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handy-dandy-monster-candy · 3 years

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Magnolio, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1583 Pairing: Cursed Male Werewolf x GN Reader

A commission for my dearest friend, Ana.

xxx

You don’t know what it is about the old mirror in the antique shop that calls to you. It’s squat and ugly, and its silver frame is so tarnished that the designs are all but unrecognisable. Still, you watch anxiously as the cashier wraps it in recycled newspaper, and you buckle its seat belt in the car beside you on the ride home. Once there, you break out the supplies you usually use to help your grandmother polish her silver cutlery, and with a bit of patience and a lot of elbow grease late into the evening, you manage to buff off the patina and reveal the intricate designs that had been lost to age.

Wolves and flowers. What a strange and beautiful combination.

You make yourself a sandwich for dinner and pick away at it as you admire the new polish of the mirror, but something shifting in the reflection makes you frown and turn around to inspect your surroundings. What had just moved? Finding nothing, you look back into the mirror, only to find the face of a man staring back at you. You scream and flinch hard enough to throw your sandwich into the ceiling fan above you, its contents flying around the room as it hits the blades.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” you hear a trembling voice say, and you scream again when you realise that it’s coming from the mirror. “Stop screaming! It’s only me!”

“Who the hell is ‘me’?” you squeak, voice shrill from hysteria. You’re probably knocked out somewhere. Maybe you’ve fallen down the stairs and got a hard whack to your head. It is the only reasonable explanation for why there is suddenly a man testing the barrier of glass between you and the mirror.

The mirror.

The mirror itself is now reflecting a room that is completely unrecognisable to you, panelled with rich mahogany and decorated in a very austere style. The man in the mirror is possibly in his 30’s, with long, black hair and deep brown eyes. His light brown skin is exposed at the throat and collar by a white shirt that froths lace at the cuffs of the sleeves and cinches in at the waist with the high waistline of his dark breeches, but that is as far as you can see in the view of the mirror. The man in the mirror peers curiously around your living area, frowning his bemusement.

“Am I in your home?” he asks, and he doesn’t wait for you to reply before going on. “Thank God. I was so sick of looking at the back of a cloth. I’m Magnolio. You are?”

“Dreaming,” you murmur, watching Magnolio as though he were a sideshow attraction. “I’m dreaming. I must be.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it,” Magnolio demurs. “I’m sure your dreams are more exciting than an old man in a mirror. What a charming carpet. Is it new?”

“Uh, thrifted,” you say, startling as a slice of tomato unsticks from the ceiling and plops down by your shoe. Now that you took in the scene, you had some cleaning up to do. There was mayo on the ceiling fan, and bread stuck to the window. Swearing, you begin to gather the remains of your poor sandwich. Even if this is a dream, you aren’t going to leave a future dream-you with a mess to clean up.

“You missed a bit of green,” says Magnolio, pointing out a piece of lettuce stuck to the leg of a chair.

“Thanks,” you mutter, eyeing the man as you add the leafy green to your sad little pile in your hands. Closer up, you can see a pale scar beneath one of his eyes, ragged and poorly healed at the time of injury. You have never been one for dreams, and this one is taking the cake. “Magnolio, you said?”

“Yes,” he sighs, sounding dejected. “Surname Alinari, if that means anything at all these days.”

It doesn’t. Not to you, anyway. Still, you sigh and sit down in front of the mirror after disposing of the sandwich and washing your hands, staring up into Magnolio’s face. “So, what are you?”

“How rude. I’m Italian!”

“No, you idiot. Why are you in the mirror?”

“Oh,” says Magnolio, the wind that had momentarily entered his sails disappearing. “Would you believe I was cursed?”

“I think I can make allowances for strange stories if they’re told to me by a ghost in a mirror.”

“I’m no ghost!” Magnolio scowls. “I’m very much alive. I’m just stuck in this… other world.”

“So this isn’t just a two way mirror? Like a walkie-talkie?”

“A walkie-whatie?”

“Never mind,” you say, shaking your head. “What I’m seeing behind you isn’t on earth?”

