extra-wolf

[extra-wolf]

Sweet! 😍

Male Werewolf/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 4,596 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You move to a secluded mountain town in the hopes of getting rid of a three three-year art block. There you meet Archer, a handsome pianist with a secret.

The sun dipped behind the mountains, casting a golden glow over the tranquil lake, turning its surface into a shimmering expanse of liquid gold. 

Charley wandered along the shore, the gentle lapping of water soothing her overactive thoughts. Moving here, to this secluded mountain town, had been a desperate attempt to shake off a three-year art block. She had hoped the beauty of the landscape would reignite her passion for painting. 

So far, she had only managed a few uninspired sketches.

She sighed, stopping to take in the view. The lake reflected the pastel orange of the sky. Her gaze drifted to a small cottage on the other side, almost hidden by a dense cluster of trees. That’s when she heard it—soft, haunting piano music floating across the water. 

Curiosity piqued, Charley followed the sound. Her footsteps crunched on the gravel path leading to a rustic wooden bridge. She crossed it slowly, the music growing clearer with each step. It was beautiful, melancholic; it drew her in like a moth to a flame.

As she neared the cottage, the music stopped. Charley hesitated, suddenly aware of how quiet it was. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the door creaked open.

A man stood there, tall and strikingly handsome, with dark hair that fell into his intense grey eyes. He looked at her with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“Hi,” Charley said, offering a friendly smile. “I’m Charley. I was walking by the lake and heard your music. It was beautiful. Sorry, is that weird?”

The man’s expression softened slightly. “Not weird at all,” he replied, his voice low and measured. “I’m Archer.”

“Charley. Do you mind if I listen for a while?” Charley asked, her eyes pleading. “It’s been a rough few years for me creatively, and your music... well, it’s inspiring.”

Archer seemed to hesitate, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he stepped aside. “Come in.”

The cottage was cosy, with a fire crackling in the hearth and bookshelves lining the walls. In the corner stood an old upright piano. Charley’s eyes lit up as she took in the room.

“This place is amazing,” she said, turning to Archer. “Do you live here alone?”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s peaceful. Helps me focus.”

Charley walked over to the piano, running her fingers lightly over the keys. “You play beautifully. How long have you been at it?”

“Since I was a child,” Archer replied, watching her with a guarded expression. She couldn’t figure out what that look meant, but maybe it wasn’t her business to ask. “It’s... a way to express things I can’t say out loud.”

Charley looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes that made her stomach flip. “I know what you mean. I’m an artist—painter,mostly—but I’ve been struggling to find my inspiration lately.”

Archer’s expression softened further. He was cute, when he wasn’t scowling. “Sometimes it helps to change your surroundings.”

“That’s why I moved here,” Charley said, her voice tinged with frustration. “So far, it hasn’t really worked.”

“Maybe you just need time,” Archer suggested, his tone gentle.

Charley smiled gratefully. “Maybe. Would you mind playing something for me? Shit, I really hope I’m not overstepping here.”

Archer hesitated, then nodded. He sat down at the piano and began to play. The music was soft and melancholic, filling the room with a sense of longing. Charley closed her eyes, letting the notes wash over her. It was as if the music spoke to her soul, bringing out some lost part of her.

When Archer finished, Charley opened her eyes, blinking back tears. “That was... incredible. Thank you.”

Archer looked at her, his expression unreadable. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Do you ever perform?” Charley asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“No,” Archer said quickly, a shadow crossing his face. “I prefer to play alone.”

Charley sensed that this was a sensitive topic and decided not to press further. Instead, she looked around the room, her eyes landing on a sketchbook lying on the table. “May I?”

Archer nodded, watching her closely as she picked it up. She flipped through the pages, admiring the intricate drawings.

Charley knew that she was probably being weird. Definitely being weird. It was just that there was something so captivating about Archer, something that made her need to know him better. 

Biting the inside of her lip, she glanced down at the sketchbook. Black and white pen sketches of the woods greeted her, towering trees stretching into a darkened sky.

“These are amazing,” she said, genuinely impressed. “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” Archer replied, his tone humble. “It’s just a hobby.”

Charley set the sketchbook down and turned back to him. “I’d love to sketch you sometime. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Archer’s eyes widened slightly. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Charley said, smiling. “You have a very expressive face. It would be a great subject for a portrait. Honestly, I don’t really know anybody in town yet, it would be nice to spend time with someone.”

Archer looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Think about it,” Charley said gently. “No pressure.”

Glancing at her watch, Charley realised it was getting late. “I should go,” she said reluctantly. “Thank you for letting me intrude on your evening.”

Archer walked her to the door, his expression softening. “It was nice meeting you, Charley.”

“You too, Archer,” she replied, smiling. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Maybe,” Archer said, his eyes meeting hers. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she said, stepping out into the cool night air.

As she walked back to her cottage, Charley felt a renewed sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this secluded mountain town held the inspiration she had been searching for.

***

Charley’s cottage was starting to feel more like home. She had unpacked her art supplies and set up a small studio by the window, where she could look out at the lake while she worked. Despite her initial struggles, the tranquillity of Pinecoast was slowly starting to work its magic on her. 

Then, there was Archer.

Their first meeting had left her intrigued. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way his music reverberated through the little living room, or the quiet strength he seemed to exude. She had returned to the cottage several times since, always finding an excuse to linger on the porch and listen to him play.

Tonight, as the sun set over the lake, she found herself drawn to the music once again. She wrapped herself in a light hoodie and made her way to Archer’s cottage. When she arrived, she knocked softly on the door.

Archer opened it, his grey eyes lighting up with a hint of surprise. “Charley,” he said, stepping aside to let her in. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Charley said, offering a small smile. “I just needed to get out of my own head for a while, and your music always helps.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Archer replied, his voice soft.

Charley settled onto the bench on the porch, and Archer took his seat at the piano. He began to play, his fingers moving effortlessly over the keys. The music was hauntingly beautiful, drifting through the open window and into the night.

As she listened, Charley felt a wave of relief wash over her. She closed her eyes, letting the music transport her. When Archer finished, she opened her eyes to find him watching her.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Archer nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be lovely,” Charley replied, following him into the cottage.

The interior was warm and inviting, with a fire crackling in the hearth and the smell of freshly brewed tea filling the air. Charley sat at the small wooden table, watching as Archer prepared the tea.

“You’re living room always look so cosy. It’s like something right out of the Victorian era,” she said, glancing around.

“Thank you,” Archer replied, setting a cup of tea in front of her. “It’s simple, but it’s enough for me.”

Charley took a sip of her tea, savouring the warmth. “It’s perfect. So peaceful. Exactly what I needed after leaving Stonehollow.”

“Stonehollow?” Archer asked, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s the city where I used to live,” Charley explained. “I moved to Pinecoast because the busy city life was draining me. I had no time or motivation for my artwork and… yeah, it sucked.”

Archer’s eyes lit up with interest. “Mm. I remember you asking to paint me.” His eyes brightened. “What do you usually paint?”

“Mostly animals,” Charley replied, her voice softening. “I have a background in animal biology, so I use that knowledge in my artwork. Lately, I’ve been turning to human portraits, and I think I’m finally getting my motivation back.”

Archer nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Pinecoast has a way of bringing out the best in people.”

“I’m starting to see that,” Charley said, smiling. “Your music has been a big part of it. It’s so inspiring.”

Archer looked away, a hint of a blush colouring his cheeks. “I’m glad to hear that. Music has always been my way of expressing myself.”

Charley studied him, her heart aching. She found herself drawn to him, but his quiet and detached nature made her unsure of his feelings. Did he feel the same pull, or was she just imagining it?

She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding back, keeping a part of himself hidden. It was frustrating, this sense of unrequited longing. She wanted to know him, truly know him, but he remained an enigma.

After a beat, she reached out to brush her hands across his knuckles. “Archer,” she said softly, “Maybe I’m crazy, but I feel like there’s so much more to you than you’re letting on. I want to understand you.”

Archer looked down at their hands, his expression conflicted. “It’s not that simple, Charley.”

“Why not?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

He sighed, pulling his hand away gently. “There are things about me that you wouldn’t understand. Things that I can’t explain.”

Charley felt a pang of disappointment but nodded, trying to respect his boundaries. “Oh. Okay…?” As rejections went, it wasn’t the worst in the world, but it still stung.

Archer’s eyes softened, and for a moment, she thought he might open up. Then he nodded and stood up, signalling the end of their conversation.

“It’s getting late,” he said quietly. “I should walk you back.”

Charley agreed, mood souring as they walked back to her cottage. The night was cool, the air filled with the sounds of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves. They walked in silence. Archer had never been chatty, but this was awkward. Tense.

When they reached her door, Charley turned to face Archer. “Thank you for tonight,” she said, her voice sincere. “It meant a lot to me.”

“Thank you for coming,” Archer replied, his grey eyes meeting hers. “Goodnight, Charley.”

“G’night,” she said, watching as he walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

Charley sighed, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, her mind racing. Despite the frustration and the unspoken feelings, she felt a renewed sense of hope. Archer was a mystery, but he was also a source of inspiration. She just hoped that one day, he would let her in.

***

Over the next few days, Charley found herself returning to her art with a new sense of purpose. She spent hours in her small studio, sketching and painting with a passion she hadn’t felt in years. Archer’s music played in the back of her mind, a constant source of inspiration.

One evening, as she was putting the finishing touches on a painting of a wolf in the moonlight, she heard a knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat, hoping it was Archer. She opened the door to find him standing there, looking hesitant.

“Hi,” he said, his voice soft.

“Hi,” Charley replied, her smile widening. “Come in.”

Archer stepped inside, his eyes taking in her makeshift studio. “You’ve been busy,” he observed, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Yeah,” Charley said, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “My new job starts soon, typical that motivation would come back now. Still, I’m not mad about it.”

Archer smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Charley felt a warmth spread through her at his words. “Would you like to see some of my work?” she asked, cheeks warm.

“I’d love to,” Archer replied.

Charley led him to the corner of her cottage where she had set up her studio. Finished paintings were propped against the walls, and her sketchbook lay open on the table. She picked up one of her favourites, a detailed painting of a red fox in a snowy forest.

“This one took me ages,” she said, holding it up for him to see. “I wanted to capture the fox’s spirit, its alertness and grace.”

Archer leaned in, studying the painting closely. “It’s beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “The details are incredible. I can even see individual snowflakes.”

Encouraged by his praise, Charley showed him more of her work. There was a painting of a family of deer by a stream, the sunlight filtering through the trees and casting dappled shadows on their coats. Another depicted a hawk soaring high above a canyon, its wings spread wide against the vast sky.

“You have an amazing talent,” Archer said, his voice sincere. “Your use of light and shadow, the way you bring these animals to life—I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Thank you,” Charley said, blushing slightly. “It means a lot to hear that from you.”

She picked up her sketchbook, flipping through the pages. She skipped over the pages that were filled with portraits of Archer, though. Nobody needed to see that, least of all the man himself. 

“These are just some rough sketches,” she said, a little self-conscious. “They help me plan my larger pieces.”

Archer took the sketchbook from her, his fingers brushing against hers. Charley felt a strange sensation, almost like a burning, where their skin touched. She pulled her hand back, startled, but Archer didn’t seem to notice.

He flipped through the sketchbook, his eyes taking in the pencil drawings of various animals—wolves, birds, rabbits. Each sketch was filled with energy and life, capturing moments of movement and stillness.

“These are wonderful,” Archer said, looking up at her. “You have a real gift, Charley.”

She smiled, feeling a mix of pride and bashfulness. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this inspired.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. It would have been too easy to lean in and kiss him.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked, shaking her head. No point in thinking like that.

Archer’s expression changed, a shadow passing over his face. “I can’t,” he said quickly, his tone almost apologetic.

“Why not?” Charley asked, taking a step closer. “I’d love to spend more time with you.”

Archer stepped back, his body tense. “I just can’t,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m sorry.”

Charley reached out, her hand brushing against his arm. Again, she felt that strange burning sensation, like his skin was on fire. Archer flinched, pulling away from her touch.

“Archer, what’s wrong?” she asked, concern filling her voice.

“I have to go,” he said, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and regret. “Goodnight, Charley.”

Before she could say anything else, Archer turned and hurried out the door. Charley stood there, her heart aching with confusion and unspoken questions. She watched him disappear into the night, the feeling of his burning touch lingering on her skin.

***

The days stretched on with a quiet, oppressive stillness. Charley hadn’t heard from Archer since that strange night, and every passing hour felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. She tried to immerse herself in her painting, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him. Why had he pulled away so abruptly? What was he hiding?

She wandered the paths around the lake, hoping for a chance encounter, but Archer’s cottage remained eerily silent. Even his beautiful piano music was absent, the silence making her skin crawl.

One evening, feeling particularly restless, Charley decided to take a walk. The full moon hung heavy and luminous in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape. She hoped the fresh air might clear her mind.

As she neared the edge of the forest, she heard a rustling sound, followed by a low, guttural growl. Her heart pounded as she peered through the trees, her eyes straining to see in the dim light. She froze when she saw Archer, or what looked like Archer, hunched over and trembling violently.

“Archer?” she called out, taking a cautious step forward.

He turned to look at her, his eyes wild. Was she imagining things, or were they glowing silver?

“Charley, no,” he managed to struggle out, voice rough. “You need to leave. Now.”

Charley couldn’t move, rooted to the spot as dread filled her. Something was wrong. “What’s happening to you?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Archer’s body convulsed, and he let out a pained howl. His skin seemed to ripple and shift, bones cracking. His fingers were elongating into claws right in front of her. 

Charley watched in horrified fascination, unable to tear her eyes away.

“Please, Charley, go!” Archer’s voice was barely recognisable, distorted by the transformation.

Instead, Charley took a step closer, reaching out to help despite the fact she had no idea how. “Archer, I’m not leaving you like this. Tell me what to do!”

“Just stay back,” Archer growled, his face contorting in agony. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Despite the fear coursing through her veins, Charley felt a surge of determination. She couldn’t abandon him, not now. “You won’t hurt me,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered.

His eyes were definitely glowing, now, pupil a tiny pinprick in the center. “Charley, please,” he begged, his voice a deep, rumbling growl.

Charley took another step forward, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m not afraid of you, Archer.”

With a final, agonising convulsion, Archer’s whole body stretched out. He stood before her, a massive, hulking creature, his fur dark and matted, his eyes glowing with an eerie light. He let out a low growl, his body tense as if ready to spring.

Charley’s breath caught in her throat. Her body screamed at her to run, but she couldn’t move. “Archer,” she said softly, taking a tentative step closer. “It’s still you. Can you… understand me?”

The wolf’s ears perked up at the sound of her voice, and he took a step back, his growl softening. Charley reached out a trembling hand, her eyes locked onto his. “I’m here, Archer. I’m not going anywhere.”

He hesitated, head tilted. Slowly, he lowered his massive head, sniffing the air around her. Charley stood her ground, her heart pounding in her ears.

She took another step closer, her hand brushing against his fur. It was rough and bristly, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. The same heat she’d felt the other day on his skin. 

“See? I’m not afraid,” she lied.

Archer let out a low whine, his body relaxing slightly. Charley felt a wave of relief wash over her. “It’s okay,” she said softly, stroking his fur. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

For a moment, they stood there, the only sounds the rustling of the leaves and the distant call of an owl. Charley could feel the tension slowly leaving Archer’s body, his breathing becoming steadier. 

Suddenly, a sharp noise echoed through the forest, startling them both. His head snapped up, his body tensing once more. Charley turned to see a deer darting through the trees, its eyes wide with fear. The werewolf growled, his instincts taking over.

“Archer, no!” Charley cried, grabbing onto his fur. “Stay with me. Please.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Archer might give in to his primal urges. Then he looked down at Charley, his glowing eyes meeting hers. Slowly, he relaxed, the tension leaving his body. He let out a low whine, nuzzling against her.

Charley breathed a sigh of relief, her legs trembling. “Thank you,” she whispered, stroking his fur. 

They stood there for what felt like hours, Charley holding onto him, her fear slowly ebbing away. She could feel the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breath. It was strange and unsettling, but there was also something weirdly comforting about it.

Finally, Charley noticed the first signs of dawn creeping over the horizon. The sky began to lighten, the stars fading into the early morning light. She looked up at Archer, her eyes filled with concern. “What happens now?”

He looked at her, his eyes glowing faintly. Slowly, his body began to shift and change, the fur receding, bones cracking and reforming. Charley watched in silent awe as the beast transformed back into the man she knew.

When the transformation was complete, Archer collapsed to the ground, exhausted and trembling. Charley knelt beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. “Archer?” she whispered.

He looked up at her, groaning. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

Charley shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m glad I did,” she said softly. “I’m glad I was here.”

Archer reached out, his hand trembling as he touched her cheek. “You’re braver than anyone else, then. Or maybe you have some kind of death wish.”

Charley smiled through her tears, her hand covering his. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He was still trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Archer," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can you tell me what happened?"

He sighed, his eyes closing for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "I'm a werewolf," he said finally, his voice heavy with resignation. "I was born this way."

Charley blinked, her mind struggling to process his words. "Born? I didn't know there was a difference."

Archer nodded, looking up at her with a mixture of sadness and acceptance. "Most people think werewolves are made, that you get bitten and transform. There are some of us who are born with it, who carry the curse from birth."

Charley felt a shiver run down her spine. "I... I didn't even know werewolves existed until tonight."

Archer gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Most people don't. We do our best to stay hidden. It's safer that way."

Charley looked into his eyes, seeing the pain and loneliness etched there. She reached out, her hand resting on his. "Archer, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what it must be like."

He squeezed her hand gently, his eyes softening. "You don't need to pity me. This is my life. I've come to terms with it."

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm not pitying you. I just... I wish I could help."

Archer smiled, a small, sad smile. "You already have. More than you know."

Suddenly, he seemed to realize something, his eyes widening in embarrassment. "Charley, I'm... I'm naked."

Charley blushed, quickly averting her gaze. "Oh, I... I'm sorry, I didn't... I mean, I didn't notice."

He chuckled softly, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's okay. I keep spare clothes nearby for situations like this. Just give me a minute."

Archer stood up, moving behind a nearby tree where he had stashed a bundle of clothes. Charley turned her back, giving him some privacy as he dressed. She could hear the rustle of fabric, the soft grunts of exertion as he pulled on his clothes.

When he returned, he was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, his hair still tousled from the transformation. "Thank you," he said, his voice gentle.

Charley turned to face him, her eyes meeting his. "For what?"

"For staying," he replied, his gaze intense. "For not running away."

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. "I couldn't just ditch you!"

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek. "Charley, there's something I need to tell you."

Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening in anticipation. "What is it?"

Archer took a deep breath, like he was steadying himself for something big. He said, “I've been trying to keep my distance because I didn't want to put you in danger; but I can't hide how I feel anymore.”

Charley’s pulse quickened.

“I care about you, more than I've ever cared about anyone."

Charley's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest. "Archer, I... I feel the same way, but I never thought…” She sucked in a breath. "I like you, too.”

He looked at her with a mixture of relief and disbelief. "You’re not afraid?"

She shook her head, her eyes shining with sincerity. "No. I’m not afraid of you, Archer. I care about you too much to let something like this come between us."

A smile spread across Archer's face, his eyes softening with affection. "Charley..."

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a tender, passionate kiss. Charley's eyes fluttered closed as she melted into his embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck. She could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart against her chest.

The kiss deepened, their bodies pressing closer together. Charley felt a rush of emotions—relief, happiness, love—all swirling together in a dizzying whirlwind. Archer's hands cupped her face, his touch gentle yet possessive, as if he were afraid she might disappear.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Charley opened her eyes, looking up into Archer's gaze. "I’ve wanted to do that for so long," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Archer smiled, his thumb tracing the outline of her jaw. "Yeah? Me too."

They stood there in the early morning light, wrapped in each other's arms. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them. Charley felt a sense of contentment, as if she had finally found where she belonged.

"Archer," she said softly, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "I need yo to know, I don't care what you are. I care about who you are. This doesn’t change anything." She paused. Then, “besides, you’re kind of cute like that. Fluffy

He spluttered. “I am not cute!”

She grinned. “Yes you are.”

Archer leaned in, pressing another gentle kiss to her lips even as he rolled his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered against her mouth. "I didn’t think I’d find anyone who accepted me like this."

Charley hugged him tightly, feeling his warmth. “I like you too much to let you go. I do have questions though. Like, loads.”

“That figures. Maybe I could answer them while you draw my portrait?”

“Wait!” Charley stammered, peeling back to smile at him. “You’ll let me?”

“Sure.”

Laughter spilled from her lips as she dove in for another searing kiss.

[extra-wolf]

Lovely story! 🥰

Male Naga/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 2,940 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You get a text from a wrong number, and it sounds like they need a shoulder to cry on. Except, you keep texting, and eventually Teng asks you to meet.

Elodie sat in her cosy cottage, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The countryside around her was quiet, a serene backdrop to her evening routine. She sipped her tea, enjoying the warmth that spread through her. The room was bathed in a soft, amber glow from the table lamp beside her. She glanced at her phone, idly scrolling through social media when a notification popped up—a text from an unknown number.

Hey, it's Teng. I got your new number from Jenna. I really need someone to talk to. You free?

Elodie frowned, curiosity piqued. She didn’t know anyone named Teng, and certainly hadn’t given her number to anyone recently; but the message was so earnest, so heartfelt. She hesitated for a moment before typing a response. 

I think you might have the wrong number, but I’m here to listen if you need to talk.

Almost immediately, her phone buzzed again. Oh, I’m sorry! I thought this was my friend’s new number. 

Elodie could have left it at that. It was already late, the guy had no idea who she was, but… well, curiosity had always been her weakness.

She sent another quick message asking if he needed to talk, not expecting him to answer. After all, who wanted to vent to a stranger?

To her surprise, though, he came back with yes, please.

Elodie’s heart softened. She knew all too well what it felt like to be isolated. Living in the countryside had its perks, but it also meant long stretches of solitude.

It’s no problem at all. I’m Elodie. What’s going on, Teng?

There was a brief pause before the next message came through. Thanks, Elodie. I guess it’s just difficult to talk about this stuff with people I know. They’d deny it, but I don’t think my friends really get me.

Elodie replied quickly, her fingers flying over the keys. I get that. Sometimes it feels like no one really sees you, you know? If you need to rant, rant away.

Teng's reply was swift and candid. I’m not stupid, I know I don’t exactly fit in. At work, it's even worse. I'm always the odd one out, and it’s exhausting trying to fit in.

Elodie frowned, her heart aching for him. What do you do for work?

I'm a software developer,Teng responded. It’s a job that allows me to hide behind a screen most of the time, but meetings and social events are a nightmare. Everyone is so... human.

Oh. Her heart did a little flutter. So, he wasn’t human?

Elodie paused, contemplating her next move. Would you like to call me? Sometimes it helps to talk things out loud.

There was a longer pause this time. She waited, watching the little dots on her screen that indicated Teng was typing. Finally, the message came through. I’d like that.

