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inkwolvesandcoffee · 2 years ago

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Conversations over Coffee (Werewolf!Leo Demidov x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Werewolf AU, Modern AU

Pairing: Werewolf!Leo Demidov x Fem Human!Reader

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: None

Summary: A cup of coffee or tea has the power to bring people together. No matter their walks of life, there is a powerful magic in the small moment shared over a warm drink.

It was a cup of tea which made Leo decide to put his trust in you.

But it was over a cup of coffee he promised to stay.

Author’s Note: I had to rely on Google translator and do some cross-referencing across sites for the Russian used in this piece. If you see any mistakes, please let me know and I’ll immediately edit it out.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @hecatemoon87 @zablife @vir-tual @alikaheroes @dreamlandcreations @buttercup32sstuff @woofgocows @ilovemanypeople @liliac-dreamer @elijahssuit

TH Masterlist

Not all beginnings are easy, especially when it comes to being placed in an unknown environment. To be fair, I can’t blame him for reacting the way he did. After all, he’d been smuggled into the country after having spent months in a container.

However, I’m glad he’s at least talking now. Well, to me, that is. The staff of the shelter harbouring him and other fugitive Wolves couldn’t get so much as a peep out of him. Don’t misunderstand, they were all the same glad I signed up as supervisor for the WHO’s reintegration program. It is a government-funded program to reintegrate the supernatural into the mundane world without it causing any issues like witch trials and werewolf hunts.

I remember walking through the narrow hallways and the small rooms, bunk beds on either side with little space in between. The air was stale and musty. People had to almost squeeze past each other to get somewhere. It only made it all the more clear that immigrant housing isn’t a problem which only pertains to humans.

The staff member at my side, whose accent gave away he’s from Belfast, seemed to become more fidgety the closer we got to the room of the person I asked to be assigned to.

When we reached it, his breath tapered as he told me to be careful and he’d stand watch. The man I was to meet could be violent in his silence. Fights had frequently broken out, most of them started by others yet always won by Leo.

Won without getting so much as a small sound out of him.

I stepped into the room, shoulders squared and my chest puffed out with fake bravado. The key to dealing with a Wolf who might still prove to be Feral is to remain calm and collected. Like any other canine, they can smell fear so it’s crucial to have your nerves under control.

Leo sat in the corner of his bed, like a caged animal filled with nothing but distrust. His blue eyes were cold as ice, full lips hardly trying to suppress a scowl. I was to keep my distance. Any kind of provocation would be met with dire action. Fortunately, I had a powerful card to play.

I remained by the door, hands at my side to show I was unarmed. “Leo, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. I suppose they’ve told you about me.’’

‘‘I know who you are,’’ he sneered, his surprisingly very good English underlined by the thick accent of his native tongue. ‘‘What do you want?’’

‘‘I understand you don’t trust me. Rightfully so, I wouldn’t either if I were you. But I own a fairly big cottage that feels quite empty, so I could do with some company.”

“So you choose a Russian killer, a former KGB agent?” He bared his teeth, fangs already protruded from his gums. “Vraki. You go back, da, return to your nice cottage and live happy. Loneliness makes person strong, you’ll see.”

“Does it?” I tilted my head, foolishly having decided to start playing with fire. “Because I see a man consumed by it before me and I don’t think it’s made him strong.”

Leo rose to his feet, half-succeeding in letting his muscular and imposing frame intimidate me. Then he leant in, close enough for his breath to ghost over my lips. A whiff of mint and cologne hit my nose. Later, I’d recognize the woody undertone as his aftershave. “I have no time for little girl games.”

“I’m not mucking about.”

“Leave.”

“There’s a lot of open terrain where I live. Lots of nature,” I said when he turned his back on me. In hindsight, I suppose the gesture meant he didn’t see me as a potential source of danger. Otherwise he’d kept his eyes on me while retreating. “You can run around freely.”

Now that caught his attention.

Slowly he turned back, enough to look at me over his shoulder.

“The Cotswolds is really nice. I live in a kind of remote area, but the people don’t really bat an eyelid when it comes to the supernatural. Okay, well, it still freaks them out, but chances are slim something will happen. No witch hunts, in any case.”

He leant in as before, taking me in. Or, rather, he was assessing me. Measuring how much of a threat I was, trying to find out whether I was bluffing or not. After all, the prospect of open terrain must’ve sounded heavenly compared to his holding cell of a room. “You are a funny woman.”

“How about we discuss things over a cup of tea? I’ll show you around the house, where you’ll have your own room of course. If you like it, I’d very much appreciate it if you stayed. If you don’t, well, who am I to keep you?”

I’ll be honest, I bribed him a little bit by offering him the lightest and largest room at the back of the house which provides a splendid view of the rolling fields stretching into the horizon.

And it worked.

He stayed.

The sound of the front door opening interrupts the silence, shortly followed by heavy footsteps in the hallway.

“Leo, that you?” I ask without looking up from the dishwasher.

“Da!”

“Had a good workout?”

“Mhm.”

“The others still listening?”

“Da, the pups still are very much aware who’s in charge.”

Leo has been working as an instructor at a boxing school for newly turned Wolves. There are a couple of humans among them, but they are in the know about the nature of their fellow boxers. Or they find out about it soon enough after accidentally getting knocked out because their sparring partner isn’t in control of their new strength.

He likes to stay a little longer to get some practice himself and prepare for the next class. Lately, as confessed over last night’s dinner consisting of the borscht his mother taught him how to make, he’s been thinking about participating in tournaments.

I beckon for him to hand over his water bottle. Leo drinks the last of his protein shake, takes off the cap, and hands both compartments over so I can place them in the dishwasher. “Don’t go too hard on them.”

“Some Russian discipline might do them good. Teach them proper. Makes good fighters.”

“Not everyone’s as hardy as you.”

He grumbles something in Russian about controlling something, likely the beast within. Then he points at the large shoppers on the counters. “Also, next time, da, tell me when you go get groceries. I’ll carry bags.”

I laugh to myself, shut the lid, and put on the program. “How about we go out today?”

“Out?” Leo asks, perking up. Had he been in his Wolf form, his tail would have been wagging.

Though he keeps up a guard, I can’t help but notice he’s at his happiest when outside. Be it on a walk in the countryside, cruising through it on his motorcycle, tending to the garden or the vegetable patches he’s planted, or even so much as a trip to the big supermarket outside the village, his mood is better than when he’s cooped up inside. Nonetheless, it’s a small victory he’s finally sleeping indoors.

“Yes, I thought it’d be nice to go get coffee in town for a change.” A low rumble resounds from his stomach. “Although, let’s make that lunch.”

“Good idea. I’ll take a quick shower and we go. We can go. Um, da, be right back!” He rushes upstairs, his footsteps soon sounding towards the bathroom.

Even though he’s likely not aware of it himself, I cherish moments like these. When the walls crumble and there is no strict boundary between the man and the beast inside. When he’s carefree, excited by the prospect of going on a walk.

I start putting away the groceries, mumbling to myself. ‘‘You’re really just a fluffy oversized wolf on the inside, aren’t you?’’

A busy day in the village is incomparable to its urban equivalent. Although, the capital of the Cotswolds, Cirencester, hardly becomes any busier than a quiet day in London or Southampton. All the same, it makes for the ideal ground for those wishing to reintegrate and connect with people because it allows them to adjust slowly without being surrounded by a sea of potential triggers.

After parking the car, Leo driving as per usual, we casually walk towards the centre of Baron’s End. The white cobbled market plaza forms the beating heart of the town. On Wednesdays and Fridays, the local farmers sell their produce. On Saturdays, there is a small fabric market. Once in a season, though, an antique flea market takes place here. Yet, even when there’s nothing going on, it still forms the essential link that connects the villagers with each other.

I notice Leo is sticking closer to me than usual, enough so for his fingers to brush past mine. Either he doesn’t notice or willfully ignores it because when I look up, his eyes are trained on something in the distance.

The same thing happened last week while we were out doing groceries. Whereas normally one of us has the cart and the other wanders around, picking up items off of the list or at random, he was adamant we had plenty of time so we could browse together at leisure. There’s also been a recent development in our habit of sitting together by the fire after dinner to read and drink tea. We each used to sit on either end of the sofa, a gap between us. However, Leo now tends to sit directly next to me. I don’t have the courage yet to lean on him when he does, too afraid of the repercussions. After all, we’ve only known each other for around four months, our bond still fragile.

We strike down at a little café in a former cottage. The interior is rustic and simple, dark wood mingled with vintage items and small plants. Here and there, there’s a pop of pastel pink or blue in the form of a print or flower. Bright sunlight streams in through the French windows of the sun room.

The bell above the door tinkles softly as we enter. Leo holds it open while gesturing for me to go in first. Though it happens less frequently now, he still draws more than one pair of eyes to him. And not all of them are appreciative, especially when they hear him speak. “Go find seat. I’ll order. Cappuccino, da?”

But it are the female gazes that are more than appreciative, including the young barista’s, which occasionally make me not want to be out with him at all. It’s odd, but recently I’ve found myself unusually annoyed with them. Moreover, they make my stomach roil and reluctant to leave his side in a way that goes beyond the role assigned to me by the WHO.

Nonetheless, I have to let him do these things. Not just to improve his English, which has improved greatly over these past four months and is likely in part to blame on the many books he reads in the library and in bed. Many a time I’ve seen the light still on in the dead of night, his door cracked open just enough to show him immersed in whatever novel he picked from the pile on his bedside table that night. But I also have to let him so he’ll find his own way.

Without me.

I nod.

“See? I know what you like. Go find spot to sit. Be right there.” He tilts his head when I don’t move, fists clenched at my sides and my gaze averted to the ground. “Y/N, what is wrong?”

“Nothing,” I let out the breath I’d been holding and force myself to look at him, making sure to first blink away the tears. “Guess I’m still a bit tired. Didn’t sleep all too well last night.”

He grabs my wrist when I turn around. His big fingers are warm, their grip iron-like. Protective even to the point it hurts. “Malen’kiy-’’

Leo lets go the moment I snap my head back to throw him a glance over my shoulder. He’s never touched me before.

Realising the same thing, he opens and closes his mouth. Neither in his native tongue nor his second do words come, so he settles for a sigh and gestures helplessly to the tables off on the side. “Go sit.”

We’re in luck because I manage to capture a seat by one of the windows overlooking the plaza in the sun room. I watch him order, my jaw clenched thanks to the doe eyes the barista gives him. However, she quickly pales at something he says as he points behind him and nods frantically in response.

I sit up a bit, my interest piqued by the strange display.

What did you tell her? It didn’t look like the Wolf came out, but she looks awfully spooked. Should I interfere or won’t that be necessary? Also, what were you pointing at?

There is no time to check out what’s going on because, after doubting for a moment too long, Leo has already arrived at the table. Gently and with care, he serves me the cappuccino. “That’s one for you, malen’kiy. It’s on me.”

Scrambling to regain my composure, I try to keep my voice devoid of the curiosity gnawing at me. “Really, it’s no trouble to-’’

He sits down and holds up his hand. “It’s fine. I recently got paid.”

“Thank you, Leo.”

His features soften as a rare warmth illuminates his eyes. “You are very welcome.”

“By the way, what does it mean?”

“What?”

“What you called me. Ma- Male…”

“Malen’kiy?”

“Yes.”

“It means little one. And since you’re, um, well,” a rosy flush creeps into his cheeks and to hide it he hides behind his cup, taking a big sip of the black coffee, “it- it suits you.”

He isn’t wrong there, being a head taller. But his reaction is telling of the fact that more goes on beneath the surface of the uncharacteristically clumsy argument. There is a reason for the nickname, but he won’t divulge it to me yet.

Nevertheless, perhaps to save us from our mutual discomfort, I clear my throat and take a sip of the soft, foamy coffee in my hands. ‘‘Can I ask you something?’’

‘‘You are full of questions today.’’ He grows still as he takes me in, trying to discover why I’m crossing the apparent maximum of one question a day. Leo doesn’t like talking, especially about himself. Fortunately, I have luck on my side today. ‘‘Go on.’’

I nod at the barista, who’s gotten some colour in her skin again. ‘‘What did you say to her? She looked mortified when you two were talking.’’

He throws a glance to the side before gazing down into his cup, head bowed. A few stray dark brown locks dangle in front of his eyes. ‘‘Hm.’’

‘‘Leo?’’

‘‘I set boundary. Boundaries are good. Keep things in place.’’ Sullen, he takes a sip of his coffee. ‘‘Where they should be. Protects them.’’

The sternness in his voice forms a clue that I won’t get more than this out of him. Evidently, the conversation on this subject is over.

To save us from the discomfort of the violent silence between us, I change the topic to a more business-like one. “So, we’ve been living together for a few months now. How are you liking it?”

“Good. It’s good.” He takes a sip of his drink and nods in appreciation, making it hard to know whether he means the coffee or living together.