“I think it might be,” Magnolio replies, caught off guard by the question. “It certainly behaves the way the regular world does, except that something like a barrier won’t let me past the gardens.”

“Huh. That sucks.”

Magnolio nods uncertainly at your slang, frowning down at you. “I’m surprised that you’re taking this so well. Most people try to break the mirror by now.”

“How many people have you met?”

“A few. I’ve been trapped in here for over a hundred years. I lost track.”

“You don’t look like you’re over a hundred.”

“Well, it appears that I remain the age at which I was trapped, so far as I can tell. I can’t die while I’m here. I’ve tried.”

Silence falls between you. Both of you shift uncomfortably at Magnolio’s admission, until you finally sigh and decide enough is enough. “Do you want a tour? Even if this is a dream, it’s only polite.”

Magnolio laughs softly, nodding in a way that made his long hair fall into his eyes. “I’d like that, I think.”

After assuring you that the mirror can’t be broken, you heave Magnolio and his mirror all through your house, and what you plan on being a basic tour turns into an in-depth explanation of your indoor plumbing and electricity. You learn that he was from a small village in Sicily in the early 1800’s, so you figure you have your work cut out for you when it comes to catching him up on the times, but Magnolio stops you before you can get mired in the details.

“I’m caught up on history,” he tells you, and he shifts his own mirror to show you a wall of books in the panelled room. “He made sure to give me things to do, in case he didn’t get back in time to undo the spell.”

“Who?” you ask, and Magnolio’s face falls.

“My late husband,” he says, absently fiddling with a pendant at his chest. “He sealed me in this mirror when the villagers came for me. He was meant to free me before the night was out, but the villagers killed him. They couldn’t break the mirror or get to me, so they buried it with him instead. Then his grave was robbed and I was taken to France, and then to Austria, and finally I ended up here.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, ruffling your own hair. “That’s heavy. How do I get you out of this mirror, then?”

Magnolio perks up, hand stilling at his breast. “You would free me?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess. It would be pretty shitty of me to buy your mirror, learn about you, and decide you’re someone else’s problem.”

“Oh,” Magnolio sighs, smiling brilliantly in a way that makes his eyes crinkle. “I would be forever indebted to you. You must kiss me under the light of the moon. Then I will be free.”

You heave a beleaguered breath. “I hope my neighbours don’t see this,” you grumble as you haul his mirror outside, looking around for strangers as though you were smuggling black tar over the border. When you confirm that you are, in fact, alone, you sigh and twitch towards Magnolio’s mirror. “Well. Pucker up, Mags.”

Magnolio frowns. “‘Mags’?”

“Just kiss me, man,” you plead, pressing your lips against the mirror’s surface.

Startled into movement, Magnolio closes the distance between you, planting his lips over yours through the mirror. For a moment, your lips feel warm, and your heart beats wildly in your chest at the thought of watching a man emerge from his centuries-long entrapment.

But nothing happens.

“Uh.”

“Oh,” says Magnolio, deflating like a sad-looking balloon after a child’s birthday party. “That was supposed to work.”

“Is it because it’s not ‘true love’s kiss’ or whatever?” you ask, using your sleeve to wipe away the smudge left behind by your lips.

“I don’t know,” Magnolio replies, and to your horror, his voice sounds thick with tears. As you watch, he sniffles and a tear slips free from his thick lashes, running down his face and onto his shirt. It is quickly followed by many more, and you realise that the mirror doesn’t have to be broken for this poor man to shatter.

“Hey, hey,” you say, breathless as you carry the mirror back inside. “Maybe it’s just because it’s not the full moon. We’ll try again in a week or two—whenever it is. Alright?”

“Alright,” Magnolio burbles, using his sleeves to wipe at his face even as more tears slide down his flushed cheeks. “We’ll try again. I have your word?”

“You have my word,” you say, and thank your lucky stars that you’ll be waking from this dream sooner rather than later.

#exophilia #exophilia fic #monster romance #monster boyfriend #werewolf #werewolves #werewolf boyfriend #Magnolio #My work

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stereksecretsanta · 5 years

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Merry Christmas, @aussiebee!