Elodie took a deep breath, then dialed his number. It rang only once before Teng picked up. "Hello?" His voice was thick and raspy, with a lilting Chinese accent; it sent a shiver down her spine.

"Hi Teng, it’s Elodie," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "It’s nice to talk to you."

"Nice to talk to you too, Elodie," Teng replied, his voice softening. "Thank you for listening to me. I really needed this."

"Of course," Elodie said warmly. "So, tell me whatever you want to. Get it off your chest."

Teng sighed, and she could almost see him running a hand through his hair. "It's challenging, but I enjoy my work. The problem is the people. They always seem to be staring, judging. It’s hard not to feel self-conscious."

Elodie’s curiosity got the better of her. "Why do you think they judge you?"

There was a brief silence before Teng spoke again, his voice tinged with nervousness. "Elodie, I need to tell you something important about myself.”

She rose a brow even though he couldn’t see it, waiting silently.

“I’m a naga."

Elodie’s breath caught in her throat. She had heard of nagas, of course she had, but she’d never met one before. As far as she knew, they didn’t get along with many other people. 

"That… explains some stuff," she said carefully. "Is that why you feel so isolated?"

"Yes," Teng admitted, his voice heavy. "My people usually prefer seclusion, away from the hustle and bustle of city life; but I wanted to try living in the modern world. It’s been... difficult."

Elodie’s heart ached for him. "I can only imagine how hard that must be.”

"Thank you for understanding," Teng replied, his voice softening. "Most people don’t. I moved to Oceanhall a year ago for work, but I haven’t made any friends."

Elodie felt a surge of empathy. Oceanhall wasn’t too far from her. "Hey, I get you,” she said softly. “I live in the middle of nowhere, a real countryside cottage; I’ve not exactly been making a lot of friends lately either. Maybe we could both use a friend."

"I Iknow I could," Teng said. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

They continued talking for a long time, after that. The hours ticked by without Elodie even noticing; she was so absorbed in Teng’s beautiful voice, in everything he had to say. 

Despite his struggles, it was pretty clear that Teng was handling it the best he could. He told her about his attempts to fit in at office parties, the difficulties of having a six foot tail in the cramped city spaces. And, of course, his strict dietary restrictions. 

"People don't get why I don't eat like them," Teng said with a chuckle. "Humans, orcs, goblins; they might have different preferences and allergies, but it all boils down to the same thing. Three meals a day, veggies carbs and all that… but us nagas are pretty much exclusively carnivores.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. There’s one vegan at work who really doesn’t appreciate it.”

Elodie smiled, feeling a growing affection for him. "You sound like you’ve been handling it well, all things considered. It must take a lot of strength."

"It does," Teng admitted. "I didn’t realise how much better I’d feel just by talking about it, though."

Elodie’s heart swelled with warmth. "Hey, I’m glad I could help."

There was a brief pause on the line before Teng spoke again, his voice filled with an almost shy hesitation. "I just realised the time. I’m so sorry for keeping you up this late."

Elodie glanced at the clock and saw that it was indeed late, but she smiled to herself. "It’s fine, really. I’ve enjoyed every minute of our conversation."

Teng’s voice softened. "I’ve enjoyed it too. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt comfortable talking to someone."

Elodie’s heart fluttered at his words. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made hersmile even broader. She was about to say something when Teng’s voice came through the line again, this time with a touch of nervousness.

"Elodie, I was wondering... I know it’s a bit of a distance, but would you maybe like to meet up sometime? We could meet halfway. I’d love to take you out to dinner as a thank you for tonight."

Elodie felt a rush of excitement at his suggestion. She had grown so fond of Teng already, and the idea of meeting him in person made her heart stutter. 

"I’d love that, Teng," she said, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "Dinner sounds wonderful. Let’s plan it."

There was a palpable sense of relief in Teng’s voice when he replied. "Really? That’s great. How about this weekend? I can find a nice place for us to meet."

Elodie smiled, her heart racing with anticipation. "This weekend works perfectly. I’m really looking forward to it."

"Me too," Teng said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "I’ll figure something out. Thanks for humouring me.”

Elodie wasn’t sure how to tell him she wasn’t humouring him at all. If anything, she wanted this even more than he did. Instead of saying so, though, she simply said,”I can’t wait."

They said their goodnights, andn Elodie hung up the phone. She sat back, her mind buzzing with thoughts of Teng. 

As she got ready for bed an hour later, Elodie found herself thinking of Teng’s laugh, the way his voice had that soothing, raspy quality to it, and the thoughtfulness in his words. She was excited about the prospect of meeting him, and the anticipation of their dinner date filled her with a sense of joy she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Climbing into bed, Elodie turned off the lamp and settled under the covers. She closed her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she replayed their conversation in her mind. There was something special about Teng, something she couldn’t quite place.

***

Elodie arrived at the little cafe Teng reccomended, her heart pounding against her ribs. The gentle hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery created a comforting atmosphere, but her mind was racing. She checked her watch and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She had been looking forward to this moment ever since she and Teng had agreed to meet. Now that the time had come, she felt a swirl of nerves.

She chose a table near the window, the warm glow of the café’s lights reflecting off the polished wooden surfaces. The cafe was charming, with an eclectic mix of patrons. She noticed a couple of orcs sharing a hearty meal in one corner and a small group of elves enjoying delicate pastries in another. It was a place that welcomed everyone, no matter their background or dietary needs.

Just then, she heard a soft rustling at the entrance. Turning, she saw him. Teng was more striking than she had imagined. He had a striking face; high cheekbones and full, plush lips. His eyes were a deep, warm shade of brown, looking about the cafe cautiously. 

He was gorgeous, no doubt, buy it was his lower body that truly set him apart. Where his waist should have been, his body transitioned into a long, sleek serpent’s tail, covered in iridescent golden scales that shimmered under the café's lights.

For a moment, Elodie was taken aback. She had known Teng was a naga, but seeing him in person was a different experience entirely. Her initial surprise quickly gave way to a sense of awe. Despite his inhuman features, there was an undeniable beauty about him, and she felt drawn to him in a way she hadn’t expected.

Teng approached slowly. “Elodie?” he asked softly, his voice thick and raspy. His accent seemed thicker in person, with a slight lisp.

She nodded, managing a smile. “Hi Teng. It’s really nice to meet you.”

His eyes softened with relief. “You too.”

They stood there for a moment, taking each other in. Elodie could see the nervousness in Teng’s eyes, and she felt a wave of empathy wash over her. She stepped forward and gestured to the table. “Shall we sit?”

Teng nodded, and they made their way to the table by the window. As they settled down, Elodie couldn’t help but glance at Teng’s tail, which coiled gracefully beneath the table. The scales glinted under the warm café lights, creating a mesmerizing pattern.

“This place is wonderful,” she said, breaking the silence. “Thank you for suggesting it.”

He smiled, showing sharp teeth. “I’m glad you like it. I thought it would be a good spot for us, considering they cater to all kinds of people.”

Teng’s eyes met hers, and she could see a flicker of appreciation at her easy acceptance.

They perused the menu together, chatting easily about their options. The café offered a diverse array of dishes, from hearty stews and fresh salads to more exotic offerings tailored to different species’ needs. Elodie noticed Teng’s eyes light up when he found a section dedicated to naga cuisine.

“What are you thinking of ordering?” Elodie asked, curious.

Teng smiled, a hint of excitement in his eyes. “They have a dish here that I haven’t had in years. Fresh, raw fish and local herbs.”

“Kind of like sashimi?”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Elodie nodded. “That sounds amazing. Maybe I’ll give it a try too.”

“You don’t have to,” Teng said, and he seemed to wilt in front of her. “It’s an acquired taste, don’t force yourself.”

Her heart ached for him. Without thinking, she reached across the table and took his hand in hers. His skin was cool to the touch, dotted with beautiful gold and amber scales. His fingers curled around hers, and so Elodie gave him a light squeeze.

“I know we don’t know each other well,” she admitted. “You seem like a really good guy. I’m not forcing myself to try your food, or whatever else you’re thinking. I want to be here.”

“I’ve always felt like an outsider,” Teng admitted. “People see me and believe a whole host of things that aren’t true. I guess it’s difficult not to assume the worst.”

Elodie reached out and placed her hand on his, her touch gentle and reassuring. “I can’t imagine how tough that must be. For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty great.”

They lapsed into a comfortable quiet, Elodie watching Teng from the corner of her eyes. He really was handsome, all dark hair and shining eyes.

When the food arrived, Elodie’s eyes widened at the sight of the meal. The dish was beautifully presented, with fresh fish slices arranged artfully over a bed of herbs. It looked almost too beautiful to eat, but the raw aspect was slightly intimidating. It wasn’t like sashimi at all.

“I have to admit,” Elodie said, glancing at Teng with a nervous smile, “this wasn’t quite what I expected. I’m a little intimidated.”

Teng chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you how it’s done.” He picked up a piece of fish and dipped it into what looked like a lemon sauce, then ate the piece whole.

Following his lead, Elodie picked up a piece of fish, imitating Teng’s movements. She dipped it into the sauce and took a tentative bite. The flavour exploded in her mouth; fresh and citrus, with a hint of sweetness

“Wow,” she said, her eyes widening. “This is really good!”

Teng smiled, clearly pleased. “I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favourites.”

Elodie took another bite, enjoying the silky-soft texture of the fish. “So, what other foods do you enjoy?” she asked.

“I eat a lot of meat,” Teng explained, picking up another piece of fish. “Mostly raw. There’s one dish my mum used to make; raw tuna and watermelon salad.”

She had to admit, that was difficult to imagine. “I love trying new foods,” she said. “This is definitely new, but I’m really enjoying it.”

When he grinned, she glimpsed those sharp fangs again. It made her stomach flip and oh, she wanted to know what it felt like to kiss him.

Wait, where had that come from?

“Nagas have a drink called vargash,” Teng said, snapping Elodie from her thoughts. “It’s a fermented drink kind of like a sweet beer. It’s a shame they don’t sell it here, it goes well with fish.”

Elodie leaned forward, trying not to look at him for too long. Could he tell that she was thinking of him like this? She distracted herself by saying, “I’d love to try it sometime.”

Teng smiled. “Maybe next time we meet, I can bring some for you to try.”

Elodie felt a warm flutter in her chest at the thought of another meeting. “I’d like that.”

As they finished their meal, the underlying  thrum between them became almost unbearable. Every glance, every touch seemed charged with a subtle electricity that made Elodie’s heart race. 

When the server cleared their plates and brought the bill, Teng turned to Elodie with a gentle smile. “Would you like me to walk you to your car?”

Elodie’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending a little more time with him. “I’d like that very much.”

They stood up and made their way out of the café, the cool evening air a pleasant contrast to the warmth inside.

When they reached her car, Teng hesitated for a moment before turning to face her. “Elodie, I’ve really enjoyed tonight. Could we do this again?”

Elodie’s stomach flipped as she blurted, “yeah, I’d love to.”

Teng took a step closer, his voice soft. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

Elodie’s heart fluttered, and she nodded. “Absolutely”

Teng leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. When their lips met, Elodie felt a surge of warmth and affection. His lips were cool and soft against hers, his fangs pressing lightly into her lower lip. He tasted of fresh herbs and lemon.

When they finally pulled away, Elodie’s heart was thudding so fast, she swore he could hear it too.

“I’ll see you again?” she asked softly.

“Of course. Same time next week?”

Elodie didn’t know how she could wait an entire week to see him again, but she nodded anyway.

They exchanged a lingering look before saying their goodnights. He kissed her again, one arm snaking around her waist to pull her close. His tail got in the way, but he curled it around her feet and Elodie shivered in delight.

“Goodnight,” Teng said quietly. “Get home safe.”

“Goodnight.”

Elodie watched as Teng disappeared into the night, her heart full and her mind buzzing with thoughts of him. Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

[extra-wolf]

Lovely story! 🥰😍🥰

Male Ghoul/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 4,389 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

A new rock band is taking yoru city by storm, their identities hidden behind masks and personas. You seem to know the lead singer already.

The concert venue buzzed with energy. You stood with your friend, squeezed into the crowd, everyone around you eager and excited. The stage loomed ahead, hidden in shadows, promising something incredible. 

When the lights dimmed, the crowd gasped. Voices hushed, replaced by the thumping of your heart. You leaned forward, trying to see. Nocturne Eclipse—the band everyone was talking about. They were a mystery, hidden behind masks.

The first notes of the song cut through the darkness, sending chills down your spine. Lights flashed, revealing four figures in dark, gothic outfits. Their masks were eerie and beautiful. The lead singer drew your eyes. He moved gracefully, his voice powerful and haunting. 

“Welcome!” he shouted, voice crackling through the microphone. “Let’s have some noise, hmm? I hope everyone has a great night!”

The crowd erupted in cheers. Beside you, Melanie tossed dark braids over her shoulder and gripped your arm, face grinning.

As the first song played, you felt it in your bones. You’d never been a fan of rock, but the deep thrum of the bass and the lead’s rough, scratching vocals itched at the back of your brain.

That voice tugged at something deep inside you, a distant memory. You’d heard that voice before; not at concerts, but in your own garage back in college. But that was impossible. Right? 

His mask slipped a bit; and before he could fix it, you caught a flash of a black neck tattoo. A giant hornet curling around his ear. 

Your breath caught. It was him.

Your friend nudged you, snapping you back to the present. You couldn’t look away from the stage. The band’s music was mesmerizing, the crowd swaying as one. For you, everything narrowed to that one familiar face.

The song ended in thunderous applause, but you barely noticed. Your heart raced. As the band started their next song, you pushed through the crowd, desperate to get closer.  Melanie called after you, but you didn't stop.

You reached the stage’s edge, a barrier separating you from the band. You watched, transfixed, as he sang. For a minute he stuttered, mask tilted down to look at you.

Security was tight, blocking your way, but you didn't care. You shouted his name, your voice lost in the noise. He was right there, so close. He looked at you for a moment longer than the rest.

Suddenly, strong hands gripped your arms, pulling you back. Security. 

"Hey! I know him!" you shouted, trying to break free, but firm hands curled around your arms and yanked you away.

The guard shook his head. "Everyone thinks they know the band. Calm down."

"No, you don't understand. I actually do know him!" you insisted, voice rising in desperation.

The guard's eyes narrowed. "You're crazy. Go home and sleep it off."

"I'm sober!" you protested, but he was already dragging you toward the exit.

Outside, the cool night air hit you. The guard released you with a final warning glance. You stood there, heart pounding, mind reeling.

Moments later, your friend darted out of the venue, eyes wide. "What the hell was that about?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "The lead singer... he has the same tattoos as Maddox."

"Maddox?" she repeated, brows furrowed.

"Yes. Maddox. My ex-boyfriend — who died in a car crash a week before graduation four years ago," you said, your voice breaking.

Her eyes widened, disbelief mingling with the realisation of what you were saying. The night air felt colder, the reality of your words sinking in. Maddox was alive, but something was terribly wrong.

Melanie sighed and said, “maybe we should go home.”

She guided you to her car, her touch grounding you as you both slipped into the seats. The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the silence between you. You stared out the window, trying to piece together the fragments of what you'd seen.

"I'm sorry for cutting the night short," you said finally, breaking the tension.

Melanie glanced over at you. "Don't worry about it. I'm just concerned. Maybe he just has a similar tattoo and you're... freaking out over nothing."

You shook your head, the memory of that night vivid. "I was with him when he got that tattoo. It was his twenty-first birthday. It was custom. I would know it anywhere."

Melanie didn't reply immediately, focusing on the road ahead. Soon, you reached your flat. The familiar surroundings should have brought comfort, but your mind was still racing. You both went inside, the warm lights of the living room casting a soft glow over everything. Melanie headed to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove.

She made tea, the ritualistic clinking of cups and spoons soothing in its normalcy. You watched her, your mind still grappling with the impossible reality.

"Melanie," you began, your voice low, "what if Maddox is... like you?"

Melanie paused, looking up at you. Her expression was a mix of sympathy and seriousness. "Being a werewolf won't bring someone back from the dead."

You sipped your tea when she handed it to you, the warmth spreading through you, but it did little to ease the cold knot of fear and confusion in your chest. If Maddox wasn't a werewolf, then what was he? How was he alive after all this time? 

Melanie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry about it. It has to be a coincidence. It can't be Maddox."

You nodded, trying to convince yourself. "Yeah, you're right." You finished your tea, but as Melanie flipped through channels, settling on a light-hearted show, your mind kept drifting back. The tattoo could be a coincidence, but his voice? That was Maddox’s voice. You’d never heard the band live before and never made the connection, but hearing him in person… there was no doubt in your mind.

The evening wore on, and you listened to the TV drone. Melanie laughed at something on the screen, but you barely noticed. 

Finally, you sighed and stood up. "I'm going to bed," you said softly.

Melanie looked up, concern still evident in her eyes. "Alright. Try to get some rest."

You nodded and made your way to your bedroom. The familiar space felt strange tonight, the shadows seeming darker, the silence heavier. You changed into your pyjamas, the fabric soft against your skin, and climbed into bed. The hum of the TV in the living room was a faint comfort, a reminder that you weren't alone.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, the night's events playing over and over in your mind. Eventually, exhaustion pulled you under, and you drifted into a restless sleep, your dreams haunted by a voice you thought you'd never hear again.

***

The next morning, you woke to the sound of your phone buzzing. Groggily, you reached over to your nightstand, squinting at the screen. A missed call from an unknown number. Curiosity piqued, you played the voicemail.

Your heart nearly stopped. It was Maddox's voice, clear and unmistakable without the din of a concert hall. "I need to see you. Meet me at thirty-two Yarrow Street. Noon." The call ended abruptly, leaving you staring at your phone in disbelief. You tried to call the number back, but it wouldn’t go through. It was as if he had called and then immediately blocked your number.

You sat on the edge of your bed, trying to process. It was silly, maybe even dangerous, but you had to know the truth. You scribbled a quick note for Melanie, explaining you had to step out and would be back later. You left it on the kitchen table, hoping she’d see it soon.

Grabbing your keys, you headed out, the address looping in your mind. You plugged it into your sat nav, and it led you through winding streets and unfamiliar neighbourhoods. Your mind raced with every turn, each passing moment bringing you closer to answers—or more questions.

Eventually, you found yourself in front of an old warehouse. The building loomed large and foreboding, its windows darkened, its structure showing signs of age and neglect. You parked the car and sat for a moment, staring at the imposing facade.

You stepped out of the car, the cool morning air hitting your face as you stared at the old warehouse. The building's structure seemed out of place, a relic of the past nestled in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. You hesitated for a moment, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you, but curiosity and a desperate need for answers propelled you forward.

The warehouse door creaked as you pushed it open. To your surprise, it wasn't locked. You stepped inside, your footsteps echoing in the vast, dimly lit space. As your eyes adjusted to the gloom, you took in the surroundings. The interior had been transformed into a makeshift home. 

There was a living area with mismatched furniture, a battered sofa, and a low coffee table cluttered with empty bottles and crumpled papers. A messy kitchenette occupied one corner, dishes piled high in the sink, and a faint smell of toast and jam lingered in the air. It was run-down, far from the glamorous lifestyle you’d expect from a new, popular band.

As you ventured further inside, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Your heart pounded in your chest as a figure emerged from the shadows, clad in a hoodie that obscured his face. He paused.

"Hi," the man said, his voice soft and familiar. 

Your breath caught in your throat. There was no mistaking it. It was Maddox. Despite the hoodie concealing his face, you knew it was him. He seemed different, shy and hesitant, nothing like the confident, enigmatic figure you’d seen on stage.

"Maddox?" you whispered, taking a tentative step forward.

"Where are we? How are you alive?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. "What happened to you?"

Your questions tumbled out, one after another, your mind racing to make sense of the impossible. Maddox stood there, his expression pained but resolute. Instead of answering, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. 

The hug was unexpected, and for a moment, you stiffened in shock. Then the familiarity of his embrace washed over you, and you melted into him. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the feeling of being held by him once more. 

You closed your eyes, trying to hold onto the sensation, the reality of his presence grounding you in the here and now. The questions still swirled in your mind, demanding answers, but for this moment, you let them fade away. 

His hold on you tightened slightly, and you felt the subtle tremor in his hands. 

"I have answers," he said softly, “but can we just stay like this a bit longer?"

You nodded, hugging him tighter. His embrace was comforting yet strange. Maddox had always been a bigger guy, a regular at the gym with a solid build. Now, he felt too thin. The broad shoulders were the same, but you could feel his ribs through the fabric of the hoodie. It sent a chill down your spine.

When you finally pulled away, you caught a glimpse of his eyes beneath the hood. They were deep set and black, so different to the bright, warm hazel eyes you remembered. The sight made your heart ache as you pulled away.

Maddox guided you to the makeshift living area and sat you down on the worn sofa. He sat next to you, his posture tense, hands clasped together tightly. He seemed nervous, a far cry from the confident, vibrant man you once knew. 

"I'm sorry," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant to leave you... but I had to, for your own safety."

Your heart pounded in your chest. He took a deep breath, the words seeming to cost him more than you could imagine.

"Four years ago, I died," he said, the statement hanging heavy in the air. "You know that, obviouslyI don't remember much from the accident itself, just that everything went black. Then... I woke up in the morgue. I scared the owner half to death when I came back on the table."

Your mind struggled to process his words. It was surreal, like a nightmare you couldn't wake from. Maddox's eyes searched yours, desperate for understanding.

"I don't know how I came back," he continued, his voice breaking slightly. "All I know is that I did. I wasn't the same. I’m... different now. It took me a while to figure out what that meant."

He paused, looking away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I found others like me. The band... we're all like this, more or less. We’re a family now. It's the only way we've survived, by sticking together."

The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of his confession pressing down like a physical force. You reached out, placing a hand on his knee, grounding yourself in reality.

"What happened to you?" you asked, your voice trembling. "How did you become... this?"

Maddox shook his head slowly. "I don't have all the answers. I wish I did. All I know is that I died and came back. The others—my bandmates—they have similar stories. We don't know why or how, but we're trying to make the best of it."

You looked at him, seeing the pain and confusion etched into his features. It was clear that he had been through hell and back, and the journey had left scars deeper than the physical.

"I missed you," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Every day, I missed you."

Maddox reached out, taking your hand in his. "I missed you too. Every single day. I think about you all the time, the things I would have done differently if I’d known this would happen.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the emotional floodgates breaking. The pain of his loss, the confusion of his return, and the fear of what it all meant—it was overwhelming.

He squeezed your hand, his touch a lifeline in the storm of emotions. "I know it's a lot to take in," he said softly. "I’m sorry. Would it have been better if you never knew?"

You shook your head, squeezing his hand in return. “No, God no. I’m glad I know the truth.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin was cold. "Can I see you?" you asked, your voice trembling with both fear and determination.

Maddox hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty in his dark eyes. "I don’t look like I used to," he warned, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t even look human."

You nodded, your resolve unwavering. "I want to see you."

Slowly, he reached up and pulled back the hood. His black hair fell across his face, streaked with pure white. He was thin, almost gaunt, with sunken eyes. They were entirely black, save for a faint blueish glow in the center.