“I notice your insomnia has gotten less.” Nowadays, I don’t catch him as often reading in front of the hearth of the library we built together or, if the skies are clear, watching the stars in the sun room. At least he’s staying indoors now rather than wandering off across the meadows or sitting in the middle of them until morning.

“That is true. I sleep better now.”

“Do you think you could be happy here?”

He purses his lips in contemplation. “I think so, da. I owe you a lot and I am grateful for your help.”

“You’ve grown a lot since we met. I’m glad we’re talking now.”

His response catches me off guard. “I am too.”

“Leo… I’ve been thinking. I suppose it’s inevitable, but, how to phrase this, have-’’ the words catch in my throat, too afraid and jumbled to come out. I tap my fingers against the side of my cup.

He puts his down and places a warm hand over my wrist. “Remember what you told me. Breathe. Take your time, but breathe.”

I take a few deep breaths yet do not have the courage to meet his gaze, to see the strange tenderness that’s taken root in the ice. “Have you maybe thought about moving out at some point? Live on your own?”

“And leave you, my friend, my companion, my m-’’ he clears his throat, cheeks tinged with a rosy flush. “No, I stay. The house is very big and you’ll be very lonely. And loneliness is not good. It breaks you.”

“That it does.”

“I’ve seen you change too. You’ve become, how to say, radiant. More life, no, lively.”

I blink, surprised by his observation. “Have I?”

“Da,’’ he answers resolutely. ‘‘You have. It’s good to see. Very nice.’’

“Leo?”

“Hm?”

“Stay for as long as you like.”

Preferably forever.

“I will.”

#Leo Demidov #Leo Demidov x Reader #Leo Demidov imagine #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy imagine

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gyokujyn · 10 months ago

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Lost Boy!!

For WIP Game

This is a modern fantasy Supernatural AU set in a world where supernatural creatures are real, but rare. Sam went missing investigating a business where fake supernatural creatures of various kinds are being pawned off as real. Dean poses as an interested buyer to try to find his brother, but soon learns that some of the creatures of the menagerie are very real and very dangerous and the menagerie protects its own secrets, drawing Dean into a world he doesn't actually know how to escape from--a sort of Alice in Wonderland meets Dante's Inferno. Here's an excerpt from very early on in the story:

"Who are you looking for?”

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the voice, turning slowly to see soft, auburn hair spilling round a pale, trim face. Anna, he remembered, the one he’d been warned off of by Jessica. Hazel eyes, too big for her innocent face, stared up at him.

Surreptitiously, he glanced around, but they were alone in the gallery, “Sorry, what?”

“He said you were looking for someone, but he didn’t say who,” she started, quickly, hardly even stopping for breath as she glanced down, fidgeting with her fingers, “Well, no, he didn’t say that, exactly, he said, I mean, he doesn’t say much, but when he wants me to know, I do and he said, that he wants, I mean, what he wanted me to say was–” she paused, took a small breath, and looked back up into his eyes purposefully. “He wants me to tell you that you can find the man you’re searching for, if you’re brave.”

Dean blinked.

Had he been discovered?

Or, was this girl just bat shit fucking crazy?

He glanced around the room, again, sure that someone must be watching this exchange, biding their time to catch him exposing his real mission. But, save for himself and Anna, the gallery was empty, the doors still barred for the night. He found his eyes back on the girl, unsure and unsteady. Anna merely stared at him earnestly, blinking those huge eyes and waiting for him to respond.

A few more moments passed before Dean finally scoffed, “Who?”

It was as if a dam had broken, the words spilling out of her, “He didn’t tell me who–I mean, he didn’t tell me anything, but I heard him and I heard that you would find him. He was quite sure–you could find him if you were brave. That was very clear.” As if to underscore the point, she nodded.

“No, no,” Dean muttered, shaking his head, freckled brows knitting as he pinched the bridge of his nose and gathered his thoughts with a sigh, “I mean, who–I was asking who told you that?”

“Oh,” Anna said, simply. She looked over her shoulder with a tender smile. “He did.”

Dean followed her gaze to the far edge of the room, beside the main stage, where cold iron bars held the menagerie’s mute angel. Dean often forgot about him, still and silent as he kept. Even now, he stood in the center of his cage perfectly poised–like a statue–dressed as always in a white linen perizoma with the finest silver chain Dean’d ever seen wrapped around his waist. His chest did not rise nor fall with breath, his coal black wings pinched painfully between the floor and ceiling of his tiny cell, bent and stooped from strain. The pitch colored feathers pressed haphazardly against the wooden planks at his feet and stuck out of the bars that crossed over his head, as unruly and unkempt as the mess of almost-black hair atop his head. His hands made the only movement Dean could see, fists clenching and unclenching almost imperceptibly at his sides, blue eyes burning brightly straight through Dean. As Dean’s eyes met his blistering gaze, the angel tipped his head slowly to the side, like a bird. No, Dean thought, like a raptor. A bird of prey, in whose sight Dean was squarely caught.

Unbidden, a chill ran down Dean’s spine.

“So, who are you looking for?” Dean dragged his eyes back to meet Anna’s hazel stare, as intent, if not as intense, as the angel’s.

“Hm? Um,” he scratched his forehead absently, suddenly happy to be looking anywhere but back into that cage. “N-no one–how do you even know about that?”

“See, I think people talk a lot around someone who doesn’t answer, I mean, when you’re so quiet, you hear a lot of other people because they don’t like to hear what they think about in the silence–have you noticed that? It’s probably why everyone’s so nice to me, I don’t make them think of all the things that people think about when it’s too quiet to hear anything but your own thoughts,” she smiled absently.

Dean laughed shortly, “Come again?"

“Well, you know, if you’re quiet, you can hear more than if you talk. That’s why Mother always says it’s a wonder I hear anything, but I hear him,” Anna smiled, red lips spreading wide.

“You hear the angel?”

She nodded.

“That’s gotta be a nice trick. He’s mute.”

“Just because he doesn’t talk doesn’t mean he can’t sing. I hear him sing in my head and I know why they call him an angel.”

Dean smirked. “You don’t think the wings might be part of it?”

“The wings are fake, but his voice is real and he sings in my head like heaven. He sings with the stars. I hear them. They burn and they die, but before that, they sing. All of them. All the angels.”

#wip game #jyn writes #lost boy

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subukunojess · 1 year ago

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Phantom Moth AU: A Mario and Rabbids Supernatural Adventure!

Hello. As I'm slowly getting back into writing, my hyperfixated brain has decided to focus on Mario and Rabbids content. Specifically Tom Phan/The Phantom. I knew of him years ago and how my mutuals and dash would bring him up. For Me, Phantom (while minor in comparison to my regular faves) definitely falls into the platonic self-indulgent bestie with benefits. He's the type of character my self insert would be friends with but can understand the appeal and will swoon if he tries anything.

I decided to create an AU for him since I seen a lot of creative AU's on my dash and I wanted to create something for future stories. I ran this by with @hostess-of-horror and I'm kind of surprised what I made up so far. Without further ado, here is the Phantom Moth AU.

How it is going to be made up: it will be on Archive of Our Own and cross-posted on here. While one-shots and the like will be a Reader fic, a multichapter fic would feature an OC as the MC. Couldn't decide between the two, so I did both.

More about the AU under the cut:

Content includes giant monsters, voice/sound powers, people/rabbids getting eaten, secret identities, betrayal, curses, transformations, possible slow burn, hypnotism/siren, bats, and much more!

This has been said to be like a blend of Hunger Games, Beauty and the Beast, and Shrek.

MC (reader/OC) is a gender-neutral small-time performer living in the city. In the world they live in, it is modern like our world in the daytime, but at night, giant monsters are said to roam under the ground or in the shadows.

While MC is not popular per se, they are talked about and they do have a small fanbase. They sing, dance, and even write when they get a chance.

They also have a rabbid oc companion named Otieno (He/Him) who serves as their bodyguard/advisor/agent.

One day, there's a rumor going around about a mysterious idol and performer named Tom Phan who is holding a contest for anyone (human, rabbid, or inbetween) to go on a date with him/perform with him and become a star. MC agrees to go to get the experience, try their shot, and meet new people.

The contestants (once going to a mysterious underground location) sign a contract and each performer goes to their own room, each having a wall in which only one side can see the other.

There are three rounds to the contest: Interview, Audition, and Performance. The first one is a voice (Tom Phan) asking questions and after doing so, the semi=finalists are chosen. The second involves a solo audition in private. Then the last round has the finalists coming out of their rooms and performing a song chosen by the group. Only then will Tom Phan choose his partner.

Two things make this contest complicated. One having to do with the MC. In their past, a jealous rival/bully had cursed them with dark magic, claiming that whatever would make their heart beat rapidly in a romantic sense, that will be the form they take for a limited time. For example, if MC saw a werewolf as a crush, they would either sprout ears and a tail or become half wolf depending on the intensity of the crush. For the most part, MC's curse does not activate as much if at all. When it does, the MC either does not notice or the effect lasts a few days or a week at best.

The second thing lies with Tom Phan. Thomas was once alive with dreams of being a star. However, upon his death, he became The Phantom, a giant ghost Rabbid/Bat with the power of voice and sound at his command and hankering for both love and prey.

Put those two things together and you get this: MC hears a soft yet smooth voice conversing with them and they get interested in getting to know him better. In reality, Tom Phan is going through each contestant's room like a giant cubby hole and using control on his volume. For the first round, he closed his eyes to judge on voice and answers alone. The second part, he did open his eyes and saw each solo audition. Up to this point, MC has not seen Tom Phan and thinks he's either a human or a rabbid.

Lo and behold, the finale begins, the wall opens up, the performers come out. Instead of anything else greeting them, MC sees a giant head with large ears and fangs to match. MC has a thing for giant monsters. Upon seeing Phantom, their body splits in two. The human body falls back asleep while the other part become half ghost.

Although the show must go on, MC freaks out not only because of their crush being a giant ghost bat monster who could devour them if he wants to, but that they are HALF-DEAD.

Meanwhile, the Phantom, seeing the MC that he had high hopes for suddenly becoming part ghost, gets excited, choosing MC as his partner.

The rest of the AU is somewhat of a slow-burn story with the MC coming to terms with the development, using their newfound powers to become a hero, and dealing with the side effects when bonding with a giant monster.

On Phantom's side of things, he not only has to decide whether to keep things as they are with MC or make it so they become a complete ghost monster and they will never leave him.

Monster stuff, monster fighting, sound-based powers, comedy, past histories, and consuming others are blended together to make this AU.

The reason for the name of the AU is because of the ghosts being the subject and MC's main monster form is part butterfly/moth in the beginning.

I'll do more specific information in a separate post. In the meantime, if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask! Thank you.

#mario and rabbids #alternate universe #mario and rabbids spark of hope #rabbid #phantom of the bwahpera #Tom Phan #Rabbid OC #OC #reader insert #OC: Otieno the Rabbid #giant #g/t #monster #bat #ghost #Phantom Moth AU #just a self indulgent AU I came up with #hoping to write when I get the chance

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thewhitefluffyhat · 2 years ago

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State of the Blog 01.01.23

Taking a quick break from queues for an announcement: Happy New Year, all!

For this state of the blog update, I’ve decided to show my hand a bit and list every one of the many projects I’ve been kicking around. Think of this as a kind of New Year’s Resolution, perhaps? I certainly won’t get to all of these, but I’m making it my goal in the coming year to at least finish a few!

(And yes, if one of these piques your interest, feel free to reply/message/reblog/etc. No guarantees, but it would certainly move it up in priority!)

Multichapter Fanfics

-If the Fifth Found Out: AU in which the Reverend Parents invite a Fifth adept over to exorcize Wake’s revenant. Abigail and Magnus then proceed to discover a war crime, report a war crime, and adopt a war crime in the aftermath. (Or they try to, anyway. It’s complicated, they only manage to get Gideon at first.)

-The Mysterious Curse of Castle Drearburh: Rumor has it that any suitor who seeks the Reverend Daughter’s hand in marriage is cursed to die soon after. Cam and Pal therefore put on their detective hats to investigate�� by using negotiations for Camilla’s marriage to Harrowhark as cover! A Canon Divergence/Fake Arranged Marriage/Mystery AU, where determining the divergence event is part of the mystery. Also featuring: my aroace Cam headcanons, and eventual Griddlehark.

-Butterfly Daze: Seemingly typical Griddlehark Modern/College AU with a supernatural twist. But is Kiriona’s new roommate a vampire? A cryptid? A ghost? Or just a normal, if traumatized kid? Turns out the answer is none of the above… and John, the loving father who has always been part of Kiriona’s life, may know more than he’s letting on.

