Inamorato II
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.
Reminding everyone, THIS IS MY FIRST TEEN WOLF FIC.
Thank you to all my reviewers:
Kaylyn
lord kiras hand
MentToBeForever
pickens|246
And thank you to everyone who added this on their favorites and alerts lists! I'm so glad everyone likes it so far!
BEFORE YOU READ THIS GO REREAD CHAPTER 1. ITS ABOUT ANOTHER THOUSAND WORDS LONGER. AND BETTER. GO. NOW. Unless you just read it about two seconds ago. Then you're fine.
Chapter 2: Chaos Rising
"His eyes were red, Scott."
"What do you want me to tell you, Stiles?"
Stiles groans, his anxious hand clutching the gear shift to put his jeep in second. "I wanna know what in the hell he is."
Stiles's heart races, his thoughts whirring into overdrive. He knows about lycanthropy. It used to be a myth to him until he and Scott went searching for a dead body in the woods and Scott got completely fucked up. Now, lycanthropy is his second language. But red eyes? Stiles hasn't heard about red eyes yet.
"He's obviously a werewolf, okay? He smelled like dog, I can tell you that much." Scott's nose wrinkles at the remembrance of Derek's scent. "Like wild dog. Not like me."
Stiles slams on the brakes, turning to look at Scott with idea written in the dilated pupils of his honey brown eyes. "Can you trace it?"
And that's how they end up in the woods near the spot where Stiles picked up bullet-ridden, wolf-like, model-esque Derek. Sexy, sexy Derek.
Stiles mindlessly follows Scott as he tracks the scent from whence it came. Half of Stiles hopes that Derek's going to be wherever the fuck this trail ends and the other half wants Derek to be gone so that they can snoop and maybe get some answers about what the fuck hunters are and why they hate wolves so much and why Derek's eyes are red and how the hell Stiles manages to get shoved and dragged into every single god damned werewolf mystery.
And before he knows it, Stiles happens to barrel right into a bent over Scott, causing them to fall so they're both sprawled in the leaves.
"I've told you, I don't roll that way, Stiles."
Stiles breaks from his trance and climbs off of Scott, wondering why the hell Derek all of a sudden mattered to him. He just shakes it off and throws a glare at Scott, who happens to be staring at an arrow lodged in the trunk of a tree. Fear washes over Stiles and he doesn't know why. He gets an overwhelming feeling of rage and of dread like something bad is coming and someone is watching him. Scott continues on his way while Stiles is still glued to his place in front of the arrow, fright in his features, body starting to visibly shake. Stiles knows now that someone is watching him when he hears Scott yell a "Hello?" from about five feet away. Stiles clenches his jaw and is shaking more now, breaths starting to become ragged and choppy.
"S-Scott," he stutters in a whisper, falling to his knees. But Scott is too busy investigating an underground something or other by the rocks. And now Stiles is on his side, gasping for breath, eyes wide and displaying fear in every centimeter of his dilated pupils. He clutches his knees to his chest, unable to catch his breath as he hyperventilates on the forest floor for a good thirty seconds before warm arms lift his body up. Tears stream down the sides of his face, tears of dread and pain, as he is moved to another location.
"Stiles, try to breathe deeply. It's only a panic attack."
And there was the man of his dreams. Mr. Derek Hale had just saved his life, taking him to the comfort of his bed. Stiles was less worried about how the fuck they got to Derek's house so goddamn fast, or why the hell he wouldn't bring him home to Sheriff Stilinski. He was lying in Derek Hale's fucking bed.
Upon opening his eyes, he was met with a jade stare, Derek's green orbs focused on every detail of Stiles's face. 'He is fucking gorgeous,' Stiles thinks, hoping to God Derek can't smell the arousal coming off of him. And if he could, Stiles hoped he wouldn't say it.
"Keep it in your pants, Stiles." But just because Derek didn't say it doesn't mean Scott wouldn't
Stiles's mouth goes dry and a blush spreads all along his cheeks and neck, his eyes closing in embarrassment. He doesn't even want to think about the expression on Derek's face.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing trespassing on MY property, McCall?"