******

Dear Journal, I’m not calling you a diary, as this is in no way a diary. This is a scientific journal. Or something. Yeah, I’m not very good at this either way. BUT! Considering this is for my own use only, I don’t have to be! Take THAT, Harris! Of course I am getting rambly and miss the point of the exercise!

Right. What is the exercise you might ask? I will tell you! You see, dear journal, there is this guy. Pretty hot guy, if I do say so myself. The hottest. Like water is evaporating with his hotness before he can actually drink it. I’m surprised he isn’t dead from dehydration... Wonder how long you could last if you were just drinking steam...

I’m back! Yeah, I get carried away sometimes. Get used to it. Right. So. Hot guy. His name is Derek. Derek has chest and arms carved by gods, eyebrows that can make you question the stupidity of your existence just by turning your way, and the cutest bunny teeth you’ve ever seen. I’m also pretty sure Derek is a werewolf.

Your first question might be, what kind of werewolf. Well, if you think about movies, there’s a lot of possibilities. But the only real ones (as far as american magical scientific society knows) are the ones who can turn at will into wolfy-looking two legged monsters with claws and teeth from hell and can flash their eyes either gold, blue or red, according to their power status. Which is more complicated and I actually took a course on that, so... That would be for longer. How do I know Derek in particular is a werewolf, you ask? For several reasons. Derek himself is not that subtle, if you know what to look for. Especially when he is with his pack, which... is another group of ridiculously hot people.

Anyway, he sniffs everyone he meets sooner or later, he touches everyone he considers friend a lot and he growls at people he doesn’t like. Also, I actually saw his eyes flash three months ago on a full moon. Yeah, werewolves don’t have to change on a full moon. They are just much more likely to wolf out then. I even think I can anticipate your third question, that’s how awesome I am. How the hell do you know so much about Derek? Are you a stalker? Ok, that’s technically two questions.

The answer would be... kinda? If you didn’t notice from my description of his cute teeth when he laughs, I am kinda crushing hard. I’ve been for the last half a year since Derek transferred to our uni. And I admit I can get a bit... obsessive. Just ask Lydia Martin from my high school. She has forgiven me since then, but there was a reason why I was able to tell them the exact shade of her hair, when she went temporarily missing... I am trying to hold back with Derek. While I do have his schedule memorised (I can’t help it, it just sticks in my head...), I haven’t (yet) followed him around campus to see where he eats and I haven’t (yet) grilled all of his friends about his likes and dislikes. If you didn’t notice, I’m kinda proud of myself.

I am kinda tired of just obsessing from a distance, though... And that is where this experiment comes in. I got a book about werewolves from the school library. Every university has at least one magical course, and a section of the library open only to the students of it. Which I am. If you were wondering. Probably not. Anyway. The book on werewolves. I used it for a final essay on werewolf packs and their most common dynamics for the werewolf power status course, but there was this section... On how to date a werewolf. As a human. Which is kinda cool? And I really wanna try it? On Derek, specifically?

So! We are going to be treating this as an experiment and I will try to note my successes and unavoidable failures here. Wish me luck, dear journal! You piece of recycled paper.

Stiles

.............................

1. Making an eye-contact

One of the very important things you need to do before wooing a werewolf is getting their attention. Now the best and easiest way by far is to make an eye-contact and wait for them to invite you closer. A bit creepy by human standards, I grant you dear journal, but... well, the author and the A on my werewolf essay says to trust this book so. Here I go.

Ok, journal, this was a biiiit of a mistake. Well, not completely, I guess. I looked at Derek really intently during lunch. For the whole half an hour. As I said, it’s a bit creepy by human standards. So of course, Derek looks up, looks around, looks at me again, and... Starts glaring. And I must be completely doomed, dear journal, far more than I even realized. Because I have never thought you could be this combination of terrified and aroused. His big friend (Boyle?) was even getting up and coming my way... I bolted. I like my life too much and am unfortunately a grade A coward. Oh well. Attempt number two.