-Puella Magi Nonagesimus 💀 Magica: Crossover with the setting of magical girl series Madoka Magica, and a continuation of this snippet. TL;DR: magical girls as an excuse for a Time Travel AU. The story is split between the present day survivors in the wreckage of Canaan House, where Harrow and Gideon learn the ins and outs of being a magical girl while bodysharing, and Harrow’s wish-induced dreams of the past, where she and Gideon try to forge a better timeline.

Fanfic Oneshots, in order of more silly to more serious

-harrowhark nonagesimus does not like pizza: God orders pizza for the Lyctors on the Mithraeum. (Somehow.) This goes over exactly as well as you’d expect.

-Effervescent: In which Abigail is very confused as 200 dead Ninth children (led by a handful of shitty teens among them) attempt to crash Harrow’s River Bubble AU party.

-Growing Pains: Character study of ~13 year old Harrow, in which Gideon gets her first period and assumes (quite logically) that it must be another of Harrow’s attempts to kill her.

-All That Glitters: Harryanthe Arranged Marriage AU, where Harrow is running the riskiest puppet show of her life on the Third, Ianthe is initially pissed her dad is marrying her off to some weak-willed nun, and Yakety Sax is probably playing in the background as clueless narrator Coronabeth keeps dragging both of them off to various social events.

-Reverend Daughter for a Day: Back in their bodies and on the Ninth for [insert vague handwavy reasons], Harrow proposes that she and Gideon switch places. For one day, Harrow will be the servant and obey any orders Gideon gives her. No refusals, no limits. Naturally, everything that can go wrong, does go wrong.

Misc Projects

-Keep a Consistently Active Tumblr: For whatever reason, actually posting things as opposed to lurking is a major struggle for me, but let’s see how long I can keep this up! I’ve still got a few more analysis rambles on the backburner, and plenty of material for themed queues… the trick will be crossing that last step and actually putting them up.

-Gideon: The Last Bonebender: You know those “if TLT was written by a straight, cis dude, what would be changed?” satire posts? Imagine if instead, Gideon the Ninth was adapted for Hollywood by a straight, cis director. Just how bad could it be? Note: this is the closest project to being finished, but needs reworking to be less cynical and depressing. Oops...

-Gideon the Ninth for D&D 5e: A homebrew module that uses GtN as a jumping off point for a spooky dungeon and murder mystery adventure. Try your hand at the other Lyctor puzzles! Play out a full cavalier tournament between all the Houses! Attempt and probably fail to save Jeannemary and Isaac from their fate! …And yes, someone’s going to have to become a Lyctor at the end. Not happening while the owners of D&D are being jerks, that’s for sure.

-TLT Fanfic Rec Lists: At the moment, I’m up to August 2022 in my chronological journey through the AO3 TLT tag. And once I’ve caught up, I’ll have recs to share! Not sure if it would be better to do longer / broader topic lists, or lots of weird and hyper-specific themes like “Gideon Joins the Cohort AUs” or “Life on the Sixth” or “In Which Ianthe Is There.” Maybe a mix of both?

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #griddlehark #my tlt stuff #my ramblings #state of the blog #fanfic #having spectacularly failed to find the time for nanowrimo or yuletide #fingers crossed this will work out better #^^;

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therpdirectory · 2 years ago

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Site name and link: Charmingly Splendid, https://ecs.jcink.net Site genre: Based On TV Show Site info: Charmingly Splendid is a Charmed AU roleplay site based in modern era. Our plot started in between season 2 - 3, before we lost Prue Halliwell, most of the story from here onward is our creation so regardless if you've watched Charmed or not, you'll be able to make a character to fit into this new world we are creating. Your name: Paige Contact info: Discord Paige Yin#0119 Role(s) requested: All characters requested below would have plotting opportunities with my character(s), sometimes multiple of them and might be involving in some major site plot if you choose to use them that way. Some of these characters has a more complex plots that I'd like to work out, while others are more open. Either way, you may always contact me on Discord and we can hash out the ideas either of us have and make an even better, funner plot to write! Looking forward to chatting with you!

For Paige Matthews

Glen Belland ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ 26/ 27 years old ❥ Open profession

Glen Belland is Paige's high school (and perhaps even current) on-and-off boyfriend, the best friend who knows Paige very well and vice versa. The plot goes that Glen has left for Australia sometimes when Paige was in college, and even though they are worlds apart, I'd assume they keep in contact still! I'd say, perhaps Paige still has feelings for him and hoping that when he returns they could pick up where they left off (and vice versa). However, when Glen returns, perhaps some supernatural stuffs happened around Paige, and they could find out that she's a whitelighter together or not. But regardless, Paige would love to has her buddy around. If they would end up being together or not, is up to the player to decide. Glen and Paige should be the same, or similar in age (hence 26/ 27 years old). And he should count as a canon. The FC I am suggesting is Cody Christian, you can also use Colin Woodell, or anyone you feel is appropriate for this character, really. I am very open FC wise.

Kyle Brody ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ Early - Late 30s ❥ FBI Agent

Agent Kyle Brody, a Homeland Security agent who possessed vast knowledge of the supernatural world, more specifically witches and the Avatars. If you'd like to make him not as aware of the Avatars and blindsided by his urge to revenge, it would also be great. I like his character specifically cause he's morally grey, like he is good because he would do anything to help those needed his assistance, at the same time, he would hurt anyone standing in his way. I was thinking that his investigation of the Halliwell sisters has him crossing Paige's way, and maybe Paige found out about that her (potential, because she doesn't know yet) half-sisters are witches that way. In the middle if things get heated up, you know, they are both gorgeous people. Kyle is a canon, while I placed Nathaniel Buzolic here as a suggested FC, you do not have to pick him if you'd like to keep Kyle as a younger character. Know that if you're picking Nathaniel as suggested, Kyle will be in his mid to late 30s right now. Collin Woodell is another good choice since he's Danielle's real life partner and they too have tons of cute pictures we can actually spam each other. I am open to other suggestions too if you have a preference, feel free to run them by me.

For Leo Wyatt

This is more of a plot wanted than an actual wanted ad. So here we have Leo Wyatt, who I believe everyone following the Charmed franchise is familiar with! However, Leo we have here is not exactly like the Leo we have in the show. Our Leo here is a little rougher on the edges. He's still kind, he's still wise, and he still loves Piper more than anything in the world, but no one would call Leo a pacifist. His experience with Piper and realizing that the Elders' way being a little more than outdated, Leo isn't someone who would obey their rules and instructions anymore. Our Leo here is willing to fight. He will fight along with his charges if that's what he needs to do to protect them. He has also gained hand-to-hand combat skills and know how to use his Whitelighter powers in an offensive ways (like using orbs to levitate, orbing-telekinesis etc). So where did Leo learned all these skills you may ask, because from what we know of the Elders, they are not going to train their agents to fight. No, Leo actually found a band of Whitelighters who have been training to fight, Whitelighters who believe in more than just guiding and hiding behind witches' backs. This band of Whitelighters are called "The Rogues", and I am thinking there should have about 9 - 12 members. Let's keep it to a small group for now. I don't think The Rogues are evil, they just have their own freewill and have different believes than the Elders. They practice to fight and practice to use their powers to help the Greater Good in a more active ways than traditional Whitelighters would. They each could have their own stories that lead them down on this path.

"Lydia Martin" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: A Seer

Here we have "Lydia" which of course, does not have to be the name you pick. What I have in mind is that she has the ability of foresight and is able to warn the group about it, but if you'd like to change her ability, I'm open for it as well. Open personality and history, I am also leaving her age open, so she can be older or younger than Leo, but she would have been in the group longer than Leo because Leo was one of their newer recruit. I'd suggest the lovely Holland Roden as an FC, if you'd like to use someone else though, of course, feel free to run the idea by me. Suggested FC: Holland Roden.

"Malia Tate" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: Snark and ways with words

Let me introduce you to "Malia", who I'd imaging being the snarky one in the group. I'd like her to be like, the trouble child of the Whitelighter and maybe even one of the few who has started with The Rogue. But like the other two, I'd leave her details to be mostly open so that you can have freedom to create this character. I'd definitely imagine her to be older than Leo, but still open age, open history, personality (if you do not like her to be snarky). Suggested FC is Shelley Hennig, you don't have to use her but I'd like to see more Teen Wolf actors/ actresses around the site and also for plotting purpose. Suggested FC: Shelley Hennig.

#jcink rp #jcink premium #character request #real life #city/town #supernatural #based on #romantic #platonic

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rpings · 2 years ago

Text

{Jcink | Character Request} Charmed and Dangerous

For Paige Matthews

Glen Belland ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ 26/ 27 years old ❥ Open profession

Kyle Brody ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ Early - Late 30s ❥ FBI Agent

For Leo Wyatt

"Lydia Martin" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: A Seer

"Malia Tate" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: Snark and ways with words

"Cora Hale" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: Lie Detector

This is "Cora", which I imagine to be quite a young Whitelighter to have joined The Rogue, she is probably very skilled and very much in deep troubles that they recruited her early. Again, most of her details are open, including but not limited to her history, personalities, age. I'm thinking perhaps because she is able to detect lies that she was the first one to spoke up for Leo when he requested to join the group, and maybe the two of them have a bond (give Leo and Piper some dramas please!). Suggested FC is Adalaide Kane, but once again, you can use someone else, if you'd like to use anyone who has tons of GIFs with Leo's FC, Daniel Sharman, I'd be more than happy too. Suggested FC: Adalaide Kane.

#jcink premium #character request #supernatural rp #fantasy rp #based on rp

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jcinktinder · 2 years ago

Photo

Your name: Paige Contact info: Discord @ Paige Yin#0119

Site name and link: Charmingly Splendid, https://ecs.jcink.net Site genre: Based On TV Show Site info: Charmingly Splendid is a Charmed AU roleplay site based in modern era. Our plot started in between season 2 - 3, before we lost Prue Halliwell, most of the story from here onward is our creation so regardless if you've watched Charmed or not, you'll be able to make a character to fit into this new world we are creating. Role(s) requested: All characters requested below would have plotting opportunities with my character(s), sometimes multiple of them and might be involving in some major site plot if you choose to use them that way. Some of these characters has a more complex plots that I'd like to work out, while others are more open. Either way, you may always contact me on Discord and we can hash out the ideas either of us have and make an even better, funner plot to write! Looking forward to chatting with you!

For Paige Matthews

Glen Belland ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ 26/ 27 years old ❥ Open profession

Glen Belland is Paige's high school (and perhaps even current) on-and-off boyfriend, the best friend who knows Paige very well and vice versa. The plot goes that Glen has left for Australia sometimes when Paige was in college, and even though they are worlds apart, I'd assume they keep in contact still! I'd say, perhaps Paige still has feelings for him and hoping that when he returns they could pick up where they left off (and vice versa). However, when Glen returns, perhaps some supernatural stuffs happened around Paige, and they could find out that she's a whitelighter together or not. But regardless, Paige would love to has her buddy around. If they would end up being together or not, is up to the player to decide. Glen and Paige should be the same, or similar in age (hence 26/ 27 years old). The FC I am suggesting is Cody Christian, you can also use Colin Woodell, or anyone you feel is appropriate for this character, really. I am very open FC wise.

Kyle Brody ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ Early - Late 30s ❥ FBI Agent

For Leo Wyatt

"Lydia Martin" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: A Seer

"Malia Tate" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: Snark and ways with words

"Cora Hale" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: Lie Detector

#jcink #jcink premium #character request #supernatural rp #fandom rp #new rp #ch: 18-24 #ch: 24-40 #ch: over 40 #ch: male #ch: female

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umbrellamedic · 1 year ago

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✿ i am trying so hard not to send you so many memes

send me a ❛ ✿ ❜ and I’ll talk about our muses in some capacity ; be it a headcanon or a plot idea that I’d love to write! you fool; you absolute fool, you've played into my trap- answering memes only makes me happier! >:D

I love AUs, so here's some AU things that could be fun or painful:

Fantasy/Modern Fantasy/any kind of DnD, FF, WoW, YOU GET THE POINT type verse- they have some common goal to complete and the healer sent to accompany Carlos is actually a sadist who is OFFENDED she has a natural affinity for healing. She grew up wanted to be a powerful necromancer, but noooOOOooOOooOoo.

Obligatory Vampire au: A vampire and a hunter must team up to take down some bigger threat to them both- they can totally go back to being enemies after because they won't end up friends that'll be silly. BONUS POINTS: the pale European is not the vampire for once. everyone they come across who can sense the undead just assume it's her because stereotypes.

