Darling! Can I trouble you for some delicious Stallion or Stetopher with something along the line of "if you think i'm leaving you, you're more crazy than i know you are!". Or anything with competent Stiles 💙 Let the writing muse be ever in your favor 💚💚💚
*smooch* have some angst
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“Why are you awake right now?” Deucalion asks but he doesn’t turn around. He stays facing the woods, leaning heavily on the porch railing.
The slump of his shoulders means defeat. The stubborn way he keeps his back to Stiles means despair.
It breaks Stiles’ heart. It makes him angry, too.
“You’re an idiot,” Stiles announces as he stands in the doorway, just a few steps away from the werewolf.
Deucalion snorts inelegantly but still doesn’t turn, he ignores the jab.
“Go to bed, Stiles.”
“I will but only if you go, too,” Stiles says and decides to come closer. He didn’t want to cage Deuc in but maybe closeness is what the man needs.
“Stiles…” Deucalion warns.
Stiles ignores him and comes close enough to put his hands on Deuc’s shoulders. The werewolf doesn’t push him away or flinch under the touch and that makes Stiles bolder. He presses close, chest to Deuc’s back, and wraps his arms around Deuc’s waist.
“If you think I’m leaving you, you’re out of your mind. And I can judge, I’ve been locked up before.”
“Stiles…” Deucalion says again but it sounds more like a plea.
“I love you, Demon Wolf,” Stiles tells him, lips brushing Deucalion’s shoulder. “I don’t care that we can’t share a matebond, there’s a reason for it and while I don’t want to belittle your grief I also don’t care you’ve been mated before,” Stiles presses a kiss to Deuc’s back, holds on tighter when he feels Deucalion trembling.
“I have loved you and will love you as mine for as long as there is air in my lungs and blood in my veins,” Stiles promises, his voice deep and eyes blazing. “As long as you love me, too, that’s all I need.”
LOOK. I can finish my works in progress. Sometimes.
After 14 months, I’m posting the last chapter!
The Howling and Divine by Writersareliars. Rated M. 17k. Warnings apply.
Tradition states that it's taboo to meet your demon bondmate before performing the rite. This is probably why nobody tells Stiles that his new tutor is a demon.
Deucalion had been searching for a long time. Longer than most. But he knew when he’d come to the right place. The world – which had up until this moment been a grey, lifeless wasteland – was now beginning to fill with bits of color. He could see faint markers of it in the air, weaving a path through this small Californian town.
He followed it like a man possessed, ignoring Kali’s shouting as he moved past her. He got as far as the town proper before the colors overlapped so often that he couldn’t discern which way to turn. It was frustrating to have to give up, even for a moment -- worse still to have his soulmate’s proximity teased before him, in Erica Reyes’ startlingly bright blonde tresses and then in a powder blue Jeep that passed him on the street.
Seeing things as they truly were was a gift he’d been given. The grey that had been his world was slowly being peeled back, more and more frequently with each passing day that Deucalion lingered in Beacon Hills. But people were, for the most part, still as utterly meaningless as before -- perhaps more so now that he knew he would have something to compare it to. He could cut through them even more easily, like one would a charcoal painting. It was no great loss to him.
Deucalion saw him, finally, when he summoned Derek Hale for a meeting. The idea had been to bargain Derek’s betas in exchange for Derek’s cooperation, but instead he pointed his finger directly at the human boy who was trying to look inconspicuous. He was the only person Deucalion had ever seen in full color.
“Him,” Deucalion said. “Give him to me and your betas will be returned to you unharmed and alive.”
Derek seemed startled at the request, but the boy was already pushing forward cautiously, eyes flickering all over Deucalion’s form -- seeing as Deucalion did the truth of what they were to each other.
Deucalion extended his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
The boy nodded, but didn’t take Deucalion’s hand just yet. “The betas first,” he demanded, shifting uncertainly when Deucalion nodded to the twins to fetch them.
“Is that all?”
“No,” he said, waving Derek off when the alpha hissed a question at him. “But the rest of it would be a personal favor to me...” He licked his lips, glancing at Deucalion’s open palm as if it were a trap. “As your soulmate,” he finished.
“Anything you ask of me, so long as it is within my power to give, will be yours,” Deucalion promised.
The boy nodded and then, after taking a deep breath, slid his hand into Deucalion’s. The world burst into color, every inch of it -- from the dirty crimson brick to the pale orange of the lights that hung overhead -- but none of it mattered compared to his soulmate, who stood before him draped in blues and greens, whose eyes were a molten amber, whose lips were a blushing pink.