He looked at you nervously, waiting for your reaction. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the fear of rejection. Instead of recoiling, you felt a surge of desire—love, longing.

Without thinking, you lurched forward and kissed him. The contact was electric, sending a jolt through your entire body. His lips were cool against yours, but you didn’t carel. You poured everything into that kiss—the years of pain, the longing, the relief at finding him again.

Maddox’s initial shock melted away as he responded, his hands moving to cradle your face. He kissed you back with a hunger that mirrored your own, a deep, aching need. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you, lost in the moment.

Your heart pounded in your chest. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as if afraid you might disappear again. You could feel his desperation, his need to hold onto this moment, to make up for lost time.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent. Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the now unfamiliar contours of his body. It didn’t matter. He was still Maddox, still the man you loved.

When you finally pulled away. Only you were breathless. Did Maddox even need to breathe?

You stared into his eyes, searching for any sign of the man you once knew. Despite the changes, despite the inhuman features, the essence of Maddox was still there.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but they were tears of relief, of joy. "I don’t care what you look like," you whispered, your voice breaking. "You’re still you."

Maddox’s eyes softened, a small, grateful smile playing on his lips. "I’ve missed you so much," he murmured.

You hugged him tightly, feeling his arms wrap around you in return. 

You kissed him again, slower this time, savouring the moment. You slung a leg over his, tugging him close, and rested your head against his shoulder. 

He held you tightly, his touch both familiar and foreign. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "For my cold skin, for being... well, this."

You lifted your head to look at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I like it," you replied sincerely. "This new you has its own charm. Besides, you're still Maddox. That's all that matters."

He looked at you with those gorgeous dark eyes, then pulled you even closer. You buried yourself into his side, feeling his steady, if slightly abnormal, heartbeat. 

"It's funny," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "You were right in front of me this whole time. The band is one of Melanie's favourites. I mean, she loves Embers too — but you’re definitely top three."

Maddox chuckled, a sound that was both familiar and comforting. "Yeah, I’ve been keeping an eye on you from a distance."

You looked up at him, seeing a hint of the old Maddox in his expression. The tension in his features seemed to ease, replaced by a sense of tentative happiness.

He sighed, a contented sound, and kissed the top of your head. "It's been so long since I've felt anything close to normal," he admitted. "Being here with you... it feels like coming home."

You smiled, nuzzling deeper into his embrace. "It feels like home to me too."

You nestled closer to Maddox, your head resting against his chest as you watched him from the corner of your eye. The changes were undeniable. His teeth seemed sharper, peeking out slightly when he spoke. His fingers were longer, more slender, giving his hands an almost skeletal appearance. There was a subtle wrongness to his features, a hint of something not right.

You found yourself strangely drawn to these changes for reasons you couldn’t place. They were a part of him now, a part of the new Maddox. Despite his worries, you didn’t find it gross or repulsive. He was still as beautiful as you remembered.

He shifted slightly, his arms tightening around you, as if he sensed your thoughts. "I know I look... different," he said, his voice hesitant. "You don’t have to sit so close if you don’t want to."

You looked up at him, your gaze steady. "I don’t mind," you insisted softly. "It's different, sure, but it's still you. I love you, Maddox, no matter what you look like."

He sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. "You're something else, you know that?"

You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Can I meet the rest of the band?" you asked, curious about the people who had become his new family. "I want to know everything about your life now."

Maddox hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Maybe," he said slowly. "Beneath the masks and the band getup, some of them look... way worse than I do.."

You shook your head, undeterred. "I don’t think I care," you said firmly. "If they’re your family, then I want to meet them. I want to understand your world."

He studied you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of doubt. When he found none, his expression softened. "Alright," he agreed quietly. "It might take a while for them to warm up to you."

You nodded, understanding the caution. "I’ll take my time," you promised. "I just want to be a part of your life again, Maddox. All of it."

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "And I want you to be," he whispered. "More than anything."

Maddox pulled out his phone, typing quickly. You watched him, the familiar lines of concentration etched into his face as he messaged the group. Moments later, his phone buzzed with a response. He read it, his expression shifting slightly.

"Jaehyun isn't thrilled about me telling you," he said, glancing at you. "Though they'll meet with you if I insist."

You grinned. “Great, I can’t wait.”

***

A few days later, the moment finally arrived. You sat with Maddox on the worn sofa, curled together for comfort. Maddox’s arm was draped around your shoulders, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your arm.

"It’ll be okay," he murmured, sensing your anxiety. "They’re cautious, but they’ll come around."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The seconds ticked by slowly until a soft knock echoed through the warehouse. Maddox squeezed your shoulder before standing to open the door. Jaehyun stepped inside, his presence imposing even in the dim light.

Jaehyun removed his mask slowly; he was even more gaunt than Maddox, eyes sunken and pale. His skin was grey and withered, pulled too tightly across jutting cheekbones. 

He was an unsettling sight, but you kept your expression steady, determined not to show your nerves.

"Jaehyun," Maddox greeted, motioning him inside. "This is her."

Jaehyun stepped forward, his eyes scanning you critically. For a moment, you wondered if this was a test, a challenge to see if you could handle the reality of their world. He held out a hand, skeletal fingers extended in a gesture of introduction.

You took his hand without hesitation, shaking it firmly. His grip was cool and surprisingly strong. "Nice to meet you," you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

Jaehyun studied you for a moment longer before his tense expression softened. "It's nice to meet you too," he replied, his voice surprisingly gentle for someone with such a daunting appearance.

Relief washed over you as the initial tension dissipated. Maddox returned to your side, pulling you back into his embrace. Jaehyun took a seat across from you, still observing but with a hint of curiosity rather than suspicion.

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, the atmosphere slowly easing. Jaehyun's acceptance was the first step, and you could feel the barriers beginning to lower. 

"You know," Jaehyun said, breaking the silence, "Maddox talks about you a lot. Always going on about how he wished he could speak to you again. I’m glad he had the chance.”

You smiled, the warmth of his words helping to dispel your lingering nerves. "I'm glad, too. I’m sorry if… if me insisting on meeting you guys is annoying or anything.”

“It’s fine, you seem like the good sort. Stick around long enough, and you’ll see we’re not so bad. Just a bit... different."

The tension in the room eased further as Jaehyun relaxed, leaning back in his seat. You glanced at Maddox, and he squeezed your shoulder.

The door creaked open, and the last member of the band entered. They moved with a quiet, almost hesitant step, immediately drawing your attention. This newcomer, who must have been the drummer, was markedly different from the others. Their face was a gaunt landscape of heavy scarring, the skin tight and withered. Their arms were exposed, revealing a more gruesome sight—several fingers were missing, and the ones that remained were elongated and claw-like.

Juni’s eyes didn’t meet yours. Instead they flicked around the room before landing on you only briefly. They seemed to shrink back slightly, clearly uncomfortable and unsure.

Maddox stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Juni’s shoulder, and gently guided them into the room.

"This is Juni," Maddox introduced softly.

Juni shrugged off Maddox’s touch and wandered over to linger behind Sloane, their posture tense. The contrast between their somber presence and Sloane’s vibrant energy was striking.

You took a deep breath and offered a tentative smile. "Hello," you managed, your voice steady despite your own nerves.

Juni’s gaze met yours for a fleeting moment before they looked away, giving a slight nod in acknowledgment. 

Sloane chimed in with a cheerful tone. "Don’t mind Juni, they’re just a bit shy," he said, his grin wide. "Trust me though, they’re the best drummer you’ll ever hear."

Juni’s lips curled into a small, appreciative smile, though they remained close to Sloane, still wary. You could see the effort it took for them to be here.

Maddox returned to your side, pulling you close. His lips brushed against yours in a brief, tender kiss. His breath tickled against your skin and you smiled.

"Get a room, you two," Sloane teased, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Maddox rolled his eyes but smiled, his hand squeezing yours. "Now that you’ve met everyone, what do you think?" he asked, his eyes searching yours. The room grew quiet, all eyes on you, waiting for your response.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, glancing around at the faces before you. Jaehyun, eerie eyes boring into yours; Sloane, so welcoming; and Juni, nervous but undeniably gentle. They were an unusual group, but somehow they all just fit together.

"I'm glad you found a family like this, Maddox," you said finally, your voice steady and sincere. "People who understand you, who you can rely on. If you’re all willing, I’d like to be a part of it too."

Sloane's face lit up with delight. "Hell yeah!" he exclaimed.

Maddox’s eyes softened, and he pulled you in for another kiss. He cupped your cheek, put everything into that kiss and it left you reeling. 

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were grinning.

"Welcome to the family.”

[extra-wolf]

Another story that had everything! 🥰😍

Male Dragonborn/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 4,586 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You save A'rien's life. By dragonborn custom, he's in your debt.

It was late at night, and you were on your way back from a friend's house, the cool air brushing against your skin. The streets were unusually quiet, with only the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl to keep you company. You wrapped your cloak tighter around you, quickening your pace, eager to be home. 

A sudden noise caught your attention, a clatter of metal followed by a grunt of pain. You hesitated, glancing towards a narrow alleyway just ahead. Shadows moved, and you could make out the forms of two figures struggling. 

The hell was that?

As you neared the alley's entrance, you saw them more clearly. One was a dragonborn, his bronze scales glinting faintly in the moonlight, his form tall and imposing even as he dodged a punch from his opponent.

The other was an orc, his hulking frame dwarfing his opponent. The orc landed a heavy blow, and the dragonborn staggered, dropping to one knee. You watched in horror as the orc pinned him to the ground, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

You knew you had to do… something. Your mind raced, searching for a way to help. Without thinking, you grabbed a loose stone from the ground and hurled it at the orc. It struck his shoulder with a dull thud, not enough to injure but enough to draw his attention. The orc snarled, his grip on the dragonborn loosening as he turned to face you.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" the orc growled, his eyes narrowing as he took a step towards you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you stood your ground, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as you could muster. "Leave him alone!"

The orc chuckled darkly, but before he could take another step, the dragonborn took advantage of the distraction. With a burst of strength, he twisted beneath the orc, knocking him off balance. The orc stumbled, and the dragonborn surged up, delivering a swift punch to the orc’s jaw. The orc's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, the dragonborn stood over the fallen orc, his eyes glowing with a mix of adrenaline and relief. He turned to you, his expression softening as he took in your form. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "I think I should be the one asking you that."

He nodded, though his movements were slower, more measured. "I’m fine, thanks to you. I owe you my life."

You blinked, taken aback by his words. "It was nothing. I just... couldn’t stand by and do nothing."

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "By dragonborn custom, a life debt is not nothing.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the determination in his eyes stopped you. There was a sincerity there, a deep-seated honour that you couldn't dismiss. "Life debt," you said softly. "I’m not sure it’s that serious."

He took a step forwards, and for the first time you saw a glint of green in his copper eyes. “This idiot had me pinned, if you hadn’t come along… I hate to think what could have happened. I owe you my life.”

Your brows furrowed. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

He inclined his head respectfully. "I must. It is our way."

You sighed, realizing there was no arguing with him. "I suppose there’s no convincing you. What’s your name?"

"A'rien," he replied, his voice steady and calm.

"Well, A'rien," you said, offering him a tentative smile. "I guess we should get out of here before your friend wakes up."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that eased the lingering tension. "Agreed. Lead the way."

You walked side by side, the night air cool and quiet around you. A'rien walked with a calm assurance, his presence both comforting and intriguing. He glanced at you, his amber eyes glinting in the dim light. 

“Allow me to walk you home,” he offered.

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and curiosity. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

As you made your way through the winding streets, you couldn’t help but steal glances at A'rien. His bronze scales shimmered subtly under the moonlight, each one catching the light in a way that made him seem almost otherworldly. The edges of his sharp teeth glinted when he spoke, and it made your heart skip.

“So, why were you fighting an orc in an alley?” you asked, biting your bottom lip. 

A'rien’s expression turned slightly guarded. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’m not very popular in the orc community.”

You frowned, not satisfied with his vague answer. “Why not? What happened?”

He looked away for a moment, his gaze focused on the path ahead. “It’s complicated,” he said finally, a note of reluctance in his voice. “Orcs and dragonborn have a... history.”

Sensing his discomfort, you hummed. “Orcs have a history with just about everyone,” you replied softly. You turned a corner together, streetlights making his skin glitter. Turning your gaze away, you added, “they do love to pick fights.”

“We should report him to the guards.”

You walked in silence for a few moments, your thoughts racing. Despite his evasiveness, you felt a tug in your chest each time you glanced at A’rien. There was an allure in the way he held himself high, towering horns making him look even taller than he really was.

From the corner of your eye, you watched him as he surveyed the streets, ever vigilant. His features were strong and defined, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, a small underbite. Yet, there was a gentleness in his eyes when he looked at you, a softness that made your stomach flip.

Eventually, you spotted a pair of city guards patrolling a nearby street. You approached them, explaining the encounter with the orc. 

“He’s probably left by now,” A’rien said, “but keep a look out for him. Big orc, tattoo on his left wrist. His name is Solveig, I don’t know his surname.”

The guard’s brow furrowed, almost like he’d been expecting it. “Yeah, Solveig’s pretty well known around here. Known for starting fights after a few too many drinks. We’ll keep an eye out for thim.”

“Good. Thank you.”

A’rien stepped away, turning back to you with a sharp-toothed smile. “So, I promised to walk you home. Lead the way.”

Despite the unusual circumstances of your meeting, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in his presence. He was big and imposing. Solid. Walking through the dark streets together, you couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to mess with you.

“So, which way now?” A'rien asked, glancing at you with a small smile.

“My home is just a few more streets down,” you replied. “If you have somewhere else you need to be...”

He shook his head. “My only duty now is to repay my debt to you. I will ensure you get home safely.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Well since you can’t be convinced, thank you.”

As you continued walking, you found it increasingly difficult to ignore the growing attraction you felt for A'rien. There was something about the way he moved, the quiet strength he exuded, that drew you in. Each glance, each brush of his scales against your arm, sent a flutter through your chest.

“So, what brought you to this part of town tonight?” you asked, partly to distract yourself. Okay, entirely to distract you.

A'rien smiled slightly, his eyes glancing at you before returning to the path ahead. “Oh, nothing you’d be interested in hearing about.”

You nodded, not entirely satisfied with his evasiveness but willing to let it go because, well, it wasn’t any of your business. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of nocturnal life. It was peaceful, almost serene, and the presence of A'rien by your side made it all the more comforting.

As you neared your home, the streets became more familiar. A'rien seemed to sense your growing comfort and relaxed slightly, though his vigilance never entirely faded. Finally, you reached your door, pausing under the soft glow of a lantern.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you said, your voice a bit softer than you intended. “I appreciate it more than you know.”

A'rien’s gaze held yours, his amber eyes intense yet gentle. “It was my pleasure. Ensuring your safety is the least I can do.”

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. The air between you crackled with unspoken words and possibilities. A'rien stepped closer, his towering form casting a protective shadow over you. You held your breath, your heart racing as he leaned down. For a second, you thought he might kiss you, and a rush of anticipation surged through you.

Instead, his hand reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was tender, almost intimate, and it sent shivers down your spine. His proximity, his scent—earthy and slightly metallic—filled your senses.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Goodnight, A'rien.”

With a lingering smile, he straightened and stepped back, giving you space. You turned and unlocked your door, feeling his eyes on you as you slipped inside. The door closed softly behind you, and you leaned against it, your heart still pounding.

As you made your way to your bedroom, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memory of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, stayed with you, replaying in your mind like a cherished scene from a dream. You changed into your nightclothes and slipped into bed, the cool sheets frigid against your skin.

Lying in the quiet darkness, you found your thoughts drifting back to A'rien. His strength, his gorgeous copper eyes, the unexpected gentleness in his expression—all of it captivated you.

You fell asleep thinking of him, and slept through the night without waking.

***

The next morning, as you opened the door to step outside, you were startled to see A'rien standing there. His bronze scales gleamed in the early sunlight, and he looked as composed and alert as ever. You blinked in surprise, trying to make sense of his presence.

“A'rien, what are you doing here?” you asked, unable to hide your astonishment. “How did you know what time I’d be out?”

A'rien’s expression was calm and serious. “I’ve been waiting since dawn.”

You laughed lightly, thinking he must be joking, but the unwavering look in his eyes told you otherwise. “Really?”

He nodded. “It is dragonborn custom. I owe you a life debt. I am honor-bound to protect you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you felt a mix of emotions—flattery, curiosity, and a touch of amusement at his earnestness. “I see,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “Well, I appreciate your dedication.”

He inclined his head respectfully. “May I walk you to wherever you’re going?”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer. “I’d like that. I’m heading to the apothecary.”

As you began walking together, town slowly waking up around you, you stole a glance at A'rien. He moved with a quiet grace, his eyes scanning the surroundings with vigilance. There was something incredibly reassuring about his presence, and you couldn’t help but feel a growing fondness for him.

“So,” you began, breaking the comfortable silence, “what does this life debt entail exactly?”

A'rien glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. “It means that until I have repaid my debt, I am bound to protect you, assist you in any way I can, and ensure your safety.”

You nodded, absorbing the gravity of his commitment. “That sounds like… a lot.”

He smiled slightly, a rare but welcome sight. “It is, but it is also an honour. Your act of saving my life binds us in a way that is deeply respected among my people.”

Yoru cheeks warmed at that. 

The streets became busier as you approached the apothecary, and A'rien’s presence seemed to draw curious glances from passersby. It wasn’t common to see dragonborn around here, you couldn’t blame them for staring.

Reaching the apothecary, you turned to face him, feeling a pang of reluctance at the thought of parting ways, even if only for a few hours. “Thank you for walking me here,” you said sincerely.

A'rien nodded. “It was my pleasure. I will wait for you here when you finish your work.”

You smiled, touched by his unwavering commitment. “I’ll see you then.”

He smiled, almost wistfully, eyes bright. “Yes, I will see you this evening.”

***

The days at the apothecary passed in a blur of activity. Despite the bustle, your thoughts often drifted to A'rien. His steadfast presence outside each morning and evening had become a reassuring routine. True to his word, A'rien was waiting when your workday ended, ready to escort you home.

As the days turned into a week, you found yourself looking forward to these walks more and more. Every morning, he was there, a quiet sentinel, and every evening, he walked you home, his presence a comforting constant in your life. His dedication was unwavering, his protectiveness almost endearing.

One evening, after another long day, you couldn’t contain your curiosity any longer. As you strolled through the streets with A'rien by your side, you glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “A'rien, I’ve been meaning to ask… what do you do for work? You’re always available to walk me to and from the apothecary. Are you never busy?”

A'rien’s expression remained composed, but you could see a flicker of something—hesitation, perhaps—in his eyes. “I… have certain duties that I fulfill. Ensuring your safety is my primary concern at the moment.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “A'rien, you’ve been incredibly kind and dedicated, but I feel like I don’t really know much about you. I’m not asking for your whole life story. Just… a hint.”

He sighed softly, looking away for a moment. When he met your gaze again, his eyes were dark. “It’s not that interesting, really.”

You didn’t have much choice but to accept that at face value because, well, you couldn’t force him to tell you. So you nodded, and fell silent, and didn’t ask any more. You didn’t ask the next day either, instead simply admiring him from the corner of your eyes while he wasn’t watching.

You noticed the small things about him—the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he listened intently to your every word, the subtle way he ensured you were always safe and comfortable. This wasn’t just obligation.

At least, you hoped not.

One evening, as you walked home, the sun setting in a blaze of colors, you felt a sudden rush of affection for A'rien. You stopped again, this time on a quiet street where the sounds of the city were distant murmurs.

“A'rien,” you said softly, looking up at him. “I want you to know how much I appreciate you. Your dedication, your kindness… it means a lot to me.”

He looked down at you, his expression tender. “It is my honor. Protecting you is not just a duty—it’s something I want to do.”

Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand. His scales were cool under your touch, rough and leathery. It brought a smile to your lips.

When you reached your door, you turned to face him, your heart pounding. “Goodnight, A'rien. I’ll see you in the morning?”

He smiled, a rare and beautiful sight. “Goodnight. I’ll be here.”

As you unlocked the front door, a sudden movement seemed to catch A’rien’s eye. His posture stiffened, and he held up a hand. “Be quiet,” he whispered, his voice tense and alert.

Confusion washed over you, quickly morphing into fear as you followed his gaze. Across the lawn, partially hidden by the shadows of the trees, was a hulking figure. Your heart sank as you recognized the orc from before—Solveig. This time, he was armed with a serrated knife that glinted in the faint light.

A'rien remained calm, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. Meanwhile, panic surged through you, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps as Solveig stepped forward, his eyes locked on you with a predatory gleam.

A'rien moved to stand between you and the advancing orc, his stance protective. “Stay behind me,” he murmured, his voice steady. He glanced back at you, his eyes filled with determination. “It seems I will repay my life debt sooner than anticipated.”

You nodded, too frightened to speak, your eyes wide as Solveig approached, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. The orc’s smile was cruel, his grip on the knife tightening as he prepared to strike.

With a growl, Solveig lunged forward, his knife aimed. A'rien met the attack head-on, his bronze scales catching the dim light as he braced himself for the clash. Your heart pounded in your chest, every muscle in your body tensed.

A'rien met Solveig's lunge with a swift, fluid spin, unsheathing two gleaming daggers in the blink of an eye. The blades clashed against Solveig's serrated knife, the sound of metal on metal ringing through the night. You swore that you saw sparks fly, but surely that was impossible.

Right?

Solveig's brute strength was overwhelming, each blow powerful enough to cause the ground to shake beneath your feet. 

A'rien had agility on his side as he slipped around Solveig, scales glinting in the waning light. His expression twisted as he slashed at Solveig, opening up a slash across Solveig’s shoulder. Red blood bloomed. 

You watched, heart in your throat, as A'rien dodged Solveig’s next attack, barely managing to duck out of the way as the knife came down.

Fear gripped you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the fight. Your thoughts raced—should you run inside for help or stay and find some way to assist A'rien? The temptation to seek safety inside was strong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him.

Solveig roared, swinging his knife in a wide arc. A'rien ducked and rolled, his daggers flashing as he struck back. Each strike was measured, aimed to disable rather than kill, showcasing his skill and control. Solveig was relentless, pressing forward with sheer force, his knife slicing through the air with lethal intent.

You ducked back into the shadows, your mind a whirl of fear and helplessness. You wished desperately for a way to help, your hands trembling as you clutched the fabric of your cloak. The intensity of the fight was overwhelming, every clash and grunt sending a shiver down your spine.

In a sudden, brutal move, Solveig managed to land a crushing blow to A'rien's side, sending him sprawling to the ground. A'rien’s daggers skidded across the lawn, out of reach. Solveig loomed over him, his smile twisted with victory.

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you darted forward, determined to help A'rien despite the danger. As you moved, A'rien’s voice rang out, strong and commanding. “No!”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. A'rien struggled to rise, his eyes fixed on you, desperate. The message was clear—your safety was paramount, and he didn’t want you to risk yourself.