Post Raccoon City Shamelessly Citing Your Post: while searching for Nikolai, Carlos crosses paths with Shadoloo (NeoShadoloo; either works, whatever). they agree to fund and aid in his search but in return he works for them between following leads/works for them full time after he settles his score with Nikolai. On missions a certain blond is assigned to help him- she has NO CLUE who he is. Bonus: some kind of subplot thing where either Nikolai works for Shadoloo and they hide this fact from Carlos (they're gonna betray him and try to give him the old doll treatment anyways) OR they know where Nikolai is and don't give any of this info to Carlos. They'll pay for him following any leads he finds on his own, but they aren't gonna tell him shit because it's convenient for them to let him keep his memories for intel on Umbrella/BOW shit plot point... reasons... I JUST WANT TWO BROKEN EX-UMBRELLAS AND PAIN

More supernatural bullshit because I can't think of anything else in this moment apparently: Carlos needed a guardian angel to save his life; Michaela- recently kicked out of Heaven- needs a human soul to avoid ended up in Hell/to cloak her from Heaven. Now Carlos is stuck with a fallen angel who doesn't really get how Earth works, but is totally down to keep him alive for purely selfish reasons.

Remnant Remnant Remnant Remnant Remnant Re- Listen. Post-apocalypse; only a small group of heroes to save the world; a rag-tag team, each with their own reasons for putting their life on the line against the Root; discovering the mystery behind how the world went to shit; those are some nice glowing red crystals.... it would be a shame if... they made some assholes... immortal... a bigger shame if they're blindsided by this fact and find out in the most traumatic way possible... the brainrot. is strong. too strong.

#ubcs #i am but a SIMPLE FOOL who enjoys exploring how characters are in different settings #but i know not everyone is about the AU life so this is no pressure or anything!#i just think these would be neat #i'm not gonna say it's valid to disregard this BUT.... it's not invalid...#still on my bullshit

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dailyjcink · 2 years ago

Photo

Your name: Paige Contact info: Discord @ Paige Yin#0119

Site name and link: Charmingly Splendid, https://ecs.jcink.net Site genre: Based On TV Show Site info: Charmingly Splendid is a Charmed AU roleplay site based in modern era. Our plot started in between season 2 - 3, before we lost Prue Halliwell, most of the story from here onward is our creation so regardless if you've watched Charmed or not, you'll be able to make a character to fit into this new world we are creating. Role(s) requested: All characters requested below would have plotting opportunities with my character(s), sometimes multiple of them and might be involving in some major site plot if you choose to use them that way. Some of these characters has a more complex plots that I'd like to work out, while others are more open. Either way, you may always contact me on Discord and we can hash out the ideas either of us have and make an even better, funner plot to write! Looking forward to chatting with you!

For Paige Matthews

Glen Belland ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ 26/ 27 years old ❥ Open profession

Glen Belland is Paige's high school (and perhaps even current) on-and-off boyfriend, the best friend who knows Paige very well and vice versa. The plot goes that Glen has left for Australia sometimes when Paige was in college, and even though they are worlds apart, I'd assume they keep in contact still! I'd say, perhaps Paige still has feelings for him and hoping that when he returns they could pick up where they left off (and vice versa). However, when Glen returns, perhaps some supernatural stuffs happened around Paige, and they could find out that she's a whitelighter together or not. But regardless, Paige would love to has her buddy around. If they would end up being together or not, is up to the player to decide. Glen and Paige should be the same, or similar in age (hence 26/ 27 years old). The FC I am suggesting is Cody Christian, you can also use Colin Woodell, or anyone you feel is appropriate for this character, really. I am very open FC wise.

Kyle Brody ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ Early - Late 30s ❥ FBI Agent

For Leo Wyatt

"Lydia Martin" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: A Seer

"Malia Tate" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: Snark and ways with words

"Cora Hale" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: Lie Detector

#jcink #jcink ad #jcink site #jcink rp #premium jcink #wanted-ad #supernatural #submission

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electricbluebutterflies · 2 years ago

Note

Jess/Leto + “in another lifetime, we have definitely done this before.”

Vague modern AU, PG-ish, late queued crosspost // also on ao3.

It feels too familiar sometimes.

Jessica can’t explain it, these moments of déjà vu that are not the life she has lived at all. She dreams too vividly of something that could be past or future or a parallel world for all she can pin it down, of pretty dresses and the kind of love that could break the known world and-

There is often another figure in these dreams, a consistent outline, a set of physical traits her heart would know anywhere. She can’t remember exactly when this element started, why her teenage brain settled on the romantic ideal that it did despite how little she believed in such things, but since the dreams took that turn she has wanted nothing more in the world. Wondered, in moments of deep loneliness, if that other person might be real and if he might have these dreams too.

It is by chance – she refuses to believe in higher powers, no matter how cute the meddling that could be attributed to them if one were so inclined – that she does cross paths with someone who at the time she justifies as close-enough. She is older when this happens in real life than she is in the dream-world, but the circumstances are similar enough, they are introduced at an event and… she knows those eyes, she thinks, and everything blossoms from that recognition.

It is a slow process, in this life, by her choice. The dreams get more vivid as she progresses, as she has real emotions to add to the visuals. He is patient and kind and idealistic and she suspects she brings out a softness he did not know he possessed, as he does in her, and-

The first real kiss, the first collision that lasts more than a heartbeat, almost breaks her. She recoils as soon as she is able to, overwhelmed by the weight of flashbacks that cannot be flashbacks because she knows none of this has happened before and yet her body and mind are disconnected in this, it’s like she’s been in this position a thousand times before and she cannot calm herself and-

“Did I hurt you?”

He is still there, close but not escalating the situation, and she knows the look on his face even though she is sure she’s never seen it before, the affectionate confusion with the smallest bit of horror, like in another life this is how they interacted, like-

Jessica does not believe in any of the plausible explanations for this situation, but she’s out of anything better. This is decidedly weird, and probably in a supernatural way, and she needs to calm down and she can’t calm down, and-

“No. I don’t think so. I don’t know.”

She hates admitting uncertainty, and it’s worse because she likes him, or at least she might like him, she’s not sure, the dreams are getting in her way, she’s not sure how much of this is real, maybe none of it is, maybe-

“If I did wrong by you-“

“Do I look threatened?” she asks, almost a hiss, fire beginning to burn inside her. “It’s not you. You make me weak but I’d like to think I could stand up for myself if you did something to me that I didn’t want. And I did want that. I just… in another lifetime, we have definitely done this before. And I’m haunted by it. And I can’t explain that, and I know I sound crazy, and-“

He takes her hands and she wonders if there is any safety between them, if they will ever get to a point where the familiarity in her subconscious actually becomes real. He is so easy to trust, she is learning, so willing to work with her and give her space and she doesn’t think she deserves that, and-

“You don’t sound crazy.”

“I don’t… if you’ve had those dreams too, I don’t-“

“Dreams like what?”

“Like you have existed in my mind for half of my life,” she says, because might as well destroy everything, might as well push him away while she still can. “Like I have been in love with you in a dozen other lifetimes and there will never be anything new between us. Like… when I met you the thought in my heart was how comforting it is that you’re real, and then the dreams didn’t stop, and-“

“No. Not like that at all.” He attempts to pull her closer and she turns her body away, and he lets go of her hands and takes a step back and she appreciates this caution more than she will ever say. “I have had dreams about you, but only in the past few weeks, only since…”

“What kind of dreams?” she asks, still worried, still-

“Mundane curiosities. Wondering what you’d be like if this becomes something, really.”

Wondering what she’d be like as a lover, her brain completes, and she is thankful he doesn’t say that. She has wondered the same – the dreams are not graphic, she can piece together that dimension from moments before and after but there are things her mind refuses to project – but there is time, there has to be time, there has to be-

“And you still… want that? Even after this?”

He sighs, and it’s almost pretty, and her heart melts. “This is… weird, but somehow less weird than I thought when you panicked. I can live with it.”

“I’m not sure how-“

“If it’s not a problem for you – and it does look like a problem for you…”

“It’s strange but not unpleasant. The familiarity is… I don’t think I’d be able to let anyone else touch me. It’s easier with you.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I know. I like you. The dreams help, but… I think I’d like you anyways.”

She will enjoy his caution, she decides as she lets herself be held. They will have to move even slower than they already were. It will still be alright.

That night, curled up in bed alone, she has a new dream. In another life, it is not just the two of them. In another life there is a child. In another life…

It doesn’t matter. She exists in this one, right now. She can try to live accordingly.

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

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rpgadverts · 2 years ago

Photo

Your name: Paige Contact info: Discord @ Paige Yin#0119

Site name and link: Charmingly Splendid, https://ecs.jcink.net Site genre: Based On TV Show Site info: Charmingly Splendid is a Charmed AU roleplay site based in modern era. Our plot started in between season 2 - 3, before we lost Prue Halliwell, most of the story from here onward is our creation so regardless if you've watched Charmed or not, you'll be able to make a character to fit into this new world we are creating. Role(s) requested: All characters requested below would have plotting opportunities with my character(s), sometimes multiple of them and might be involving in some major site plot if you choose to use them that way. Some of these characters has a more complex plots that I'd like to work out, while others are more open. Either way, you may always contact me on Discord and we can hash out the ideas either of us have and make an even better, funner plot to write! Looking forward to chatting with you!

For Paige Matthews

Glen Belland ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ 26/ 27 years old ❥ Open profession

Glen Belland is Paige's high school (and perhaps even current) on-and-off boyfriend, the best friend who knows Paige very well and vice versa. The plot goes that Glen has left for Australia sometimes when Paige was in college, and even though they are worlds apart, I'd assume they keep in contact still! I'd say, perhaps Paige still has feelings for him and hoping that when he returns they could pick up where they left off (and vice versa). However, when Glen returns, perhaps some supernatural stuffs happened around Paige, and they could find out that she's a whitelighter together or not. But regardless, Paige would love to has her buddy around. If they would end up being together or not, is up to the player to decide. Glen and Paige should be the same, or similar in age (hence 26/ 27 years old). The FC I am suggesting is Cody Christian, you can also use Colin Woodell, or anyone you feel is appropriate for this character, really. I am very open FC wise.

Kyle Brody ❥ Canon ❥ Human ❥ Early - Late 30s ❥ FBI Agent

For Leo Wyatt

"Lydia Martin" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: A Seer

"Malia Tate" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: Snark and ways with words

"Cora Hale" ❥ Original ❥ Whitelighter ❥ Open Age ❥ Strength: Lie Detector

#jcink #rp #wanted ad #city rp #fandom rp #magic rp #multigenre rp

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

mistletoe magic | stiles stilinski

word count; 10,490

summary; stiles learns that his cute neighbour might be a witch after accidentally getting her spellbooks delivered to him instead.

notes; I know a witch!au isn’t a huge au for stiles, because he’s had evident races of magic throughout the series anyway, but just enjoy it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, use of magic

It had been a pretty regular Monday morning for Stiles.

At six sharp, he’d been up and awake, barely functional but stumbling through his apartment and clicking on the coffee machine, before hopping into the shower for a quick wash. When he’d emerged, the machine had just finished grinding, as always, his routine functioning like a well-oiled machine now, and he’d moved it all across into a to-go cup and left it on the counter before going to get dressed.

He’d stumbled around to find his school books and shove them into a bag, eaten two cinnamon pop tarts that had burned the tips of his fingers when he’d grabbed them straight from the toaster, and had still been chewing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and sipped at his coffee, straight into the elevator at twenty to seven.

It was a fifteen-minute walk across campus to his early morning lecture on a Monday, leaving him with a few minutes to spare, in case he saw the sweet older lady from two floors down and wanted to say ‘hi’, or the cute neighbour who lived across the hall that always made him fall over his own feet, or maybe even the kid who delivers newspapers and is always falling off of his bike. He made it on time, took some great notes, and was feeling a little more alive and welcome into his day.

At exactly ten past one, he’d been home, having gone to the library to get some study in and find his new books, and get lunch at the diner he always ate at after classes, a cheeseburger and curly fries, and grabbed his letters and a parcel from the mail slot with his housing number printed on, tucking the package under his arm and heading upstairs and back to his flat, ready to flick through his bills.

All according to plan. One year and four months away at university and he knew every day like he’d been doing it for a decade, so he was only half-way to the kitchen when he remembered the package he was clutching under his arm, coming to a complete halt, throwing the usual assortment of envelopes away to the counter, and producing the neatly wrapped bundle.

He didn’t question it, not even bothering to look at the front, figuring it was just an early delivery on the textbooks that he wasn’t expecting to get here for another three weeks, finger slipping under the folds of the brown paper and tearing it away, fingers dancing over the covers of the books, before his brows were furrowing once again.

These were definitely not his ‘intro to psychological profiling’ textbooks.

Beautiful swirls in gold, carved into dark leather across the front, Latin words he didn’t understand before he was opening the cover, brushing off a layer of dust and letting one brow arch up. The text inside was English - though, no modern - and paper that he was cautious to take care of, simply from what appeared to be the age of it, stained and worn, finger marks clear on the corner from being passed down through generations. It was handwritten, drawings in old ink that had leaked onto the paper a little, rough and coarse, and labelled doodles with names he had never heard of before.

At a glance, he would assume it to be some kind of witchcraft.