Stiles pops an eye open, meeting Scott's pleading gaze, Stiles practically hearing Scott's voice, "Help!"
But Stiles just shrugs, 'Fucking keep it in my pants...let's see you bullshit your way out of this. Payback's a bitch!'
"Well?" Derek starts getting impatient and he can smell the lies formulating in Scott's head mingling with the musk and arousal Stiles is giving off. "Fuck it. Just stay the hell off my property. Now go home, Scott."
"I need my friend, Derek."
Derek closes his eyes, seriously contemplating on saying, 'No, I need to mark him first, you'll get him back tomorrow.' But he doesn't, instead only glaring at Stiles and flicking his neck toward the door. "You, too. Go."
Stiles stands, brushing past Derek as he leaves with Scott. An electrical current surprises Derek when he feels the static from Stiles's clothes shock him as they bump arms. Stiles just mumbles an apology and walks out the door.
"And take your goddamn Adderall, Stiles!"
The front door slams and Derek leaps to the bottom of the staircase, huffing as he watches the pair walk back into the forest.
—
Stiles climbs into bed, glancing at the clock that reads 11:09 pm in scarlet numbers. Taking a deep breath, Stiles glances at his window, contemplating whether or not to lock it. Uhhhh...he thinks he should lock it. But something in the back of his mind tells him not to.
He goes downstairs to lock all the doors before he goes to bed. His dad's working another double shift and yeah, it bugs him a little bit, but he's the head sheriff and he's gotta do what he's gotta do. Stiles sighs because he really wishes he could spend more time with his dad, and being home alone all the time gets old. And it's not like his mom's there to comfort him after a nightmare.
His mom. God, he misses her like crazy. A tear wells up in the corner of his eye and he wipes it away before it has a chance to fall. He walks over to the photo of the two of them on the mantle and holds it, staring at their smiling faces. "I miss you," he whispers, clutching the frame in a vice, as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. He sniffles and puts it back, wiping his eyes again before sighing and going back upstairs.
He doesn't lock the window.
—
Derek can smell his earthy scent lingering in his mattress. It drives him crazy, even though Stiles is an annoying little shit. Derek is face down in his pilliow, inhaling, eyes shifting green, to red, to green again. It's intoxicating, almost to the point where he's fully shifted and running to Stiles to mark him. He wants to, God knows he wants to. But he holds himself back.
His head lifts when something interrupts the earthy scent. Another, faint, but also Stiles. It smells like...anxiety.
Derek jumps up, and bolts out of the house in nothing but pajama pants and weaves through the woods. He gets to the road and runs, and he doesn't look back.
Then he hears the faint whisper.
"Derek...save me."
And Derek's shifting, dropping to all fours and pushing his body to go faster.
Once he gets to the house, he smells someone—something, rather—and stops. 'It's not like us,' he thinks, 'and it's not like Stiles either.' But whatever it was, it was hurting Stiles. Derek hears the whimpers coming from the window and swings up onto the roof and slides the window open with ease. He watches as Stiles writhes around and he looks for the other scent.
Stiles cries out and Derek stops, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Stiles," he says, gently shaking him. "Stiles wake up."
An agonizing scream tears from Stiles's throat and fear washes over Derek.
Now he's shaking Stiles awake, both hands on his shoulders. "Stiles! Wake up!"
And he does, gasping for air. His body glistens with perspiration and his face is red with exertion. He's panting, rubbing his eyes and bracing himself against the mattress. "W-What happened?"
"You had a nightmare. Do you know what about?"
Stiles frowns, trying to remember, but he can't. "I-I don't know, I can't remember."
And it hits Derek like a brick. He didn't smell the second something the last time Stiles had a nightmare, and Stiles remembered his dream, vividly it seemed. "The Baku. It took your nightmare."
"I'm sorry, I don't speak gibberish." And Derek already wants to punch Stiles in the face.
—
"What the fuck is a Baku?"
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, shooting Scott a glare. "Didn't you just study mythology last period? It's—"
"A Japanese spirit that devours dreams and nightmares. It has the trunk of an elephant, the eyes of a rhinoceros, tail of an ox, and the feet of a tiger." Everyone stares at Lydia. "What?"
