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mingi-s-dimples · 6 months ago

Text

Crave me - yunho

pairing: bf!yunho x gf fem!reader

rating: 18+, bdsm

genre: romance, bdsm, filthy smut (mdni ty)

summary: The bratty attitude you had with him didn't last long.. as he leaves his patience at the table and destroys you.

WC: 3.5k

warnings: rough/strict dom!yunho, bratty sub fem!reader, bdsm, choking, neck kink, sucking, blowjob, making out, tying up, pet names (darling, babe, love, pretty boy, sweetie, sweetheart), degradation kink (slut, cumslut, whore), praise kink, slapping/spanking, both vaginal and anal, use of bdsm attire (cuffs, blindfold, rope), use of toys (vibrator), sense deprivation (blindfold), little bit of hand kink, punishing, edging, creampie, ruined orgasms, multiple rounds, deals (but Yunho feels cocky and he said fuck the deal), cum cum cum a lot of cummm, squirting, mentions of safe word but never used (reader is a brat), cum eating, big dick!yunho, overstim, backshots, unprotected (REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL !), completely consesual !, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: SO ! When I first started writing this fic, several day ago, I didn't intend to make it this.. filthy. But.. my lovely bestie rated the roughness in the other 3 fics I have posted an average of 8.sth/10 and I took that as a CHALLENGE. Hope you like it, Lis, love you sweetie. Another small note: WHY AREN'T THERE MORE BDSM FICS OUT THERE HELLO? I'M A SUCKER FOR THEM !

Update, Lis: okay, even though i saw some paragraphs before this was published, i was still taken off guard by this. i’m taking back my words, roughness level 10/10, WHEN I TELL YOU I HAD TO TAKE A BREAK AND BREATHE. seriously i love this fic sm and bia you are so talented, you never fail to amaze me❤️❤️ please keep going with your work, i love youu<3 ( i’m still waiting for a demon joong fic 👹👹👹 ) - my answer: the demon joong fic is alr in my drafts, halfway done.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The grand dining hall was a symphony of opulence and elegance, its high vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate plasterwork and crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the scene. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, their deep hues of burgundy and gold complementing the polished mahogany of the round, small dining tables. As the guests settled into their seats, the gentle strains of a string quartet drifted through the air, mingling with the soft clinking of fine glasses and the murmur of animated conversation.

At one end of the table you were sitting at, the host, Park Seonghwa raised his glass in a toast, his voice resonant and filled with the gravitas of tradition. Across from him, Hongjoong's laughter rang out, light and melodious, adding a delicate counterpoint to the music. The aroma of roasted meats and rich sauces wafted from the platters being served, each dish a masterpiece of culinary art. Conversations flowed like the wine, moving from the latest societal gossip to philosophical musings, as the guests, dressed in their finest evening attire, engaged in a dance of words and wit.

In this setting, every detail was meticulously curated to create an atmosphere of refined luxury and cultural sophistication. Yet, beneath the surface of this carefully constructed elegance, the undercurrents of intrigue and hidden agendas were beginning to stir, promising that the evening's conviviality was only the prelude to a much deeper story.

You, a renowed and well known supermodel, were sitting right next to your husband, Jeong Yunho. He was the CEO of the agency you were modelling at.

The thing is... besides the lovey-dovey side you and Yunho always showed to the other guests and your friends, for example Seonghwa, Hongjoong and the others, the two of you had... another side to your relationship.

Your intimate relationship dynamic was quite.. the opposite of what you were showing. From light forehead kisses, hand holding and warm hugs and kisses... to cuffs, blindfolds and degradation. No one knew the real you when in private, and it made the whole thing way better.

*several minutes later*

"Ooookay, should I ask the chef to bring us some desserts? I think the dinner went really well!" Hongjoong said smiling, watching each of his guests contently. He then hovered his eyes over the whole venue, you could see the happiness flooding over him. It was the ending dinner for a really important business plan that came to a final success.

While the others were happily celebrating with the host, you and Yunho were giving each other some stares. One of the things you loved the most to do was to annoy your man. Why? Cause you knew he'd destroy you the same night. You were never allowed to do things on your own, without his permission. Things such as touching him in public, deny his own touching, dress how you'd like without his approval, because he was really jealous of needy and hungry eyes that always wanted you. Everyone had envy for him, because you were the most beautiful model in your country, the agency itself was the best one, too. But tonight.. you decided to do.. everything that annoyed him and drove him insane. You first started with a.. really nice outfit, you'd say. It was halfway see-through, high heels and silver, bold jewelry completing the look. You were wearing two pieces, a short but flowy black skirt and a white, almost translucent shirt, an elegant one. Your hair was straightened, flowing beautifully on your bare back, as the shirt you were wearing only covered your chest. A silver chain was connecting two pieces of fabric on your back, making you flinch with every slight touch, because of the sheer coldness.

"Darling.. did I ever approve of... this outfit?" Yunho whispered, one of his hands going on your thigh. You tried to deny his touch, moving his hand away, but he only dug his nails deeper into your leg. You flinched, looking at him in the eyes, with an almost innocent look.

"Oh babe... don't you like it? Damn.. I thought it looked really nice" you said sheepishly, smiling at him.

"I didn't say I don't like it but... didn't we agree that these types of visible outfits are... only for me to see, hm?" he whispered and approached your neck with his lips, slightly biting it.

"Babe.. there's people around us. What would they think of you, seeing you kissing me like that?" you said, trying to get a reaction out of him but to your surprise, he remained calm and content, biting you harder.

"Do I look like I give a fuck? You did it to yourself, love. This is the first strike of tonight.. be careful for the rest of the time. I don't feel like destroying your beautiful body when we get back in the room." Yunho said, going in for a soft kiss on your lips.

"We'll see about that, babe." you said and got up from your seat, searching with your eyes the champagne bar.

Someone came behind your back. Of course, it was Yunho, all touchy on your bare waist, as the shirt you were wearing was pretty.. short.

"Babe.. I almost forgot" he mumbled.

"What did I tell you about denying my hand, hm?" his hands hovering your back, one of them on your ass and one on the nape of your neck, slightly squeezing it. "Hm? what did I tell you, mind sharing me your reason?"

"You told me that I should... never move your hand away from myself.." you said turning around to face him. "But... what's entirely wrong with it.. pretty boy? Don't you like it when I tease you..?" you said and gave him a kiss, your hands traveling from his neck to his collarbones, then from his chest to his belt, tugging at it for a second.

"This is.." he whispered. "Strike two.. my love." One more and we're out of here.. remember the rule?" he squeezed your ass, looking right into your eyes, seeing how eager you were to fuck him right there.

Several minutes pass and you were back to your table, sitting next to each other. He effortlessly pulled your seat closer to his, making you gulp at his power and speed. Looking him in the eyes you started being all touchy with him. Started from his hands, feeling up his slender and long fingers, then to his biceps. You stayed like that for a long minute, with your head resting on his shoulder, then one of your hands went straight for his crotch, no warning.

"Yunho, everything good? Why did you flinch, is it too cold here?" Seonghwa asked, confused.

"Ah yes, everything is fine, don't worry about it" he said smiling, squeezing your thigh, his hand going to your pussy, rubbing circles through your panties from under your skirt.

"Babe... that's strike three, if you ask me." he said and patted you on your thigh, to make you look at him. He then looked around for the exit doors and excused himself, taking your hand into his.

"Joong, we'll be back, I need to take care of something at the agency" Yunho said and then dragged you out.

And as the two of you got out the doors, there was a long empty hall, no one was there. He slammed you to the wall, one of his hands on your throat and one lifting you up. He was going towards the elevator.

"Nh- babe, where are we going? you said through the kisses.

"Just upstairs, I reserved a room for us right here. I didn't think we'd need it but... you wanted to be a little slut so it serves us good. Aren't you my little whore, hm? All down for me, I saw you eye fucking me when you were getting champagne. You wanted me to fuck you dumb tonight, mm? he said while going in the elevator.

"What did you want me to do babe, hm? Did you miss my slaps and my cuffs? You little slut, you'll see what will happen if you're being a brat with me again" and right as he said this, he held you close as he opened the door with the keycard. He closed it and he dropped you on your bed.

Some meters from the king sized bed there was a small bag, and you knew so well what there was... cuffs, blindfolds, ropes.. everything you could think of as a sub. And yes.. the relationship between you and your husband, in private, was a dom/sub one. You found out that you were both into bdsm a while ago, when Yunho didn't resist anymore and tried something new on you. You loved it and... it became a really often practice.

"Love, spread out, now." he said as he went back to get something from the bag.

You were still dressed and he was too. But you could feel yourself leaking right on the bed. You knew you left a wet spot on the dark sheets, something that turned your man on even more.

"Told you to spread the fuck out, you brat. When did you get so naughty, hm? Want me to put you in your place? he said as he spread your legs out, tying them to the bed frame. You still had your clothes on, but the skirt was lifted up and the blouse was all messed up. He ripped of your panties and threw them on the floor.

You tried to say something but didn't have time to react. He went back to the bag and took out some cuffs, then got on the bed, his crotch, still dressed, rubbing on your folds. You could feel his bulge getting bigger, his pants getting thighter as he went further to tie your hands to the headboard.

"For all of what you did tonight.. babe, you'll get punished, you know that, right? he said as he hovered his hand over your throat and collarbones. "Stay still, I'll tie a sheer blindfold to your eyes. I want you to still be able to distinguish how I destroy your little and pretty pussy."

"Yuyu.. please. Fuck me." you pleaded, trying to look him in the eyes. Whenever he tied a blindfold on your eyes.. it turned you on so bad. You couldn't properly see what was happening nor what he was doing, preparing what to do to you.. but it was thrilling.

"Hmm... what should I start with.. pretty slut, mm? Should I just edge you until you can't take it anymore and cum out of overstimulation and exhaustion, should I make you cry and not let you cum the whole night? Should I.... fuck you and deny your orgasm how you denied my hand? Tell me, sweetheart. I need words, not muffled sounds." he confidently said, giving you a smirk and his right hand going right to your blouse, easily unbuttoning it and throwing it away on the floor.

He hastly gets rid of your bra, his groping entirely unhelpful. Large hands, slender fingers roaming your body, sliding over your nipples, pressing and nibbling at them, cupping your breasts and hoisting your legs up and around his waist. Him, still clothed, you.. only with your skirt on, if that's even important.