He felt on edge, suddenly. He’d left Beacon Hills to come to somewhere that no supernatural would follow, where things like werewolves were still a myth, something to be laughed at, and he swallowed thickly, looking around his apartment as though someone was going to jump out. He loved his friends, he really did, and he didn’t so much mind the supernatural when he was with them all because they protected him, but alone out here, he and his bat didn’t stand a chance.

Now, it was Christmas, he knew this from the poor excuse of a tree up in his living room, and the snow outside, and the fact that for the last six weeks, his usual mochas had been a gingerbread-spiced mocha, on the insistence of the barista who served him whenever he ventured into the little coffee shop joint, and he was growing find of it. So, he tried to be optimistic, in the spirit of festivities and all that, and texted the group chat, waiting to see if any of them had sent him the books as a present, maybe even his father or Melissa. He even texted Parrish.

Except, they all said no, and now, he was stumped. Then, as he was being extra nosey and flicking through the book, he came across a page marked with a small slip of card, the item falling out, and he cursed, having no idea which page it came from, but as he picked up the piece of paper, one of the questions in his puzzle finally gained another piece towards the jigsaw.

‘(Y/N), the spell you’re looking for is here, but be careful, it’s a strong one.’

So, the books are for his hot neighbour, the next number up from his, and it now made sense as to why he had these books - they were a mistake. It opened a new question, however, as to why you would be getting them.

He had absolutely no patience, barley remembering to flick the catch on his door so that he’d be able to get back inside, before he was striding across the hall in one, two steps, and knocking on the wood. He could hear you shuffling around inside, the soft and muffled notes of the classic rock music you’d been listening to getting turned right down to low. It only took you a further few seconds until you were opening the door, but it felt like years to him with his impatience, fingers tapping against the books agitatedly, biting the nail of the other thumb, and his foot was tapping against the floor.

When you opened the door, though, he felt like it was too soon, like he wasn’t prepared for what to say, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart leapt in his chest, eyes sweeping down along your body and widening at your bare legs, only a t-shirt hanging on your frame, rising up to reveal the edge of a pair of white lace panties as you opened the door, and he forced his eyes back up to yours, wincing as he bit down a little too harshly on his nail, and pulled it from his mouth, shaking it as his dropped to his side.

“Hey, neighbour.”

“H-Hi. Hello. Yes, hi.” He already wanted to die a little bit, he hadn't stuttered this much in front of a pretty girl since junior year in high school, even Lydia had lost this effect on him, and college really had been a growing experience for him. He’d had a fair few hook-ups, and experimented, and he wasn’t shy about flirting when he wanted to, but you always through hi right back through loops, like he was still that kid with a buzzcut.

“What can I do for you, four-A?”

“Stiles. My name is Stiles.” He waited for the usual reaction, the cringe, the eyebrows shooting up, the scowl, something to indicate that you had actually heard the pronunciation, but you only smiled a little wider.

“I know. After I introduced myself and you fell over and didn’t give me your name, I checked the mail in your post-slot. I was curious. There was a lot addressed to Mieczysłav, but then one with a handwritten address to Stiles.” You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, and crossing your arms, and while you might seem casual, at least his degree was coming in useful for something, as your body language read an entirely different reaction, insecurity and worry rolling off of you in invisible waves of tells.

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, laughing slightly. “That sounds like something I would do.”

Silence fell between you both for a second, and he couldn't help but stare, taking in every detail of your face, the way your lower lip was a little reddened, and he figured you must have been nibbling on it while working, and your hair was messy, an attempt to pin it back that seemed to have come loose and entirely ineffective, presumably from dancing, because you looked a little flushed. When you raised your brows at him a little, he realised you were waiting for him to explain himself, why he was on your doorstep, and he flushed with embarrassment shaking his head clear.

“I got your spellbooks by mistake.” He held them out, eyes widening even more, before his jaw was dropping open. “Book. Regular books. Not spell books, because that would imply magic, right? And, that’s dumb. Just regular books. I didn’t look at them, at all, not even a little bit, I promise.”

“You don’t believe in magic, then?” You took them from him, a coy smile on your lips, and you placed them down on the counter beside the door, pushing a bowl of potpourri getting pushed aside, along with your car keys and what looked like an incense burner.

“Do you?”

He was testing the water, seeing where your mind was at, and as a whistling came from your kitchen, you glanced back over to the kettle on the hob, and he thought this conversation might be about to come to an end. “Well, I think there’s always a little magic in life, even if people don’t notice it. You have to believe in magic to be able to see it. It’s like the supernatural that way.”

“And, you believe in the supernatural, huh?” He felt bad for the way he said it, because it was mocking, but he had to be sure that you weren’t messing with him, or spying on him, he had to try and find out who you were, but you only looked away as the whistling got louder, opening the door a little more and waving him inside as you walked away, and he stumbled after you and closed the door before his mind had even caught up with the movement of his feet.

Your apartment was littered with plants. The windowsills were lined with them, all brought green and blooming, even though he was sure it wasn’t the right season, and there was even a set of cactuses along a shelf near the corridor. There was a homey feel to your place, almost earthy, neutral tones and soft accents, a smell that was so calming he felt his own muscles begin to relax, and the music had changed from classic rock to some country song he was sure he’d heard in a movie somewhere but couldn't quite place it, and he followed you to the kitchen.

Rows of cookbooks and recipe folders stacked up on top of a lower cupboard, and he swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from the way your lace panties hugged your ass deliciously as you reached up for a mug, bringing back two, and pouring them both full of the herbal concoction you’d been making. On a mismatching saucer, you offered it to him, and he sniffed it carefully, but remembered his manners, mumbling a ‘thank you’, because his mother raised his right, even if he was a little suspicious of you.

“Relax, Stiles, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t be giving you tea made of Valerian and Lemon Balm. Do you want any honey, honey?” You grinned a little at your joke, but he shook his head, watching as you stirred a spoonful of the sticky sweetener into your own, and taking a tentative sip after blowing on the surface. It wasn’t all that bad, he had to admit, and he found his tensions slipping away a little. “It’s for relaxing, and helping with sleep.”

“It’s good.” You smiled, blowing lightly on your own, and he decided that he could busy himself by checking out your posters. An interesting arrangement, one was a band poster, the other was a chart with the phases of the moon, a third with diagrams of plants and little facts underneath, and the fourth, with symbols and drawing he didn’t quite understand. “So, you’re really embracing that whole witch thing, then?”

“Well, seeing as I am a witch, I would think it’s only appropriate.” He tried to hide his grin behind his mug, shaking his head a little, not believing that they really existed, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, clearly, because there was a playful kind of offence flashing across your face. “You can’t tell me you think I’m insane, not when there’s so much of the supernatural all over you, Stiles.”

“The supernatural? Really?”

“So, you’re not the emissary to a pack of werewolves?” You challenged, his jaw dropping at the accuracy of it, and it was your turn to laugh at him. “It’s literally stitched into your aura, I sensed another supernatural the second you walked into the building.”

“I just associate with a lot of ‘em, but I’m not supernatural myself.”

“You sure about that?” He stilled, memories flashing behind his eyes of a time when he once was, and you seemed to pick up on the slightly sour mood he’d taken on, then again, he wasn’t really sure where your abilities lay, being that Scott or Derek would have simply sniffed it out on him. Your hand on his arm snapped him back to the moment, fingers squeezing lightly at his bicep. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“There was a possibility, once, but it’s gone. There’s a dark chapter in my past, and the spark I was told I once had disappeared when I got through it.”

It went quiet again after that, your fingers slipping down from his arm to take his, and you placed your cup down, the steaming brew barely touched, but he followed suit, letting himself be pulled along as you directed him back to the living room. You were distracting him, it was an obvious ploy, but he was excited to learn, and he let the sadness of remembering his possession fade away as the thrill of new knowledge took over. “I can tell you have a lot of questions, so, what do you want to know first?”

He rubbed at his chin, settling down onto the couch at the edge of the room, finding it surprisingly comfortable, and you were busying yourself around him, a little water jug in your hand as you nurtured the abundance of houseplants you owned. “How did you know about my pack? And how much do you know about them?”

“It’s in your aura, I suppose. I can just pick up hints of different things when you’re around. The wolves are obvious, I’ve been around a lot of wolves. I also get death, and I've never met a banshee, but I assume that’s what it is. I knew you were the emissary because you’re the only magic in there, I would sense other traces on you, and there’s something else I can’t quite place.” Your face screwed up a little bit as you thought about it, nose wrinkling adorably before shrugging. “Like a werewolf, but not quite. I can’t get it.”

“She’s a werecoyote.”

You paused your pouring, turning to look at him, eyes flicking lightly around his being, before smiling slightly to yourself, and going back to your task. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Have you been a witch your whole life?”

“Since the day I was born, but I didn’t know or start practising until I was older. It just kinda’ happens, comes out of nowhere at a certain age, you start to realise you have abilities.” You had moved onto using a dropper to give little drips of water to cacti and succulents, standing on a small step stool as you did.

“Do you have to go to a school, like Harry Potter? Do you have a wand?”

You laughed at that, a genuine and hearty laugh, and you finished up your tasks, legs folding underneath yourself and you smirked a little at him as you sat down and got comfortable. “You wish, Stilinski. It’s not like that, it's more of an earthly connection than magic. It’s why my plants are so healthy. I can brew stuff, make little potions-” You motioned a hand over the jars lining the shelves on the walls, his eyes scanning over each one, picking out the neatly written titles across the fronts. “-I can cast very light spells, but it’s not the sort of thing where you can curse people, or teleport.”

“So, you can’t curse people to turn into frogs?”

“No, unfortunately not.” He was sure your giggle was the sweetest he’d ever heard, and he dared to twist himself around a little more, inching slightly closer to you across the couch. “I can do some stuff, like make your skin break out or give you a rash that won’t go away until I let it, and I can even give you headaches and such, but I don’t like to dabble in that sort of stuff. I much prefer protection charms.”

“Protection charms?” His heart skipped a little beat at the way your face lit up as you nodded, and he was intrigued, interest piqued. “I could use one of those, y’know, I’m incredibly clumsy and often get into supernatural trouble when I’m home. Hasn’t been so bad since I got here. Will you make me one?”

Your eyes left him, bottom lip nibbled between your teeth, and for a second he had worried he’d messed up, unsure on how witch spellcasting etiquette worked, but then you were moving across the room, opening up the cabinet on the other side of the room, and inside the doors and wooden frame hung what must be close to a thirty different decorative charms. Some were dreamcatchers or garlands hanging on the inside of the door, others were handcrafted little ornaments sitting on the shelves and filling them up, and your fingers were flittering over them all.

When you found what you were looking for, you lifted it out, a dream catcher that was bright and colourful and a little odd-looking, before bringing it back over to him, and presenting him with it cautiously. “You already made me one?”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let the cute guy from across the hall get any more injuries. I watched you fall over five times in your first week living here. You’re really clumsy.”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and yet he couldn't help the goofy grin that travelled across his features, not mentioning the fact that he noticed you sitting considerably closer to home when you took your seat once again. He was embarrassed for two reasons, the first being that you had noticed his innate penchant for ridiculous injuries, but more overwhelmingly, the second being that you still thought he was cute. College might have helped him bloom a little, but when he had a crush, he was still a bumbling mess, and he didn’t know quite how to respond.

He busied himself with taking in the details of the dreamcatcher. Somehow, despite this being the first real conversation that the two of you had ever had, passing and fleeting chats in the halls and elevator not counting, you had managed to capture his entire essence, he could already tell. The strings were made of wool, chunky and all different colours, a mix of yellows and blues, woven in together and tangled in strange patterns, but beautiful nonetheless, and the little accents were what made it complete.

A button that had fallen off of one of his flannels, he recognised the distinctive wooden piece, and it was woven into the design, along with a blue ribbon in the same colour of the jeep that was tied in a bow, and a wooden twig tangled in it. Dangling on more pieces of wool from the bottom was a keyring he was sure he’d lost after leaving it downstairs overnight, the Yoda on it looking cleaner than he remembered, and you must've cleaned it. There was also a black feather, and a sprig of some kind of dried herb that he didn't recognise, but enjoyed the smell anyway.

It was intricate and personal, and he felt chuffed just to know that you’d made one for him, a little security and peace washing over him to know that someone was out here looking after him, completely unmaliciously, simply because you wanted to.

“This is incredible.” You let out a breath of relief, he recognised it in the way your body slumped a little, and he placed it down carefully on the coffee table beside you both, reaching out to take your hand in his, and daring to lace your fingers together and squeeze in gratitude, and you held onto him yourself, gaze dropping down to your connected hands. In a bold move of your own, you lifted your other hand, holding onto his with both of yours, and his thumb lifted out to brush lightly over your skin. “You’re the reason I don’t get papercuts and splinters anymore.”