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2. Leaving your scent behind

Werewolves naturally rely on sense of smell for orientation. Especially when it comes to their pack-mates and potential mates. I don’t necessarily have a concrete plan in mind... The book offered/suggested leaving behind articles of often worn clothing, spending a lot of time in places they frequent, like their favourite armchair and stuff, and so on... None of which is of course doable and still remains in the sweet sweet area of deniability.

So, I had to become creative. Remember when I said I had Derek’s schedule memorized? Well, it really was just finding out where he sits. I left my favourite hoodie there. Sacrificed it for the greater good. When people will talk about my inevitable failure, I hope they will mention the Great Loss of the Red Hoodie. It disappeared of course. I do not believe Derek took it. Somebody else must have gotten to the classroom first and decided they don’t have enough clothing. Or something. I liked that hoodie. This sucks.

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3. Making yourself known

I do know I had said that the last one will be hard to try out and look innocent if it comes out, but this is basically impossible. I actually have to go and talk to the guy! Damn. This book is killing me. That’s what I get for only skimming through the chapter titles before deciding to go through with the plan. Oh well. Dear journal, it is far too late to back out now. Be the hero your best friend thinks you are. He might be wrong in this, but you have to at least try. Scott is counting on you. Well, the poor sod thinks I’m just getting my courage together to try and talk to Derek like a normal person, but... Eh. No. This way is more interesting. Here I go! No turning back now!

Abort abort abort! This wasn’t even moderately a good idea! I just came up to him, waited looking at him until he turned in my direction and then squeaked. In my defence, he was with

the rest of his pack, all of them looking Tall, Gorgeous and like they wanted to eat me alive. Especially the hot blond. She actually licked her teeth. It was scary. So there I stand, having just came up with the sound of a dying rat, Derek judging me with his eyebrows and the rest of the pack laughing at me and intimidating me even further. I said something about him having a nice shirt and once again (you guessed it) bolted. I am sitting in the bathroom now. Locked in the last cabin and writing in this excuse of a journal. God, I really thought I had left the times of hiding in the bathroom behind after gratuating high school...

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4. Being a good provider

Nothing tells a werewolf you like them as much as you bringing them food and showing them you can take care of not only yourself, but of them as well. This of course doesn’t necessarily extend just to the food. Why do you think I’ve done laundry so often in the last few weeks? I actually have more than three pairs of underwear at any time. A bit weird. Anyway. You might know my family is originally from Poland. I don’t speak polish or anything, which... Shame. It’s a pretty cool language. But my grandmother did leave me one (1) recipe for a polish speciality. Pierogi. I can make them. Mostly. I made them quite a few times at home at least. And they have always turned out good. The thing is, there I have a real kitchen to use. Here in the dorms? Not so much. But what am I if not persistent? Even if I do end up chickening out and not bringing Derek anything, I damn want some pierogi for myself now.

That went... Surprisingly well. Like. Freakishly well. Granted, I went to use the kitchen at one in the morning specifically to have it all to myself, but... there was even a spare pan. Who would have thought? I also ended eating like half of them... But at least I know they taste good, right? Now I just have to find Derek and share some with him. He tends to go to the library on Fridays... That could work well, right?

So... Has anyone told you you shouldn’t eat in the library? That you are going to get thrown out on your ass if you do? Apparently, there is a new librarian/bouncer at the uni... And she takes her job very seriously. She also looks like she does karate or something, because despite being small and cute, she actually bodily lifted me up and carried me out of the door. Bright side? I did manage to talk to Derek for about two minutes before offering him the pierogi and subsequently getting thrown out on my ass. But that also meant Derek actually saw the whole thing from the front row seat, including (but not limited to) the aforementioned polish treat scattering all over the pavement. And laughing quite a bit about it. He didn’t come out of the library to help me. Just stared at me through the window and laughing. Ow. Ow, my dear journal. My feelings. But damn it, I have already come this far!

.............................