"Fuck, Yuyu —" you gasp when he sucks a dark bruise into the skin of your neck, while one of his hands went to his shirt. He slowly unbuttoned it, then went for his pants. He undid them halfway and pushed towards you, getting a soft moan out of your slowly rising chest, heavy breathing from all the manhandling he did on you. He was taking his time. He absolutely loved seeing you begging for his cock, squirming and moving against his crotch in wish of friction. But.. Yunho left all his patience at the door.

"Babe, how did you get me this mad, hm? Did you even think about the consequences, you little slut? If that's what you wanted.. I'll destroy you, sweetheart."

Two of his fingers trace your hole before sinking into you, curling to find the right spot. All you can do is arch your back, your moans and cries soon muffled by one of his hands, as he chokes you.

"Is this what you wanted? rile me up so I'd fuck you hard tonight? all you needed to do is ask, sweetie." Yunho said, curling his fingers right into your sweet spot, receiving some loud moans from you.

You could ask and he'd give you the moon if he could. But he was a completely different person in bed. There's something about him taking you like this, almost feral, that makes your toes curl.. could it be his fingers and how he curls them in you so good that he makes you shiver and cum, maybe squirt all over the place? would it be... his cock and how deep you feel it in you, scared that he might destroy your insides?

He fucks his fingers into you sloppily, scissoring you open with little to no care if it hurts or not. It was clear that he only had one goal in sight, and that being stretching you out just enough to be able to take his cock.

It only takes a few more strokes before he's satisfied, the blunt head of his dick prodding at your entrance, getting loud whimpers from you.

"Use the safe word if it's too much" he said and started pounding into you, making your hands rocket to the headboard, holding on for dear life. It's the only warning he gives you but.. it's enough to get an understanding on how pissed he was. He was holding so thight onto your thighs, them around his waist, that you knew you'd have bruises the next day.

"So fucking tiny" he grunts as he watches you struggle to adjust to his size "Such a whore for my cock, mhm? You take it so well... even if it destroys you. Be my cumslut, won't you? I'll edge you until you can't take it anymore."

"Y-yunho !" you shouted as he used a vibrator on your clit, arching your back at the sensation. The puffed bud he was stimulating made you feel like you'd already come, but something else happend. Your walls clenched on his cock, receiving a low grunt and as he slowed down his thrusts, he watched you contently at how you squirted all over him and the bed.

"Oh wow, already? Lucky this is the only thing I'm letting you do, you little slut" he said as he thrusted even deeper, harder, sloppier into you.

"Babe, n-no don't do th-that I might c-cum" you said as he was giving you another round of circles on your clit, feeling how overstimulated you were.

"Nope, I won't let you" he said as he stopped, pulling out of you, your hole clenching on nothing.

He started rubbing his length lazily, looking at you squirming right in front of him. You wanted to be fucked dumb, until you couldn't walk anymore. But that wasn't his plan for tonight.

"Let's make a deal. If you make me cum only with your mouth, no hands and no sucking. Just touching, licking and nibbling, I'll let you cum. Otherwise, you'll get slapped and fucked... not in your little aching pussy, but deep down in your cute and red ass, until you cry. What do you say, babe, a pretty good deal, I'd say?" he said as he uncuffed your hands, lifting you on your knees.

The thing is... you weren't quite.. on your knees. You were spread out, your aching hole rubbing on the wet and sloppy linen underneath you. You started humping it slowly, not knowing if you were allowed to, but he somehow didn't mind it. He knew you weren't able to cum only from humping on a cloth so he let you do your thing.

"Now.. be my little cumslut and get on licking." he said guiding your head to his dick, throbbing on your lips. You had your hands cuffed at your back, not being able to move them. You started kissing, nibling at the tip, getting some nice groans out of him. Then you started licking the slit, putting pressure with your tongue and licking his length all down to the base of it. The circles you always make on the tip get him from being silent to being louder, as the sloppy sounds of your tongue turns him on more.

"Yes, just like that, sweetie. A liiiittle bit more and you're getting me closer."

You started nibbling, almost like sucking on his tip.

"Yuh, mhm. Go on, make me cum, you little whore" he said as his breath started getting faster, heavier, your licks getting sloppier as he tried so hard not to cum but... you did the deal. He came all over your face, as you were not allowed to suck it.

"Good girl, such a good girl you are" he said as he wiped off his load from your face with one hand and with the other one opening your mouth, his thumb on your bottom lip. He let his cum drip onto your tongue, signaling you by raising his brows to swallow. You did as he wanted, soon sucking his fingers to get every drop of his load.

"Y'know babe.. I kinda changed my mind in between your little nibbles." he said as he turned you over, on your belly, one of his hands on the back of your throat. "You're gonna take me so well, I will make sure of it." he said as two of his fingers went in your other hole, no warnings. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers curling up inside you. The same as before, his goal was to make your hole be able to engulf his length, but this time his goal was to bottom down entirely.

"Thought you could just leave me like that?" he wraps a hand around your waist, the other one on your neck, "leave me high and dry without any repercussions? You're lucky I'll keep my promise and let you cum so... cum, you little slut." as he started pounding heavily and deeply into you.

The hand he had on your waist goes to your pussy, curling them inside you and rubbing your clit.

You shake your head at his words, the coil in your tummy tightening with every word he hisses into your ear, wetness dripping down his balls and coating them as he pounds into your ass.

Yunho could feel you clenching around his cock, knows you're close by the familiar rhythm and your muffled whines rising in pitch. He removes his thight hold on your neck, letting you turn your head around, gasping for air.

"'m so close, fuck, yunho, gonna cum —"

Your entire body tenses then slumps down against the mattress, only held up by his strong arm around your waist. Yunho fucks you through your orgasm, through the oversensitivity and the chants of your little whimpers and words.

"too much, 's too much, please, s-stop" but you never use your safe word. You whine and you cry until your limp body is pushed over the edge again, eyes rolling back while you cream his cock, the 2nd time in a short time.

"c-can't," you whimper weakly, "please cum, please — Yunho, please-"

You're begging him so sweetly, voice cracking and body at his mercy. Yunho's hips stutter and his load spills deep inside of you. Your knees buckle under his waist and you whine when the two of you stumble back, his arms wrapped around your chest, all touchy on your breasts.

"You're gonna take my cum all, you little whore. Remember what I said, being my cumslut? Now, take it" he said as he continued pounding into you, getting you over the edge. He didn't lie when he said he'd destroy you, your knees trembling as he closed the gap between the two of you. He then pulled out, pumping his length and his other hand going to your clit over your thigh, sending you shivers down your spine as you squirt once again for the night, now your body being only handled by the hand he used on you.

"What a good whore I have, mm" he mumbled as he came on your back, slowing down his pumps as he slowly puts you down on the mattress.

"See babe? What happens if you're a fucking brat?" he said as he undid the blindfold, looking at your teary eyes.

"What, by the look you have, you want more, you little slut? Is that right?" he said as he slapped your ass.

"Don't worry, I wasn't even close to being done tonight, turn around, I want you to see me fucking you this time."

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fortunxa · 7 months ago

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Blue hair, blue eyes, blue lights

Jinx x fem!reader / modern AU

summary: The chances of a blue-haired girl being chased by the cops and hopping in my car, simply yelling “Drive!” are low, but never zero.

author’s note: It’s my first time publishing a Jinx one-shot of mine, I hope you enjoy! This is a relatively new blog, so if anyone wants to become mutuals I’m definitely open to the idea! :)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Fourteen days.

A mere two weeks stand between me and move-in day for my freshman year of college. In other words, summer break is slowly coming to an end, and I’ve done fuck all to make it memorable.

I can feel life passing me by as I watch like a bystander. Usually, the clock is my enemy—a constant reminder of my youth running out, and, shit, I’m too young to feel that way. This time, it serves as a way to free me from the shackles of the evening shift as a front desk worker at our local gym.

The clock strikes midnight, and, like a modern-day Cinderella, I jump up from my seat and make a beeline for the exit, hurriedly clocking out. I simultaneously greet and say goodbye to the night shift going in, already halfway through the small yet relatively empty parking lot. The smell of sweaty ‘gym bros’ is long forgotten as the breeze engulfs me, my dirty sneakers thudding on the concrete. The rust on my beat-up jeep shines in the moonlight as I approach—so seductive, I snicker to myself. I toss my duffel bag in the trunk, hop behind the wheel, and start the engine. I take this moment to commence my connect-phone-to-car-or-die-trying mission and thank the universe for its successful outcome. I browse a bit through the plethora of playlists before settling on the usual one, the sound of Arctic Monkeys filling the space as I leave the parking lot.

I don’t want to go home—not yet, at least—so I settle for a late-night drive. The cookie-cutter, upper-class houses pass me by as I mindlessly cruise through the clean streets—a stark contrast to my neighborhood, where you either learn to stick up for yourself or go home crying to your mama. A place where there is more sewage sludge than trees. A place where I grew up and one I learned to love.

In the midst of it all, I don’t notice the particularly nasty bump on the road that makes my song abruptly cut off. I take a right, pulling over in an alley with an annoyed groan as I resort to phase two, also known as connect-phone-back-to-car-before-I-impulsively-crash, of my initial mission. As I fiddle with the settings, showing my inner cheek no mercy as my teeth dig into their feast, a hissing and spritzing sound comes through my open window.

I think I’m imagining things at first, that post-shift fatigue surely getting the best of me, but I spot the source of the sound rather quickly: a figure, hidden almost out of sight between the fancy houses, switching between various colors of spray paint as she defaces the picture-perfect facade with her graffiti. The sheer speed of her actions makes it look like she’s juggling.

How do I know it’s a girl? Well, although she is wearing a hat to shield her face from any surveillance cameras, a neck warmer up to her nose, and a black, oversized tracksuit already covered in pink paint splotches, her disguise was blown the moment she decided to leave her blue, ankle-length, twin braids out. I twist my neck and reach over the dashboard to try and get a better look at her work. I can barely make out the shape of a green monkey’s face before moving on to the next element. ‘Get ji-’

My reading is interrupted by the sound of sirens piercing the air and blue lights illuminating the area. Instinctively, I turn my headlights off and duck, watching the girl as she hastily packs the cans into her backpack. I swear I can see her eyes twinkle with excitement as she takes one last glance at her—presumably—finished artwork and takes off running through the gardens. Her faint giggle reaches my ears, and a bewildered smile graces my features. I wanted fun, and now it’s right in front of me. I definitely couldn’t get a clearer sign than this.

I observe as one of the cops chases after her as the other drives away, seemingly trying to cut her off. Lightbulb moment. I put the car into gear and waste no time following them from the comfort of the dark alleys, reaching the mysterious girl first through the shortcuts. I catch her contemplating her next move and, without hesitation, quickly flash my high beams at her twice. This seems to grab her attention, and I signal for her to get in with a simple nod, tapping the car door as confirmation.