Tears stung your eyes as you took a step back, torn between the urge to help and the fear of making things worse. It felt like your chest was constricting, breath coming in rasping gasps.

Despite A'rien's warning, you couldn't stand by and do nothing. Summoning every ounce of courage, you rushed forward, your mind racing. You watched as if in slow motion as Solveig drew back his knife, looming over A’rien-

You weren’t thinking. Barely even aware of A’rien’s, no, stop! You rushed forwards, arms outstretched, and tackled Solveig. The ricochet of your own body slamming into his made you bounce back, legs flailing; but as you fell, you brought Solveig down with you.

"Shit!" Solveig growled, as the two of you landed in a tangle of limbs.

Your heart pounded, but rolled away from Solveig, wiping diary and hair from your eyes. "Leave him alone!"

With Solveig distracted, A'rien seized the opportunity. With a surge of strength, he lunged forward from the ground, sweeping Solveig's legs out from under him as he tried to stand. The orc stumbled, crashing back down to his knees, and A'rien sprang up, delivering a powerful blow to Solveig's head. The orc's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, A'rien glanced at you, a mix of relief and gratitude in his eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice rough from exertion.

You nodded, your pulse still racing. "I’m fine. We need to tie him up before he wakes."

Without wasting a moment, you dashed into the house, searching for anything that could serve as a restraint. Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed a coil of rope from a storage closet. You hurried back outside, where A'rien was already moving Solveig towards the porch railing.

Together, you worked quickly, your fingers fumbling with the rope as you bound Solveig securely to the railing. A'rien’s movements were efficient and precise, his strength ensuring that the knots were tight and unyielding. You could feel his calm presence beside you, compared to your own erratic movements.

Once Solveig was securely tied, you stepped back, breathing a sigh of relief. The immediate danger had passed, but the weight of what had just happened still hung in the air. You turned to A'rien, your eyes meeting his.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice shaking slightly. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch.”

A'rien’s gaze softened, and he reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “You were brave,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “Please, next time, listen to me.”

Laughter burst from your throat, high pitched and manic. “I can’t promise that.”

As the adrenaline from the fight began to fade, a sense of relief washed over you. A'rien finished securing the last knot and stood up, glancing at you with a twinkle in his eyes. He broke the silence with a light-hearted chuckle.

"That's two life debts now," he said, his voice teasing. "You’ll never be rid of me at this rate."

You laughed softly, the tension easing from your shoulders. "That’s fine by me," you replied, meeting his gaze with a warm smile. "I don’t want to be rid of you."

A'rien’s expression softened, his warm eyes meeting yours. Without thinking, you stepped closer, your heart beating faster as you felt the magnetic pull between you.

He reached out, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The gesture was tender, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flickered to your lips and then back to your eyes, silently asking for permission.

You nodded, your breath hitching as you leaned in. His lips met yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth. A'rien’s kiss was surprisingly soft, his lips cool against yours. You could taste a hint of metallic sweat, mingled with an almost earthy flavour that was distinctly his. 

You responded, deepening the kiss as your arms found their way around his neck. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer, the strength in his embrace balanced by an unexpected gentleness. He kissed you like a man starved. Or, perhaps, like a man who had wanted to do this for far too long.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. You could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

A'rien’s eyes were half-closed, a content smile playing on his lips. His fangs peeked through. Cute. 

"I never thought I’d find someone like you," he murmured, his voice thick.

The night was quiet again, the tension of the earlier confrontation easing into a calm, peaceful silence. You and A'rien stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, simply enjoying the moment. The warmth of his presence, the steady beat of his heart, was a comforting balm to your nerves.

A'rien broke the silence with a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “We should alert the guards that we have Solveig before he wakes up,” he said softly.

You nodded, your thoughts reluctantly shifting back to the unconscious orc tied to your porch. “Will he have a concussion?” you asked, glancing over at Solveig’s prone form.

“Definitely,” A'rien replied with a small smile. “Orcs are hardy. He’ll be fine.”

As you started to pull away, A'rien leaned in to kiss you again, a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart flutter. His hands gently released their hold on you, but the warmth of his touch stayed with you.

As you turned towards the door, a thought struck you, and you paused. “A'rien, why are you in town?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. “You never did answer me, and with Solveig here, I can’t help but wonder…”

A'rien’s expression grew slightly more serious, his eyes holding yours for a long moment. He opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of his words seemed to hang in the air.

Eventually, A'rien took a deep breath and met your gaze. "I suppose you deserve to know the truth," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and vulnerability. "I was supposed to be trying out for a position as a city guard."

You blinked in surprise, and then a laugh bubbled up, breaking the tension. "Why did you hide that from me?"

A faint smile played on his lips. "I wanted you to think I was skilled and battle-worthy, not just some recruit trying out for a position. I didn't want you to see me as weak."

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. "A'rien, you are skilled and battle-worthy. You've proven that more than once. You should still go for the position."

He shook his head, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. "How can I be a good guard if I've had to be saved by you twice now?"

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips capturing his. The odd texture of his skin didn’t bother you; the warmth of his breath, the coolness of his scales, made your chest flutter. 

His surprise melted into warmth, and he responded with a deep, breathy sigh. 

When you pulled back, your foreheads resting against each other, you whispered, "You are strong and capable, A'rien. Everyone needs help sometimes. That doesn't make you weak.”

A'rien’s eyes softened. "You always know what to say," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth.

Just then, the distant sound of guards approaching grew louder, breaking the intimate bubble around you. A'rien straightened, his hand still holding yours. "I suppose we should let them know about Solveig," he said, his tone practical, even as his eyes glowed.

You rolled your eyes, sliding your hand snugly into his. “I suppose we should.”

[extra-wolf]

“Stop thinking so much about vampires.” No. You start thinking about vampires MORE.

[extra-wolf]

Excellent story! 🥰

Perfect mix of action and emotions!

Male Vampire/Female Reader

SFW

Wordcount: 3,665

Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

When your friend begs you to help her brother, you have no choice is to agree. But what is he?

When you ripped the front door open, the sight at your doorstep stopped you cold. There, bathed in the harsh glow of the porch light, was your best friend; but something was terribly wrong. Her clothes were soaked in blood, her face etched with a panic that sent a ripple of fear through you. 

“We need to come inside.”

You stammered out, “of course, come in,” your mind reeling to keep up.

Before you could even form a question, she brushed past you, half-dragging, half-carrying an unconscious figure into your house.

“What the hell is going on?” you stammered, but Ir1ina pushed past you, stumbling inside without even acknowledging you’d spoken.

The living room turned into an emergency scene, as she laid the person down with more care than you expected from her frantic entrance. It took a moment for the reality to sink in. The person on your floor was Dumitru, Irina’s older brother; but he looked… wrong. Not least because of the blood now pooling on your hardwood floor.

"You need to get him to a hospital," you told Irina, eyes narrowed. The gash on his head looked deep, and his stillness was unnerving.

Irina shook her head vehemently. "You're a paramedic, can't you do something? Please," she begged, the plea in her eyes impossible to ignore.

Despite the doubts swirling in your mind, you couldn't turn away from the silent appeal in Irina's gaze. With a deep breath, you set to work, your training kicking in despite the circumstances. You cleaned the wound as best as you could, the blood washing away to reveal the extent of the damage. The gash was deep, and you knew it needed stitches.

You fetched your medical kit, your hands steady as you threaded the needle. The act of sewing the wound closed was familiar, a procedure you'd performed countless times, yet never in your own living room, and never on someone you knew. 

With each stitch, you couldn't help but worry about the lack of response from him. Concussions were tricky, and without the proper equipment, there was only so much you could do.

You worked with care, trying to keep your stitches even, the thread pulling the edges of the wound together. The silence in the room was heavy, filled with the tension of the moment and the weight of your thoughts. 

What if Dumitru needed more help than you could give?

After tending to the gash on Dumitru's head, you shifted your focus, carefully moving him to the sofa to conduct a more thorough examination. Your hands worked methodically, guided by your paramedic training, as you checked him for any other concealed injuries that might have gone unnoticed in the initial panic.

Gently, you palpated his abdomen and limbs, looking for signs of internal bleeding or fractures, your touch deliberate but gentle. You knew the importance of being thorough; hidden injuries could be just as dangerous, if not more so, than the visible ones. 

Thankfully, aside from some bruising and minor lacerations, there didn't seem to be any other significant injuries.

Concussion was a concern, given the blow to his head. You couldn't perform a scan, but you did the next best thing, checking his pupils for signs of asymmetry or sluggish response. You kept the room dimly lit and ensured he was lying in a recovery position to maintain an open airway.

It wasn’t much, but it was as all you could do.

Once satisfied you'd done all you could with the resources at hand, you turned to Irina, the weight of responsibility heavy on your shoulders. "He needs to be seen in a hospital," you insisted, your voice firm despite the fatigue nibbling at the edges of your resolve. "I've done what I can, but he needs a full medical evaluation."

Irina's reluctance was palpable, her answers evasive. "We can't," she murmured, avoiding your gaze. "It's complicated."

The vague response did little to put you at ease. "Is there something you're not telling me?" you asked, the puzzle pieces not quite fitting together. "Why can't he go to a hospital?"

Before Irina could respond, a soft groan from the sofa cut through the tense atmosphere. Your attention snapped back to Dumitru, whose eyes were fluttering open, confusion and pain etched across his features as he tried to orient himself.

Dumitru's slow return to consciousness allowed you a closer inspection, you swallowed down your unease. His skin, though naturally tanned, carried an ashen pallor that seemed at odds with his otherwise robust appearance. His eyes, dark to the point of being almost black, looked different to normal. Despite the grime and blood that marred his features, there was an undeniable, almost ethereal handsomeness about him…

Yet, as he moved, something about him seemed fundamentally off. His teeth, when he cringed, were uniformly sharp, more reminiscent of a predator's than a human's. His posture, too, was peculiar, his back hunched in a way that suggested something wrong with his skeleton, and his limbs seemed to bend in ways that made you uneasy.

When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble, tinged with confusion. "Where am I?" he murmured, his gaze flitting around the room, landing on his hand as it retreated from his wound. The sight of his own fingernails, tapered to points like claws, seemed to shock him as much as it did you.

Your instinctive step back was halted by Irina's steadying grip. Dumitru's eyes widened in realization, a dawning understanding that his appearance was the cause of your alarm. "I'm sorry," he began, his apology cut short by your demand for clarity.

"What's going on, Irina?" you pressed, your voice a mix of fear and the need for answers. "What is he?"

The silence stretched on, the tension in the room making your pulse thrum. 

Irina, usually so open and forthright, remained tight-lipped, her gaze averted. Dumitru, for his part, seemed lost in thoughts of his own, his dark eyes clouded with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

Your instincts were at odds, the ingrained desire to help clashing with a creeping sense of fear that whispered caution. Dumitru kept his head low, but you could still see how wrong he looked. The more you stared, the more obvious it became; his once rich skin was now ashen grey, lips peeled back as if his teeth were too sharp for his mouth.

It was difficult to look at him, really, and you suppressed a shudder.

It was Dumitru who finally broke the silence, his voice so different from the gentle, lilting accent you remembered. Now, it was rough, almost guttural, carrying a depth that seemed to vibrate through the very air. 

"I didn't want you to find out like this," he confessed, each word seeming to cost him. "I never wanted to involve you in this... in my world."

The raw honesty in his admission made your stomach turn. "What does that mean?" you demanded, your voice steadier than you felt. "What are you?"

It was Irina who answered, her voice barely above a whisper, "He's... it's complicated, but the closest thing we have to a comparison is a vampire. There are those who would see him dead."

The revelation was a jolt. Your legs crumpled beneath you, and Irina couldn’t dash forward in time to catch you as you collapsed on the cold floor.

A vampire, in your living room, bleeding and vulnerable. Not only that, but he was your friend.

The weight of the revelation pressed heavily upon you, each breath feeling thicker, harder to draw. You needed space, a moment to process the impossible reality that had just unfolded in the safety of your home. 

"I need a moment," you managed to say, voice wobbling as you clambered to your feet.

Irina made a move to follow as you turned towards the door, her instinct to comfort and explain battling against your clear need for solitude. "Please, just give me some space," you said, a firmness in your tone that brooked no argument.

Behind you, Dumitru's voice reached out. "Please, I never meant for any of this. I don't want to hurt you.”

Whatever he was going to say next cut short as you slammed the front door shut. 

Outside, the world lay bathed in the gentle glow of the moon. You took a deep breath, the cool air filling your lungs, and rested your head on the porch railing.

You fought for composure, for the calm that seemed so elusive now. The cool night air worked its subtle magic, each deep breath grounding you, until you remembered how to breathe properly.

Your thoughts shattered when Dumitru's voice drifted through the closed window, his voice unsteady. "I've put her in danger," he muttered, the gravelly undertone of his voice more pronounced than before. "She must hate me now. I've ruined any chance of being close to her."

The confession halted your retreat, a jumble of emotions clouding your thoughts. Driven by curiosity, heart thudding, you approached the window.

Peering through the glass, the figure you saw made your stomach drop Whatever… glamour that had once cloaked his true form had fallen away, revealing his raw, unmasked essence. His skin was paler now, an ashen hue that seemed almost translucent under the dim light. The sharpness of his features was more pronounced, his cheekbones jutting, his jawline too sharp. Even his ears were elongated, tapering to points that seemed to twitch slightly, angled down in… embarrassment?

Yet, it was the vulnerability in his posture. It was the slumped and uneven shoulders and the haunted look in his eyes, that struck you the most. 

The sight of him, so changed and yet so familiar, stirred a well of emotions within you—fear, yes, but also a deep-seated pull towards him.

With a resolve that surprised even yourself, you turned away from the window, the decision to face what lay inside solidifying with each step. 

Maybe you didn’t understand what was going on, but he was still Dumitru. 

As you re-entered the room, Dumitru's eyes lifted to meet yours, a glimmer of hope flickering there. The sight of him—hunched, nervous, unnatural—didn't repulse you as you might have expected. Instead, a wave of sympathy washed over you.

You approached and took a seat beside him, and it seemed to take both him and Irina by surprise.  You leaned your head against his shoulder, taking comfort in the odd coolness of his skin.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. “For running away.”

Dumitru's response was a soft, pained noise, but he sank into your side anyway. 

Irina watched, a silent observer, saying nothing.

"If people want you dead," you continued, your voice steady, "I'll protect you."

Dumitru smiled, showing razor-sharp teeth. “Thank you.”

***

Over the next few days, the tension began to dissipate, the immediate danger receding into the background as Dumitru's wounds healed. With each passing day, he regained more of his human appearance, until all that remained was a faint scab on his forehead and his unnaturally pointed teeth.

Now, the atmosphere in the kitchen was light, almost domestic, as you and Dumitru moved around each other with an easy familiarity. The sound of sizzling and the aroma of breakfast cooking filled the air, music playing faintly in the background.

"You know, you didn't have to do this," Dumitru said, nodding towards the stove where you were flipping pancakes. His voice was soft, inhuman edge almost gone.

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. "I wanted to. Besides, cooking's more fun with company. Pass the sugar?"

As you reached for the syrup, Dumitru moved to grab the sugar. The brush of his arm against yours sent a jolt through you, and his quick, murmured sorry did little to calm the flutter in your chest.

The urge to turn and kiss him was almost overwhelming, so sudden that it left you breathless. Yet, you held back, acutely aware of Irina's presence just upstairs.

A knock at the door sliced through the comfortable hum of the morning, sending a ripple of tension through you.You weren't expecting anyone, and the timing felt too coincidental for comfort.

Your stomach churned. "I'll check it out. Stay here," you instructed Dumitru, a protective instinct flaring within you as you moved towards the door. 

Irina, alerted by the knock, made her way downstairs, a question in her eyes that mirrored your own concern.

Your hand hesitated on the door handle, the quiet murmur of Dumitru's and Irina's movements behind you a small comfort. With a steadying breath, you opened the door, peering out to confront the source of the disturbance.

Two men stood on your doorstep, their presence immediately setting off alarm bells in your mind. One bore the unmistakable mark of a recent injury, a gash down his cheek in the process of healing.

The only warning you had was Irina’s sharp intake of breath. The men, having spotted Irina, shifted with a predatory quickness.

Before you could react, before you could slam the door or call out for Dumitru, the men darted for you. A forceful push sent you tumbling to the ground, the impact jarring as you hit the floor. 

Pain lit up your side as you landed, vision swimming. Scrambling to regain your footing, your mind raced for solutions, for a way to protect yourself and your friends. 

As one of the intruders lunged towards Irina, the other, knife in hand, loomed menacingly over you. The glint of the blade caught the morning light. Your heart pounded in your chest, pulse roaring in your ears.

Before he could do anything though, a guttural scream pierced the air. 

Suddenly, Dumitru launched himself at the man standing over you with a ferocity that was staggering.

The room became a blur as Dumitru threw himself at the attacker. His movements were swift, driven by a desperation that made him seem larger, more imposing. 

Dumitru and the man slammed into the opposite wall in a tangle of limbs. You caught a flash of sharp teeth and a gaunt, grey face as Dumitru turned to look at you, before rounding on your assailant again.

The other assailant, seeing his companion in distress, quickly joined the fray. Shoving Irina aside, he launched himself at Dumitru, blade catching the light. 

Dumitru tried to dodge, but two against one quickly overwhelmed him. The knife glinted, and suddenly Dumitru was on the ground, writhing, as crimson blood dripped onto your floor.

Seeing Dumitru in trouble, your fear transformed into action. You pushed yourself off the ground, darting for Irinia before either of the men could turn on her.

With Irina safely behind you, you darted into the kitchen, your eyes scanning for anything that could serve as a weapon. The knives, frustratingly, were out of reach, but your gaze landed on a heavy pan resting on the stove. Without hesitation, you seized it, the weight of it oddly comforting in your hands.

As you re-entered the fray, the scene that greeted you was one of grim determination. Dumitru was on the ground, the two men towering over him, their intent clear in their raised weapons. 

Your heart raced, fear and anger swirling within you as you took in the sight of Dumitru, fighting against the odds.

“Come and get me, assholes!”

The nearest one turned just in time to meet the pan as it swung through the air, connecting with a resounding thud. The impact sent him crumpling to the ground, unconscious.

You dropped to Dumitru’s side. “Are you all right?” you asked, taking his jaw in your palm. His old wound had reopened, and his dark eyes met yours.

Then, he surprised you. In one swift movement, he flipped you over, positioning his body as a shield between you and the remaining assailant. The world upended, and for a moment, all you could see was Dumitru's determined gaze.

As the remaining assailant lunged forward, weapon in hand, Dumitru didn't hesitate. Curved around you, a physical barrier against the threat. The blade found its mark, but not in you; Dumitru took the wound meant for you, a grimace of pain briefly contorting his features.

Yet even as he shuddered from the impact, Dumitru's resolve didn't waver. With a swift, almost graceful movement, he disarmed and incapacitated the assailant, knocking him to the ground and sending the knife clattering. 

The last man fell, crumpling next to his unconscious companion, and the immediate threat evaporated.

You finally allowed yourself to breathe, the adrenaline that had sustained you through the confrontation slowly ebbing away.

Dumitru wobbled, his strength waning with the adrenaline's fade, and Irina was there to catch him.

Together, you helped lower him to the ground, your paramedic training springing to the forefront of your mind as you assessed his injuries. The puncture wounds were serious but, thankfully, avoided any vital areas—a small mercy.

"Is that all of them?" you asked, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions. "Are more coming after you?"

Dumitru's eyes, clouded with pain, met yours as he shook his head. "That's all," he confirmed, his voice a whisper. "They wanted me dead because of what I am... because I was stupid enough to reveal my true . I thought they were friends.”

The revelation burned like acid. 

Sighing, Irina brushed dark hair from her face. “I’ll get your first aid kit,” she murmured, “it sure has been getting a lot of use lately.”

Irina's quick departure left the hallway feeling suddenly quiet, the aftermath of the chaos settling like dust around you. Your breath came in heavy, uneven pulls, the adrenaline that had spiked through your veins now giving way to relief.

You glanced towards the unconscious men, considering the practicality of securing them to prevent any further threat. "We should probably tie them up, just in case they wake up," you murmured, more to yourself than to Dumitru.

Before you could move to act on your thought, Dumitru's arm encircled your middle, drawing you close with an unexpected gentleness that contrasted sharply with the violence you'd just witnessed. The proximity was startling, his presence a solid reassurance that grounded you amidst the aftermath.

He drew you in, the stark sharpness of his teeth, the undeniable otherness of his face that had once seemed so jarring. Yet now, in the quiet, those inhuman features seemed less like markers of a monster and more like… just like him.

Warmth washed over you, melting away the last dregs of fear. The space between you felt charged with a new understanding.

Without a word, you leaned in and kissed him. His response was immediate, a mingling of relief and something akin to wonder, as if he too had been waiting for this.

Dumitru's lips were cool against yours. There was an underlying taste of copper, a reminder of his injuries, but it did nothing to deter you from pressing yourself closer. If anything, it grounded the kiss in the reality of what you'd both endured, what you'd survived together.

As you pulled away, Dumitru whispered, “thank you.”

Laughter bubbled to the surface. “I didn’t do much, though the pan came in handy.”

"It's not just for the fighting," he clarified, his voice rough. "Thank you for accepting me... for not being afraid of what I am."

His hands, gentle despite their strength, cradled your face, sharp nails skimming across your skin. 

In response, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, right above the cut, a silent reassurance. "It's all right now," you murmured.

The bubble burst with Irina's return. She stood at the doorway, a first aid kit in hand and a knowing smile playing on her lips. The amusement in her eyes was clear as she took in the scene before her, her brother and you, together.

"Am I interrupting something?" she teased, the warmth in her voice taking any sting out of the words. "Should I come back later?"

Dumitru's laughter, despite the circumstances, was beautiful. He beckoned Irina closer, and she all but collapsed at his side.

As he attempted to shift into a more comfortable position, a wince of pain flickered across his features. Quick to reassure, he managed a strained smile. "I'm fine," he insisted, though the evidence was to the contrary.

Together, you and Irina set about the task of tending to his wounds, the first aid kit's contents spread out before you. The work was methodical, each bandage and antiseptic application a step towards healing, towards normalcy.

It was inevitable that your thoughts turned to the unconscious men still lying in your home. "What about them?" you asked, your gaze flicking towards the room where they lay. "What do we do with them?"

Dumitru's response was immediate, a shadow of his earlier humor returning. "I'll take care of them," he said, a statement that sent a jolt of alarm through you.

“Wait, hold on—”

"No, no," he assured, shaking his head as much as his injuries would allow. "I'm not going to kill them. I can... make them forget about me."

The concept, so outlandish yet spoken with such certainty, left you reeling. Then again, everything else was so crazy, why not?

With Dumitru's wounds carefully tended to, the atmosphere in the room shifted, the tension easing. You leaned in, and with a gentle sureness, you kissed him. His lips were cold against yours, and his teeth grazed your lip with an edge of sharpness.

“I don’t know how the hell we managed that,” you murmured, “but the three of us made a pretty good team.”