“Your name?” Deucalion asked.
“Stiles,” the boy said, breath hitching when Deucalion brushed his lips over his knuckles. “You can call me Stiles.”
Summary: Stiles never expected that helping an injured dog would result in him living out the plot of one of his novels. Now he’s accidentally married himself to the alpha of the esteemed Blackwood pack and hoping that Deucalion isn’t too good to be real.
"I'd ask if you come here often, but I don't think you'd fall for that," a smooth British voice purrs out. It doesn't have a predatory twinge to it like others have when hitting on Stiles, but he jumps a little at the surprise.
He'd been immersed in the book on his lap, fingers picking at the edge of a scab on his elbow, doing research on Beacon Hills' latest creature of the month.
"I don't, actually, found this place when googling books on paranormal experiences. But no, that line definitely wouldn't have worked either. Gotta put in a little effort if you want a piece of this." He hasn't looked up, expecting the man to walk away, but is surprised when he crouches down in front of Stiles' face, pulling the edge of the book down until Stiles is looking at him.
"Deucalion?" His brows are scrunched up tight and the book is forgotten, tumbling to the floor in front of him. It's been literal years since Stiles saw the man, supposedly dead during the beginning of the hunters' war.
"You're not seeing a ghost, Stiles," Deucalion says, rolling his eyes. "Can you really blame a guy for wanting to get out of that nonsense? I'd already been through a war of sorts with Gerard in my youth, I didn't need another with the man."
"Guess that makes sense," Stiles grumbles. "What are you doing back, though? Talking to me, much less." He reaches down for the book, but Deucalion beats him to it before handing it over.
"Beacon Hills really was the most beautiful during the autumn months," Deucalion answers instead. "Would you like to join me for a tea? Perhaps a pumpkin spice latte, as your generation has invented?"
Deucalion extends a hand out to Stiles and raises his brows, indicating he should take the offer.
"Why?"
"I could smell your morose as soon as I walked in. You were an angsty teenager last I knew you, but you didn't smell like that back then. Knowing you would be unlikely to admit it, I thought you could use a break with some company."
Stiles just stares at him before shaking his head in disbelief, shrugging as he stands. He hasn't taken Deucalion's hand, but the man doesn't seem all that offended.
"I'm more of a gingerbread latte man myself," he adds, a small smirk playing at his lips. "Just hits the fall crispness perfectly, spices mingling with the cool air." His voice has grown sullen, and he knows Deucalion has to have noticed. "Haven't had one in a few years, though. Last fall wasn't particularly great."
"Care to expand?" Deucalion's voice is soft and his body warm as Stiles walks beside him, knuckles brushing as their arms swing.
Stiles lets out a heavy sigh before responding, sizing Deucalion up.
"I was in what I thought would be a lovely relationship, both of us happy and connected. When he invited me on a hayride, I was excited, it was going to be the first alone time we'd had in a while to just sit and be with each other, enjoy the weather in the lull between supernatural adventures." He stops then, making Deucalion turn when he realizes Stiles isn't moving forward with him anymore.
"But?" Deucalion prompts.
"But it was just a way to try and make me stay somewhat still while he broke up with me. He said we weren't compatible anymore and he was tired of putting on a show for my benefit." His head drops as he picks at his fingernails, a habit he's had since starting therapy post-nogitsune.
Deucalion lets the silence sit between them for a moment before he reaches his hand out again. His eyes find Stiles' and he gives a reassuring nod that Stiles decides to believe. When he takes his hand, Deucalion gives Stiles a small squeeze and pulls him forward, arm wrapping around his shoulders. He can sense the comfort rolling off the boy, and he feels a surge in his heart that he might be able to help rekindle the joy he used to have, especially during the greatest season of the year.
"What say we enjoy our drinks with a friendly stroll in the preserve? Get to see the trees in their autumnal glory?"
"I like the sound of that," Stiles says. "Also, the sound of you saying autumnal in that accent." He smirks up at Deucalion, squeezing his hand as they continue forward.
The Howling and Divine by Malapropian for @pibroch. Complete. Rated M. WC 17k. Warnings Apply.
Tradition states that it's taboo for summoners to meet their demon bondmate before performing the rite, but no one tells The Demon Wolf what he can and can't do.
H&D has been complete for a while now, but I love Stalion, so I had to do something for the week even though I’m a day late and a dollar short. :p