To my surprise, she actually runs over and hops in the backseat, her back lying flat as she takes a swift peek through the window, and holy shit, I didn’t think that she actually would.

“Drive!” she yells through her panting, and I do. I feel my heart beating wildly against my ribcage as the blue lights appear once again in my rearview mirror. Don’t fuck this up, I think before taking a sharp left. I hear her elated squeals as I visualize the district’s roads and plan the perfect getaway.

Right.

Right, once again.

Left.

Straight down the street.

Sharp right.

I can hear the sirens getting closer as I speed through the familiar routes. It doesn’t matter that I know this area like the back of my hand; the cops probably do, too. There is only one thing left to try, and, albeit risky, it should work. They hadn’t spotted my car yet, and we were quickly approaching a busy intersection—the perfect distraction.

The tires squeak as I harshly pull into an empty driveway, turning the engine off in hopes of blending in.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the blue-haired girl grumbles with brooding eyes. I don’t reply. Instead, I shush her as I grab her waist and roll her off the seat, pushing her into the legroom before ducking underneath the steering wheel. We fall silent, holding our breaths in as the police car passes us by. I watch as they get lost in the dense traffic, a sigh of relief escaping me as I throw my head back. I climb into my seat again and take a peek at the tagger in the back, confusion crossing my features as I watch her stuff her face with candy. My candy. “Hefty stash you got back there.” Her mouth twists at the sour taste of a Warhead she picked. She seems completely unfazed by this whole situation.

I notice that she had discarded her hat and neck warmer and take the opportunity to get a better look at her: blue eyes matching her hair, light freckles splattered across her straight nose and rosy cheeks, pouty lips, her dark and expressive brows… She truly is breathtaking. I feel a blush creep up my face as she climbs over the console, wiggling her way into the passenger seat. She takes her hoodie off, revealing her black tank top, and fuck me, she has tattoos.

She faces me with a curious look herself, seemingly analyzing me too. Her gaze is difficult to decipher as her eyes trail over my figure, and I stiffen. She shoots me a knowing smile before throwing her hands around my neck and placing a kiss on my cheek. “You’re a lifesaver, toots,” she muses into my ear. The pleasant smell of paint and bubble gum hits my nose making me lick my lips. “Name’s Jinx, by the way. Stands for Jinx,” she cackles to herself, drawing her lower lip between her teeth awaiting my introduction.

I blink a couple of times, realizing how silent I’ve been throughout this whole ordeal. I can get awkward, sure, but I’m not timid, so I muster up the courage and consciously relax, trying to project a nonchalant attitude. “I’m Y/N.” I shoot her a smile of my own.

“Y/N. Hmm…” Jinx gives an approving hum as she repeats after me, my name rolling off her tongue like honey. “What made you help little ol’ me?” New observation: she’s a teaser.

“I need some excitement in my life,” I answer truthfully and she perks up with a spark in her eyes.

“Toots, you’ve just made friends with the perfect candidate to help you with that.” Her giddy attitude returns as she beams at me.

“We’re friends, huh?” I tease at her choice of words, my eyebrows raised in a cocky manner.

“Sure we are! I feel like running from the cops together is the perfect bonding experience, don’t ya?” She gives me a once-over before her mouth curves into a smirk. “Unless you want to be more than friends. That could work, too.” She winks. Her straightforwardness should make me turn crimson, but instead, it makes my confidence grow. I give a low chuckle as I shake my head in disbelief.

“Tell you what,” I begin, starting the engine and trying to connect my phone back to the car for the third time already, “let me get you home safely, and we’ll see what tomorrow brings to our friendship. Deal?” I extend my hand toward her, and she ponders my proposition. I can practically see the cogs turning in her head, her facial expressions jumping from sour to doubtful, as if she were battling her thoughts before settling on a satisfied grin.

Her soft hand reaches mine in a princess handshake, and I try not to look at her manicured nails for too long. “Deal.” The blue-haired girl snatches the phone out of my hands, adding her number to my contact list and sending a quick text to herself. Just when I think she’s giving it back, she picks a song, and I hear Arabella playing through the speakers. How fitting.

As I leave the stranger’s driveway, I sense her shuffling in the passenger seat, throwing her legs out the window. She puts her head on my lap freely, toying with the colorful charms on my keychain. In the spur of the moment, I gingerly brush her bangs behind her ear, revealing her side profile. Her gaze catches mine, and I see her eyes soften before I turn mine on the road again.

Jinx tells me her address, and I realize how close to me she lives—the perfect circumstances. I feel her lightly bobbing her head to the music as her left cheek strokes my thigh, her fingers tracing mine as they sit on the gear stick. Her demeanor feels different from the badass tagger who willingly hopped in a stranger’s car. She looks peaceful and content now.

My shoulders slump in disappointment as I park outside her house. She clicks her tongue and lazily lifts her head from the comfort of my lap. She looks around the empty streets of her neighborhood and hums, her curious eyes now shifting to mine. As we take each other in, I can’t help but gravitate toward her—her presence feels almost intoxicating, and I don’t want to part ways just yet. To my surprise, she copies my actions. She’s so close I can feel her minty breath mingle with mine. Instinctively, my gaze drops to her lips as she tentatively licks them. I let out a faint sigh, and she slowly closes the distance. I can hear my heartbeat as I wait for our lips to meet.

But they never do. “I don’t kiss on a first date,” she murmurs in my ear, and my face flushes. Jinx pulls away as she flashes me a toothy grin, and before I can even react, she’s already skipping to her front door, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Wha-? When did she grab her stuff? I stare in disbelief as she turns around, her braids flailing behind her. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings,” she teases and blows me a kiss before disappearing into the dark hallway of her home.

Fourteen days.

Give me two weeks to make her mine.

╰┈➤ sequel – ‘Fourteen days’

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rhiannonsknife · 29 days ago

Text

— BUT I’M A CHEERLEADER (part 2)

— summary: your first date with nat takes an unexpected turn.

— warnings: fluff. lots of period typical & internalized homophobia. angst. hurt/no comfort (yet). fem!reader. also i don’t know shit about bowling or soccer.

the next evening, you show up at the bowling alley ten minutes early, too giddy to keep pacing back and forth in your room.

the place is exactly what you expected: slightly dim, neon lights flickering over rows of well-worn lanes, the faint smell of fried food hanging in the air. it’s loud and feels worlds away from your usual hangouts, not at all what you thought nat would suggest and busier than you expected for a weeknight.

nat arrives right on time, striding in with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket. she scans the room for a second before her gaze lands on you. immediately, her lips twitch into a smirk, and she saunters over to where you’re standing.

“didn’t think you’d actually show,” she says by way of greeting and stops in front of you.

you roll your eyes, trying not to let her see just how much you’ve been looking forward to this. “i’m not the flaky one, remember?”

nat huffs a laugh, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. “fair point. ready to get your ass kicked?”

“oh, please,” you scoff. “you already admitted you’re terrible at this!”

“yeah, but so are you. let’s go!” she says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the counter to rent shoes.

as it turns out, nat wasn’t lying: she is terrible at bowling. her first two frames are instant gutter balls, and her third also veers off almost immediately, careening into the gutter with a dramatic thunk. she straightens up, staring after it for a moment, then turns to you with a deadpan expression.

“your turn!”

you burst out laughing from where you’d been watching her. “that’s it?“

“what?” nat shrugs. “think you’re gonna be any better?”

“wow,” you tease as you walk past her and grab your ball. “so much hope in me!”

she leans against the scorer’s table, crossing her arms as she watches you line up your shot. “show me how it’s done, hotshot!”

you’re determined not to make too much of a fool of yourself, though the bar is already ridiculously low after nat’s poor attempts. you square your shoulders, take a deep breath, and let the ball roll. for a brief, shining moment, you think you’ve nailed it. until it teeters off course and tumbles into the gutter about halfway down the lane.

behind you, nat laughs so hard you’re worried she might actually fall over. “nice job,” she says. “real pro move there!”

“oh, shut up,” you mutter, but you’re grinning too, the sting of failure softened by how ridiculous the whole scene feels.

you take another ball from the rack, determined to redeem yourself. this time, you actually take your time lining up the shot, glancing back at nat, who’s lounging against the table with an amused grin.

“focus, champ,” she teases. “no pressure!”

“uh huh,” you shoot back, shaking your head. you roll the ball, watching it glide smoothly down the lane. for a moment, it looks like it’s going to hit dead center before it veers to the side, taking out an astounding amount of three pins.

nat bursts into laughter, and you groan dramatically. “are you serious?”

“hey, three’s better than none,” she says, clapping slowly. “progress!”

“wow, thanks for the support,” you say, returning to the table and plopping into the chair beside her.

“anytime,” nat replies, still chuckling. she’s next to grab a ball and saunters up to the lane. her casual confidence is almost convincing…until she bowls another gutter ball.

by the fifth frame, you’ve given up on trying to win and are instead competing to see who can make the worst shot. nat perfects a move where she lazily tosses the ball underhand, watching it crawl its way to the pins at an impressively slow pace. it knocks over exactly one pin, and she doubles over laughing.

you’re holding up a hand as tears of laughter blur your vision. “they’re going to kick us out for disrespecting the sport or something!”

halfway through the game, you’re sitting side by side at the table, splitting a basket of fries nat insisted on getting. even with the chaos around you, the occasional strike followed by whoops of celebration, your attention keeps drifting back to her.

nat catches your not so subtle staring and raises an eyebrow. she dips a fry into the remains of ketchup and asks: “what?”

you quickly shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat. “nothing. just…you’re really bad at this,”

she smirks, popping a fry into her mouth. “yeah, well, you’re not much better!”

you laugh, nudging her with your shoulder. “fair enough!”

there’s a pause, comfortable and easy, before she speaks again. “you know, i kind of like this.”

you glance at nat sideways, surprised. “bowling?”

“no,” she says, rolling her eyes. “this. you. not being so…cheerleader-y!”

you stomach flips again, but you keep your voice light. “and here i thought you loved my pom-poms!”

nat grins, shaking her head as she hops up to her feet. “come on! i still have to finish this!”

“oh, please,” you say, leaning forward to steal a fry of your own. “we’re both disasters. let’s just call it a tie and save ourselves the embarrassment!”

nat’s grin widens as she shakes her head. “no way! i’m committed now. this game isn’t over until one of us manages a strike!”

“a strike?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “we’ll be here all night!”