"We did," Dumitru agreed.

Then, heedless of Irina’s laugh, you dove in for another kiss.

[extra-wolf]

That was lovely!

Male Shapeshifter/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 2,334 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You left home hoping for a new beginning, and stumble upon a safe haven in the carnival. The owner isn't what he seems, but maybe that's exactly why you trust him.

You sat on the edge of the hotel bed, a small stack of crumpled notes and coins spread out in front of you. Counting them for the third time didn’t change the total; it was still worryingly low. This money was supposed to buy you a new life; but all you had left was spare cash.

Had it been the right choice, leaving everything behind? The question gnawed at you as you glanced around the sparsely furnished hotel room. No roots put down, just fleeting encounters and temporary addresses. You had envisioned this journey as a liberation, a chance to get away from your stifling life. Maybe you’d been wrong.

Your eyes wandered to the window, drawn to a flicker in the distance. Past the glow of the streetlights, there was something different tonight—a distant glow. Squinting, you tried to make sense of it. A carnival, maybe? Curious, you leaned closer against the cool glass. 

The light hadn’t been there yesterday, had it? It drew you in, a golden glow against the black sky.

With a deep breath, you considered your dwindling funds once more. Maybe what you needed was a distraction, something fun and cheap to take your mind off things until you figured out a more… permanent solution.

Without waiting to change your mind, you tossed the purse into a handbag. Locking the door, a familiar twinge of uncertainty tugged at you as you made your way to the lobby. The night air greeted you with a crisp chill, and you shivered.

Outside, the street was unusually alive for this time of evening. Groups of people, families, and couples, all seemed to be migrating in the same direction—towards the bright lights that had captured your curiosity. 

Among them, a young orc man followed, his green skin glowing slightly under the street lamps. Maybe noticing your intrigued gaze, he smiled and shared, "it's Avalon Carnival. Comes around every summer. Haven't missed it since I was a kid." His voice carried a nostalgic warmth that made the lights ahead seem even more inviting.

With nothing more than a polite nod, you fell into step with the moving crowd, letting the hum of their excitement wash over you. The streets soon gave way to an open field, transformed into a bustling carnival ground. 

As you crossed the threshold, the real essence of the carnival came into full view—it was nothing like the cheap, gimmicky fairs you had visited as a kid.

This was the real thing.

Strings of lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a soft glow that illuminated faces filled with awe. You imagined your own face must have looked the same.

Tair was alive with the rich, sweet scents of candied apples and spicy mulled wine. Stalls lined the pathway, each offering a glimpse of something new — frmo games to handmade confectionary, to dwarven artisans selling little trinkets.

Further in, the carnival opened up into a wider space where performers waved at the audience. Acrobats twirled and flipped with elven grace. The gathered crowd, mostly elves and humans, watched on in rapt silence.

As you absorbed the dazzling display, a sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you from your reverie. Heart skipping, you whipped around — and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the man standing before you. 

Dark hair fell to his shoulders, swept back to reveal sharp, angular cheekbones and stubble dusting his chin. When he smiled, crows feet crinkled at the corner of his eyes and oh, he was lovely.

His eyes, startlingly blue, softened as you looked up at him. The corners of his lips tilted in a knowing smile. "You look a bit lost," he remarked, his voice a smooth. "Do you need help?"

"No, thank you," you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. Despite your words, his gaze lingered, and your cheeks warmed.

"I'm Avalon," he said, "if you need anything, just call my name and I’ll appear.”

Avalon. Hadn’t you heard that name before..? 

Oh! This was Avalon’s Carnival. Which meant… he owned this place.

The revelation made your heart stutter. The owner himself, standing right in front of you. You wondered why he had bothered to even say hello; you were nobody important. Nobody at all.

"I hope you're enjoying the night," he continued, his voice pulling you back from the edge of your thoughts. "This place is meant to be a sanctuary, a spot of light for those who are far from home."

His words struck a chord. You were far from home, if you even still had one. Yet here in this space, the possibility of staying suddenly seemed more real. 

The warmth in Avalon’s eyes, the slight tilt of his head as he regarded you—it all spoke of a kindness that was as disarming as it was genuine.

"Perhaps I could show you around?" Avalon offered, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "There’s much to see, and sometimes, the best parts of the carnival are not the obvious ones."

With a breath, you nodded. “That actually sounds lovely. Thank you.”

When Avalon extended his arm, you took it, practically melting into his warm body. He was so much taller than you, so much broader. He smelled faintly of cinnamon. 

Together, you began to weave through the carnival. The crowds seemed to part naturally for Avalon, people moving aside without seemingly meaning to.

As you walked past trapeze artists, and stalls brimming with all manner of foods and trinkets, a sense of delight washed over you. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of roasting nuts, and Avalon’s strange cinnamon cologne. 

Yet, as enchanting as the carnival was, you found your gaze drifting back to Avalon. There was something undeniably captivating about him. Whenever you glanced away, you noticed subtle shifts in his appearance—nothing drastic, but enough to blur the details if you looked from the corner of your eyes. 

His hair seemed to darken slightly, then lighten; his eyes occasionally flickered from one shade to another. Sometimes, his ears looked slightly pointed like an elf’s.

Your lips parted to ask about it, but those beautiful, expressive eyes fixed on you — your questions dissolved.

Turning away, cheeks hot, you quietened.

You expected him to lead you to another show, or maybe a grand tent that hosted the main events. Instead, Avalon guided you away from the heart of the carnival to a small hill on its outskirts. The noise of the carnival receded gently into a comforting hum, and the view from the hill was breathtaking. 

The carnival lights spread out before you, as far as you could see. Although you could still hear the buzz of the guests, it dimmed to a low murmur.

"Why here?" you found yourself asking, looking up at Avalon. When he smiled, you caught a glimpse of sharp teeth before he disentangled himself from your grip.

“I come here when I need to think,” Avalon said. “When it all gets a bit too much. You look like someone with a lot on your mind. Maybe you could make use of this spot, too.”

Nearby, someone had set up picnic benches and chairs, likely for quiet moments just like this. You moved towards them, the grass tickling your ankles, and took a seat on one of the benches. 

Avalon joined you, sitting across with his own gaze lingering on the scene. As you both settled in, your feet accidentally bumped under the table. It was a small, unexpected touch that sent a gentle ripple of awareness through you. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, the vibrant carnival below faded into the background.

"Thank you," you said, your voice soft but sincere, "for showing me this place. It’s more than I could have expected." You paused, the question that had been gently simmering within you now finding its voice. "Why me, though? What makes me special?"

Avalon’s gaze returned to the carnival, but you sensed his attention was fully on you. "I have a certain... ability," he began, turning back to look at you with a thoughtful expression. "I can sense emotions. Among a sea of happy carnival-goers, you stood out. There’s something on your mind, something important."

You said nothing, trying to ignore how your heart fluttered. He moved as if to stand, perhaps feeling that his presence might impose; but as he rose, you reached out without thinking to take his hand. He paused.

"Please, stay," you found yourself saying, voice soft.

Avalon looked at your joined hands, then back at you, and something unspoken passed through his eyes before he sat down again, this time a little closer. 

As you both sat in silence, you couldn’t help but observe Avalon from the corner of your eye. His appearance shifted, almost imperceptibly, under the carnival lights. For a second he looked almost orcish, his features rough, skin tinged green; but as soon as you turned to look directly at him, he looked the same as always. 

It was mesmerizing, this chameleon-like nature of his. What was he? 

The quiet between you stretched comfortably, and your foot bumped his again. This time he didn’t move away and so neither did you, Converse gently tapping his boot.

You didn’t know why you had the sudden urge to tell Avalon everything. Maybe it was the silence, or his smile, or the fact that he had taken you to this quiet spot for no other reason that he wanted to.

"I left home," you admitted finally, brows scrunched as you said it.  "I was hoping to start new somewhere else. My family... they broke my trust." You paused, gathering the strength to continue. Biting your lip, you said, “they demanded money and never paid me back. Then my rent went up and I asked for the money back to put a deposit down somewhere new. They refused. I lost my house, and they wouldn't take me in. I haven't seen them since."

Avalon listened, his expression unchanging, yet his eyes softened. They were more green now, than blue.

“My parents have always been overspenders. Trips to Las Vegas, gambling. They were in a lot of debt, and I did my best to help them but… I think they resented that I started asking questions. That I wanted the money back.”

He stayed quiet, but one slender hand reached out to clasp yours. 

“It’s not like I asked for it back all at once. Just… I hoped they would have helped me the way I helped them, you know?”

Silence settled between you. The wind rustled. Below, cheers rose up from one of the big tents.

Finally, Avalon spoke. "Thank you for trusting me with your story. Places like these," he gestured vaguely at the carnival below, "they're meant to be sanctuaries. A lot of the people here have families who didn’t love them the way they should have. You’re not alone here."

His hand squeezed yours. You squeezed back. Sharp nails tickled your palm, never enough to actually hurt.

"You could stay," he said suddenly, voice firm but quiet. "There’s no need to decide right away what you’d do here. We have many roles, and everyone finds their place in time. Everyone is treated fairly, too.”

He shifted, free hand splayed across the picnic bench. Your own were beginning to sweat, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to move away. 

“You could talk to some of the carnival family, see for yourself."

The idea settled within you. The chance to travel with the carnival, to be part of a community — a family, even — was more than tempting. It was a vision of a life you had longed for, one where you could find your people. Live a life you wanted.

He was watching you, a softness in his eyes that made you shift. The carnival lights cast a warmth across his face, long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones.

The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, the background noise of the carnival fading into a distant murmur. 

Your heart beat a little faster, and without consciously deciding to, you found yourself leaning slightly closer. How easy would it have been, to lean in and press your lips to his?

Now, where had that thought come from? Remembering that he could sense emotions, you wondered if he knew how much you wanted to kiss him.

The sky was beginning to darken fully now, the first stars twinkling above you. You glanced up, smiling. 

“I never realised how beautiful the countryside is.”

When you looked back, Avalon looked different. His hair was longer, his eyes narrower. You swore they were almost golden. 

Before, you could have put his appearance down to a trick of the light. Now, even as you looked directly at him, you could see the gentle flux of his features — sharp and elven one second, skin almost glittering. Broader the next, with sharp teeth and blue-tinged skin.

Avalon turned away slightly, cheeks hot under your stare. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I hope this won’t affect your choice to stay.”

Without thinking, you leaned across the picnic table, your heart guiding your actions, and gently took his jaw in your hand. His skin was warm under your touch, and as you guided his face towards you, you felt him relax.

Without a word, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that made you shiver in delight. The kiss was gentle, his lips soft against your own; you sighed into it, eyes slipping closed, allowing Avalon’s presence to envelop you.

Finally, as you pulled away, the world rushed back in — the lights, the sounds, the chill of the night air. None of it could dispel the warmth that had blossomed in your chest. You smiled, a little breathlessly, and the words that followed were quiet.

"I'll stay."

He smiled, revealing pointed teeth. “I’m glad.”

[extra-wolf]

Another lovely and unique story!

Your creativity is just wonderful!

Male Goblin/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,127 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

Ayo accidentally takes a potion meant for somebody else. It has unintended consequences, but it's not entirely terrible.

The summer morning greeted you with a gentle breeze across your face through the open window, the sun casting a warm, golden glow over the shelves and jars of your apothecary. Today held the silent promise of goodness, the kind that made your heart light as you prepared to open shop.

With care, you began to sort through the commissioned potions for your clients; they ranged from simple herbal remedies to much more complex spells. The rhythm of sorting through the various jars was soothing, it was always your favourite part of the day.

Among them lay a potion due the next day, its contents shimmering with a rosy pink that caught the light just so. It was meant to grant poise and charm, just a little boost for a man who needed some confidence on a first date.

As the morning bustled on, the door creaked open to admit a new customer. A small goblin stepped over the threshold, a little hesitantly, as if unsure of the welcome he would receive.

You took in his appearance: mossy green skin dappled with little freckles, golden piercings glinting in his ears. He had his lip and eyebrow pierced too, decorated with little amethyst gems.

Despite his obvious shyness as he shuffled in, there was something about him that piqued your interest—an allure that you hadn't felt for a goblin before.

"I need some herbal remedies for a cough.” His voice was soft, almost tentative. "For my sister," he added quickly, as if eager to explain his presence.

As you nodded and turned to fetch the requested herbs; you could sense his eyes following you, a silent observer still. There was a gentleness to his demeanour that went against the ruggedness of his leather armour, which spoke of a life of survival… and solitude.

"You don't look like you come into town often," you ventured, hoping to coax him into conversation as you carefully selected the best herbs for a cough.

His chuckle was a quiet, nervous thing, but his grey eyes softened as you turned around to offer a smile. "Not much, no. The forest is more my home," he admitted, his gaze drifting towards the various bottles and ingredients lining your shop.

"Couldn't you find these herbs in the forest?" you inquired. "Most of what's here comes from the forest anyway."

He shifted his weight, a small smile creeping onto his face. "I'd rather trust someone who knows what they're doing," he confessed with a self-deprecating shrug. "I might end up picking the wrong thing. Poisoning myself wouldn't be too smart."

His admission brought a soft laugh from you as you placed a bottle of cough syrup alongside the bundled herbs on the counter. "Well, you're safe with these," you reassured him, meeting his gaze with a friendly smile. "Is there anything else you need?"

You noticed then, a subtle tenseness in his posture, the way his fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm on his armoured thigh. It seemed like eagerness, perhaps an anxiety to return to the familiarity of the forest. "No, that's all, thank you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of relief.

As he handed over the payment, his hand lingered for just a fraction longer than necessary, leaving behind a tip that was more generous than usual. With a quick, nervous nod, he gathered his purchase and hurried out, the door closing behind him with a gentle jingle.

There was something intriguing about him, a pull that was unfamiliar as he vanished past the window. Your heart sank a little as you realized that in the rush of the transaction, you'd never asked his name.

Turning back to the potions on the counter, you hoped for another chance to see the goblin again, to learn more about him. That's when you noticed the gap where the emboldening potion had been. Your eyes widened in realization. Could he have taken it by mistake? Or… he had left so suddenly. Had he stolen it?

Without a second thought, you dashed to the door, flinging it open with the hope of catching him. You scanned the street for any sign of the goblin's mossy green skin or the glint of his piercings. He was nowhere to be seen. For someone of such small stature, he was surprisingly quick, or perhaps the forest had taught him how to disappear so quickly.

Frustration bubbled inside you. That potion was potent — strong enough for the troll it was intended for, not a goblin half his size. You bit your lip, mind racing… and concluded that all you could do was make another for your customer. You hoped the strange goblin would be all right.

You resigned yourself to getting back to work, letting the steady flow of tasks and customers occupy your mind, pushing aside the nagging worry about the misplaced potion. Potions were brewed, advice was given, and remedies were handed out with the same care and attention you always provided.

As the day wound down and the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, you began the familiar routine of closing up. Just as you were about to turn the sign to closed, the door creaked open, the bell chiming one final time.

"We're closed, I'm afraid," you called out, not looking up as you continued to tidy the counter.

"Oh, I’ll just be a second," came a familiar voice, but there was a lilt to it now, a smoothness that hadn't been there before. 

You paused and turned, your gaze landing on the goblin who'd entered your apothecary just hours earlier.

Gone was the shy man you’d seen this morning. In place of his hunter's leathers, he wore a simple black tunic that did nothing to hide the confidence in his stance. His smile was easy, his greyish-black eyes held a glint of mischief, and he moved with a fluid grace that seemed enhanced, almost exaggerated.

"I don't think I properly introduced myself earlier," he continued with a smile. “I’m Ayo. You are..?” His voice was a little too loud in the quiet shop, his smile a little too wide.

It clicked then—the emboldening potion. He must have taken it.

"Ayo," you repeated, allowing his name to settle in your mind. "You took the potion, didn't you? The one I had on the counter?"

His grin widened, not an ounce of remorse in his expression. "Did I? Well, that explains a lot. I thought it was a freebie. I quite like the effect."

You couldn't help but muffle a laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. “Not much to do except wait it out, I’m afraid,” you said, pursing your lips to keep from smiling. “It shouldn’t last more than six or so hours… though it was made strong enough for a troll.”

Ayo's confident facade faltered just a bit, the suggestion that this new version of himself was only temporary dimming the brightness of his smile. "Wait it out — but I'm starting to enjoy this new me.”

"Why don't you wait it out here?" you suggested, brows furrowed. "Just so I can keep an eye on any unintended side effects."

Ayo arched a playful eyebrow, considering the offer. "I don't know," he teased.. "I wouldn't want to impose—unless, of course, it means spending time with someone as enchanting as yourself."

There it was, the charm dialed up to its fullest, making it hard not to be swept away by the easy compliments. Yet, you caught yourself, a gentle reminder in the back of your mind that Ayo wasn't entirely himself. His bravado was just a side effect, not a true reflection of his feelings.

Finally, with a slight push from your rational side, Ayo nodded, conceding. "Alright, perhaps staying here isn't such a bad idea. I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, under the circumstances."

You couldn't help but smile, even as you reined in the flutter in your chest. "I'll make some tea, then," you said, moving towards the small side room that served as a makeshift lounge for quiet moments like these.

Once you had brewed a calming chamomile tea, you handed Ayo a steaming mug and directed him to the sofa, plush and inviting in the cosy room. He settled in, the potion's effects making him appear more at ease, more at home than he probably should have felt.

You curled up in the armchair opposite him, tucking your legs beneath you. The room was comfortable, the air filled with the soothing scent of the tea, creating a peaceful bubble away from the world outside.

"So, tell me," he said, gesturing to the room as a whole. He had chosen to sit next to a collection of potted plants, so large that their leaves spilled halfway onto the arm of the sofa. “What's it like being an apothecary? Must be a fascinating job, mixing potions and all that."

You grinned. "It is," you replied. "There's a certain magic in helping others, even if it's just with a simple remedy for the common cold."

Ayo listened, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that left your skin hot. "I bet," he said with a grin. He had pointed teeth, you noticed, with delicate carvings.

The intensity of his stare made you shiver. To distract yourself, you downed your tea and stood to press a cool hand to Ayo’s forehead. “No fever,” you concluded. “That’s good. Do you feel unwell at all? Too warm or too cold?”

Ayo shrugged. “No. Actually, I feel better than I have in a long time.”

You hummed in agreement, leaning over to grab a piece of aloe vera from one of the pots beside Ayo. Except in your closeness, Ayo’s warm breath against your skin felt amplified. He leaned up, dark eyes glinting, close enough to kiss.

Your heart raced, a part of you tempted to close the distance; but with a gentle firmness, you turned your face away, evading his advance. "Ayo, I can't," you said softly, yet firmly. "I won't take advantage of you."

“It’s hardly taking advantage, love.”

The pet name made your knees weak, and you bit your lip to keep from saying something stupid. Instead, you said, “if you still feel this way after the potion has worn off, then maybe I’ll consider… a date. If you’d like. Only once the potion has worn off.”

The look of disappointment that briefly crossed Ayo's face was unmistakable, yet he recovered quickly, his confidence unshaken. "Fair enough," he conceded with a rakish grin. "When this wears off, I'll take you up on that date."

“Good,” you replied with a grin. Settling back into the armchair, you drew a blanket over your knees, the soft fabric a small comfort against the evening's chill.

Ayo's gaze lingered, but he made no move to breach the distance you'd established. You were quietly grateful that at least the potion hadn’t completely ruined his inhibitions.

"At least the potion hasn't completely obliterated your sense of propriety," you quipped, sinking deeper into the blanket.

Ayo's laughter echoed in the little room. "Yeah, well, you say that… but it’s taking my entire self control to stay over here," he responded with a shrug and a smirk.

Flushing, you scrambled to grab the empty teacups. Mostly just to give yourself something to do other than flounder, you asked, “more tea?” Before he could answer, you were on your feet and scrambling to the little kitchen area next door. 

As the kettle boiled on the stovetop, you poked your head back into the sitting area. Glancing at Ayo, who seemed content on the sofa, an idea took root. 

"Would you mind staying the night?" you asked, despite the little voice in your mind arguing otherwise. "It's late, and I'd like to keep an eye on you, just in case the potion decides to throw us any more curveballs."

Ayo's agreement was immediate, his nod accompanied by a grateful smile. "Sure, I can stay. Tomorrow, we could go on a breakfast date.”

You hummed. “If you’re back to normal by morning.”

Deciding that the flat above the shop would offer a more comfortable place for Ayo to spend the night, you led the way upstairs, gathering blankets and a pillow to make up a makeshift bed on the sofa.

As you finished arranging everything and turned to bid Ayo goodnight, he caught you by surprise by standing on his toes and meeting your lips in a kiss. The initial shock had you stiffening, ready to pull away, but Ayo's whispered confession stopped you.

“I couldn’t resist,” he murmured against your lips. His breath tasted of chamomile tea and something you couldn’t place. Something sweet.

You knew you should have resisted, pushed him away, but you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you with such big, hopeful eyes, that confident smile still playing on his lips. And oh, those teeth!

Screw it, you thought. It was time that you threw caution to the wind. Without giving yourself time to doubt, you bent down and kissed him again. 

Ayo's lips were soft against yours, the kiss carrying a warmth that seemed to spread through you, chasing away the remnants of the day's fatigue. 

When you finally parted, there was a softness in Ayo's gaze, a look that made your legs weak. With a smile that held more affection than you intended, you whispered, "Goodnight, Ayo."

He blew you a kiss as you retreated from the living room. You waved back, hoping that tomorrow, Ayo wouldn’t regret this.

***

The morning light had just begun to creep through the curtains when you decided to check on Ayo, curious to see how he was faring after a night under the influence of the emboldening potion. Quietly, you made your way to the living space, expecting to find him still asleep on the sofa.

Instead, Ayo was up, in the midst of lacing his boots, a look of concentration on his face. The moment he noticed you, his movements halted, and a flush of embarrassment coloured his green cheeks. It was clear he hadn't intended to be found awake, let alone preparing to leave.

"I, uh, was trying to sneak out," Ayo confessed, his voice laced with a mix of sheepishness and something deeper, more sincere. "Didn't want to wake you."

The admission stung. 

Your expression must have betrayed your feelings, because Ayo quickly added, "Not because I regret anything from last night! It's just... that wasn't me. I mean, it was me, but not me. I'm not usually that bold, and I didn't want you to see me this morning and be... disappointed."

"You don't have to sneak away," you said gently, stepping closer, the hurt beginning to ebb away as understanding took its place. "I'd rather know the real you, anyway. Boldness isn't the only thing that's attractive, you know."

Ayo's gaze lifted to meet yours, a hint of surprise flickering in his dark eyes. You noticed him fidgeting slightly, a stark contrast to the smooth assurance he'd displayed yesterday.

Sensing his unease, you took a seat beside him on the sofa, aiming to bridge the distance not just physically, but emotionally as well. "About that breakfast date," you began, watching his reaction closely. "Is that still on the table?"

The effort Ayo made to temper his enthusiasm was almost endearing; the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, betraying his excitement despite his best attempts to remain composed. "If you're still interested, yeah," he said quickly. Too quickly. It was sweet.