“And you are very welcome for that.” You teased him back, and an easy kind of harmony fell between you both, your presence being more comfortable simply having only just really begun to meet you than he ever had been with someone new. It was strange, to feel so relaxed and at home with you, the way you put his fears at ease and soothed every worry without even trying, making him feel welcome and accepted, like he’d known you for years, not just shy of an hour. “Will you tell me about your pack?”

“You really want to know?” He couldn’t mask his surprise, and you nodded, excitement gleaming in your eyes, and he felt a surge of pride swell up in his system at the idea of getting to boast about his friends completely honestly for the first time in his life. There was no threat, he wasn’t showing off their skills as a way to try and ward off a threat or intimidate someone, but he simply wanted everyone else to be as awed by them as he was, and he didn’t have to hide any supernatural secrets from you. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Is it a long story?”

“Very long.” He confirmed, a shy laugh leaving you, before you were shifting again.

“How about I go and make us some fresh tea, then?” You were on your feet, wandering away to the kitchen as soon as he’d offered his affirmations of the idea, and he decided to follow after you, already beginning to blather about Peter Hale.

Hours seemed to pass by, as he spoke to you, two more pots of tea being made, and you’d broken out your snack-store for him, before the two of you had ordered pizza. He’d made himself at home, too, keys and phone sitting abandoned on the table, shoes kicked off on the floor, and feet stretched out along the couch. You were sitting at the opposite end, your legs stretched out in his direction, and one of his hands was sitting on your ankle, fingers drawing patterns on the soft skin there absentmindedly as his other hand was used to gesture wildly around himself.

He told you it all, confessing right from the beginning as he encountered Derek Hale, who liked to lurk in the woods, which had made you crack up as he told you about how the man was basically now the alpha, even if Scott was officially the alpha, and he’d told you about Jackson’s kanima phase, which had made you crack up even more as you claimed he deserved it.

You’d been shocked by his homicidal English teacher, and comforted him when he spilled his heart to you over the nogitsune incident he hated to think about, accepting your hush happily, and revelling in the smell of your hair when you’d pressed in close to him, before retreating to your seat.

He told you all about the benefactor and the dread doctors, and about Allison’s death, which he still blamed himself for when he was on a low day, and you’d used your thumb to clear away the tear that had fallen from his cheek, leaving him blushing and breathless for a second when you’d pressed a light kiss to his cheekbone just after.

You had scooted closer to him and stayed there near the end of his tales, tucked under his arm, playing with his fingers over your shoulders as he rambled about how alone he’d felt while taken by the Wild Hunt, thoughts that he’d always kept locked up in his own mind, never having shared with another person before.

“You really got the short end of the ‘supernatural encounters’ stick then, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that is the understatement of the century.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, your feet nudging together on the coffee table, the reindeer themed fluffy socks on your feet playing with the patchy and worn door knitted socks he’d had for years, worn to keep warm during the winter, even though your apartment was nice and toasty, the heaters running and the radiators on, and it was much cosier than his place had ever been.

The Christmas lights on a timer had come on, flickering around the place once the light had started fading, hours flashing by in the blink of an eye, a hazy glow cast over the apartment and creating a whole new range of shadows. “Do you want me to make charms for your friends?”

He watched you for a moment longer, trying to discern whether you were serious, and when he caught no gesture of ill-will, or hesitation, or hidden-motives, he smiled. “You’d do that?”

“Seems like you all need it.”

He shrugged a little, smiling when you rested your forehead against his, fingers playing together still, but feet stilling in their game of footsie. “I can’t believe I waited this long to get to know you. You’re, like, the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

His eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't’ help it, noses bumping together as you both simply drowned in the moment, in what the moment was leading up to, where you both knew this was going but were revelling in the simple but exhilarating tension that was crackling with electricity in the millimetres of space between your lips and his. You were so close to him that he could feel it more than hear it when you whispered some words he didn’t quite understand, your breath fanning over his face in a dreamy sigh, and it took his hazed brain a second to catch up, before he was pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, one hand coming up to rest over your cheek as he turned to face you fully.

“Oh, my God. Did you just cast a spell?”

“Look up.” He was hesitant to pull back much further, but did so anyway, and he chuckled slightly as he spotted the little green plant beginning to sprout from the ceiling. Vines were still strengthening along the beam, and the leaves were beginning to form right before his eyes, white berries hanging between the green stems, and Stiles shook his head, in complete awe as he looked at it.

You were staring up to, eyes focused on the plant as it bloomed and he assumed you were concentrating on its development, but he couldn't hold back anymore, two hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back to his, and your lips barely parted to speak before his mouth was colliding with your own. A squeak left you, and he wanted to grin at being able illicit such a sound from you, but the temptation to kiss was just enough for him to contain himself. When your mind finally caught up, you were kissing him back just as eagerly, a soft sigh leaving you. “You are fucking adorable.”

The words were whispered into your mouth, he felt you shake with a soft laugh under his hold, before you were holding onto him just as tightly in return. One of your hands wrapped around his wrists, the other sliding over his bicep to his shoulder, before slipping down underneath, and smoothing over the front of his chest. He puffed out a little under your touch, pulling away for a quick breath, groaning slightly at the way your nails dug into his skin as he did, and then, he was diving right back into you.

Your hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the organ thudding under your hand, and he felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but as he pressed a little further into you, a shock like an electrocution was racing right through his body, a kind of jolt that was thoroughly exhilarating, and he pulled away, eyes wide as he stared at you.

You looked just as shocked as he expected he did too, his hands dropped down as he watched sparks and electricity crackle between your fingers and his, your brows raising at him. “Thought you said you had no magic left after.. y’know..”

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from it, your fingers weaving with his, a loud snapping sounding as a particularly bright flare went off, and he flinched a little, jaw dropping and a whine slipping from him as you contained it all the sight disappeared before his eyes. “So, there really are sparks flying between us, huh?”

He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, expecting to see on your face the same kind he’d always gotten from Malia or Lydia when he made those kinds of cheesy puns that only he enjoyed, even Scott daring to fix him with a bored or blank look, and Derek would simply glare, but much to his surprise, you laughed. It was fond, with a roll of your eyes and a huff to preempt it, but you laughed nonetheless, and he felt himself somehow manage to brighten even further. “That was cheesy.”

“I know.” He beamed, shifting a little, hands sinking down to your hips to pull you closer to himself as he settled back into the couch, and your hand pressed to the cushions beside his head, the other one coming up to weave into his hair lightly.

“I loved it. I am quite a fan of puns.”

“That’s good, because I usually have a lot of them.” He leaned up, daring himself to be bold enough to close that gap once again, and he could feel your lashes tickling his cheeks as you nuzzled into him a little more. “If I kiss you again, will those sparks happen this time, too?”

“If I stop controlling it, they will.”

“Stop controlling it, sweetheart.” He felt you move to nod your affirmations, but dipped his head in time, proud of his own reflexes as he caught your lips, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, and he was so glad he’d decided to grow it out all those years ago, because right now, he was losing all sense of himself in the way your nails would scratch across his scalp, or the delicious burning that flared over his skin for a split second when you pulled on his hair, before you were rubbing it softly, fingers working in tandem timing with your lips, teasing over his own.

That same feeling took up, a sparking that felt like fireworks, like energy surging through him, escaping at his fingertips in every place that he touched you, one palm smoothing along your back to somewhere that was definitely too lose to be respectable, as the other held onto your cheek still. You were taking control, your tongue darting out to trace over his lower lip, bribing him to part them but he needed no convincing, letting your tongue meet his own only a second after you’d made the request, equally breathy and needy noises escaping you both at the slow and wet drag of the muscles over one another.

His lungs were burning, lips beginning to sting as his assault on your mouth continued, his neck straining to hold this angle, and yet the more you kissed him, the more that the hazy feeling of getting to be with you like this raced through his body was the more he became addicted to needing more, chasing a high that he didn’t even know he wanted until now, like an addict finding his next hit.

You seemed to pick up on it all, as though you’d read all of his thoughts, because the second he’d had the lingering thoughts, you were settling yourself across his lap, a leg on either side of his own as you seated yourself down, and he couldn't help the way his hips bucked up a little to meet you, or the way his hand slid down fully to rest on your ass.

After all, as much as he’d gone through the make him grow up emotionally, physically he was still a horny-teen college boy, and you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, sitting half-naked in his lap and sucking on his lower lap while doing something with your tongue that was making him feel like he couldn't even breathe properly for how aroused he was.

Maybe you could feel the growing erection underneath of you, maybe you couldn't, but he’d stopped caring about being embarrassed around you about three hours ago when he’d had to tell you all about the time he’d once dropped a condom in Coach’s class in front of the entire classroom, and you’d laughed so much your face had gone red and you’d hidden it form him by pressing into his shoulder.

You were something he felt like he was dreaming up, like any moment now he’d wake up in a small puddle of his own drool with his face pressed into the desk of his lecture hall, the lights turned out and another note left by his kind professor to get more sleep at home, and to lock up when he left, before you were giggling a little at him, pulling away and stealing a few more pecks as you did, and he wondered if you really could read his mind, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Are you reading my mind or something?”

He felt stupid even as he mumbled te words, especially when it only seemed to heighten your entertainment, but you shook your head. “I can’t read your mind, I can just kinda’ sense your mood, I guess. It’s the connection, you were clearly thinking something funny, and I don’t know what it was, but I got a sudden rush of amusement.”

“That’s pretty fucking incredible.” He whispered, letting you peck his mouth a few more times, simply sitting there with puckered lips as he tried not to smile too much, before he was tucking hair away behind your ears and finally you were opening your eyes, and at this point, he really should learn to stop being surprised by new developments with you. “Holy shit, your eyes are glowing!”

“So are yours.” You winked, the bright purple being a shade that was so captivating and beautiful on you that he couldn’t look away, even when you leaned away from him to grab his phone, raising it up to snap a picture for him, and forcing his gaze down to it. Much like you’d said, his eyes were beginning to hint in with a faint purple, the neon shading beginning to drip into his irises and take over from the usual golden-brown that resided there. “You never made out with another witch before?”

He pinched at your ass for your cheeky comment, taking his phone and throwing it away to the side, grinning when you yelped at his painless attack. “I didn’t even know witches really existed before today. Besides, what makes you think I'm one? I had a spark once, but as I said, that died out. Nothing truly magical.”

“I don’t know, you’re having a pretty strong connection with me right now, aren’t you?” Your arms looped around his neck, snuggling in a little closer to him, and he bit back a groan as you shuffled in his lap. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, you just don’t know how to tap into your magic, you have to believe in it to see it.”

“You really think so?”

He was vulnerable and he knew it showed, he’d gone his entire life being unsure as to where all his energy and twitching came from, as to why he’d always felt a draw to the earth; the preserve and the woods, and justice and balance, and why he’d somehow fit into a supernatural world with far more elegance and ease than he ever had the normal one, and maybe this was the explanation. “I really do, Stiles.”

“Will you teach me?”

“I would love to.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then to the spot below your ear, before flicking his tongue out a little to drag over the sensitive patch that lay there, before moving down your neck. He didn’t want to mark you without your consent, he wasn’t sure what was going to come of all of this and where it would go, but he was more than happy to lick and bite lightly at your skin, finding the sweet spot that made your hips roll down into his own and a sound of need and desperation to leave you that was like music to his ears, before his hips were bucking up to meet you once again.

“Y’know when you said that you could feel what I was feeling?”

“Uh-huh?” You were distracted, your reply seeming somewhat faded and distant, and he chuckled lightly, before making his way back up to your mouth now that you’d both had a chance to catch your breaths once again.

“Does that mean everything?”

“Are you asking if I know just how much you want to fuck me right now? Because yes, I do know.” He choked a little on his breath, your hand in his hair pulling his head back so that you could meet his gaze, your lower lip held between you teeth, flesh going a darker pink, and he longed to be the one biting that lip for you. “Trust me, the sentiment is returned.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to women being so confident with wanting him, being so unashamed of it, or of even wanting him at all. Most of his hook-ups had been slightly drunk make-outs and sloppy grinding, or booty calls and meetings in closets at parties. He got more action than he ever did in high school, he’d finally grown into his limbs and his looks, but that didn’t take away the surprise that still happened every time someone as pretty as you even offered him the time of day.

“Like, right here? Right now?”

“Been thinking about how much I want to ride you on my couch for like an hour and a half, now.” Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, lips parting as you ran a finger over his swollen lips, a cheeky glint flashing over purple eyes as you looked at him.

“You might just be perfect for me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A toothy smile was offered to you, before he was pulling you back in towards him, hands slipping down to lay resting on your thighs as soon as your lips had found his once again. The heat seemed to have passed, and while the kiss was still completely intoxicating, there was something a little more tender about it, too. It wasn’t nearly as rushed and frantic, the sloppy kisses you’d shared as you learned one another’s ticks had passed, and as your lips worked slowly with his own, Stiles found that he much preferred this kind of kiss.