“good,” nat says. “i’ve got nowhere else to be!”

unsurprisingly, neither of you manages a strike. by the time you finally give up, the scoreboard is a tragic display of gutter balls and spare attempts. still, your sides ache from laughing too hard at nat’s increasingly dramatic reactions to her missed shots.

“well,” you say, slipping your bowling shoes off at the rental counter, “i think it’s safe to say we’re not getting scouted for the pro leagues anytime soon!”

nat tosses her own shoes onto the counter with a loud thud, shrugging. “hey, speak for yourself! i’ve got potential!”

you shake your head, grinning. “maybe next time we stick to something less physical?”

the words are out before you have time to consider their implications. judging by nat’s attitude before, you wonder if she’s even up for something like a ‘next time’ or if she’s counting down the seconds until she can get out of here.

the way she’s smiling -unlike anything you’ve ever seen in school- does seem like she’s having at least as much fun as you though. and instead of turning you down, she’s nudging you with her elbow. “what about the arcade? i think i’ve got enough energy left to kick your ass at air hockey too!”

“you’re awfully confident for someone who couldn’t break 60 in bowling,” you tease, following her toward the neon glow of the arcade that’s tucked into a different part of the building.

nat just glances back over her shoulder, grinning. “you’ll see!”

the arcade is alive with sound and light and you wander through the rows of machines shoulder to shoulder, eventually stopping at a basketball free-throw game.

“alright,” nat says, cracking her knuckles. “let’s see what you’ve got, cheerleader!”

“oh, please. you’re the one on a soccer team,” you reply, gesturing at the hoop. “shouldn’t hand-eye coordination also be your kind of thing?”

“soccer,” she deadpans. “not basketball. but i guess we’ll find out!”

nat does manage a solid lead at first, sinking several shots in a row while you struggle to keep up. when her aim falters, and you take your chance to catch up, scoring three baskets back-to-back just before the timer runs out.

“okay, okay,” she says, raising her hands in surrender as the scoreboard flashes your victory. “maybe i’ll stick to soccer!”

“what was that about destroying me?”

nat rolls her eyes, grabbing the tickets that spit out from the machine. “beginner’s luck. don’t get used to it!”

you’re still laughing when you pass a pair of shooting games tucked into the corner of the room next. she instantly slows, her attention caught by the pixelated zombies on the screen.

“oh, we have to play this,” nat declares, stepping toward it. “let’s see who’s got better shooting aim!”

she’s already grabbing one of the plastic guns and hands the other to you. “come on! i’ll even give you a head start!”

you hesitantly take it from her, your fingers fumbling to hold it correctly. the machine comes to life as nat inserts a few quarters. the game starts with an obnoxiously loud intro and an animated announcer yelling about a zombie apocalypse while dramatic music plays in the background.

“okay, ready?” nat asks, aiming her gun.

“i think so,” you say, mimicking her stance.

she takes the first few shots like a pro, hitting targets with surprising accuracy. the same can’t be said for you: your first shot misses so badly that she actually pauses to laugh, nearly getting hit herself in the process.

“you’re supposed to aim at the zombies, you know?”she teases.

“i am aiming at the zombies!” you reply, adjusting your grip on the gun.

nat glances at you, then laughs. “what are you doing? you’re holding it like it’s a water pistol!”

you huff. “well, excuse me for not being an expert at fake guns!”

nat shakes her head, grinning. “here, let me show you!”

before you can argue, she steps behind you, her arms brushing yours as she adjusts your grip. nat’s hands settle over yours, guiding you to hold the gun steady. “like this,” she says softly, her voice so close to your ear that it sends a shiver down your spine.

you nod, thought your brain feels absolutely scrambled. you’re hyperaware of just how close she is, the warmth of her hands over yours, the faint smell of her cologne.

“see?” she continues, her voice low and her breath warm against the back of your neck. if nat is aware of the affect that she has on you, she won’t let it show. “now you can actually aim!”

“yeah,” you manage. you’re not sure you’re even looking at the screen anymore.

her fingers linger for a second too long before she steps back. you exhale, trying to shake off the heat rising to your face, and focus on the game instead.

it continues, and though you start hitting a few more targets, nat still dominates the scoreboard all throughout the game. by the final round, both of you are frantically firing at the screen, shouting instructions at each other and laughing whenever one of you misses.

the neon lights of the arcade reflect off nat’s face as she occasionally grins at you between firing shots. for this moment, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. it feels like the kind of moment you’d envisioned yourself having time and time again, not once thinking somebody like you would ever live this kind of reality. now here you are, with nat scatorccio out of all people.

then, just as the next wave of pixelated zombies is about to appear on screen, you catch sight of someone out of the corner of your eye: a figure standing near the claw machine. familiar. too familiar.

your stomach instantly twists at the sight. it’s her. she’s leaning casually against the side of the machine, her arms crossed as she watches you. even surrounded by a group of friends, some of which you recognize from cheer practice, her eyes are on you and nat.

panic rushes through you suddenly, and you feel the familiar urge to get out of her eyesight as fast as possible.

“hey, uhm, give me a second,” you mumble, setting the plastic gun down.

nat straightens, her smile fading into concern. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you say quickly, forcing a smile and an unconvincing thumbs up. “just…bathroom. be right back!”

you weave through the crowd, your heartbeat thundering in your ears and drowning out the noise of the arcade around you. the bathroom door swings open with a soft creak, and you step inside, bracing your hands against the sink.

the harsh fluorescent lights make everything feel too bright, too sharp. you grip the edge, your knuckles turning white.

she saw you. she saw you laughing with nat, leaning close, acting like you didn’t care about the looks, the whispers she used to care about back when you were sneaking around. she won’t just let that slide.

when the door swings open behind you, you don’t need to turn around to know it’s her who steps inside.

“didn’t think i’d see you here,”

your meet her eyes in the mirror, your reflection pale and tense. “what do you want?”

she steps inside, letting the door shut behind her. “relax. i’m just saying hi!”

you turn to face her fully, crossing your arms in front of you like a shield. “hi. now leave.”

she ignores the demand, only steps closer instead. “i didn’t know you were into arcade games,” she says, raising a brow. “or that you were hanging out with yellowjackets…?”

your nails press crescent moon shapes into the palm of your hand as you attempt to stand your ground. it’s always been hard with her, when she’s so used to getting whatever she pleases.

“it’s just funny. i thought you didn’t even like soccer?” she tilts her head. “so what’s this then? some new hobby?”

your throat feels dry as you try and find your voice. “it’s not- nat and i are just hanging out!”

“right” she says, dragging the word out.

“what do you want?”

she shrugs, stepping further into the bathroom. “just curious. you’ve been avoiding me, and now here you are, cozying up to scatorccio of all people!”

you flinch at her tone, the condescension in the way she says nat’s name. “it’s none of your business!”

“oh, but it is,” she says, her voice sharpening as she hisses: “do you have any idea how that looks? you’re not exactly subtle, you know? half the arcade probably thinks you two are…” she trails off.

you stomach churns. you doubt she’ll ever change: apparently, even being associated with somebody who might be queer is too much for her to handle. “so what if they do?”

her eyes narrow. “so what? are you serious right now?”

you feel your hands curl into fists at your sides. “what are you trying to say?”

“all i’m saying is that you’re playing with fire,” she snaps, her voice rising. “people talk. and if you’re not careful, you’re going to ruin everything for yourself!”

your breath catches. “ruin what? there’s nothing to ruin!”

“oh please!” she takes another step closer. “you think people are just going to be okay with it? you think you’re going to waltz around with your little soccer girlfriend and not have it blow up in your face?”

you swallow hard. “nat’s not my girlfriend!”

“that’s not the point,” she says, her tone growing harsher. “the point is you’re going to make things harder for yourself! and for what? for her?”

you feel your eyes sting. you hate that she can still get to you like this. “why do you even care? you made it clear you didn’t want this!”

“because i didn’t want to ruin my life,” she says, her voice rising. “do you know what people would say if they knew? if they knew about us? about you?”

“you act like i’m the problem,” you manage to scoff. “like i’m ruining everything. you’re the one who’s scared. you’re the one who can’t deal with who you are!”

“i know things about you!” she snaps then. “things i could say. people i could tell!”

your breath hitches all over again, the weight of her words -of the threat- pressing down on you like a physical force.

before you can respond, the door swings open again, and nat steps inside. her eyes immediately lock onto yours, and then dart to your ex, her jaw tightening. she might not know who she is yet, but you’re sure nat can put two and two together.

“what’s going on here?”

“nothing,” your ex says quickly, straightening up. “we were just…talking!”

nat doesn’t look convinced. she steps closer, positioning herself between you and her. “didn’t sound like just talking!”

“jesus, relax natalie,” she rolls her eyes. “this has nothing to do with you!”

“it has if you’re upsetting her,” nat says.

your ex falters, her confidence wavering under nat’s steady gaze. she looks at you one last time, scoffing, her expression a mix of anger and something almost like regret. but then she turns on her heel, brushing past nat as she storms out of the bathroom.

“hey,” nat immediately says. “are you okay?”

you nod, but the tears spill over anyway. “i’m fine,” you mumble, quickly wiping at your face.

nat steps closer, her presence steadying in a way you never knew before. “you don’t have to be,” she assures.

“she’s just…” you trail off, struggling to find the words. “she’s like that because of her own stuff. it’s not about me. not really”

nat nods, “i get it, but it still sucks!”

you let out a weak laugh, the tension in your chest loosening just a little. “yeah. it does,”

she hesitates, then reaches out, her hand brushing your shoulder. the touch is brief at first but grounding, and when you don’t turn away, nat dares to pull you into somewhat of a half embrace, unsure but no less comforting.

“come on,” nat mumbles after a moment. “let’s get you out of here, yeah? i’m not letting you have another breakdown in a bathroom over her on my watch, cheerleader!”

the next morning feels like stepping into an entirely different world altogether: the fight in the bathroom with your ex is a long forgotten, thanks to nat’s attempt to cheer you up, and your heart is still buzzing from your time with her.

she’d driven you home after the arcade, and though nothing happened, not a kiss, not even holding hands, you’d caught yourself smiling like an absolute idiot in the passenger seat, replaying the way she’d looked at you all night.

now, even the seemingly endless monotony of class seems oddly tolerable: you actually find yourself sitting through lectures without doodling in your notebook or counting the minutes until lunch. when you spot nat across the hallway between classes or across the room in your one shared history lesson, the sight of her messy hair or a flash of her smile is enough to send a flutter through your chest.

the good mood follows you right up until you step into the gym for cheer practice after school.

something feels off the second you walk in. the usual buzz of chatter and laughter feels stilted, replaced with something tense. any talk is cut off as soon as your sneakers squeak against the polished floor. a quick glance around confirms a suspicion that’s already creeping up on you: people are watching.

and not just glancing, staring.

your tighten your grip on your gym bag, a knot forming in your stomach. your steps falter as you approach the lockers and the murmur of voices picks up again behind you.