In response, you reached out and took his hand. Leaning forward, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. His skin was rough and warm. 

"I'd like to go," you said. "For what it's worth, I'm interested in getting to know the real Ayo, not just the version the potion showed me."

Ayo's enthusiasm was infectious, his smile making your stomach flip. "I can't wait," he blurted out, then quickly added, "Sorry, I don't mean to seem overeager."

You couldn't help but laugh. Not at him, of course, never at him. "It's okay," you assured him. "I'm excited too"

The idea of a breakfast date now hung in the air, a tempting prospect. Yet, Ayo, ever mindful of his responsibilities, hesitated. "I should probably check in on my sister first, let her know where I've been... and explain my unexpected absence."

With a nod of understanding, you stood up, closing the distance between you with a few short steps. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He was so much shorter than you, but you didn’t mind one bit.

"Meet me back here in an hour, then?" you suggested.

Ayo's smile was all the answer you needed. "I'll be here," he promised.

“Good.”

WIth one final kiss, you let him go. Last night had been… interesting; but you had the feeling that today would be even better.

[extra-wolf]

😍

Lovely!

Male Troll/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,160 Tags & Warnings: plus size monster Part One | Part Two (here!) Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You’re an escort, but the last thing you expected was to fall for your favourite client.

Months had trickled by since the last night with Sorrel, each day a silent echo of the one before. You'd found a semblance of routine in your new job at a local diner, the hustle and bustle a welcome distraction from the memories that often sought to intrude upon your thoughts. Escorting had taken a backseat, a part of your life that now felt like a distant echo, though you occasionally dipped back into that world on a whim, or perhaps in a silent hope.

One chilly evening, after a rare night out with friends, you found yourself outside a dimly lit pub, laughter spilling into the night as you said goodnight. Ruhui, with his sharp grin and infectious laugh, fumbled with his phone, trying to summon a taxi back home. 

Sage, the centaur, stood beside you, his towering form a comforting presence, his breath visible in the cold air as he chuckled at Ruhui's impatience.

As the moment stretched, your own phone buzzed with an unexpected alert.. A notification from the escort app, a ghost from your past life flickering to life on the screen. The name displayed was unmistakably Sorrel.

Ruhui, catching the change in your demeanor, peered over with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ooh, is that a message from a secret admirer?" he teased, his voice a playful growl.

Sage leaned in, his interest piqued despite his attempt to remain nonchalant. "Sorrel, wasn't that the troll you mentioned? The one with the mossy hair you talked about so much." His tone was teasing yet tinged with warmth.

You couldn't help but smile at their antics, the familiarity warming you despite the chill weather. "Yes, that's him," you admitted. "I haven't heard from him in months, not since he went back home. I wonder why he’s messaging now."

Ruhui let out a hearty laugh, his tail wagging in amusement. "Maybe he's finally realised he can't live without your charming company and wants to whisk you away to his troll kingdom," he joked.

Sage nudged you playfully, a smile gracing his features. "Well, aren't you going to read it? The suspense is killing me. If he's declaring undying love, I want to hear every word."

Their lighthearted teasing brought a smile to your lips. The possibility of reconnecting with Sorrel sent a flutter of excitement through you, tempered by the uncertainty of what his message might contain.

With anxiety in your chest, you tapped on the notification, the glowing screen casting a soft light in the darkened street. The message from Sorrel was brief, yet each word seemed to carry the weight of the months that had passed since your last meeting.

I’m back in town. Mother's well. Would like to meet, if you're willing. It’s been a while, I know, I understand if you've moved on. -Sorrel

The simplicity of the message, the underlying humility and the gentle acknowledgment of the time that had elapsed, stirred something inside of you. You thought of his dark, gentle eyes, his confident grin, his big, strong hands…

As you stood there, lost in thought, Ruhui's voice cut through the silence, his teasing tone laced with genuine curiosity. "Well, what does our mysterious troll have to say? Has he penned a love sonnet, or is it a summons to his forest abode?"

You couldn't help but smile at Ruhui's relentless joking. "He's back in town," you shared, keeping the details brief. "His mother's recovered, and he... he wants to meet up."

Ruhui's eyebrows raised in surprise, his earlier humor giving way to a more sincere interest. "Ah, the plot thickens! You have to tell me everything if you decide to meet him," he insisted, his tone a blend of excitement and concern. "If you don't, well, I'll need to know that too."

As he clambered into the waiting taxi, you watched him with a sigh settling in your chest. 

Sage gracefully followed suit, the special accommodations of the taxi designed to cater to the unique needs of quadrupedal beings like centaurs allowing him to settle comfortably. He offered you a wave as he shut the door and called, “don’t spare us any details!”

The taxi pulled away with a soft purr, leaving you alone with the glow of the streetlamps and the echo of Sorrel's message. The possibility of seeing him again made your heart thump, hands shaking as you clicked reply.

I’m free Saturday, you choose the time. Can’t wait.

As you hailed a taxi and clambered into the back, you were aware of the thrum of your pulse, the shake in your voice as you told the driver your address. All this over a man you’d met twice. 

The taxi ride home felt different that night, charged trepidation that pulsed through you with every heartbeat. Part of you had resigned to the idea that the chapter of your life involving him had gently, yet firmly, closed. 

Alone in the back of the taxi, the city lights blurring past, you found yourself tumbling between eager anticipation and apprehension. 

Your phone, cradled in your hands as if it were a lifeline, buzzed with Sorrel's reply, breaking the spell of your contemplation. 

How does eight sound? I'll leave the choice of place to you.

The act of choosing the location, a task typically dictated by the preferences and whims of your clients, felt different this time. Sorrel's willingness to let you decide, to place the decision squarely in your hands, made it feel less like a normal escort job and more like… dare you think it, almost like a real date?

The taxi's steady hum soothed your nerves as you rode home. In the quiet, you allowed yourself to think. The place had to be special, a setting that would provide the right atmosphere for the evening. Something classy, like Sorrel, but maybe more relaxed.

An idea sparked then, and you grinned. You knew the perfect place.

***

Saturday arrived with a flurry of anticipation and nerves. You found yourself in front of your wardrobe, the array of clothing suddenly seeming inadequate for the occasion. The memory of Sorrel, impeccably dressed during your first meeting, guided your choice. 

After much deliberation, you settled on an outfit that struck the perfect balance between simplicity and elegance - a sleek, midnight blue dress that hugged your form in all the right places, complemented by a pair of cute kitten heels. 

With your outfit decided, you grabbed a taxi to the restaurant, stepping out onto the cool street with a shiver. The restaurant you’d picked was beautiful inside and out, filled with fresh flowers and thick green foliage. It looked like a traditional trollish place from first glance, as you stepped up to the door - big booths designed for large gatherings. Everyone inside was eating family-style, sharing lots of small dishes and drinking rich, red wine.

You were a bundle of nerves as you stepped up to the waiting area, secretly hoping to be the first one there, to have a moment to collect your thoughts before Sorrel's arrival. The hostess - a tall mountain troll with snowy white hair - greeted you with a warm smile.

“I’ve got a booking under, ah, Sorrel?”

Her eyes brightened. "Ah, your date has been anxiously waiting for you," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "He arrived about five minutes ago."

The revelation that Sorrel was already there, waiting, sent a flutter through your heart, the mix of excitement and nervousness intensifying with each step you took towards the table.

As the waitress led you through the restaurant, the ambient lighting and the murmur of conversations creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere, you spotted Sorrel. He was seated at a booth set for two, his presence commanding yet not imposing. Dressed in an emerald green suit that complemented hismossy hair and stone grey skin, he managed to look both distinguished and entirely at ease. The suit was tailored to accommodate his broad shoulders and hulking form, and you suppressed a delighted shiver.

The sight of him, so well put together and radiating a warm, welcoming energy, melted away the last of your apprehensions. It felt right, to see him again, as if you’d never been apart.

As the waitress announced your arrival, Sorrel's head turned, and his eyes met yours. The world around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the brightness of his gaze and the soft, sharp-toothed smile spreading across his lips.

“I’ll let you two have a look at the menus,” the waitress said with a smile. “If you need anything, let me know.”

As the waitress discreetly withdrew, leaving you and Sorrel in your little bubble, you were unable to tear your gaze away from him. The way the soft lighting played off the gorgeous gold tint to his eyes. His gaze was all consuming, rendering the rest of the world irrelevant.

Sorrel's hand reached across the table, his touch gentle as he enveloped your hand in his own. The warmth that radiated from him was not just physical; you seemed to feel it in your very being.

"I'm sorry for the silence," he began, his voice laced with genuine regret. "I know that I told you, but it always feels different when it actually happens. In most clans, when we return to the family den, we abide by certain rules. No technology, no contact with the outside world unless necessary. It's meant to be a time of reconnection with our roots, but it also meant I couldn't reach out to you."

The sincerity in his apology, the earnestness in his eyes, dissolved any remnants of disappointment you might have harboured.

A shy smile found its way onto your lips as you squeezed his hand in reassurance. "I... I missed you, Sorrel," you admitted, the words barely a whisper, pulse quickening. 

Sorrel's reaction was one of genuine surprise, his bushy eyebrows lifting slightly as he processed your words. "You missed me?" he echoed, as if the concept was one he hadn't dared to entertain. "I thought, given the time and the silence, you might have moved on, perhaps even forgotten about our time together."

His vulnerability made him all the more endearing. You found yourself drawn in, desperate to close the gap between you and press your lips to his. 

"Forget you; I couldn't if I tried," you responded wistfully. You were still wondering how soft his lips were. "Our time together... it was unlike anything. How could I forget?"

Sorrel's response to your words was a smile that transformed his entire demeanour, his pointed teeth lending a wild edge to his full lips. The sight of it, so uniquely him, stirred a deep-seated desire within you to close the distance, to feel the press of his lips against yours. Yet, the awareness of the other patrons, the gentle clink of cutlery and the murmur of conversation that filled the restaurant, held you back.

Seeking a diversion from the mounting tension, you turned your attention to the menu. "Should we see what they have to offer?" you suggested, your voice steady despite the thump of your heartbeat.

As you both leaned in to check out the menu, the proximity allowed you a clearer view of Sorrel, the details of his face more pronounced now. You could see the golden flecks in his eyes, the faint scar on his cheek. A childhood mishap, maybe? Then there were his hands, so big and broad as they held the menu, his skin a beautiful, soft grey-brown. 

The desire to reach out, to trace the lines of his jaw, to feel the texture of his skin, was a real force, yet you restrained yourself, the menu a flimsy barrier against the longing that threatened to sweep you away.

Sorrel's enthusiasm for the cuisine became apparent as he pointed out his favorite dishes, his voice animated and rich with inflection. "The forest mushroom stew looks divine," he noted, his finger tracing the menu's description. "And the herb-crusted venison, if it’s cooked right, could be a real winner."

A smile touched his lips as he looked up at you, the humour not lost on him. "A human-troll fusion restaurant," he mused, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I must say, I didn't expect it, but it's a delightful choice."

You grinned. “I thought it was fitting. Though, uh, I don’t know much about troll dishes…”

“Then allow me to teach you.”

You leaned in, poring over the menu together. It was difficult to rein in your excitement as you settled your hand inside his. Not only because you were genuinely curious about his traditional food, but because it gave you the perfect excuse to listen to that velvety, deep voice of his.

As he explained the origins of each dish, the traditional ingredients, and the methods of preparation, you found yourself captivated not only by the food but by the way his face lit up with each explanation. His enthusiasm was infectious, and it was impossible to tear your gaze away from him.

You decided on a spread of dishes that showcased the best of both worlds; the forest mushroom stew Sorrel recommended, breads with creamy dipping sauces, and mixed vegetables in a spicy stir fry sauce. 

To complement it, you chose a dish of grilled fish seasoned with a blend of human and troll spices, mostly because you could smell the dish a table over, and it made your mouth water.

As the waitress took your order, her smile widened, and as she turned to leave, she couldn't help but remark, "you two make such a cute couple. Keep a hold of him, girl, he’s a keeper."

The comment, though likely well-intentioned, sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks, the word couple igniting a flurry desire that you struggled to contain. 

You offered her a nervous grin, cheeks flushing scarlet at Sorrel’s deep, rumbling laugh. He didn’t correct her, and neither did you.

Once the waitress had vanished to another table, your eyes darted to Sorrel. He was still beaming, pointed teeth poking at his lower lip. He had small lower tusks that you’d somehow never noticed before, barely visible until now.

“So,” you said with a smirk, “the waitress thinks I should hold onto you, huh?”

Sorrel’s eyes sparkled. "In troll society, we often say the larger the troll, the larger the heart. By that measure, I suppose I'm quite the catch," he quipped.

You bit the inside of your lip, only managing a satisfied hum. It was true that Sorrel was hefty, even by troll standards; if you were being entirely honest, that was part of his appeal.

“Is that so?” you asked, if only to give your mouth something to do other than chew itself to pieces. “Then I think trolls might be onto something, there.”

He simply smiled, cheeks dusted a rosy pink, and took a sip of wine.

The rest of dinner passed pleasantly, conversation flowing as fluidly as the wine. Without meaning to, you found yourself staring at Sorrel more often than not, admiring his bulky, stone-like body and the quirk of his full lips. Sometimes he caught you staring, laughing quietly, but he didn’t seem to mind the attention.

As you and Sorrel savored the final bites of your meal forty minutes later, the air between you was charged with a playful energy. When the time came to leave, Sorrel paid for the meal with an easy smile and a thank you to the waitress. 

Then, the two of you stepped out into the cooling evening. The soft whisper of the night breeze felt like a caress against your skin, and you savoured the crisp, autumn smell. It was a moment that, in the past, would have signaled the end of your time together, the point at which Sorrel would compensate you for your company and you would part ways.

Yet, as Sorrel reached for his wallet, something within you shifted, a realization that crystallized into words before you could second-guess yourself. "Sorrel, wait," you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. "Feel free to tell me I’m crazy, but… I want more from this. From us, than just... just an arrangement."

The words hung in the air, a declaration that felt both terrifying and liberating. "While you were away, I realised something," you continued, your gaze locked with his. "I want to be with you, truly with you, if you're willing. Not as an escort, but as... as someone who cares for you, in whatever way that means to you. Being here with you tonight, it's only reinforced that feeling."

Sorrel's  expression softened. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that you hadn't heard before. "I want that too, more than you might realise, but I need to know you're certain."

Your reply was immediate, you didn’t even have to think about it. "Yes, I'm sure," you affirmed, reaching to take his hand.

That affirmation, that single word, seemed to be all Sorrel needed. In one fluid movement he stepped forward, his free hand cupping your face as he lowered his lips to yours.

The kiss was gentle, his breath warm against your skin. The taste of wine lingered on him, sweet and delicious. His pointed teeth grazed your lips with a gentle precision, always so careful.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the heat of his mouth on yours, the press of him against you, the thump of your own pulse in your veins.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, a grin spread across your face.

In the aftermath of the kiss, as the night air cooled the heat that lingered on your skin, Sorrel's voice cut through the silence. "I still want to compensate you for tonight," he said. “Although if you're agreeable, perhaps next time we could have a real date. Somewhere you'd like... a park, a museum, maybe even a wine tasting?"

His admission was both endearing and revealing, a glimpse into his experience—or lack thereof—with the nuances of human dating rituals. "I admit, my knowledge of typical human date venues is somewhat lacking," Sorrel continued, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "My, uh, dates have only ever been with you."

The sincerity sparked a warmth within you. "I know a few places," you said, your voice laced with excitement. "If you trust me to choose, that is."

Sorrel's response was immediate. "I trust you," he said, and his conviction made you shiver. "I'm looking forward to it, genuinely."

As if to seal the promise of future dates, he ducked down to kiss you once again. One arm snaked around your middle to pull you close, Sorrel’s body blocking out the evening breeze. He nipped at your jaw, laughter rumbling in his chest. It felt like a promise.

[extra-wolf]

That was beautiful and so well crafted!

Male Troll/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,343 Tags & Warnings: plus size monster Part One (here) | Part Two (coming soon!) Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You’re an escort, but the last thing you expected was to fall for your favourite client.

You pause outside the sleek facade of the restaurant, the cool evening air caressing your skin. Glancing at your phone one last time, you scroll through Sorrel's profile, absorbing every detail. Sorrel, an unusual name for an even more unusual client.

Trolls rarely make their way into the heart of the city, preferring the solitude of their natural dwellings. Yet here you are, about to meet one for dinner in one of the most upscale places in town.

Your job often demands a chameleon-like ability to adapt, to mould yourself into whatever your clients desire. A laugh here, a sympathetic nod there, all performed with the ease of a well-rehearsed play.

Sorrel's request is refreshingly simple: just company, and above all, authenticity. It's both refreshing and daunting. How long has it been since you were asked to simply be yourself?

Taking a deep breath, you tuck your phone away. Your reflection in the restaurant's glass doors gives you a moment's pause—a young woman, elegantly dressed, poised on the edge of an unfamiliar encounter.

With a final steadying breath, you push the door open and step into the warm, amber-lit interior.

A pretty waitress, with a smile as polished as the cutlery, guides you through the restaurant when you enter. The beauty of the place unfolds around you; all soft lighting and hushed tones. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over tables draped in pristine white linen, each adorned with delicate glassware and silver.

The murmur of conversation blends with the gentle clinking of dishes, and soft, classical music plays. It doesn’t strike you as the kind of place a troll would like; they’re known for their love of natural living, not fine-dining.

As you take in the opulence, a flutter of self-consciousness washes over you. The elegance of your surroundings makes you feel suddenly underdressed, and you can't help but wonder about Sorrel. The cost of dining here must be astronomical; does he intend to make a statement, perhaps to showcase you as a trophy of his affluence?

As you approach the booth, you see him. Sorrel is a striking figure, a hulking presence that commands the space around him. His mossy green hair, a wild, natural crown, complements the dense fur that covers his body. His eyes, sharp and discerning, fix on you, and there's an intelligence in his gaze that belies the brutish stereotype of his kind. Despite the tailored suit that strains slightly against his muscular frame, there's no disguising the power in his broad shoulders, the soft curve of his belly. The suit, while elegant, seems almost a concession to human norms, doing little to mask his inherent, rugged appeal.

A wave of unexpected attraction washes over you, stirring a flush of excitement in your stomach. It's an odd sensation, this pull towards someone so different.

Gathering your composure, you slide into the booth, the soft leather cool against your skin. The space between you and Sorrel crackles with an energy as you offer a gentle smile.

"Hello," you begin, your voice well-rehearsed. You're acutely aware of your posture, the calculated tilt of your head, the practiced smile. Sorrel asked for authenticity, but it’s difficult when faced with such an imposing man.

Sorrel's response, however, is not what you anticipate. His voice, deep and resonant, carries a gentleness that seems at odds with his formidable appearance. "Good evening," he rumbles, his sharp eyes softening. "I hope the night finds you well."

As he speaks, the tension in your shoulders begins to ebb. There's a sincerity in his words, a vulnerability that peeks through the confident exterior.

With a smile, you turn to the menu. You hesitate, the array of exquisite dishes foreign and intimidating. There are a lot of words, and a lot of words that you don’t understand.

Maybe sensing your uncertainty, Sorrel leans in. His hands brush against yours, and the warmth of him makes you shiver..

"The risotto is my favourite. The salmon, too - it’s this one here, at the bottom."

You glance up at him, face flushed. You’ve been on countless escort jobs, and it’s always just been that. A job. Yet, as you soak in Sorrel’s warmth, his fur tickling your palm, something stirs inside you.

The words stick in the back of your throat as a waitress arrives. All you can do is nod in agreement as Sorrel makes a suggestion, and the waitress departs with your order.

There's a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence as you take in the man before you. "I must admit," you find yourself saying, breaking the quiet with a nervous laugh, "I didn't expect someone like you to be in a place like this." The words are out before you can stop them, and a flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks. "I mean, I made assumptions based on... well, what I thought I knew about trolls. I'm sorry."

Sorrel's laughter, rich and warm, fills the space between you. "No offense taken," he assures, his smile genuine. "I often find myself frequenting these types of restaurants. The same way the forest holds its charm, so does a well-crafted dish or a beautifully composed piece of music."

"I've not had the chance to dine in places as grand as this very often," you admit with a laugh, the restaurant's opulence still wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "It's a rare treat. You must do quite well for yourself, Sorrel. What is it that you do?"

Sorrel sets his glass down, the light catching the deep green of his eyes. "I left my clan some years ago," he begins, his voice solemn now. "We had... differing views on how to engage with the expanding human world. I believed in integration, in finding a way to coexist beneficially."

You lean in, captivated by his story, the depth of his conviction. "So, what did you do?"

"I started my own company," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "We specialize in eco-friendly construction materials. It sounds dull, I know, but it’s something I care about."

Your chest flutters. "That's incredible," you respond, genuinely impressed. "Although, I’m sorry about your family.

He shrugs. “Don’t be, it’s been a long time since I’ve been back home.”

The arrival of the meal serves as a delicious interruption, and the garlicky, savoury smell makes your mouth water. The risotto you chose under Sorrel's recommendation is creamy and rich, with the earthy aroma of truffles enveloping you. Sorrel's salmon is presented with an artistry that matches the taste, the fish's delicate flesh flaking at the touch of his fork.

"This is incredible," you murmur, savouring each bite, your previous apprehensions about the evening melting away with the flavors on your tongue.

Sorrel smiles, watching you with a contented gaze that makes your heart flutter. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."

You smile, delving in, beginning to forget that this isn’t a real date. As you eat, the conversation meanders from the culinary arts to travel, to the hidden corners of the world each of you dreams of exploring. He’s a traveller, like you, although he’s visited places you could never dream of.

As the main course plates are cleared away, Sorrel suggests a dessert to share, a classic tiramisu that promises to be as light as air. When it arrives, you both lean in, the spoon Sorrel hands you brushing against his, sending a spark of electricity through you. You scoop a small portion, the dessert's creamy layers dissolving instantly on your tongue, and you can't help but close your eyes in appreciation.

"Good?" Sorrel asks, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

"More than," you reply, opening your eyes to find his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that quickens your pulse.

It's easy, in the soft lighting and over the shared sweetness of dessert, to forget the nature of how this evening came to be.

It's only when the waiter discreetly presents the bill that reality nudges you back into your role. Sorrel doesn't hesitate, reaching for his wallet with a grace that belies his size.

"How would you prefer the payment?" he asks, his tone casual but with a hint of something more, perhaps a reluctance for the evening to end in such a transactional manner.

The question jolts you back to the present, a reminder of the professional boundary that, for a fleeting moment, had seemed all but erased. "A bank transfer would be fine, thank you," you manage to say, your voice steady despite the way your stomach twists.

As you stand to leave, the warmth of the restaurant's ambiance contrasts sharply with the cool detachment now settling over you. Sorrel escorts you to the exit, his presence as reassuring as it is imposing.

At the doorway, you turn to him, the night air cool on your skin. "Thank you, Sorrel, for a truly wonderful evening," you say, sincerity lacing your words.

