just hurry.' And he hangs up.
Stiles tucks his cell into his back pocket and sighs, letting the cool morning air envelop him in its mist. He used to take walks in the woods with his mother before she died and the awful nightmare he'd had the night before really made him miss her. She'd always been the one to comfort him. Since his dad had been working a double shift, he hadn't even known Stiles had a nightmare. Stiles shakes his head at the thought of the hard-working man. He glances up at the trees and back down at his feet as he hurriedly makes his way back to his Jeep that he'd parked deep in the woods.
A vulture lands to his right, causing him to stop and watch as the bird ducks into the underbrush. A growl so low Stiles barely hears it erupts from the brush and one, two, three of the birds scatter out. Stiles glances around before walking toward the bush. He freezes upon seeing red eyes, but upon noticing the tentative gaze it's holding, he approaches it. Pulling back the ferns, Stiles sees the extent of the wolf's injury. He gently places a hand on the wolf's side, reveling in the softness of the black fur before he gazes at the wolf again.
"I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I'm just gonna take a look at you."
The wolf seems to understand and closes its eyes, as if giving the 'OK' to Stiles.
Stiles pets the animal timidly and examines the injury. It looks to be a bullet wound, but with no bullet. He looks at the wolf's face again and strokes its ear, completely forgetting about going to school. He vaguely remembers having some gauze in his car for all the times Scott needs to patch himself up, so he mutters a quick, 'Be right back,' to the wolf before racing in the direction of his Jeep.
The fact that his car was a mess may have been more or less obstructive in this situation. Finding the gauze seemed to be a harder task than usual, Stiles eventually locating it under his lacrosse jersey and a box of condoms that he'd obviously never opened. Thanks to all those times Stiles had to cover for Scott in the animal clinic, he knows a thing or two about treating wild animals. He also knows he should call somebody for help. He's a bit indecisive in reaching for his cell phone to dial Scott's number, but then decides against it, knowing all he would do is tell Stiles to get his ass to school. Against his better judgment, he moves the ferns and approaches the animal. The look he was given was ferocious. It reminded him a bit of his dream the night before and he stepped back. The wolf is distrustful and Stiles is scared it might attack him.
"Hey, you need my help as much as I need you to cooperate." Stiles feels a bit ridiculous talking to the wolf, but realizes that it may have worked, as the wolf seemingly understands and allows Stiles to approach him. Stiles carefully wraps the gauze around the wolf's lower abdomen, mindlessly chattering to the wolf about whatever comes to his mind because maybe, just maybe, he forgot to take his Adderall.
The next day, Stiles comes back to the woods with a bottle of alcohol and a fresh roll of gauze, finding the wolf to be in the same place as the day before. He sits with it, softly, soothingly scratching behind its ears and rubbing its side. He cleans the wound this time, but by the looks of it, it seems to be getting worse. The animal looks physically drained and Stiles starts to worry. He doesn't mind taking care of it, he actually likes having this weird friendship with the wolf. At least it isn't obsessed with its girlfriend like his supposed "best friend".
"Aren't you lonely? I'd think you'd have your pack here surrounding you." Stiles says, gently rewrapping the wolf's abdomen. "It's okay, I don't have much of a pack either."
The wolf stares at Stiles, who's hand is frozen over the wolf's heart.
"My mom died when I was little and my dad's been working a lot lately. My best friend is obsessed with his girlfriend and the girl I'd been pining over for years is consumed in her studies ever since her boyfriend's father moved him to London. So right now, you're like my little pack."
Stiles stays with the wolf the rest of the day because he's afraid he'll die if he leaves him.
Stiles comes to visit the wolf again and what he sees isn't pleasant. He unwraps the gauze and frowns as the veins around the wound turned black. He seriously needs to take this wolf to the animal clinic. 'Might as well clean him up,' Stiles thinks. He reaches for the alcohol and —shit, the alcohol. Stiles bolts for his Jeep and retrieves the alcohol, but when he returns to the underbrush where the wolf is—er, was— he finds that the wolf really isn't a wolf at all.
"It was a wolfsbane bullet," the guy says and Stiles is not freaking out. He's got more bizarre dreams than that.
"You need to…"
The man—which, apparently, previously was a wolf—a wolfman , then—spits out some blood and collapses on top of Stiles and alright, that is so not a dream. He can smell the nauseating stench of decay. And it's not okay.
"Hey, hey, look at me buddy. You're gonna be fine. I'm taking you to the hospital…uh, alright, stop growling, no hospitals then."
"Deaton," the man gasps, his pale fingers gripping Stiles's shoulders, "Take me to the clinic."
Stiles doesn't question how he knows who Deaton is, just helps him to his Jeep. He digs around his backseat and tosses the guy a pair of sweatpants because, well, he'd rather not drive a naked guy around. When he's in the car and Stiles tries to close the passenger door, a hand clasps around his wrist and the guy tugs him closer.
"It's Derek. My name's Derek."