“…makes sense, though, doesn’t it?”

“i mean, it’s gross, right?”

“does coach even know?”

you drop your bag by the lockers and start stretching near the mats. the whispers don’t stop. if anything, they grow louder, their words becoming clearer until there’s no pretending you don’t hear them anymore. when you glance toward the group huddled near the bleachers, you see the pointed looks, the smirks, and the unmistakable glare from your ex:

she’s standing at the center of the group, arms crossed, a clearly self-satisfied smirk plastered across her face.

finally, you stand, brushing off your hands, and take a step toward them. “what’s going on?”

the chatter stops abruptly, as if none of them were expecting you to call it out. for a moment, nobody answers, but then she steps forward.

“oh, nothing,” she says, looking around. “we were just talking about how interesting it must’ve been for you, being on a team full of girls. you know…since you’re into that sort of thing?”

it feels like the floor drops out from underneath your feet.

it’s a low blow, even for her, but that doesn’t stop the group of girls that surround you from giggling quietly.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say quickly, but your voice wavers, betraying you. “what’s your problem?”

“no problem here. just thought it was interesting, you know? seeing you out last night. you and natalie scatorccio?”

the gym falls silent. you feel every pair of eyes in the room turns to you.

“we weren’t doing anything,” you manage despite their stares. “we were just hanging out!”

“hanging out?” your ex repeats, feigning surprise. “that’s what you call it? looked a lot more…cozy than that to me!”

laughter ripples through the group, and heat floods your face.

“oh my god,” one of the other girls chimes in, her voice filled with poorly concealed disgust. “are you actually serious? you were on a date with her?”

“it wasn’t a date!” you protest, your voice rising in panic. as much as you would’ve liked for it to be, neither of you labeled it that.

another girl snorts. “right, because scatorccio is totally the type to hang out with a cheerleader just for fun! come on, we’ve all seen her. she’s like…you know?” she makes a vague gesture. there’s no need for her to elaborate for the whole room to understand what she saying.

“like what?” you snap.

“like you,” your ex cuts in smoothly. “two of a kind, right? birds of a feather! must be nice, not having to hide anymore!”

someone snickers behind her. “we’re just friends,” you say, sharper now.

“sure you are, that’s why you were basically all over each other!”

the group bursts into more laughter around you.

“would you just shut up?” you snap at last.

“oh, she’s mad now,” one of the other girls says, her voice a mock sing-song.

your ex steps closer, dropping the act entirely now that you’re chest to chest. “what’s the matter? afraid people might find out who you really are?” she glances around at the others, then back at you. “you know, it’s kind of pathetic. sneaking around like that. nobody’s buying it, anyway!”

“don’t-” your voice cracks.

“don’t what?” she says. “don’t call you out? don’t let everyone know they’ve been sharing a locker room with a lesbian?”

the words hang in the air, sharp and cruel, and hit you like a slap. for a moment, all you can do is stand there, frozen, as the group watches you, some wide-eyed, others smirking.

it’s not just about nat, or you. it’s about your place in their world: your status as part of the team, part of the cheer squad. the one thing you’ve always tried to fit into, always tried to be, no matter how uncomfortable it made you. it is now that you’re realizing that maybe you don’t belong in their world. that maybe you never did.

grabbing your bag, you shove past her and storm toward the door, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. the door slams shut behind you, muffling the sound of their laughter.

you won’t go back to the gym and give them that satisfaction.

instead, you walk down the halls, past the locker rooms, and head out the back doors. the air outside is cold, but does nothing to numb the ache in your chest. it’s the kind that suddenly feels like it’s been there all along, maybe longer than you realized, even. a crack forming. one piece of your life falling away at a time: cheerleading had always been your thing. your family’s thing, your friends’ thing. you’d been in it so long, it is hard to imagine life without it.

but then there’s still nat.

you’re not sure why your thoughts drift to her now, but you do know one thing for sure: with nat, over these past weeks, you could breathe. the world didn’t feel so small. she made you feel like you again, like someone who could be something other than just a cheerleader, just a girl pretending.

it isn’t until you’ve wandered to the edge of campus that you realize where your feet have taken you: the soccer field stretches out ahead, bright under the last bits of aternoon sun. from where you’re standing, you can see the yellowjackets mid-practice. you hesitate at the edge of the field, heart pounding as your eyes scan the group for her.

they’ve always been a tight group and there’s always been something about them that you’ve admired: the way they’ve got each other’s backs, no questions asked. you can’t help but feel like maybe that’s the one thing you’ve never been able to do for yourself.

nat is easy to spot, even from a distance. she’s wearing shorts and a faded soccer jersey, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. you freeze, watching as she jogs across the field with an effortless ease before passing the ball to taissa, who maneuvers it past a defender before sending it toward van. van, who catches it, calls out something teasing in return, her voice carrying across the field, and the whole team bursts into laughter.

even from a distance, they’re so at ease with one another.

and then there’s you.

the girl who just got shut out by her own teammates. you stand there, rooted to the spot, watching nat and the others as a painful realization starts to settle in your chest.

clearly, she belongs here.

you don’t.

you think back to the way the yellowjackets rallied around each other at that party, how they’d teased nat when they saw you in her jacket the next day, never with an ounce of cruelty. they’d just laughed and called her out, like it was no big deal. no judgment whatsoever.

out there on the pitch, they don’t look at her the way your squad looked at you today. they don’t treat her like she’s a problem that needs to be fixed. who are you to mess with that?

your chest tightens as the thought takes root: you’ve just lost your place on the cheer squad because you couldn’t keep your feelings buried where they belonged. and now, after one night of just hanging out with nat, everything feels even more precarious.

and it’s not only about you anymore, either. if you let yourself get closer to nat, if people start to notice, if they connect the dots, what happens then? does the judgment simply spill over onto her? onto the team she so clearly loves?

you can’t do that to her, not when she’s so happy here. not when she’s already lost so much, like she told you the night of that party. you can’t be the one to take anything else away from her.

nat jogs toward the sidelines now, wiping sweat from her brow as she laughs at something shauna says not far behind. you catch the faint sound of her voice, low and raspy, and it sends an ache through your chest that already feels too big to name.

you think about walking up to her, about calling her name and letting her see the raw hurt on your face. maybe she’d understand. maybe she’d care. but as you watch her sling an arm around lottie from afar, grinning ear to ear, you hesitate.

what if she doesn’t? what if you’re just another burden she doesn’t need? another thing weighing her down?

before you can second-guess yourself, you turn on your heel, your eyes stinging as you walk away from the field, the sound of laughter fading into the distance behind you.

it’s better this way, you tell yourself. ehe’s happy, and she deserves to stay that way. you’ll figure out the rest on your own, even if it means facing it all alone.

— a/n: i know it’s not wednesday yet, but a) i just got the sweetest ask ever, which motivated me to sit my ass down and finish this, and b) i have a rhiannon lewis fic for tomorrow that’s been sitting in my drafts since november! so, instead of posting two in one day, enjoy this one today! 😭😭

#˙💌 ̟ !! ─ my works #nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x female reader #nat scatorccio x fem!reader #nat scatorccio x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x female reader #yellowjackets x you

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glow-worms-are-believers · 7 months ago

Text

The Kaldur'ahm before the storm (dp x dc)

Kaldur'ahm has seen a lot as a member of the Light, he has had to do a lot, not the least of it being fighting his teammates. Former teammates, he berates himself. Whether or not they will ever trust him again after his stint as a double-agent is still uncertain. In any case, Kaldur'ahm has had to get better at holding back his natural reactions to whatever evil the Light has decided must be done.

But today, it seems is going to be a test of what he can resolve to ignore.

"The specimen is absolutely fascinating," says the man in his stained white coat as he speaks with great enthusiasm.

"What have you learned?" Savage interrupts impatiently.

The Atlantean is only here because his father has been sent on another mission that was considered too delicate to trust his son with. Despite his probing, Kaldur'ahm has not managed to find more information. He had resolved to try and make contact with other members of the Light and he ended up one of the lucky few chosen to shadow the Founder.

Kaldur'ahm does not feel lucky.

"It can regrow organs," the scientist says, as he wipes his glasses, excitedly, leaving yet another green stain on his coat. "We have not yet tested them all, but kidneys, pancreas and even parts of its larger intestines have all grown back in matter of hours."

"This could revolutionize the field of medicine as we know it," the second scientist says, her voice more controlled, but obviously just as excited.

"And we have yet to test if the it will regrow more essential organs, such as the heart or the lungs!"

"Marvellous," Vandal says with a benign smile.

The first scientist nods enthusiastically before gesturing further down the hall, away from the observation station as he continues rambling, sometimes interrupted by his companion.

Kaldur'ahm has been trying not to look through the window, out of fear he would let his horror and revulsion show, but he can't help but look up quickly, and he makes eye contact with the tired, pained green eyes.

It looks like the boy's face is trying to form a snarl, that he's trying to resist, but he is halfway gone already. His skin is so pale he looks transparent, despite the bright green spots painting his face.

Kaldur'ahm cannot look away.

The boy's chest is a mangle of green and flesh and the Atlantean has to stop himself from gagging at the sight.

Someone jostles him as they pass by him to rejoin the figure of Vandal who is getting further and Kaldur'ahm comes back to himself.

There is nothing he can do for the boy. Not yet, he tells himself.

But later, once most of the personnel has gone.

Kaldur'ahm will come back.

And he will get the boy out.

#tw dissection #Kaldur'ahm saves Danny from the Light #The Light made a deal with the GIW or smt #it's bad for Danny #kaldur'ahm #danny fenton #vandal savage #dc x dp #dp x dc #roxpox #roxpoxwrote #polysexual character #(in the Young Justice universe)

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mymegrokosmos · 3 months ago

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a little soft bf minghao brainrot bc i felt like it. super era shoulder injury hao.

you set your bags down on the counter, dropping your keys by the front door and going to put your things away. by the time you've shrugged out of your jacket, hung it up in the front closet and put your purse in its usual spot on the credenza table in the hallway you're ready to melt into the sofa but there's still more to do before you can relax.

when you get to the kitchen, halfway through tying your hair up out of your face, you find yourself smiling. the familiar sight of your boyfriend's back, clad in his usual leisure attire of grey sleeveless top that leaves just a hint of his shoulders visible, peeks out of the fridge. he's already started putting the groceries away before anything gets too warm. just when you think your fondness for him can’t melt your heart any more than it already has he leans back to look at you from around the door and his soft smile has your heart in shambles.

if it’s possible to become one with the floor you're doing it. you've become a puddle. his shaggy mullet is in disarray, fluffy from where he's run his hands through it, and his face is bare. his usually sharp eyes are framed by big round glasses, softening his gaze as he closes the fridge in favour of coming over to press a kiss to your forehead.