5. Making a good impression on the Pack

Once again, something easier said than done. The whole pack is intimidatingly gorgeous. There’s Boyd (that’s his name!) who’s big and smooth and has a chocolate skin straight from the factory. There’s Erica, who’s tall, blond and has a rack from heaven. And speaking of heaven there’s Isaac, who actually looks like one of those cherubs from some kind of a painting. It’s all really unfair. And don’t even get me started on Derek’s younger sister Cora. I think Derek might have another older one, buut... What do I know, I’m just a mild stalker. The book calls for me to make friends with all of them, so that they can put in a good word for me

but also to let Derek know I would work well with his pack. But at this point an argument could be made that I am pretty much suicidal. Let’s do this!

That went... Surprisingly well. I tried to start with Boyd, but he’s not really... talkative. Erica, his girlfriend as it turns out is, though. And she knows a lot about comics. We shared at least a half an hour of discussion on DC comics. She’s my new catwoman. It’s awesome. And Isaac is not that bad either. He’s a little sarcastic shit, but so am I. I think we hit it off. Even Boyd seemed to start to warm up to me by the end. He even said bye and hit my shoulder so hard I almost fell down! It was awesome! Now, I tried to ask around about Cora... Turns out she’s studying at the other uni in the city. Also, yes, Derek has another sister. Who, it turns out, is Laura Hale the California state attorney. That is... So awesome. Really intimidating. But awesome. I wasn’t able to meet them though. And I decided I should probably stop asking so much as the people were actually starting to look suspicious... But! This was really encouraging! Dear journal, I might be onto something here. Let’s go for the final step!

.............................

Interlude: Derek

Derek was starting to get mildly paranoid. Is it a bad sign, that the kid you’ve been mildly crushing on, is suddenly behaving really strangely? Derek first noticed him about three months back. He was tall, had surprisingly broad shoulders and eyes like molten gold. And there were cute moles all over his face, that Derek desperately wanted to count with his lips. And this is the part where Cora got up, sent him her best disgusted look and went to tattle on him to mum. Who of course immediately called him and gushed about his first real crush... It was really embarrassing. The point is... He never really thought it would go anywhere. The kid didn’t smell like a werewolf, just something spicy and warm. There was something familiar about that smell, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t any kind of supernatural creature. He just probably liked using the same spices his mum did. So Derek has decided to watch from afar, marvel at the cute smile the kid had every time he found something interesting in the library and maaaybe overshare a bit with his friends.

And then one day the kid stared at him for ten whole solid minutes. And he suddenly looked like a little psychopath. Derek found himself panicking. Does he know about the werewolf thing? Or worse, does he know that Derek has a crush of the size of Cali? Will the boy try to murder him in his sleep? Or maybe kidnap him and use him as an experiment in one of his classes? Who knows, really... Even through his quiet protests, Boyd started to get up to find out, what was his problem, when the kid bolted. Actually ran away. Derek was left baffled. Things really started getting weirder from there.

There was a hoodie left on his seat in introductory econ. Derek was fairly sure it was The Kid’s, just by the scent. He valiantly avoided burying his nose in it and stuffed it inside his backpack. He put it in the Lost and Found later that day. His backpack still faintly smells like the warm spice. If Derek sometimes sticks his face inside it and then claims to any passerby, that he can’t find something, that’s nobody’s business.

And then the kid actually came over. Derek felt a wave of nervousness course through him, but also... Hope? Maybe the kid feels the same way? And then he just... squeaked and ran away again. His friends of course saw his nervousness and made fun of him for the rest of the week. Great.

The incident with the food actually looked really promising. The kid’s name is Stiles, it turns out. Not really a common name, but who is Derek to judge. It strangely seems to suit him.

The weird little dumplings didn’t look that appetizing, but they did smell heavenly, with ground meat and cheese. So of course it was only a matter of time Stiles was thrown out from the library. Derek didn’t necessarily think it was called for to actually throw Stiles out but... the face he made was adorable. Maybe Derek shouldn’t have laughed at him like that, but it was just... so funny. He actually looked for a minute like Laura’s toddler when somebody denied him a toy. Shame about the food. Derek at that point firmly decided to finally do something about his stupid crush. The werewolf thing wasn’t ideal, but... Maybe his mum would give Stiles the talk over the summer? He will ask, when he calls her on Friday.