"Thank you," he replies, and something like regret flickers in his eyes.

On impulse, you rise on your toes and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. It's a small gesture, but it carries the weight of all the evening's revelations, his fur soft against your neck.

“Goodbye, Sorrel.”

“Goodbye. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As you part ways, the night swallowing his towering figure, you're left with a warmth that no chill can dispel. The memory of the evening, of Sorrel, lingers like a sweet aftertaste, leaving you wondering just how you’re supposed to forget about him.

***

A week slips by, quieter than usual, leading you to pick up part-time shifts at a local hotel to fill the gaps. The monotony of the days contrasts sharply with the vivid memory of your evening with Sorrel, which lingers no matter how much you try to forget.

When a new request pops up on the escort site from Sorrel, your heart leaps. The anticipation, the unexpected thrill of seeing him again, infuses your routine with a newfound energy. Preparations for your meeting are made with a care and attention you hadn't realized you'd been missing.

The park chosen for your rendezvous is entirely different to the opulent restaurant of your first encounter. As the evening draws in, the tranquility of the park, with its towering trees and the soft murmur of the evening breeze, soothes your nerves.

You spot Sorrel at the agreed-upon spot, his imposing figure somehow at peace among the natural surroundings. Today, he’s wearing a more casual fitted black shirt that hugs his generous curves.

His face lights up as he sees you approach, a genuine smile spreading across his features.

"It's wonderful to see you again," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

"The feeling's mutual, Sorrel," you reply, your own smile reflecting your genuine happiness. "I wasn't sure if you'd... well, want to meet again."

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine confusion and a hint of amusement. "Our last evening together was more enjoyable than I've had in a long time. I've been looking forward to this all week."

Your heart flutters at his words. It’s your job, you know, to be liked - but hearing it from him sends a thrill through you.

"I'm glad,” you say. “I've thought a lot about our last, er, date."

Sorrel's gaze softens, the park's gentle evening light casting a serene glow over his features. "I've found myself doing the same. There's a simplicity in your company, a peace I've come to... crave."

The admission hangs between you. It's clear that the bond formed over that dinner has only deepened with time, but you have to wonder if this feels all a little too real.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Sorrel suggests, gesturing to the winding path that leads deeper into the park.

"I'd like that," you agree, and together, you begin to walk. You link an arm through his, enjoying how big and sturdy he is. It’s difficult to resist the urge to lean in close, soaking up the scent of his cologne.

The park around you is quiet, the occasional rustle of leaves and distant sounds of the city the only interruptions to the silence.

As you walk alongside Sorrel, the proximity and the gentle brush of his hand against yours send ripples of excitement through you. Each step seems to synchronize with the beating of your heart, a rhythm that echoes the growing closeness between you. The thrill of all surprises you, and you find yourself leaning deeper against his plush side.

The small talk that fills the air between you is comfortable, and you find yourself eagerly listening to Sorrel’s deep, rumbling voice. You chat about the park, and the mundane details of your respective weeks. Yet, beneath the surface, there's a tension, as if there’s something more floating beneath the surface.

It's Sorrel who breaks the veil of casual conversation, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "You know, I've always found myself caught between two worlds," he begins, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "In the city, I'm too troll for most people to understand. Among my own kind, my views, my... aspirations make me an outsider. Too modern for my own kind, but too different for everybody else."

You listen, your heart aching at the vulnerability he's willing to share. The loneliness of his position between two worlds, becomes achingly clear.

"That's part of why I sought your company initially," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "I needed to feel understood, even if it was just for a moment, even if it had to be... bought."

The honesty of his admission strikes a chord within you, the professional facade crumbling further with each word.

"Now," Sorrel pauses, taking a deep breath, "my mother is ill. She's asked me to come home."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy with the gravity of his decision. The silence that follows is filled with a thousand unasked questions, each one a reflection of the complexity of his situation and the depth of your concern for him.

"What will you do?" you find yourself asking, the question laden with more than professional curiosity. It's a question born of a connection that's deepened beyond expectation, a genuine concern for his well-being.

Sorrel stops walking, turning to face you. In the fading light, his expression is a mix of resolve and uncertainty, green eyes thoughtful.

"I don't know," he admits, and in that moment, the vulnerability he displays, the raw honesty of his predicament, draws you even closer.

You stay quiet, allowing him a moment to think.

Sorrel's gaze drifts away for a moment, lost in thought, as if he's trying to piece together the puzzle of his future right there in front of you. "I think I need to go back," he says finally, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of resignation. "I want to be there for her, help her heal. She's always been the anchor of our clan, and without her strength..."

He trails off, the weight of his responsibilities, of his love for his family, evident in the pause. "Once she's well, perhaps I'll return to the city. Or perhaps not. The truth is, I don't know where I truly belong."

The vulnerability in his admission, the open-ended nature of his future, pulls at something deep within you. You reach out, almost instinctively, your hand finding his. The touch is electric, and you let out a muffled sigh.

"It sounds like you've got a tough road ahead," you say, your voice soft but full of empathy. "Being there for your family, making sure your mother has everything she needs to recover... it's a beautiful thing to do, Sorrel. It speaks a lot about the kind of person you are."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and in his eyes, you see a mixture of gratitude and something else, something deeper.

"Thank you," he whispers, and there's a warmth in his voice that wraps around you like a comforting embrace. "For understanding, for... for being here with me now."

The moment stretches between you. So does the quiet. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the heavy thrum of your pulse in your ears.

"You should do what's best for you," you find yourself saying, your words laced with an unspoken sadness at the thought of his departure. "Your family needs you, and it's clear your heart is with them, too."

Sorrel squeezes your hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words. "I guess I always knew my path would lead me back home, eventually."

A twinge of disappointment tugs at your heart as the reality of Sorrel's impending departure settles in. Despite the professional boundaries you should adhere to, you can't deny the longing that has blossomed between you. Yet, beneath the layers of what-ifs, you find resignation setting in.

As you both resume walking, the conversation gently shifts, weaving through lighter topics. You admit, you’re grateful for the change of topic.

You share stories of your travels, the places Sorrel has been, places you’d love to go.

"I've always wanted to visit Thailand," you mention wistfully, the image of crystal-clear waters and verdant landscapes painting your words. "The culture, the food, the beaches... it seems like a world away from here."

Sorrel listens intently, his interest genuine. "Thailand is beautiful," he agrees, "you should go sometime."

The conversation takes an unexpected turn when Sorrel, with a look of determination, insists on paying you extra for your time. "Consider it a contribution towards your Thailand adventure," he says, his tone brooking no argument.

You hesitate, aghast at the number when you check your bank account. Three-thousand dollars. The offer touching yet tinged with the finality of a parting gift.

"Sorrel, that's too generous, I can't—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice soft but firm. "Let this be my way of ensuring you get to experience the beauty of the world. You deserve it."

The sincerity in his eyes, coupled with the depth of gratitude you feel, crumbles your resistance. "Thank you," you say, the words barely a whisper, laden with a mix of emotions. "I'll never forget this."

You don’t know what else to say; but as it is, you don’t need to.

As you stand there, on the brink of farewell, Sorrel leans in. His kiss is unexpected but fervently returned as you stand on your toes, arms looping around his wide, plush waist. His lips are firm against yours, nipping at you with a passion that ignites a fire within you, the heat of his touch searing through the cool night air.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you locked together, pulse racing.

As the kiss ends, a lingering warmth remains. You stand there, caught in the afterglow, the night air now charged with longing.

Sorrel's gaze holds yours, a myriad of unspoken words swirling in the depths of his eyes. "This... This was unexpected," he murmurs, the raw honesty in his voice mirroring the vulnerability in his gaze.

You nod, a gentle smile curving your lips despite the ache in your chest. "The best things usually are," you reply, your voice soft, laced with the bittersweet tang of parting.

There's a pause, a moment suspended in time, before you lean in for one final kiss. This one is softer,, a whisper of a goodbye in the brief touch of lips.

With a light-heartedness that feels forced, you step back and offer a playful smile. "Keep in touch, okay?" The words slip out, half in jest, half in hope, even as you understand the impossibility of the request.

Sorrel's smile is tinged with a gentle sadness, an acknowledgment of the unlikelihood of such a promise. "I'll remember this," he says, his voice a low rumble, rich with emotion. "I'll remember you."

You know, from the snippets of his life he's shared, that returning to his clan means stepping away from the world as you know it. The isolation of his people, their disconnection from the modern trappings of communication, almost brings tears to your eyes.

As you part ways, the echo of his final words lingers in your heart. The night wraps around you, and you shudder.

You hope to see him again someday. Somehow, you have the feeling that you will.

[extra-wolf]

Love the grump turning soft kinda trope!

Male Gnoll/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,343 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

Ruhui owns a steakhouse across the road from your new cafe. You’ve been pining over him for months, not knowing if he’s into humans at all.

Your heart raced with excitement as you unlocked the door to your new cafe It was the culmination of years of dreaming and months of hard work. The aroma of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air, a welcoming scent that you hoped would entice passersby. As you flipped the sign to open, your stomach fluttered with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

The first few customers trickled in, offering smiles and congratulations. You felt a surge of pride with each new face that appeared at the door. Your cafe, with its cosy armchairs and warm lighting, was exactly how you had envisioned it – a haven for those seeking comfort and a good cup of coffee.

Mid-morning, a sleek black cat sauntered in, its green eyes scanning the room before settling comfortably in a sunny spot by the window. Your heart skipped a beat, the old superstition about black cats and bad luck briefly crossing your mind.

A tall orc with a friendly smile noticed your gaze on the cat. "Ah, a black cat! That's a sign of good luck in orcish culture, you know," he said with a chuckle.

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips. "Funny, for us it’s often seen as the exact opposite."

The orc laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the cafe. "Well, I say take the orcish perspective on this one. Looks like good fortune is on your side."

The morning passed in a blur of activity after that. You poured coffees, served pastries, and chatted with customers, the hum of conversation a pleasant and constant undercurrent as you worked. Yet, despite the busyness, your attention kept drifting to the steakhouse across the street.

You had noticed him a few times before, the gnoll who worked there. His tall, imposing figure was hard to miss, as you watched him linger outside with a cigarette. His coarse fur was a rich brown, and he had broad shoulders that strained the think fabric of his uniform shirt.

It wasn’t until three o’clock, however, that there was a lull long enough for you to take a break. With a smile towards Jessica, your sole employee, you stepped outside for air.

There he was again, standing with a cigarette clasped between thick, sharp claws. You offered a wave, but the gnoll only gave a curt nod before slipping back inside.

Well. So much for making friends, then.

Summoning your courage, you decided to introduce yourself anyway. If nothing else, perhaps you could grab a quick lunch and say hello to the steakhouse owner.

The steakhouse was busy, the scent of grilled meat wafting out as you opened the door. You spotted him almost immediately, the gnoll, busily moving between tables.

Approaching the front desk, you were surprised to see the gnoll was the host for today. You felt a knot of nervousness in your stomach as you waved.

"Hi, I'm the owner of the cafe across the street," you began, extending a hand. "The Honeypot. Maybe you’ve seen it? Just wanted to introduce myself." You offered your name, too.

He looked at you, his amber eyes assessing. "Ruhui," he said simply, shaking your hand briefly before turning his attention back to the tables.

“Is the owner or manager around?”

“I’m the manager on shift. The owner only comes in on weekends.”

You shuffled awkwardly. “Right, thank you. I suppose I’ll see you around then?”

“Suppose you will.”

The interaction was brief, polite but lacking warmth. You couldn't shake off the feeling that your human heritage was a barrier he wasn't willing to cross. Gnolls were known for not being exactly… friendly outside of their small social circles.

Disappointed but not deterred, you returned to Jessica and the Honeypot, the black cat still lounging in the sunbeam by the window.

As you stepped back into the warm embrace of your café, the comforting scent of coffee greeted you like an old friend.

Jessica looked up from the espresso machine. "How did it go with the neighbours?" she asked, a playful curiosity in her eyes.

You shrugged, trying to mask your disappointment. "It was alright, but the host wasn't exactly the friendliest."

Jessica wiped her hands on her apron, a knowing smile on her face. "He's probably just busy, you know. Now’s about the time people are coming in for early dinner. Maybe he's not great at first impressions."

You considered this, glancing out the window at the steakhouse. "We should go there for lunch one day, get a feel for the place... and the staff," you suggested, your eyes involuntarily flicking back to where Ruhui had been.

Jessica laughed, leaning against the counter. "Is this a business strategy or are you just curious about the mysterious gnoll?" she teased.

You felt your cheeks warm slightly. "Purely professional interest," you quipped, though your heart betrayed your words.

"Of course, purely professional," Jessica echoed, her tone dripping with mock seriousness. "Should I start looking up how to communicate with gruff gnolls for our team training?"

You joined in the laughter, the sound filling the cafe. "That might not be the worst idea," you said, the corners of your eyes crinkling with amusement.

The rest of the day passed with the comfortable routine of café life. As you served customers and shared jokes, the earlier encounter with Ruhui retreated to the back of your mind, though not completely out of your thoughts.

Closing time came, and as you and Jessica tidied up, the ease of your friendship made the tasks feel less like work and more like a shared hobby.

"So, when are we planning this espionage lunch?" Jessica asked, stacking chairs.

"Let's give it a week. Don’t want to make it too obvious," you replied, a playful edge to your voice.

Jessica nodded, playing along. "A strategic move, boss. I like it."

As you locked up the cafe, you looked across the street at the bustling steakhouse. Just as you were locking up, they were only starting to get genuinely busy.

You hoped for a glimpse of Ruhui as you walked by, but he was nowhere to be seen.

***

Several days passed, the rhythm of the café becoming second nature to you. The black cat had become a regular, much to the delight of your customers. The buzz of conversation, the clink of cups became so familiar that you almost felt lost without it.

On Thursday, as you stepped outside to clear your head and stretch your legs, you spotted Ruhui across the street. He was leaning against the wall of the steakhouse, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. The smoke curled upwards, dissipating into the cool air.

You hesitated for a moment, then, driven by a curiosity you couldn’t quite suppress, you crossed the street. As you approached, Ruhui’s amber eyes flicked towards you, a hint of surprise crossing his otherwise impassive features.

"Hi, Ruhui, right?" you said, trying to sound casual.

He nodded, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "Yes; and you own the Honeypot?"

His voice was deep, with a rough edge that made your stomach warm pleasantly. Youwere surprised that he remembered you.

"That's right," you replied, shuffling your feet slightly. "I hope I'm not disturbing your break."

Ruhui shook his head, a small gesture that seemed to convey more than words could. "It's fine," he said, his gaze returning to the street.

You searched for something to say, a way to extend the conversation. "I've noticed your steakhouse is always busy. Business must be doing well."

"It is," he replied simply, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before looking away.

There was something about his quiet, reserved nature that intrigued you. It was as if there was something more to him that he kept hidden, a story behind those guarded eyes.

"Well, I won't keep you," you said, feeling the conversation reaching its natural end. "See you around."

"Sure," Ruhui said, a noncommittal response that somehow didn't feel dismissive.

As you walked back to the café, his image lingered in your mind. Ruhui was an enigma, a mystery wrapped in a quiet, unassuming package.

Inside, the afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. As you began to tend to the remaining customers and clean up the counters, your mind kept drifting back to the brief interaction with Ruhui.

Just as you were wiping down a table near the window, you glanced across the street and caught Ruhui's figure through the steakhouse's window. He seemed to be watching you, his expression unreadable. As soon as your eyes met, he quickly turned away, resuming his work as if he had never been looking in the first place.

A small smile played on your lips. Was it possible that Ruhui was just as intrigued by you as you were by him? The thought made you laugh to yourself, despite the flutter in your chest.

The rest of the day passed with your thoughts occupied by Ruhui. Every so often, you found yourself stealing glances across the street, half-expecting to catch him looking your way again. If he did steal any more glances, he was careful not to be caught.

***

As the week progressed, the idea of visiting the steakhouse crystalliszed into a plan. Finally, on a quiet Tuesday evening as you were closing up the café with Jessica, you broached the subject.

"Jessica, how about we grab dinner at the steakhouse tonight?" you suggested, wiping down the last table. "We’ve been talking about it for ages, and I finally have a free evening."

Jessica raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Is this for the food, or the gnoll waiter?" she teased, stacking chairs.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't suppress a smile. "Jessica..."

"Sure, sure," Jessica chuckled, following you to the door. "Let's go, then."

With the café locked up, the two of you made your way across the street to the steakhouse. The warm glow from its windows promised a bustling atmosphere. A small flutter of anticipation tickled your stomach as you pushed open the door.

The steakhouse was lively, filled with the sounds of clinking cutlery, sizzling grills, and animated conversations. The hostess led you to a table, handing you menus with a smile. As you scanned the room, you couldn't help but search for Ruhui.

To your surprise, it was Ruhui himself who approached your table, notepad in hand. The look of surprise on his face was brief but noticeable.

"Good evening," he said, regaining his composure. "I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?"

Jessica winked at you subtly across the table, a barely suppressed grin on her face.

"Just water for now, thanks," you said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "We're still looking over the menu."

Ruhui nodded, jotting down your request. "I'll be right back with your waters. Take your time."

As he walked away, Jessica leaned in. "Well, this is an interesting development," she whispered. "He looked genuinely surprised to see us."

You nodded, your eyes following Ruhui as he moved through the restaurant with an effortless grace. "Maybe I’m not as predictable as he thought."

With a smile, you turned your attention to the menu. The array of choices was impressive. It seemed to cater to all kinds of people, from humans and orcs, gnolls to fae elves.

Jessica, ever the one for simplicity, opted for a classic steak and salad combo. Your eyes, however, were drawn to a more exotic option.

"What about the fireheart steak you mused aloud. It was orcish, known for its intense spiciness and bold flavors – a choice not commonly favored by humans.

Jessica raised her eyebrows. "Going for the adventurous choice, I see."

You smiled, feeling a sense of daring. "Why not? It's good to try new things."

When Ruhui returned to take your order, his expression was one of polite professionalism. That is until you ordered the fireheart steak. His eyebrow quirked up, a glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

"That comes with an incredibly spicy sauce," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not many choose it."

You met his gaze, a playful challenge in your eyes. "I like a bit of spice. Keeps things interesting."

For a moment, there was a flicker of something akin to amusement in Ruhui's expression. "Well, consider yourself warned. It's not for the faint of heart."

The exchange felt almost like flirting, and you suppressed a delighted shiver. As Ruhui walked away to place your orders, you couldn't help the smug feeling that crept up. It seemed you had managed to pique his interest, even if just a little.

When the meal arrived, the intensity of the spices hit you immediately. The heat was powerful, but it was also citrusy and rich. You couldn't help but savor each bite, the spices making your face flush.

Jessica watched with a mix of amusement and awe. "I'm impressed," she said, taking a more cautious bite of her steak. "I didn't expect you to handle it so well."

You grinned, feeling a bead of sweat form at your temple. "I may have met my match, but I'm not backing down. This is delicious."

Across the room, you noticed Ruhui stealing glances in your direction, an unspoken question in his eyes. It was as if he was waiting for you to reach for the water, to admit defeat against the dish's fiery nature.

You didn't. Instead, you continued to enjoy the meal, the spice a welcome challenge. With each bite, you felt a sense of pride.

When it came time for dessert, Ruhui approached with a hint of curiosity in his stance. "How was the dish? Not too overwhelming, I hope?"

"Not at all," you replied, your voice steady despite the lingering heat. "It was fantastic. I'll definitely have it again."

A flicker of respect – and was it admiration? – passed through Ruhui's eyes. "I'm impressed. Not many can handle our spicy stuff. You're full of surprises."

The tone of his voice had changed, lighter, almost playful. It was as if your tolerance for the dish had shifted his perception of you, or perhaps broken down a barrier he had erected.

Jessica, picking up on the change, chimed in, "We'd love to try some dessert. What would you recommend?"

Ruhui's suggestion was thoughtful, and he described the desserts with an enthusiasm that seemed new. You chose a fudge brownie at his recommendation, a decision that seemed to please him.

As he walked away to place your dessert order, Jessica leaned in, a sly smile on her face. "Seems like you're not the only one full of surprises. Ruhui might have a softer side after all."

You chuckled, the warmth of the meal and the interaction leaving you in high spirits. "Maybe. He's definitely more than meets the eye."

The dessert was a perfect end to the meal – sweet, indulgent, and beautifully presented. As you savored each bite, you couldn't help but feel that the evening had been a success on more than one front. Not only had you enjoyed a fantastic meal, but it seemed that Ruhui was even managing to open up to you.

The thought made your stomach flutter, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Jessica grinned at you from across the table.

“You should ask him out,” Jessica informed you. “Leave your number or something when we pay.”

You rose a brow. “Do you think that’ll work. Isn’t that like workplace harassment?”

Jessica’s laughter was soft, muffled by her hand. “Oh come on, it doesn’t hurt to try. Worst case scenario, he ignores you and you go back to staring wistfully every time you see him.”

True. Fine, you were sold. You scribbled your number on a piece of paper, your heart racing the entire time. Just as you were about to discreetly leave it on the table, a different waiter approached with the bill.

"Here's your bill," he said cheerfully. "Ruhui had to take his break, so I'm covering his tables for a bit."

You nodded, a hint of disappointment washing over you. As you reached for the bill, the piece of paper with your number lay conspicuously on the table. The waiter's eyes flicked to it, and a knowing smile crossed his face.

"Is that for Ruhui?" he asked, a playful tone in his voice.

You felt your cheeks warm with embarrassment, but before you could reply, the waiter continued, "If it is, you might not want to bother. Ruhui isn't really into humans. No offense."

The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, stung more than you expected. It wasn't just the words, but the dismissive tone, the insinuation that your interest was somehow misplaced or unwelcome.

Jessica, who had been watching the exchange, frowned. "That's a bit rude, isn't it?" she said, her voice sharp. "It's not your place to comment on someone's preferences like that."

The waiter seemed taken aback by Jessica's response. "I didn't mean any offense. Just, you know, saving you some embarrassment."

You quickly paid the bill, your earlier excitement now replaced with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. The waiter's words echoed in your mind. Was he right? Was your interest in Ruhui misguided?

As you stepped outside of the steakhouse, the cool night air did little to soothe the sting of the waiter's words. Jessica stayed close, her support a small comfort.

Just as you were about to cross the street back to your café, you noticed Ruhui in his usual spot, taking a smoke break. Your first instinct was to avoid him, but as you passed by, he called out.

"Hey, wait a minute," Ruhui said, his tone holding a note of confusion.

You hesitated, then stopped, gut twisting. Jessica stood beside you, her presence a silent show of solidarity.

Ruhui approached, flicking away his cigarette. "Is everything alright? You seem upset."

Your thoughts raced. Part of you wanted to dismiss him, to walk away, but the other part wanted to confront the situation. "Fine, at least now I know not to waste my time. Or yours." The words came out in a rush, tinged with hurt and embarrassment.

Ruhui's expression changed to one of annoyance, then understanding. He let out a short laugh, not of amusement but of disbelief. "Colleague… you mean Turner? He's an asshole. Don't listen to him. He enjoys stirring up trouble."