"hi darling, welcome home. how was your day?"

you'd think after all this time you'd be used to how tall he was but it was still always a bit of a surprise just how much he towered over you up close. you sighed, letting him pull you into a hug and sliding your arms around his slim waist.

"hi. it was okay, very long."

he chuckles and you close your eyes, head resting against his chest. you're careful to lay it against the side of his good shoulder, nuzzling against the soft cotton of his shirt as his hand comes up to rest against the back of your head.

"i'm glad to finally be home. what did you get up to today handsome?"

the hand on your waist squeezes lightly and he holds you close for a minute before stepping back with another kiss to the top of your head.

"physio this morning again and then practice, even though I can't do a lot of the choreo yet they still need me for blocking when I can make it. mingyu came by earlier and dropped off some hotpot. why don't you go get into something more comfortable and we can talk about it over dinner?"

sometimes there was nothing better than coming home to everything already being taken care of. you know he misses being at work but being home more means minghao needs things to do. his physiotherapist also says that getting some movement in is good for his progress, so he's been taking care of household chores and spending a lot more time meditating lately to keep himself busy.

the members have been helping when they can. mingyu comes by or gets your boyfriend out of the house at least three times a week now. jun's often over in his free time to run lines with hao or catch up on the latest cdrama you're watching together. you think joshua has even dragged him out to a pottery class or two in their spare time. it's been good for him and the rest is doing him good, even if it makes him a little bit restless sometimes.

you nod. "i'll be right back. do you need me to help with anything?"

"no, just relax and leave the day at the office jagiya."

easier said than done but minghao always made you feel less guilty about sticking by work life balance and keeping them mostly separate. it's also been fun spending more time cooking together, he's good in the kitchen just a little impatient and you're enjoying getting to try out some of his mother's recipes. she's often on video call when you get home, minghao pouting about something while she scolds him playfully or they catch up on their weeks with each other. it's sweet and you love that their relationship only seems to get stronger as time goes on.

"you're still coming to the company dinner next week with me, right?"

another soft smile as he nods. "I'll be there darling. I didn't pick us out matching outfits just to not show up. now stop worrying and go change. you're hovering again."

you are, just a little bit. it's a habit you're still trying to work your way out of. you were a little traumatized when you got the call that hao was in the hospital at first and, though you both know he's fine and capable now, the instinct to make sure he's okay still lingers a little bit.

you sigh and make a face at him. "okay, okay. I'm going."

he just chuckles as you head towards your shared bedroom. makeup and weight of the day finally removed it's time to slip into one of hao's oversized tshirts and the matching cotton pyjama pants he bought for you last christmas. it feels like a cozy day so you take the time to find your slippers too before shuffling back towards the kitchen.

you find minghao stirring a pot of what seems to be mingyu's latest attempt at comfort food and slip your arms around his waist from behind, face pressed lightly against his warm back.

"smells good."

he hums in agreement, hand patting yours where it rests on his stomach. "I think he made enough to feed about seven more people than we currently have in the apartment."

you laugh and lean around him to peek at the food over his arm. "gyu probably plans to use it as an excuse to come over for lunch tomorrow or something. oh no guess you need someone else to help you eat it all."

that makes your boyfriend scoff. "why would he do that when he can just say he wants to come over? he knows where we live."

you kiss his bicep and move to get down some bowls for you both. "because he's kim mingyu and you're you myungho."

your boyfriend stops to look at you, blinking as he pauses his stirring. "I'm still not seeing your point love."

"you know how you don't like when people get too presumptuous about you?" you smile softly. "I wouldn't say he's intimidated because gyu knows you love him but... sometimes he's a little insecure and sometimes you can be a little cold."

he considers this. "he's never let that stop him before."

you smile and let him guide you, one hand on your hip as you slide between him and the pot on the stove to fill your bowls.

"and he won't, I don't think, because at the end of the day he knows that it isn't that you don't like his affection you just don't always know what to do with it and it needs time to process. but I think, and maybe this is just my take, he sometimes worries a little about intruding too much. especially now that you have a relationship outside of just your family and the members and your other friends."

it's quiet for a minute as he takes that in. you dish up hot pot for both of you and take the bowls over to your small dining table. minghao slowly follows behind, face impassive. you'd worry that you upset him but you know that expression. it's not anger or annoyance, he's just lost in thought. you take his hand, press a kiss to the back of it, and watch as he blinks back into the present.

"think about it all you need but let's eat first. like I said, maybe I'm just reading too much into it. maybe he has other reasons. we can finish that new drama and call him later if you want."

your boyfriend nods and joins you at the table, filling you in on his day. you can tell he's only half present but that's okay. by the time you finish and wash up he seems to have come to a decision.

"love?"

"yes myungho?"

he scrunches his nose. "try again please darling."

you laugh but the arms he crosses over his chest tell you he's serious. you smile softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"yes, seo myungho great love of my life and most wondrous of boyfriends?"

he snorts. "closer but still not correct."

"baobei?"

he blinks. "close enough."

you laugh and brush a hand over his cheek, melting a little when he leans into the touch and takes your hand in his.

"you know I'm only teasing you, right?"

he nods. "I do."

you lace your fingers and press a kiss to the back of his hand. "what did you want to say honey?"

"do you mind if mingyu comes over tomorrow? I know it's your day off."

"babe, this is your apartment too."

minghao sighs. you know that look. the exasperated 'are you being serious right now?' stare. you smile.

"no, I don't mind if gyu comes over. just maybe warn me beforehand so I can make sure I have pants and a bra on this time."

that makes him smile, just a little, even as he rolls his eyes at you.

"come help me with my skincare?"

"only if you let me use the good stuff."

"mm we can even wear those matching headbands you like."

"lead the way love."

sometimes all you need after a long day is xu minghao ready with a hot meal, a long hug and a silly fuzzy frog headband keeping the bangs out of his face as he applies 6 layers of different creams to your face.

#seventeen #boyfriend #svt #seventeen fluff #svt drabbles #svt fluff #xu minghao #seo myungho #minghao #hao #minghao x reader #minghao x you #seventeen x reader #bf seventeen #seventeen drabbles #seventeen blurbs

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mxnsterbabe · 2 months ago

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Male Gargoyle/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 5,890 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

A new human resident, seeking refuge for reasons of your own, finds love in the form of a monstrous guardian.

The halfway house loomed ahead, its imposing stone walls etched with shadow in the moonlight. You clutched your bag tighter, your pulse drumming in your ears.

You glanced over your shoulder for what must have been the hundredth time, the cold weight of dread pressing against your ribs.

The door rose before you, solid and unyielding, its brass knocker shaped like a wolf’s head glaring at you. Your fingers hovered above it, trembling slightly. For a moment, you considered turning around. Would this place really keep you safe? Could it?

Before your knuckles touched the brass, the door swung open with a long creak. A woman stood framed in the warm glow spilling from inside, her sharp features softened by the lamplight. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her golden eyes swept over you.

“You must be the new arrival,” she said, her voice rich but calm. The kind of calm that unnerved you because it was something you’d forgotten how to feel. “Come in. It’s late, and you look like you’ve had a long journey.”

The way she spoke wasn’t a question, and somehow, it put you at ease. You stepped over the threshold, your grip on your bag loosening just slightly. The door closed behind you with a weighty click, and you tried not to flinch.

The house’s interior was warm, the dark wood floors gleaming and the sconces casting golden light along the walls. It smelled faintly of lavender and something spicy, like clove. Your breathing slowed as you took it in, though your heart was still racing.

“You’re Esmeralda?” you asked, your voice raspier than you’d hoped.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I am. You’re Lucas’ friend?” Her head tilted slightly, studying you with a kind of quiet intensity. “He said you’d been through a lot. That you needed somewhere safe.”

You swallowed hard. “He didn’t lie.”

Her smile grew warmer, more assured. “This is the safest place you’ll find. The wards will keep out... whatever it is you’re running from.”

The words hit you like a blow, and for a moment, you thought you might cry. Weeks of running, of watching shadows that seemed to creep too close, of every breath feeling like a gamble—all of it had been eating away at you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Positive,” she said firmly. “Lucas wouldn’t have sent you here if it weren’t.”

Her certainty left you speechless. For the first time in weeks, the knot in your chest began to loosen, even if only slightly.

Esmeralda’s gaze softened further. “Come with me. I’ll show you to the kitchen. You look like you could use some tea.”

You followed her down the hallway, the house quiet except for the faint creak of the wooden floor beneath your steps. As she guided you toward the warm glow of the kitchen, the fear still lingered, but her steady presence made it easier to breathe. For the first time, you let yourself hope this sanctuary might be real.

Esmeralda moved about the kitchen with quiet efficiency, the sound of water filling the kettle breaking the heavy silence that had settled over you. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, mingling with the sharper tang of herbs drying in bundles above the stove. You sank into one of the wooden chairs at the table, the weight of exhaustion pressing you down as the kettle began to hum, low and steady.

Your hands rested against the table, fingertips brushing over its scarred surface, worn smooth by years of use. Esmeralda’s presence at the counter was a comfort, her movements deliberate yet soothing, as though she’d done this a hundred times for people like you.

The kettle hissed as it came to a boil, and the click of Esmeralda turning it off was sharp but satisfying. The earthy scent of tea leaves followed, curling into the air as she poured steaming water into two chipped mugs.

“You’ll feel better with something warm,” she said softly, setting a mug in front of you. The steam rose between you, and you curled your fingers around the cup, letting the heat seep into your hands.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

The silence stretched again, broken only by the faint creak of the house as the night settled into its bones. Your eyes wandered to the doorway beyond Esmeralda, the dim hall beyond swallowed in shadows. For the first time since entering, the warmth of the kitchen didn’t feel as reassuring. The dark seemed to press against the doorway like a heavy thing, waiting.

Then it moved.

Your breath caught as a shadow shifted in the hall, something large and hulking stepping into view. Your pulse spiked, fear tightening your chest, and the chair scraped loudly against the floor as you stumbled to your feet.