This was the kind of kiss that he could picture himself sharing with you in many settings. A sleepy, early morning kiss, when you were still between the land of consciousness and the realm of unconsciousness. Or, late nights, when he’d fall asleep while studying, and he would let you drag him to his feet and to bed. Or, simply when he would finish a lecture, or get you coffee, or meet you for dinner. The point was, Stiles already knew he wanted to kiss you at all times of the day, and to hold onto you, and to watch you brew little spells at the stove while holding onto you from behind.

Your lips were wet when you pulled away, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, a bright shade of royal purple, like silk and rich violet on flower petals, and you looked utterly ethereal. “Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?”

“You’re sweet-talking me.” You teased, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not, I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been into you for a long time, even if I didn’t quite have my mind in the right place to actually say it.” You huffed out a little laugh, your eyes averting from his own so that you could try and hide your bashful little expression, but he didn’t miss it.

“Well, I’ve been admiring you a little, too. I should’ve had my deliveries sent to you sooner, if I knew it was going to end like this.” As if to punctuate your words, you rolled your hips down into his, reminding him of the solid erection pressing into his jeans, his fingers digging a little firmer into your skin, and he pushed your shirt up higher, the soft cotton of your panties revealed to him.

“These are just fucking sinful. Do you normally wander around your house in underwear and band-tees?” He tugged at it a little, before daring to tuck his hand underneath the fabric, trailing up, and a poorly-concealed groan left him as he found no further obstructions, fingers closing over one of your breasts, squeezing lightly as he palmed at your chest. “Well, clearly not all of your underwear.”

“I tend to, I keep it warm in here, for all the plants.” Your back arched up into his hand, one of your own closing over his outside of your shirt, as your other held onto his shoulder, fingers leaving crescent-moon shaped marks he was sure, and the rocking of your hips into his own only seemed to increase.

“I’d love to see you in one of my flannels sometime, just like this.”

“Give me your shirt and you’ll see it sooner than you think.” You teased, his brows raising, before he was pulling his hands back just long enough to lean into you, stripping the garment off as best as he could, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt as you took the item from him. He wanted to whine out as you stood up, choosing instead to replace the pressure of your core over his with his hand instead, palming at his cock through the thick denim, and you grinned as you watched him, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

You stood before him, draping his shirt across his spread knees as he slumped further into the cushions, getting himself comfortable and popping the button on his jeans, swollen lower lip being nibbled as you played with the hem of your shirt. Your hips were swinging to the beat of the song, and then, you raised the garment up and over your head, letting it drop away to the carpet, his jaw dropping as he looked at you.

You picked up his flannel, pulling it up your arms, and leaving it open at the front, just barely covering your tits. You were an angel and also the devil, tempting him to do so many wrong things. Stretching his hands out toward you, he beckoned you back into his lap, an act you were more than happy to take as you bounded over to him, a pep on your few short steps, before you were settling back into his lap.

“Perfect.”

He let his hands find the flaps of the flannel, pulling it open wide enough to be able to admire your tits fully, letting you push your hair back away from your shoulders for his unobstructed view. Sealing one hand around your waist, he dragged you up closer, until you were almost pressed to him fully, before dipping his head down. His tongue dragged over a hardened nipple, taking the taut peak into his mouth and sucking harshly, as your hand wound into his hair. You tugged, roughly, a groan that vibrated along your entire body leaving him and making you shiver, and you made the prettiest little noises above him.

He switches sides, making sure to give the other half of your chest that same kind of attention, leaving wet marks and stinging watches along your skin that would become bright purple marks in the morning to match the colour of your eyes, and he just hoped you kept him around long enough to see them when they did become beautiful and prominent. He wanted to see his good work, he wanted to see the way he got to mark you up and leave his touch all over your body.

“Stiles..”

“I do love how you sound moaning my name, princess, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last when you're making noises like that and grinding yourself all over my cock like this.” You grinned, letting him kiss his way back up your chest and throat until he was taking your lips with his own. Your hands were moving down, tugging at his zipper as far as it would go, hid hips bucking up into his hand as he felt you drag a nail along his covered erection, breathy sounds between you both when you pulled away.

He only had to lift himself up for a moment, before you were tugging at his jeans, helping him to get them just far enough down his thighs for his boxers to be able to follow. His cock was throbbing, painfully hard and desperate for you, leaking precum along his skin, and he gave himself some form of relief. You were watching him, eyes wide as he pumped his length in one hand, the other dipping under your skirt rubbing over your core, and you bundled up your shirt for him.

“Y’know, all those times I thought about us, a quick fuck on your couch wasn’t how I had wanted our first time to be, but then again, I didn’t expect the cute chick across the hall to be a witch, wither, so..”

He used his thumb to drag your panties to the side, your sodden folds revealed to him, and he slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. “I’ll let you take it slow next time, I swear, but right now, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

He could only nod, heart skipping a beat at the promise of another time. Your legs shifted, muscles clenching as he forced himself to take his touch away from your core and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your sweet essence from the thin digits. As you leaned over him, he was sure to line himself up, and then, you were sinking down onto him, your forehead flailing to his as your mouth fell open, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered the words, a little breathless and hanging on the edge of his orgasm already, and you seemed just as close, because as you finally sank all the way down and settled into his lap again, he could feel every pulse within your walls as you hugged around him.

It took him a moment, staving off his climax so that he didn’t come just from getting to feel you like this, and you looped your arms around his neck gently to find your purchase. Your nails were scratching lightly at the hairs at the base of his neck, his flannel once again flapping around you, panties pushed to the side to let him have access to your centre, and it was deliciously filthy.

Once you were settled, you circled your hips, a test movement, pleasure spiking in both of your systems and it felt like the temperature in the room was shooting upwards. Stiles could already feel sweat beginning to bead along his skin in a thin layer, and you pressed yourself in closer to him. Each time you shifted your hips you were moving a little more, every rock of your body into his, you were pulling yourself up just a little higher to be able to drop yourself back down onto his cock, stretching and squeezing around him.

You felt like velvet, slick and warm as you sheathed around him. You were precise and deliberate, and he couldn't help the wonton sounds that were leaving you with every drop down onto his cock, before you were taking him up to see stars every time, leaving the both of you resting in the clouds. Panted breaths, a scream in the back of your throat that tried to break out each time as you gave him broken moans of his name, picking up your pace further and further each time.

Once you were stable above him, you were moving with purpose, fast and quick as you rode him, gaining more confidence each time, and he was gripping you so tightly that there would be fingerprints all over your hips in the morning. He helped you go, lifting you up each time, only to pull you back down into his lap, thrusting up with a weak effort to meet you, but feeling you go wild each time. That same energy was back, crackling with more force, surging through him like nothing he had ever felt.

Stiles was in college, he was away from home and the weight of being the Sheriff’s kid for the first time, and he had experimented. He’d gotten drunk, and high, and hungover, but this was a whole new kind of thrill; it was like lighting up with fireworks and adrenaline all at once, like creating a bond with another person, and a tingling spread throughout his entire body as your magic bonded with his own. He hadn't felt this kind of singing in his blood since the day he’d managed to finish the circle with the mountain ash back when he was only sixteen, or breaking through the wild hunt barrier at almost eighteen.

These kind of thrills were rare for him, but they’d never been this strong, and as the two of you moved as one in the most intimate way that two people could, your mouth coming up to claim his as you silenced yourself and him, growing louder and more desperate as you went, he felt that final high beginning to build.

“‘M so close, honey.” His voice had taken on that same kind of scratchy rasp that he had in the mornings before he even broke into his day, “Oh, God, keep goin’.”

He knew his words were beginning to grow slurred, and he could barely buck his hips up into you. As everything within his body began to light up, he felt like all of his muscles were going lifeless, his body going boneless, because the heat was consuming him. He couldn't hold it back, he’d been waiting for so long to feel you this way, and his lips could barely even move back against your own as he went slack-jawed, exploding within your tight heat.

The send that he was shooting over the edge, you were following right after him, crying out his name into his mouth as you kept going against him, until you couldn't clumping down into his body as you trembled, and Stiles felt as though you’d milked absolutely everything from him that he had to offer. There was a crackling along his skin from everywhere that your fingertips smoothed over, sliding down from his shoulders so that you could press your cheek to the spot instead, fanning breaths rushing over his neck as you tried to catch your breath, racing heart just like his was.

You didn’t even bother to move from him, letting him throb within your walls with each flutter you made and each shift, and if you kept it up, he was sure he’d be ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had that in him. Resting his head back against the edge of the couch, he let you lift yourself up and off of him finally, your legs shaking as you stood, offering him a weak smile as he took in your through fucked out state, before taking wobbly steps away from him, and disappearing down the hall.

He heard a door close, assuming you’d gone to the bathroom, and he leaned over to the coffee table to snatch up a few tissues, to clean himself up with, before sorting himself out too. He did the bare minimum, not even bothering to do up his jeans once he had them pulled back up, but he stretched out along the length of the couch to lay down, an arm popped under his head, and a little laugh on his lips as he did.

He took a moment to glance around, not missing the way that the plants all seemed to be blooming particularly beautifully, seeming more alive than ever. As he lifted up a hand before his face, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, a spark travelled between the tips, and he felt a little in awe just at the sight of it.

“It's pretty incredible, right?”

He startled, jumping a little, before turning to look at you and propping himself up on his elbows as you lingered in the doorway. You had changed, your hair pulled back and out of your face, missing a few odd strands and you’d buttoned up his flannel along your body, mismatched and hanging unevenly, but still adorable. You took slower steps over to him, waiting for a second as you stood beside him, before he was lifting his arms and making it clear to you that you could lay with him, a smile gracing both of your faces as you flattened yourself along him, cheek pressed over his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You like feeling your magic, then?”

He lifted his palm, holding it to yours and admiring the final dying flares he saw, as the energy began to dissipate and absorb into his body and yours fully. “I’m not used to feeling special myself. I’ve always been a behind the scenes, research, kinda’ guy. I’m not used to being one of the main players.”

“Oh, hush. You told me your story, you were most definitely a key player, Stiles.” He shrugged under you, letting you cross your arms over his chest and prop your chin on them.

“Yeah, but I never really felt that way, and now I feel like I have something to offer.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips over his jaw with a sweet kiss, and he felt like he could most definitely get used to this feeling. Can I meet them?”

“My pack?”

You nodded, seeming a little shy now, and joy raced through him at the fact that you saw enough of a future with him to want to meet his friends an get to know them, and to once again be able to be completely open and honest with everyone, never having to hide anything from anyone, and being able to let you fully and wholly into his life. It was a surprise, because the more he’d thought about his future late at night when lying alone in his bed, he was so sure he’d never be able to really settle down, because he could never let someone in on his life in every single way, but with you, that wasn’t a problem.

“I would absolutely love that.”

“Really?” You were studying him carefully, trying to ensure that he was telling the truth, and he gave you the most honey look that he possibly could, before lifting his head to meet your lips as he leaned in.

Soft and delicate, like a kiss that was shared between deep romance and longtime lovers, and he rested a hand on your cheek, holding you to him, and rolling you to the side, to sandwich you between the couch and his body Your thigh came up to rest over his legs, his palm slipping from your face to rest on your leg, drawing patterns on the skin until you pulled away to breathe, lips detaching from his as you whined a little. You stayed close, though, a soft look etched onto your features;

“I just want to meet a few more supernatural people, and get to know others who I don’t have to hide from.”

“Well, you definitely don’t have to hide from them, and you’ll love them, just as much as they’ll love you. We’re a pretty odd group, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’re right about that ‘odd bunch’ thing. I’ve never met a banshee, or a - what did you call it? - werecoyote.” That was an undeniable truth, your head coming back down to rest on his chest as he shrugged, unable to deny that you were right. “Your wolves sound nice, too. All the other wolves I’ve met have been overly territorial and closed off.”

“Well, Derek used to be like that, but we’ve pulled him around a little. He is still broody, though.” You laughed at his joke, a sound that made his heart burst open slightly and bleed with affection, all for you, as you continued to take more and more pieces of his heart with every act, and he was falling in love with you faster than he’d ever known was possible. “Don’t take notice of any of his lurking, by the way, it’s his twisted way of showing concern and care.”

“I’ll remember that, and if I ever catch him hiding behind a tree, I’ll know that it’s real friendship.”

“He does that, I’m serious, don’t underestimate him. I think my dad arrested him for stalking, once.”

“I think your dad would be who I am most scared to meet.” A fond tone in your voice, before he was pressing a kiss to your forehead, humming under his breath.

“He’ll love you the most, don’t worry.”

Silence fell between you both then, and he busied himself with tracing illegible drawings into your skin, simply enjoying feeling so close to you. It was irrationally domestic, and you were the final piece in his college life and college experience that was missing. Despite not being a wolf, he was unequivocally part of a wolf pack, and being surrounded so closely by such a tight-knit group of friends for those years had made him dependent on company and reliability, and he had been feeling so alone since leaving for college.