"It's supposed to protect against pestilence and evil, which in this case, is not good," continues Derek.
"Why?"
Derek glares at Allison and turns to her. "Something bad is coming. Stiles fucking knows it. He can't remember what the hell it is if this goddamned spirit keeps sucking his dreams right out of him! Don't you get it?" Derek clenches his fists before anyone notices his claws that have decided to emerge.
Stiles puts a hand on Derek's shoulder and rubs it comfortingly. It relaxes him, he wants it to stay forever, but Stiles can't know, at least not now.
Derek turns and shifts his eyes from Stiles to the hand on his shoulder with the same brooding expression he always wears, Stiles getting the hint and awkwardly removing his hand.
He looks at Stiles, meeting his honey brown eyes and says, "After school, my house. We need to get the dreams out of you. Don't be late."
And with that, Derek stalks off in the direction of his black Camaro.
"What crawled up his ass and died? Jesus," Stiles remarks, glancing back at the Camaro as it speeds off.
The three stare at him, eyebrows raised.
"What?"
"You have the most obvious crush on him," Lydia says, smiling.
Scott chimes in, "I'm pretty sure he has the same thing going on for you, bro. He may be a good werewolf but he can't control his emotions. I could smell the arousal coming off of him in waves."
Stiles smiles a bit and nods toward the cafeteria, "Let's eat lunch."
Stiles spends the entire lunch period looking through his mythology book, alternating page flips and sandwich bites. He comes across a page and something in his arm twitches. He looks down at the picture of the Erchitu. He's stricken with fear and hastily closes the book, grabbing it and his bag as he trips and makes his way out to his Jeep, the entire cafeteria questioningly watching him.
Speeding down the road, Stiles tries to remember any details about his dream. He can't, he can't remember anything. Although he is definitely sure about one thing: this Erchitu is coming. This thing was in his dream and Derek doesn't have to believe him, but he needs to because whatever this thing is, it's not a one man fight. It's terrifying and Stiles knows it isn't the last time he's going to dream about it.
He nearly falls out of his Jeep when he gets to Derek's and the man is already outside waiting for him.
"I could hear your piece of shit Jeep a mile down the road."
Stiles rolls his eyes. "She runs, doesn't she?"
Derek approaches him and Stiles is starting to think his face is permanently in a scowl. "I thought I said after school."
"Well, this can't wait, Derek."
Derek sighs and nods toward the house. "Come."
When they get inside, Stiles drops his bag and opens the mythology book on the dusty table that looks like it hasn't been used in ages. "So I was looking through this at lunch and I still can't remember anything."
Cue Derek's eye roll.
"But," Stiles continues, "I flipped to a page and my chest got tight, like I couldn't breathe. My arm started twitching and fear washed over me. I can't even look at it."
Derek seemed curious. "What page?" He walked over to the book and opened it, glancing at Stiles for an answer.
"Like I fucking know! I closed it!"
Cue Derek's jaw clench.
"Stiles. Find the page now."
Stiles shook his head.
"Find the page or I'm going to gut you like a fish."
"You know, I'm starting to get tired of your empty threats, Der—"
And Stiles was against the wall, held up by Derek's hand fisting his shirt. "You wanna play games, Stiles?"
"I-I suppose I could flip through some pages."
And down he goes.
Derek watched as Stiles flipped through pages, stopping at one that seemed to freeze him in his spot.
"It's that," Stiles says, "Fucking get it away from me, Derek."
He does, picking up the book and glancing at the photo. His jade eyes lace with red and he takes a deep breath to prevent himself from shifting out of fear. This was something his family had dealt with ages ago. Now, he only had one family member and a group of teenagers to fight this thing. Derek was beyond scared.
"What is it?" Stiles inquires.
Derek stares at the picture. "It's like us, like me. But it's—it's not right. It's like a, uh..."
"An abomination," Stiles finishes.
"Yeah."
"What are you gonna do?"
Derek turns to Stiles. "I'm gonna find it, and I'm gonna kill it."
A/N: Hi everyone! So here's chapter 2! I'm doing plenty of research on mythology and trying to come up with another monster to incorporate. So bear with me here.
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Much love,
—A