“I—” a voice rumbled, low and gravelly, almost a growl. “I didn’t mean to...”

The shadow resolved into something more solid, a figure stepping closer. He was tall—massive—with broad shoulders and thick arms almost as big as your thighs. The light from the kitchen caught his face, the deep grooves and ridges of his features etched deep into his skin. His flat nose and sharp tusks gave him a beastly look, but his amber eyes held something that was almost shy.

“I didn’t realise there was a newcomer,” he said awkwardly, his claws curling slightly as his hands rested at his sides. “It’s late.”

Your heart pounded, the initial fear still rushing through your veins. “I—sorry,” you stammered, stepping back toward the table. “You startled me.”

He hesitated, his wings shifting slightly behind him as if he were trying to make himself smaller. “My fault. I thought everyone was asleep.”

Esmeralda turned to him, her voice calm. “This is Olivier. He helps keep the house running.”

You nodded quickly, still clutching the edge of the table. “I didn’t mean to... react like that.”

Olivier tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “You’re fine,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

The tension in the room eased, though your hands still gripped the edge of the table like it was the only thing holding you steady. His size had your pulse thrumming, the sheer presence of him filling the doorway as his amber eyes lingered on you for a moment longer. Then, with a quiet nod, he stepped back into the shadows, his heavy footsteps receding down the hall.

Esmeralda sat down across from you, sliding her mug closer. “He’s not so scary once you get to know him.”

You nodded faintly, though your pulse hadn’t quite settled. “I didn’t mean to react poorly.”

She smiled slightly. “He understands. Olivier’s... quiet, but he’s one of the kindest souls you’ll meet.”

You glanced toward the hall where he’d disappeared, the echo of his presence still lingering like a shadow in the warm light of the kitchen.

Esmeralda sipped her tea, her fingers delicate around the mug. She watched you with a sly smile as Olivier vanished, but said nothing.

Across the table, you tried to steady yourself, the warmth of the drink doing little to calm the residual unease from your earlier scare. The room was quiet except for the faint clink of her spoon against the rim as she stirred absently.

“Feeling better?” she asked, her dark eyes studying you over the edge of her cup.

You nodded, though your hands still trembled slightly as you lifted the mug. “A bit. I just... I didn’t expect to see anyone.”

“Olivier isn’t usually up this late,” she said, a faint smile pulling at her lips. “He must have been finishing up something. He can be... intense at first, but he’s good. You’ll see.”

Her reassurance didn’t dispel the lingering image of his massive frame silhouetted in the dim hall, his amber eyes glinting in the shadows. Still, there had been something awkward about him, a reluctance that softened the fear he’d sparked.

You took another sip of tea, the earthy flavour grounding you as Esmeralda leaned back in her chair. She gave you time to gather yourself, her calm presence filling the silence.

“Come on,” she said gently after a while, setting her empty mug down. “You need sleep more than anything right now.”

You followed her out of the kitchen, the warmth fading slightly as you entered the cooler hall. The sconces along the walls cast soft light, their glow illuminating the space just enough to make the shadows feel less oppressive.

Esmeralda led you upstairs and past several doors, some plain, others with small, worn nameplates fixed above the handles. Your eyes lingered on the engraved names as you walked.

Olivier. Laurent. Lucas.

She noticed your gaze and offered a small smile. “Some of the residents here are permanent,” she explained. “Olivier and his brother, Laurent, have been with me the longest. Lucas helps me run the house, though you already know that.”

You wondered what kind of people—or creatures—could find permanence in a place like this.

Esmeralda stopped in front of a door near the end of the hall and pushed it open, revealing a cosy room with a double bed tucked beneath a window. The quilted covers looked inviting, and a lamp on the bedside table cast a warm, golden glow over the space.

“This will be yours,” she said, stepping aside so you could enter. “It’s comfortable, and there are extra blankets in the wardrobe if you need them.”

You nodded, your body already aching for the bed’s promise of rest.

She lingered in the doorway, her tone softening. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll start figuring out how to deal with your... problem.”

The words brought a flicker of relief, though your shoulders remained tight. “Thank you,” you murmured, meeting her gaze.

Her smile was steady, reassuring. “You’re safe here. We’ll make sure of it.”

The door closed gently behind her, leaving you alone in the quiet. The soft creak of the bed as you sat down was the only sound, the room still save for the faint rustling of leaves outside the window. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe her words.

***

The morning sunlight filtered weakly through the heavy curtains, painting the room in muted gold as you pulled on a fresh set of clothes. The bed, softer than you’d expected, had offered fleeting comfort, but the unease hadn’t left you completely. Whatever was following you, whatever had driven you here, still loomed at the edges of your thoughts.

A knock at the door startled you from your reverie, sharp but familiar.

“It’s Lucas,” came a deep, cheery voice.

You opened the door to see your old friend standing there, his broad frame filling the doorway. His dark hair was tousled, and the warmth in his grin was the first thing to settle your nerves since arriving.

“Morning,” he said, holding up a duffel bag in one hand. “Thought you might want this. Picked it up from your house this morning.”

Your heart twisted at the sight of the bag, a tangible piece of the life you’d left behind. “Lucas... thank you,” you said, your voice wavering slightly. “I can’t believe you went back there.”

He shrugged, his easy smile never faltering. “It wasn’t a problem. Esmeralda told me what was going on, and I figured you’d want your things.”

You stepped aside to let him in, the bag dropping heavily onto the bed. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, glancing at him. “I know we haven’t talked much lately, and now I’m here, asking for help.”

His expression softened, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Hey, that’s what friends are for. Besides, you’ve got plenty on your plate. Let’s get this sorted, yeah?”

You nodded, the knot in your chest easing slightly.

“Esmeralda wants to see you downstairs,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “They’re waiting.”

You followed him down to the living room, the scent of tea and something herbal lingering faintly in the air. Esmeralda stood by the fireplace, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she sipped from a mug. Olivier was seated on a low armchair, his wings folded tightly against his back, and another creature—taller, lighter in complexion—leaned casually against the wall.

“You must be Laurent,” you said hesitantly, catching his sharp amber gaze.

“Guilty,” he replied, his voice low and smooth.

Esmeralda turned to you, setting her mug down on the mantle. “Good, you’re here. We were just discussing your... visitor.”

Your stomach tightened at the mention, the faint sense of being watched creeping back like a chill on your skin. “What do you think it is?”

“A shadow spirit,” Esmeralda said carefully, her tone matter-of-fact but not unkind. “They’re rare, but dangerous. The fact that it’s targeted you makes me think it has a purpose—or a grudge.”

Laurent’s gaze darkened, his sharp features set into a frown. “You’ve been followed for weeks. Why didn’t you come here sooner?”

You hesitated, guilt flickering in your chest. “I didn’t realise how bad it was. I thought it would stop.”

“It never stops,” Olivier said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that drew your attention. His expression was unreadable, but his amber eyes held yours for a moment longer than felt comfortable.

Esmeralda broke the silence. “There’s someone in the house who might know more. Rio. He tends to avoid most of us, but he’s knowledgeable about... unusual things.”

You nodded, though her tone sent a prickle of unease down your spine.

“Until we know more, we should take precautions,” she continued, glancing between the brothers. “It wouldn’t hurt to have someone watching your back.”

“I can do it,” Olivier said, his voice steady.

Laurent raised a brow but said nothing, while Esmeralda nodded thoughtfully.

You looked at Olivier, startled by the offer. “You don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering. “You’re here to be safe. I can make sure of that.”

His calm certainty silenced your protests, leaving you both unsettled and oddly reassured.

Esmeralda smiled as she leaned against the mantel, her dark eyes scanning the room with quiet authority. The glimmer of sharp fangs momentarily distracted you from Olivier.

“We need to cover every angle,” she said, her tone calm but firm. “Lucas, you’ll keep an eye outside and sure the wards hold. Olivier and Laurent will take shifts keeping an eye on her. There’s no telling how persistent this thing is.”

Lucas nodded, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You got it. I’ll do a sweep after breakfast, make sure nothing’s slipped through.”

Laurent, still leaning against the wall with that lazy confidence, tilted his head. “What about Rio? If anyone knows what this shadow creature is, it’s him.”

Esmeralda’s lips twitched into a small smile, though her eyes remained serious. “I’ll talk to him. He’s not easy to pin down, but he might know something useful.”

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of everyone’s attention even as they spoke around you. “Is... is it really that bad?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Esmeralda turned to you, her expression softening. “We don’t know enough to say for certain, but whatever’s been following you isn’t ordinary. Shadow spirits are rare, and they don’t pick targets without reason.”

Your stomach twisted at her words. “So it won’t just... stop?”

“No,” Laurent said bluntly, his amber eyes meeting yours. “It won’t.”

The chill in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but you caught yourself staring again, drawn to the way the light caught on the mossy brown texture of his skin. He wasn’t just imposing—he was striking in a way that made it hard to look away, even as your nerves frayed under his gaze.

He must have noticed, because his lips curved into a grin that bared sharp, gleaming teeth. Heat surged to your face, and you quickly turned back to Esmeralda, clutching your hands together in your lap.

“We’ll handle it,” she said, her voice cutting through your flustered thoughts. “You’re safe here. Between the wards and the watch, nothing will get close enough to harm you.”

Lucas clapped his hands together, the sound breaking the tension. “All right, then. I’ll start outside. If anything’s lingering, I’ll scare it off.”

Esmeralda nodded as he made his way to the door. Laurent followed a moment later, giving you one last glance before disappearing down the hall.

“I’ll stay close,” Olivier said quietly, his voice breaking the silence.

You looked up at him, startled to find him lingering by the doorway. His expression was unreadable, but his amber eyes held steady as he stepped closer, his massive frame making the space between you feel suddenly small.

“I—thank you,” you murmured, unsure of what else to say.

“If you need anything, let me know,” he said, his voice low and deliberate.

The faint scent of coffee lingered as he stepped even closer, mingling with the warmth of the room. It caught you off guard, the normality of it. Such a human scent.

The rough texture of his skin, the faint rustle of his wings, the intensity of his gaze—it all should have overwhelmed you, but instead, your chest tightened in a way you didn’t entirely understand.

“I will,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Olivier’s grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, exposing the faint points of sharp teeth. It wasn’t a mocking smile, though something about it felt deliberate, like he enjoyed watching you fluster under his gaze.

Your breath hitched, and the space between you suddenly felt far too small. For one wild moment, you thought he might kiss you. The idea hit you like a jolt, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks.