You were taken aback by his response, the bluntness of his words unexpected. "So, it's not true?" you asked, a glimmer of hope rekindling in your chest.

“What’s not true?”

“That you’ve no interest in humans.”

Ruhui snorted. "No, it's not. I don't know where he gets these ideas. Wait, why?"

You shifted from one foot to the other, and your lips pursed. “No reason.”

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation before realisation seemed to dawn on his face. “Oh, I get it. I’ve got to admit, I’m surprised. I've been... intrigued by you, too."

His admission caught you off guard. The doubts and hurt from moments ago began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of relief.

"Really?" you asked, a cautious optimism in your voice.

Ruhui nodded, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. "Yeah. I noticed you the day your café opened. You've got something... different about you."

Jessica nudged you gently, a silent encouragement to seize the moment. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I thought there was something different about you too. That's why I... why I wanted to leave my number."

Ruhui's lips curved into a small smile, an action that transformed his usually stoic face. His muzzle twitched adorably. "I wish you had. I would have called."

The night suddenly felt warmer, the earlier embarrassment fading into insignificance.

"Well, it's not too late," you said, a newfound boldness in your tone. "How about we start over? Maybe grab a coffee together at the Honeypot?"

"I'd like that," Ruhui replied, his smile widening.

[extra-wolf]

That was adorable! Smart kitty!

I wish I had some good ideas to help you spark your inspiration! 🥺 The only halfway decent idea I got is a Monster (preferably Goblin) with a cat that always escapes/sneaks off to the neighbor and thus plays matchmaker, despite both of them telling themselves they don't want a relationship atm. 😄 It's ok if you won't write it! 💗 Have a good day!

Hello! Thank you for the request! It was a cute idea! :D goblin x reader warnings: none

The first rays of the sun stretch across the city skyline, casting a golden glow over the streets and swiping away the darkness with ease. The buildings stand tall and proud under the gentle hue of the globe peeking out behind the horizon, their silhouettes cutting sharp against the brightening sky. Below, the streets are already coming to life. The chatter of the people on the sidewalks mixes with the constant sounds of the traffic. Cars weave in and out of lanes with tempered impatience, their headlights twinkling. Their honking punctuates the chilly morning air.

Ut's steps are heavy on the metal stairs. It rattles under his black boots as he makes his way down to your floor. The goblin's chest is already filled with annoyance. A silent snarl contorts his face.

Crouching down in front of your window, he stays still for a long second. His jeans are too tight for such a movement, but he doesn't care about it. His big eyes find you easily, standing at the counter and putting a disgusting amount of sugar into your coffee. Your hair is a mess, and you are still wearing your pajamas. An old shirt hides the curves of your body, but the shorts hug your ass tightly. Perfectly.

Ut has to force himself to knock on your window before you notice him. The sudden sound of his knuckles on the clean glass makes you jump. The mug almost falls from your hands as your head snaps his way. "Where is my cat?" He asks before you can do anything. His voice is muffled because of the closed window. He opens his palms questioningly. The golden rings glint on his long fingers as he waits for your answer. A frown pulls on your brows, and you purse your lips in annoyance. You can't believe this male. "What do you want?" You snap at him when you open your window. Your mug is still in your hand, warming your fingers. "Where is my cat?" He asks again, looking around your small kitchen from the fire escape. His big eyes scan your small space, searching for the animal. "How should I know?" You ask him. "He didn't come over this morning." Your attention turns to the untouched bowl on the counter, not far from the window. It's still filled with cat food. Ut groans. "I told you don't feed him." Your shrug. "He comes over even when I don't feed him." Yeah, the goblin has some doubts about it.

Silence settles between you two while traffic still filters through your window. A dog barks somehwere far. Its voice echoes off the buildings.

And slowly, panic finds its way into your chests.

"Where is he, Ut?" You ask him, eyes wide. "Where is our cat?" The male grunts. "My cat," he corrects you. His long ears twitch and flatten against the sides of his head. Turning his back to you, he looks down the alley below, searching for the familiar gray fur or any movement around the trash cans. Their foul smell fills his nostrils. "Go and look around on the streets," you tell him hurriedly. "I go over to the neighbors." He wants to snarl at you for ordering him but stays quiet instead. His cat is not capable of living on the streets. He is allergic and so fucking lazy. There is no way he chose the streets instead of eating at your house. "Fine," he grunts.

When you leave your apartment, you can still hear the metallic rattle of the fire escape as Ut runs down on it.

You are not sure how much time you spend going from door to door, disturbing your neighbors' morning and trying to hide your growing panic after every "I didn't see him" and "I'm sorry".

And Ut isn't doing better either, hurrying along the streets and snarling at people who look at him funnily. By the time he reaches the bottom of the fire escape, his phone is already in his hand, looking for the phone numbers of the nearby shelters.

"Ut!" Your voice comes from above him. When he looks up, you stand on the metal platform on your apartment's floor. You lean over the railing with a gray fluff in your arms. You are still in your pajamas with a mess of hair, but there is a huge smile on your face.

"Fuck," Ut grunts as the air leaves his lungs with relief. He runs up the stairs. His lean legs jump the steps easily until he stands in front of you, reaching out to get his cat from your secure hold. "Where did you find him?" He asks. His long fingers rake through the soft fur as the small animal snuggles under his jaw. You shrug. "When I got home, his bowl was empty, and he was asleep on my bed." "Of course," he hums. Lazy. When his happiness dies down, he starts to feel awkward. He is still on the fire escape with you. Even though his cat has spent most of his morning with you for at least three months now, he never talked to you more than a few sentences. His ears twitch. "Well," Ut says. "Thanks." You hum, amused. "Come over tonight," he adds. "What?" You ask, surprised. One of your eyebrows moves up. "As a thank you," he tells you, already moving to go up to his apartment. "For finding my cat." A slow smirk pulls on your lips as you watch him slowly disappear at the turn of the stairs. "Our cat," you correct him.

You hear him snarl.

[extra-wolf]

That was lovely!

Male Gnoll/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 2,919 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

When you're convinced to go on a blind date with an asshole, Adamu saves you from a sticky situation. As it turns out, you'd rather go out with him anyway.

Outside the restaurant, the city's ambient buzz mingled with your own whirl of anticipation and nerves. The cool evening air did little to soothe the flutter of excitement in your stomach as you approached the restaurant's entrance, a quaint spot chosen by Eirik for your blind date.

Stepping inside, the warm glow and soft murmur of conversation enveloped you. The hostess greeted you with a welcoming smile, and you found your voice slightly trembling as you mentioned, "I’m here to meet - I mean, table for Karl?."

"Oh, you must be Eirik's friend! He mentioned a blind date," the waitress exclaimed brightly. She seemed genuinely enthused about the setup, a sentiment you wished you could fully share at the moment.

As she led you through the restaurant, the clinking of cutlery and low hum of diners' chatter accompanied your steps. The waitress stopped at a cosy table for two, where a man was seated, his back to you.

As she announced your arrival, he turned around, and you were met with a young face and a mess of curly, dark hair. Karl was undeniably handsome, with sharp features, a well-groomed beard, and eyes that seemed to appraise you in a single glance. His smile was confident, almost rehearsed, as he stood to greet you.

"Ah, you must be the mystery woman Eirik has been raving about," Karl said, his voice smooth, his handshake firm. There was a charm about him, no doubt, but it felt somewhat polished, a little too perfect.

As you took your seat, the nervous flutter in your stomach intensified. You smoothed out your dress, trying to appear composed, though inside, your nerves were a tangled mess. The idea of a blind date, already daunting, now felt even more so with Karl's poised demeanour.

The waitress, still beaming, handed you the menus, wishing you a good evening before leaving. You offered her a grateful smile, her enthusiasm a small comfort for your nerves.

"So, Eirik tells me you're quite the adventurer," Karl began, leaning back in his chair with ease. “Have you been to the alps? I have; there I was, standing at the summit of the Alps, the world beneath my feet. It's quite the rush, you know?"

You nodded and the first bubble of excitement welled in you. "That sounds incredible. I've always wanted to try mountain climbing. Last year, I..."

Karl, however, swiftly steered the conversation back to himself, barely acknowledging your input. "Yes, it's an experience of a lifetime. Then, when you lead the lifestyle I do, these things become somewhat routine."

As Karl delved into another self-centred anecdote, your attention drifted across the restaurant. There, at a table set for two, sat a young gnoll man. His dark fur contrasted strikingly with his bright green eyes, which stared at his glass of wine. His muscular build suggested strength, yet there was a patience about him as he checked his watch, clearly waiting for someone.

Your gaze lingered, intrigue. It was a welcome distraction from the one-sided conversation at your table.

Karl, noticing your diverted attention, cleared his throat pointedly. "I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

You snapped back to reality, meeting Karl's eyes, which now held a flicker of annoyance. "No, not at all. Please, go on," you said, though the sincerity in your voice waned.

Karl huffed, his demeanour shifting. "You know, when someone takes the time to share their experiences, the least you could do is pay attention."

The sharpness in his tone took you aback. The evening, already teetering on the edge of disappointment, had taken a turn for the worse. "I'm sorry, Karl. I just noticed someone across the restaurant. I didn't mean to seem disinterested."

Karl's response was a curt, "Well, perhaps you'd prefer their company then."

The air between you grew tense, the remnants of the evening's potential dissipating with each passing second. "I think I need a moment," you said, standing abruptly. "I'll be in the bathroom. If the waitress comes back, could you ask her to give us a few more minutes to decide?"

You couldn’t have left fast enough. The walk to the bathroom felt like an escape, each step a respite from the stifling atmosphere at the table. Inside, you took a moment to gather your thoughts, the disappointment of the evening weighing heavily on you. Eirik's well-intentioned setup had spiralled into an evening you couldn't wait to forget.

When you returned, bracing yourself for more of Karl's self-absorption, you found his seat empty. Confused, you glanced around, half-expecting to see him returning from a break of his own; but he was gone. The only evidence of his presence was the menu, left at the edge of the table.

You sat, a flush of embarrassment warming your cheeks. You tried to compose yourself as the waitress approached with a concerned look. "Can I get you a drink?" she asked, her gaze flickering to the empty seat.

You offered a small, somewhat sheepish smile, "uh, no thanks. Honestly, I think I should just head home. Maybe I’ll have just one..."

The waitress nodded, her expression softening with understanding, before leaving you to peruse the drinks menu. The bustling ambiance of the restaurant suddenly felt more pronounced, each laugh and clink of glasses echoing your own discomfort.

As you deliberated over your choice, a tentative voice interrupted your thoughts. "Excuse me, would you mind some company?"

Looking up, you saw the gnoll from across the restaurant standing beside your table, a hint of apprehension in his green eyes. Up close, you could see the intricate patterns of scars beneath his dark fur, tugging down the corner of his left eye. Yet, his posture was unassuming, almost gentle, as if he were trying to make his formidable presence seem less intimidating.

"I, uh, couldn't help but notice... It seems we've both been stood up," he added, his voice tinged with a shyness.

Surprised but touched by his gesture, you found yourself nodding, "Take a seat. It's been quite the evening."

He took the seat across from you, his movements careful, mindful of the space he occupied. Together, you ordered cocktails, a silent attempt to salvage what remained of the night.

As the drinks arrived, the initial awkwardness gave way to tentative conversation. Sipping a martini, you asked, “why did you come over? It's not every day that someone does something so kind."

He paused, his gaze lingering on his drink before meeting yours. "Well, I suppose I didn’t want both of our nights to be wasted. I thought, maybe, we could turn them into something a bit more... bearable, together."

His honesty, coupled with the softness in his expression, struck a chord in you. Here was someone who, despite his own discomfort, had reached out with an offer of companionship. It was painfully sweet.

You watched him above your menu, unable to hide your smile. Maybe tonight wasn’t a total loss. "How about gaeng som?" you suggested, “I’m pretty sure they make it extra spicy here.”

His eyes lit up with interest. "That sounds perfect! Back home, the hotter the meal, the better."

You smiled, pleased with the common ground you'd found. The waitress took your order, and as you waited for the food, the conversation flowed effortlessly.

"Not that I was listening in earlier, but I heard something about the alps?" he asked, his eyes curious. "There's something about exploring the unknown, the challenge of a steep climb, I just love it."

You nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. There's a trail I've been eyeing for the next weekend. It's supposed to offer some of the best views of Oceanhall."

“Yeah, I know the one! I’ve never gotten around to it, though. I- wait, hold on.” You were sure that beneath his fur, he was blushing. “I'm Adamu, by the way, I guess I forgot to say. Tonight was actually supposed to be a meetup with someone I met online."

His expression clouded slightly, a hint of disappointment creeping in. "I wonder if she saw me and... well, decided against it. I know my appearance can be a bit... daunting?"

You shook your head, the notion absurd to you. "I think you look lovely. If you really did scare her off, it's’ her loss."

His face softened at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Thank you," he said, his voice laced with a newfound warmth. "I know I’m an acquired taste.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to take his hand. It wasn’t a secret that gnolls had a reputation for being intimidating. Rude. Violent, even; but when you met Adamu’s gaze, there was a softness there that made you melt.

Whatever you were about to say, though, was cut off when the waitress arrived with your steaming hot food. “Two portions of gaeng som,” she announced cheerfully. “Can I get you anything else?”

You didn’t remove your hand from Adamu’s as you ordered another round of drinks. He didn’t pull away either, though, and you found yourself warmed by his coarse fur.

He only tugged his hand free when it was time to eat, and you missed the tickle of his fur and claws against your palm. You ate in silence for a moment; content to be in each other’s quiet company.

Eventually, Adamu's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what actually happened to your date? He left pretty suddenly."

You paused, a spoonful of soup halfway to your lips. The memory of Karl's abrupt departure brought a stutter of relief. "Well, let's just say we weren't exactly a match. If I'm honest, I'm quite glad he left."

Adamu raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, why?"

You met his gaze, the connection between you palpable. "Because if he hadn't, I wouldn't have had the pleasure of your company, Adamu."

Adamu's smile widened, a look of contentment settling on his features. “Oh. That’s… actually really kind.”

In the warmth of the restaurant, with the lingering heat of the soup still dancing on your tongue, you found yourself caught in Adamu's gaze. The soft, ambient light of the room cast gentle shadows across his features, softening the scars and highlighting the soft brown of his fur.

There was an undeniable pull, a desire to lean across the table and bridge the gap between you with a kiss. Yet, you hesitated, the weight of nerves holding you back. You didn't want to rush, to shatter this delicateness between you.

Adamu seemed to sense the shift in your mood, his voice drawing you back. "I wasn't entirely sure about moving to Oceanhall," he admitted, his tone reflective. "It was a leap of faith, really. I needed a change of pace, something different from what I was used to."

You nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. "Sometimes, that's exactly what we need."

He smiled. "I'm glad I made the move. Especially now," he added, his gaze holding yours.

The remainder of the meal passed in a comfortable quiet, punctuated by shared glances and soft laughter. It was as if the world beyond your table had faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

When the waitress came by to inquire about dessert, you both scanned the menu, settling on sharing mango sticky rice. The sweet, creamy texture of the rice, paired with the fresh, tangy mango and the rich coconut sauce, promised a perfect end to the meal.

Adamu's earlier admission echoed in your mind as you ate, blending seamlessly with your own feelings. Oceanhall, with its beautiful beach and multiples cultures, was exactly the kind of place to get away from the drag of real life issues.

When the waitress returned to collect your plates, her knowing smile was directed at you. “I hope you both had a good time,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”

You couldn't help but return her smile, a sense of gratitude swelling in your heart.

“Just the bill please,” Adamu said, before you could ask for the same.

As the waitress disappeared to retrieve your bill, she left you alone with Adamu. You became acutely aware of the details you hadn't fully absorbed before—the way the low lighting played off the contours of his muscular build, his broad shoulders straining against his grey shirt. The gentle curve of his smile made you flush too, more pronounced as his initial shyness melted away.

You found yourself openly admiring him, taking in the rugged handsomeness that his scars only seemed to accentuate, not diminish. There was a raw, authentic beauty to him, and it made your toes curl.

Adamu caught you looking, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing his features. "It's the scars, isn't it?" he asked softly.. "They don’t hurt. I sometimes forget they're there until I see that look in someone's eyes."

Your heart clenched at the thought of him feeling any discomfort, especially when, to you, he was nothing short of captivating. "No, Adamu, it's not the scars," you said softly, earnestly. "I was actually.. You’re absolutely gorgeous, you know that?"

The air between you thickened with the admission, a warm blush colouring your cheeks. Adamu's gaze held yours, a mixture of surprise and something deeper flickering within his eyes.

"Thank you," he said after a moment, the tension in his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I’ve had them since I was a kid - boating accident. My fur hides the worst of it, at least."

His soft voice, the twinkle in his eyes, it made you want nothing more than to grab him by the collar, and kiss him. The space around you seemed to pulse with the unspoken attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface all evening.

Adamu leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a huskier tone that sent shivers down your spine. "I knew tonight was going to be great as soon as I sat across from you."

The confession, so openly shared, fanned the flames of your own desire. The thought of being close to him, so close you could smell the sugar on your breath, made you shudder.

As the waitress returned with the bill, breaking the spell momentarily, Adamu's gaze lingered on you, loaded with unspoken questions. Once the bill was settled, he turned to you with a hesitant yet hopeful look.

"I don't want this evening to end just yet," he said, his voice laced with a quiet intensity. "Would you... would you like to come back to my place?"

The invitation hung in the air, a tantalizing promise of more. The thought of spending more time with Adamu was irresistible.

“I would love to.”

As you stood to leave, Adamu, ever the gentleman, assisted you with your coat, his hands brushing against yours in a fleeting, electric touch. The restaurant's warm ambiance gave way to the night's chill as you stepped outside, the sudden drop in temperature making you instinctively draw closer to him for warmth.

Noticing your shiver, Adamu gently draped his own coat over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth and the subtle scent that was uniquely his. It was like sweet mango and cinnamon, and something rich you couldn’t place.

The gesture, so simple yet intimate, stirred something deep within you, heightening the anticipation of what was yet to come.

The streets were quiet, the city's nighttime serenade a soft backdrop to your shared silence. The proximity to Adamu, his coat wrapped around you, created a cocoon of warmth in the cold night air. It was in this intimate bubble that Adamu stopped, turning to face you, his bright eyes searching yours in the dim light.

The tension between you was a tangible force that seemed to draw you closer. Then, almost as if it were the most natural thing in the world, your lips met in a kiss that was both tentative and desperate, a mingling of warmth and want that sent sparks flying through your very being.

The kiss was imperfect—the slight awkwardness of human lips meeting a gnoll's muzzle—but it only made you want him more. Neither of you cared for symmetry when the kiss deepened, fueled by the pent-up desire and the night's earlier revelations.

As you parted, breathless, Adamu's shy smile returned, a hint of his earlier awkwardness peeking through. "I, uh, live just a short walk from here," he said, his voice a soft rumble. "Would you like me to call a taxi?"

The thought of parting, even just to sit side by side in a taxi, seemed unthinkable. "I'd much rather walk with you," you replied, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

He beamed. “Yeah? Great, me too.”

The walk to Adamu's home was a blur of shared smiles and soft laughter, the earlier kiss lingering like a promise between you. The walk was brisk, quick, your hand nestled in his the entire time. Soon enough you were stood outside a little wooden gate, looking up at a narrow townhouse, garden blooming with wildlife.

Adamu paused at the gate, turning to you once more. The streetlight cast a soft glow around him, illuminating the gentle lines of his face.

In that soft light, you shared another kiss, this one laden with the promise of more to come. It was a seal on the unspoken agreement that tonight was just the beginning.

“Come on inside,” he said, tugging your hand.

With a grin, you followed him inside.

[extra-wolf]

not being a vampire is severely holding me back

[extra-wolf]

ahem

[extra-wolf]

vampire that corrects all the historical inaccuracies on wikipedia

[extra-wolf]

Nawww! 🥺

December Christmas Monster stories

December 13.) Half giant x GN reader

Warnings: depression, hating job, job quitting, size difference

Minors Don't Interact!

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Working as one of Santa's elf was a seasonal job, the pay was shit but it was fun. Pretty much volunteer work. There was a bonus though. It came in the form of the man playing Santa named Treg. 

He was a half giant and standing next to him in your work uniform you really did look like a Christmas elf. Treg was kind to everyone, always smiling. You couldn't help but be drawn to him. It helped that you were one of his main elfs. Every shift he had you worked too. Always right next to him helping him with the kids or getting him water. Any time he had to get up and walk somewhere you were with him to make sure he didn't bump into any kids. It was hard seeing kids when you were that big. Treg was always so happy when you helped him out. Constantly thanking you for every little thing you did for him. 

Treg often would make you a cup of hot chocolate during your shared break. It always tasted better when he made it. The two of you would always chat the whole break before going back to going to work. 

The work gossip was that both of you were dating in secret. Though any time the two of you were confronted Treg vehemently denied it. You did so too, just less convincing than him. One of your coworkers noticed this and asked you in private if you wished you were dating him. You frowned as you nodded your head. They gave you a look of pity before walking away. 

They must have said something to Treg because after that day he started avoiding you. It hurt badly when suddenly your schedule changed from his. You had been replaced by another worker who preferred to pose for the photos and flirt with all the parents instead of helping Treg. Not that you could do anything about it, you were assigned to a different Santa. He was a satyr who didn't care about his job, he worked the dead shift hardly anyone came around when he worked and he liked it that way.

Your fun job became miserable in less than a week all because you couldn't get a handle on your dumb one sided crush. You didn't smile at work anymore, what was the point?

Before the end of the second week you had turned in your uniform and quit. You went home and cried that night. The next day you went out to the store to go get comfort food. Walking around the store you filled your cart with tooth rotting snacks. Your heart hurt so you wanted your stomach to hurt more to take your mind away from it. 

Walking around absentmindedly you didn't pay attention to anything until you heard heavy footsteps. Looking up you saw Treg approaching you. You had the urge to run away from him but found yourself frozen in place. “Y/n? I heard you quit? Why did you do that?” His voice sounded heart broken. Why did he sound heart broken? Treg was the one who rejected and ignored you, not the other way around. 

“What does it matter to you? You made it clear you didn't like me when you started ignoring me.” You snorted, turning your head to look anywhere but at him. “I only started distancing myself because I realized I liked you too and that scared me. I'm constantly scared that I'm not going to know your next to me and I'll accidently hurt you.” Treg explained stepping closer to you. “Didn't every day we worked together prove I could handle that? You never hurt me before, why worry about that now?” You asked, glancing at him. “Because the thought of being with you meant a higher chance of hurting you but when you were gone it hurt even worse.” His eyes were starting to water as he talked. 

How could you be upset at that face? Looking down at your feet you stepped forward reaching your hand out to hold his sleeve. “I'd take that risk to be with you.” You told him, looking up at him. “For you? I'd risk anything.” Treg said carefully, holding your hand in his large one. You looked like a doll compared to him, you kind of liked it.