Scott had Malia, Lydia had rekindled things with Jordan, and even Derek had been (begrudgingly, to begin) hooked up with a deputy by his father, and they’d been on a few dates.

The last time he’d been home, he’d felt like a fifth, seventh, or was it ninth wheel, when Liam and Hayden were taken into account? He had been feeling awfully lonely lately, and he was glad to finally find someone that fit him perfectly, matching him like a glove.

“When I do introduce you to my friends, my pack, y’know, and my dad..”

You lifted your head, a little crease across your cheek from the fold in his shirt, and he rubbed the spot with his thumb gently, an attempt to remove the mark. “Yeah?”

“What should I introduce you as?”

“A witch.” You deadpanned, and he knew immediately that you’d clearly know exactly what he meant, but were playing with him, and he pouted, fixing you with a mock glare, before you were laughing to yourself over your joke, something so undeniably cute that he couldn't even pretend to be mad about it. “What do you want to introduce me as?”

Nudging your jaw a little with his, he puckered his lips, tempting you down to kiss him, and you were more than happy to press a series of sweet and short kisses to his lips. “I’d really like to formally claim you to be my girlfriend?”

He mumbled the words into your mouth, feeling your lips flick up at the edges in a smile as you gave him a kiss that was a little more firm, a little more loving and powerful, before whispering your reply; “Then we’re on the same page, because I’d like to introduce you to my coven back home as my boyfriend.”

“You have a coven?” He pulled back, a gasp of shock, and you giggled at him.

“That I do. Maybe I should tell you about them?”

“You absolutely should.” He insisted, his craving for knowledge taking over, and he couldn't have been more glad to whatever deity was watching over benevolently that he’d taken the choice to stay the first time knowledge had been offered, because it had led him to where he was now.

“It might take all night, maybe you should go and get a change of clothes. Get comfortable.”

“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” You only nodded, letting him roll you back over onto your back as he kissed at your neck. “I’ll buy you take out if you cuddle me later?”

“Cuddling and dinner? Glad I get to call you my boyfriend, now.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am to call you my girlfriend. My little witch.” His lips sealed over yours, silencing your laughs against his mouth as you teased him for the nickname, and he pinched a little at your sides. The mistletoe overhead grew a little more, a few of the berries dropping away and bouncing off of his back as the plant became bolder, just like the rest, that energy beginning to grow once again, as you got lost in each other’s touch.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x reader smut #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinski/reader smut #stiles stilinski teen wolf #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien teen wolf #dylan obrien stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien

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hollyethecurious · 4 years ago

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Haunted Tales of Fics Past

Spooky season is in full swing, so I thought I’d compile a list** of all my CS supernatural/Halloween-esque fics rather than do individual reblogs throughout the month. If you’ve already read them, then maybe it’s time to revisit, and if you haven’t then... Enjoy!

**edited and updated from last year.

Legends/Myths/Fables

The Legend of Captain Killian Jones - (Complete) CS Halloweek / Modern AU: Cursed three hundred years ago to take on ghost form and haunt his family estate, Killian Jones receives a reprieve once every hundred years to take on corporeal form in order to try and break his curse. A renowned restorationist, Emma Swan takes on the project of bringing the three hundred year old Jones Manor back to its former glory. A manor that is reportedly haunted by the notorious Captain Killian Jones. Good thing Emma doesn’t believe in ghosts. Rated M / ~24k / Two Parts + an outtake

Some Legends are Best Kept as Legends - (Complete) CS AU based on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow: Years after ruthlessly humiliating the man known as Rumple von Stiltskin, Killian Jones faced him once again on the battlefield, though it was clear his foe was no longer an ordinary man. Before succumbing to the fatal injury the Dark One’s blade had inflicted, Killian managed to strike a blow of his own with the being’s own ripple-edged dagger. Now, nearly two hundred and fifty years later, Killian finds himself alive and back in his hometown. However, whatever awoke him from his cursed sleep had also raised the Dark One. With all of Storybrooke at risk, can Killian find a way to stop the Dark One once and for all? Perhaps so. With a little help from Deputy Swan and her boy. Rated T / Six Chapters

Ghosts

Ghost in the Void - CS Ghost!Killian AU: Emma needs to sell her house, and move on. The ghost that resides there doesn’t want her to leave, and therefore sabotages all of the home showings. Emma is not happy with said ghost… who insists he isn’t actually a ghost at all. Rated GA / ~2800 words

The Legend of Captain Killian Jones - (Complete)

Werewolves/Vampires

A Mutual Craving - CS Vampire!Killian AU: The Underworld was one of the seedier, less reputable establishments, even by black market standards. Every facet of the criminal element could be found here on any given night, engaging in all kinds of illicit activities. From the more mundane transactions, like drugs and conventional weapons, to the really shady and oftentimes dangerous dealing of occult, mystic, and poached items of a supernatural nature. Emma Swan was here for an altogether different reasons, however. She was casing the joint. Too bad all her research and intel had failed to prepare for an unusual security measure she had not planned for. One with pale skin, sharp fangs, and a thirst for blood. Her blood... and her body as well. Rated E / ~10K words

The Craving In Between - CS Vampire!Killian AU for the CSSNS: Emma shivered at the biting wind whipping through the street as she crossed from one alley to the next, the tight, thin dress beneath her jacket doing little to help keep her warm. She’d chosen it earlier that night hoping to impress a certain teaching assistant from one of the classes she and Neal shared. Killian Jones. A doctoral candidate several years her senior, and super hot to boot, Emma couldn’t deny she’d initially started flirting with him just to get under Neal’s skin, but as the semester went on and her overtures were met with equally witty and flirtatious banter, Emma had to admit there was something about Killian Jones that drew her to him.

Emma rolled her eyes, and not some mystical, mumbo jumbo, supernatural bullshit. A scoff left her lungs, hanging before her in a mist of cold sarcasm as she recalled her ex’s words warning that Jones wasn’t human. Shaking her head, Emma thought to herself, “Well, what the hell is he then, Neal?”

Emma was about to find out. Rated M / ~17.5K words

Varcolac: A Hybrid Tale - (Complete) CS Supernatural AU: While heading home to prepare for the coming evening, Killian Jones happens upon a woman broken down on the side of the road. A woman who shifts the entire foundations of his being with just her scent. Killian Jones is a werewolf you see, and the unsuspecting lass has landed herself deep in werewolf country on the cusp of the first night of the full moon. Knowing he must get her on her way for her own safety, Killian offers to fix her vehicle, but things go awry in town when another wolf attempts to stake a claim on the stunning stranger. Now Killian must do all he can to protect the woman, Emma Swan, from a vengeful pack, all while keeping his true nature a secret from her. Turns out, Killian Jones is no ordinary werewolf. Rated M / Five Parts + addt’l scene

Supernatural/Fantasy/Dark Hook

Arise, My Love - CS art and drablet. Tumblr only.

The Witch in the Woods - CS Witch!Emma ficlet: “If it’s aid of a magical sort ye seek, then you’ll be wanting to find the witch in the woods.”

That’s what the apothecary had told him. The witch in the woods. A designation that brought forth images of an old crone, hump-backed and wrinkled with warts on her nose and long spindling fingers whose knuckles were gnarled and stiff - not the blonde goddess currently grinding an assortment of herbs with her mortar and pestle, her brilliant jade eyes sparkling in the candlelight that was also casting a honeyed glow over her smooth, creamy skin. ~1K words

Crimson Crystal and Mating Stones - CS A/B/O: Once a year, unclaimed omegas of age were brought before unmated Alphas in the hopes mate bonds would form, thus furthering the species. Unclaimed omegas were carted from village to village until either their mate bond emerged or they were declared defective and released to fend for themselves. This was the fifth and final village Emma had been brought to, and she was about to face the fourth and final rotation of alphas.Just one more round and then, with any luck, she’d be free. Rated E / ~3600 words

The Cottage - (Complete) CS Fantasy AU: Everyone knew of the dark creatures that were rumored to lurk in the forest, the mystical elements that cast a foreboding veil over every cluster of trees, every sweeping branch and quivering leaf. The forest was quiet in the way fear was quiet. A silence one felt in their bones as it thundered in their ears from the pounding of their heart. To Emma Swan though, the quiet of the forest wasn’t that of fear, but of tranquility. She felt no foreboding in the way the trees swayed, even on windless days, or the shrouds of fog that collected along its floor. Emma was fascinated by the forest, always had been, but had never set foot across its border. She had enough prejudice against her from the village as it was, and the pull of the pines and sweet berries she could make out from the boundary line wasn’t enough to warrant more consternation from her neighbors. The cottage on the edge of the tree line was, though. Rated M / Sixteen Chapters + Epilogue

Seal the Deal - (Complete) Enchanted Forest/Dark Hook AU: Desperate for a cure for her ailing father, Emma seeks to make a deal with the one entity in possession of the magic that could save him. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine the price the Dark One would set. Her first born child. With no husband and no prospects, Emma agrees, believing she'll never have to make good. Oh, how wrong she is… Rated E / Six Chapters

A Light Worth Living For - (Complete) Dark Hook AU: When Hook first became the Dark One, villagers would show up at all hours on any given day to plead their case of woe to him. Tired of inconvenient interruptions, he arranged three days each season when peasants could come from far and wide to throw themselves on his mercy, though they had to know he possessed no such virtue. It was all about the deal. Never would he have imagined that when the descendant of his old nemesis came before him with a great sum owed, an offer would turn into a betrayal that would, in turn, become the greatest deal any Dark One could have ever made. Rated E / Six Chapters

Whump/Horror

Pan Says... - (In Progress) CS Modern AU: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments. Rated E / 6 Posted Chapters

Blood Stained - CS Canon Divergence: Hook returns from the Underworld, but his hook is giving him hell. Rated T / ~3300 words

Curious Whumper Collection (linked to Ao3)

Of The Season - (Fics I associate with this time of year)

Conviction - (Complete) CS 1800s Prison AU: The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and with limited means, murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial, but in the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for both men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Misthaven Penitentiary’s problem to contend with, and more specifically, the Captain of the Guard charged with keeping order within its walls. Rated T+ / Elevan Chapters

Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke - (Complete) Season 1 Canon Divergence co-written with @winterbaby89: Moments before the Evil Queen’s Dark Curse whisks our beloved fairytale characters to Storybrooke, Captain Hook finally gets his revenge on the Crocodile. Twenty-eight years later, Killian Jones awakes in Storybrooke expecting just another ordinary day, that is until a number of abnormal occurrences disrupts his otherwise scheduled life. The greatest of which is a new face in town. A young woman by the name of Emma. Emma. What a lovely name… Rated M / Twenty-Nine Chapters

May the Lord Open - (Complete) CS Dystopian AU inspired my The Handmaid’s Tale: Emma Swan, renamed Ofarthur when she was assigned to the Pendragon household as their Handmaid four months prior, is approached by her mistress, Mrs. Pendragon to take part in a scheme the woman hopes will produce her the child her husband cannot. During her encounter with family’s loyal Guardian, Emma gets more than she bargained for… in more ways than one. Rated E / Five Chapters

We Make Our Own Fate - (Complete) CS Post-apocalyptic AU inspired by the film What Still Remains: Emma Swan had been born on the cusp of the event that had changed mankind forever. A pestilence. A sickness that stripped away the humanity of those infected, those changed; abandoning the rest of the population to try and survive, not only the disease, but the crumbling of society itself. Nearly twenty-one years later, Emma finds herself at a crossroads - accept the opportunity presented to her by the handsome stranger she happened upon one fateful morning, or remain at the only home she’s ever known, alone. Rated M / Eleven Chapters

What Lies Beneath the Mask - (Complete) CS AU inspired by The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Man in the Iron Mask, and The Whipping Boy: Killian has never seen his face. At least, not that he has memory of. Rescued by his adoptive father, Lord Rumple Gold, when he was a mere four years old, Killian has always been told that his heartless mother abandoned him on the steps of Misthaven Cathedral because of his monstrous deformity. A deformity that must be hidden away behind a mask. He is forced to suffer a life of abuse as Lord Gold’s son’s whipping boy until he comes of age at 18. Misthaven Bishop, Nemo, offers him a place as groundskeeper at the cathedral where for the past six years, Killian has longed for a life among the people of Misthaven. In a moment of bravery he chances being a part of the crowds during the annual Feast of Fools celebration and meets a woman who is able to see past his mask to the man underneath. With her help, perhaps Killian can begin to discover what lies beneath the mask. Rated M / Eight Chapters + addt’l scene

#cs ff #cs fic #captain swan #cs halloween #fic rec list #words by hollye #spooky season fics #autumn vibe fics #updated

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