—

Stiles arrives at the veterinary clinic and he gets out of the Jeep as quickly as he can, running to the passenger side to help Derek out. As soon as Derek's feet hit the asphalt, he grips Stiles's shoulder and turns his head, body heaving as a black liquid spills from his lips.
"W-What the hell is that?" Stiles whines, keeping a grip on Derek's arm to make sure he stays upright.
Derek takes a labored breath before he speaks. "My body…is trying…to heal itself." He uses his free hand to wipe his mouth. "I need you…to take me…inside."
Stiles nods and helps Derek hobble into the clinic. "Deaton! I have an emergency!"
Pushing into the examination room, he helps Derek onto the table as Deaton walks in.
"Hello, Derek," he says calmly, and Derek nods in response. Deaton assesses the damage and Stiles stops pacing once the veterinarian glances up at him.
"Will he be okay?"
Deaton's eyes flicker from Derek to Stiles. "Do you want me to answer truthfully?"
"...no…" Stiles replies, moving out of the room to dial Scott's number.
'Stiles! Where the hell have you been! Don't answer that. Just—'
"Scott, listen to me. I'm at the clinic. You need to get here now."
'Why are you—'
"Now, Scott!" And he hangs up before Scott can say anything else.
Stiles makes his way tentatively back into the exam room just in time to see Deaton setting a pile of dried wolfsbane on fire. Derek is paler than he was a few minutes ago, if that was even possible. Stiles has to avoid gagging at the smell and the sight of Derek's gunshot wound. The veins in the area around the bullet hole were black, and like snakes, slowly traveled up his chest.
"Is that contagious?" he questions, earning a glare from Derek.
Stiles watches as Deaton takes the wolfsbane and presses it into the wound, causing a roar to rip from Derek's throat. His eyes flash from a soft jade to a blistering scarlet, his claws scratching at the cool metal of the exam table.
Stiles feels a shiver run down his back as a flashback of his dream plagues him, the eyes boring into his soul, the claws digging onto his flesh.
He gasps as he comes back to reality, watching as Derek writhes in pain on the table, painful screams tearing their way from his lips, and Stiles's expression read amazement as the wound heals itself.
"That…was…awesome!" he shrieks, jumping halfway out of his skin when Scott's hand is laid on his shoulder, the look on his face waiting for an explanation.
"I found him dying in the woods and brought him here." Scott doesn't need to know the whole truth.
"Who is he?"
"His name's Derek. Derek Hale. I remember my dad working the case about three years ago. He was accused of arson when his house went up in flames, his family in it," Stiles scowls. "Turns out the one who actually did it was the psychotic aunt of your girlfriend."
Scott doesn't seem fazed. He seems to be pondering a thought when an epiphanic look wipes across his face.
Stiles waves a hand in front of Scott's face. "What'd I say?"
"Stiles, I think that's the Derek you dreamed about."
Stiles's jaw drops and his eyes roam over to Derek's frame. He's standing; his body lean and tall, his figure muscular and pensive.
His silhouette is brooding.
Stiles's mind flashes back to his dream. The figure he was calling out to…the dark, sexy, contemplative figure…looks exactly like Derek.

Hello all. I've been out of it for a while, bus with school work and a whole load of other person issues that I won't bore you with. Needless to say, I'm better now! I'm officially in love with Tyler Hoechlin and Dylan O'Brien and have been spamming all my Tumblr followers with Teen Wolf shit. anyways, I'm super stoked for Season 3 tomorrow and I'm super stoked to start up a new Teen Wolf story. I hope you guys like it!

RANDOM SEASON 3 FACT

—Episode 1: Tattoo

—Stiles and Derek work together with their usual brand of banter and general (affectionate) annoyance with each other.

I'm ready for the Sterek.

Please lemme know what you think of Chapter 1! REVIEW GUYSSSSS.

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Much love,

—A