Which he did. After that his mother cooed about him bringing a boyfriend home the whole call, with Laura joining her at the end. Those two were really far too similar. But yes, he had the official go ahead from his alpha to try and court this human. With a newfound determination, he went to search the campus for his hopefully future boyfriend. And he wasn’t able to find him anywhere. His friends apparently talked to him for a whole half an hour, and Erica actually gushed about her new Batman-loving friend for the next few days... And then Cora called him. Stiles has tried to ask around for her at her own uni on the other side of town. Is he trying to... what? Derek didn’t understand this at all. But it still seems strangely sweet. Derek smiles to himself. Ok, he really needs to find him now.

.............................

6. Actual asking out

My dear journal! This is the day! I’m actually waiting outside of Derek’s last class of the day. Either way our shared suffering is over. The experiment shall be concluded after today. I will either spent the evening in the arms of a sexy werewolf or drunkenly crying into Scott’s shoulder. Fingers crossed for the first one, but let’s be honest, with how the steps went, the second one is far more likely. I am a realist, my dear journal. I’ve already bought the alcohol. It’s sitting innocently in my cupboard for now, but one word and Scott--- “Hi.”

Stiles raised his head and squeaked. Again. Derek was standing above him in the rapidly emptying corridor and... smiling? Oh god, he’s even cuter than Stiles previously thought!

“Eeer... Hi! Hi. Sorry about that, I kinda spaced out there for a bit. I do that sometimes, just, you know, sit around and think about... stuff... and... Yeah.”

Derek has been looking at him with this weird expression, almost a... affectionate one, dare he say it? He finally shuts up, and just stands there and stares back. Maybe, if he waits for a bit longer, the perfectly scripted speech he had memorized yesterday, will come back to him.

“So... “ Derek looks down and then back up at him shyly. “I actually wanted to talk to you, about something...” He nervously bites his lip and Stiles almost melts inside. How can a person be so unbearably hot yet so cute and adorable at the same time? How is that even humanly possible?

Stiles finally clears his throat. “Yeah, me too, actually. But you go first!” Because if Derek is planning to ask him to stop stalking him, the love confession will be... Awkward, to say the least.

Derek laughs a little and nods. “Okay... Right. Well. I just really like you. And I would really invite you for coffee.”

Stiles feels his jaw fall somewhere towards the ground. What? “What?”

Derek starts to look a little crestfallen, but pulls back his shoulders and says it again, louder. “I really like you and I would like to invite you for coffee sometimes. If you drink coffee. If not then for tea. Or something.”

Stiles blinks at him a few times, his brain still scrambling wildly to catch up to what his ears are actually hearing. “I like coffee.” He finally manages to get out. Derek smiles in relief and it’s like the sun has come up after a rainy day.

“Is five o’clock tomorrow good with you? We could meet at the Full Moon Café around the corner from the campus...”

“Oh, the one that serves the werewolf version of coffee? Sure.” Brain to mouth filter, Stiles! Now Derek looks really really startled. And not in the good way. “Right... Sorry, I know about the whole...” Stiles wildly gesticulates towards Derek “werewolf thing.”

“Oh... that’s a relief actually.” Derek blinks a few times. “So... see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah... See you.” Stiles waves after a hurriedly retreating Derek in a fake cool and collected manner, before getting down to the floor, curling into a ball and proceeding to quietly freak out over the whole thing. He’s going to a date with Derek effing Hale!

“So... did my plan work?”

“What plan?”

“My plan to woo you the werewolf way. I stared at you, I made you food, I sacrificed my favourite hoodie for you... Tell me it wasn’t for nothing! Please...”

“Stiles, your hoodie is still at the Lost and Found at the Information center.”

“Oh... Cool. So. Did it work.”

“You are far too lucky you are so cute.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

“That wasn’t a no though.”

#aussiebee #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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