Instead, he raised a clawed hand, his touch far gentler than it should have been as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. His claws just grazed your temple, enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You don’t need to look so alarmed,” he said, his voice soft, almost a murmur. “I’ve got you.”

Then he stepped back, wings ruffling, and smiled a toothy grin.

“Olivier!” Laurent’s voice called sharply from the hall, and it snapped you from your reverie.

Olivier glanced over his shoulder but lingered for a moment longer, his amber eyes dipping to yours before he finally turned and stepped away.

From where you stood, you could see him and Laurent in the hallway. They spoke in low tones, their words too quiet to catch, but Olivier’s gaze kept darting back to you. Each time, the warmth in his gaze made your stomach flip.

You found yourself studying him, drawn to details you hadn’t taken in before. His face, squashed and batlike, was a jarring mix of harsh angles and ridges, his flattened nose and prominent tusks giving him an almost batlike look. It wasn’t conventionally handsome, but there was something about it—about the roughness, the sheer presence—that made it impossible to look away. His amber eyes gleamed under heavy brows, alive with a quiet heat that made your stomach flip.

His body was no less commanding. His shoulders were broad, a muscular slope that led to heavy, wide wings. Even his chest was massive, his stone-like skin shifting over powerful muscles that filled the doorway and then some. It should have been overwhelming—too much—but instead, it sent a flare of heat low in your belly that caught you off guard.

You tore your gaze away, forcing your attention elsewhere. Anywhere but the hallway where Olivier stood, glancing back at you like he knew.

The feeling simmered, hot beneath your skin. It wasn’t fear or gratitude, though those lingered too. This was something deeper, hotter, that made your pulse race and your thoughts scramble.

You barely registered Laurent leaving first, striding away with a final glance over his shoulder. Olivier lingered for just a moment longer, his gaze locking on you once more before he disappeared into the shadows of the hall.

Your chest felt tight, your fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you let out a slow breath. Whatever had just happened left your heart racing and your thoughts spinning. You couldn’t explain it—didn’t even want to try.

***

The garden was quiet the next afternoon, save for the faint rustle of the breeze through the hedges and the soft buzzing of bees flitting between flowers. You stepped through the gate, its iron latch squeaking, and paused when you saw Olivier.

He was crouched low by a patch of flowers, his wings furled tightly against his broad back as he worked the soil with surprising delicacy. The image caught you off guard—this hulking creature, all sharp edges and stone skin, tending to flowers with the care of someone cradling something fragile.

You almost turned back, unwilling to disturb him, but the moment your foot shifted, his head lifted. His amber eyes found yours immediately, sharp but unthreatening, and you realised there was no sneaking away now.

“Didn’t think anyone was out here,” he rumbled, straightening. He brushed dirt from his hands, claws leaving faint scratches on his palms.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said quickly, stepping closer. “I didn’t know you liked gardening.”

He shrugged, glancing back at the flowers. “It’s quiet. Doesn’t need much from me except patience.”

The corners of your mouth twitched, his unexpected softness making it hard to hide your curiosity. “What are you planting?”

“Nothing. Just cleaning up the beds. Weeds get in the way of the hellebores.”

“Hellebores?” You crouched beside him, taking in the wide, waxy petals of the pale pink flowers. “Are they your favourite?”

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, his voice lower, almost shy. “They remind me of the ones that used to grow wild around the castle.”

Your brows lifted. “The castle?”

He nodded, brushing his hands together. “It’s where Laurent and I started. Our... creators used to plant fields of flowers to keep the grounds from looking so grim. The hellebores always grew first, even in the frost.”

You watched him as he spoke, his eyes distant, his features softening in a way that made your chest ache. “You must’ve loved it there.”

His lips twitched into a faint, wry smile. “I don’t know if love’s the right word. It was duty. We were made to guard it. Guard them. We didn’t have a choice.”

There was no bitterness in his tone, but the heaviness of his words lingered between you. “Now?” you asked quietly.

“Now…” He trailed off, his gaze shifting to the trellis where climbing vines curled lazily. “Laurent found his purpose again. There’s a woman in town, they’re so in love it’s almost offputting. She’s young, kind. He’s taken it upon himself to keep her safe. Guess it gives him something to fight for.”

“What about you?”

He let out a low, rumbling sigh, his wings rustling faintly. “Still figuring that out.”

Something about the admission struck you, the vulnerability beneath his gruffness pulling at something tender in your chest. Your eyes drifted over him as he turned back to the flowers, his massive shoulders hunched as he worked the soil again.

The roughness of his stone-like skin, the powerful lines of his arms, it all made you feel so small in comparison. Your heart gave a small, rebellious flutter.

“I think you’ll find it,” you said softly, your gaze lingering on the curve of his wings. “Maybe sooner than you think.”

He looked at you then, his amber eyes catching the light just enough to make them burn. For a moment, you forgot to breathe, his gaze grounding you and scattering your thoughts all at once.

A small smile pulled at his lips, softer this time. “Maybe.”

You smiled back, the warmth in your chest blooming into something unfamiliar but far too pleasant to ignore.

As you watched him return to his work, your affection grew, mingling with a desire that surprised you with its depth. It wasn’t just the strength in his hands or the curve of his wings—it was the way he treated the flowers like they mattered, like they deserved care despite their fragility.

It made you wonder, briefly, if he could ever look at you the same way.

The words you were about to say dissolved on your tongue as something at the edge of the garden caught your eye. Across the hedges, where the sunlight should have been golden and steady, shadows seemed to pool unnaturally, creeping into places they didn’t belong.

Your chest tightened. It was only three in the afternoon; the sun still hung high in the sky. It shouldn’t look like twilight was creeping in.

“Olivier,” you said, your voice thin and trembling.

He looked up from the flowers, his sharp eyes narrowing instantly. Following your gaze, he stood slowly, his wings spreading just slightly as if instinctively preparing to shield you.

“I see it,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a growl.

A shape moved through the shadows—low, slinking, formless and wrong. It seemed to flow rather than walk, black tendrils stretching out across the grass. Wherever they touched, the green blades curled and blackened, withering into ash.

The fear hit you like a punch, sharp and paralysing. You tried to step back, but your feet felt glued to the ground, the cold creeping up your legs like icy water.

“Get back to the house!” Olivier barked, his voice breaking through the pounding rush of terror in your ears.

You couldn’t move. The cold seeped deeper, into your chest now, slowing your thoughts, clouding them. The darkness curling at your feet seemed alive, pulling you down into itself.

“Olivier—” you gasped, but your voice was barely a whisper.

He didn’t wait. With a growl that shook the air, he launched himself forward, his wings spreading wide as he leapt between you and the creeping shadow. His claws tore into the ground as he landed, and with a snarl, he swiped at the creature, the force of his strike sending a ripple through its inky form.

The shadow hissed, a sound like air escaping a tomb. It recoiled, twisting into a mass of writhing tendrils that lashed out at him. One wrapped around his arm, and you watched in horror as his stone-like skin darkened where it touched, the veins beneath it turning black. Olivier snarled in pain, tearing the tendril free with a vicious jerk of his arm.

“Move!” he roared at you, but you still couldn’t. The cold was overwhelming now, like it had rooted itself in your spine.

The creature surged toward him again, its tendrils darting forward, trying to snake around his wings. Olivier ducked, twisting with surprising agility for his size, and swiped with his claws, raking through the darkness. His strike left faint trails of light where the shadow split, a strange, glowing wound that made the creature recoil again, its form shuddering as if in pain.

“Don’t you touch her!” Olivier’s voice was raw, almost feral, as he lunged forward again. He sank his claws deep into the mass, pulling it apart with brute strength, even as its tendrils lashed at his shoulders and legs.

Each hit made him grunt in pain, but he didn’t falter, didn’t slow.

The creature screeched, the sound high and piercing, and it began to pull back, shrinking away from him. Its tendrils dragged across the ground as it fled, and you felt the cold start to lift, your body slowly releasing from the grip of paralysis.

As the creature slithered into the farthest shadows of the garden, he gave chase, his wings unfurling with a powerful snap. His claws tore into the ground as he launched himself after it, his bellow of rage rattling the stillness.

You watched, frozen in place, as he disappeared into the darkness. The garden, so tranquil moments ago, now felt sharp and foreign. Your stomach turned.

Your legs wobbled as the last of the cold released its grip, and you stumbled backward. The image of Olivier—his glowing amber eyes blazing, his movements brutal, his roar like something from a nightmare—seared into your mind.

You had never seen him like that, not the quiet, watchful gargoyle who worked with careful hands in the garden. This Olivier was terrifying, unrelenting, and your chest tightened with fear—not of him, but for him.

“Olivier!” you called weakly, though the sound barely carried past the hedges.

Before you could take another step, someone gripped your arm gently. You spun to see Lucas standing there, his angular face tense but reassuring as he crouched slightly to meet your gaze.

“Come on,” he said firmly, guiding you toward the house. “You shouldn’t stay out here. He’ll be fine—Laurent will follow him.”

You stumbled inside, the warmth of the house washing over you like a balm. Lucas guided you to a chair in the kitchen, his presence solid and grounding. “I’ll make tea,” he said, already reaching for the kettle.

“What if he doesn’t come back?” you asked, your voice thin.

“He will,” Lucas said without hesitation. “He’s strong, and stubborn.”

The tea was warm in your hands, but it didn’t quite settle the knot in your stomach. Lucas checked you over, his gaze flicking between your face and your hands. “Whatever made you freeze like that,” he said, “it’s gone now. You’re fine.”

Hours passed, the clock ticking loudly in the quiet. Evening turned to night, and still, Olivier didn’t return.

When Laurent came through the door after dark, his expression was grim. He shook his head, his glowing amber eyes meeting Lucas’s. “No sign of him,” he said quietly. “I’ve searched everywhere.”

The fear that had been simmering in your chest all day spilled over, your heart sinking. For the first time since arriving at the halfway house, the wards, the walls, the safety it promised—all of it felt suddenly, terrifyingly fragile.

The tea sat cold in your hands as Laurent’s words echoed in your ears. No sign of him. You barely spoke a word after that, nodding numbly when Lucas told you to rest. The sound of the chair scraping against the kitchen floor felt distant as you rose and made your way to your room.

The bed was warm and inviting, but sleep didn’t come. You lay on your side, staring at the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains, your mind a whirlwind of fear and what-ifs.

What if the creature returned? What if it was lurking just outside the wards? What if Olivier hadn’t been able to stop it—or worse, what if it had stopped him?

Your fingers gripped the blanket tightly as those thoughts twisted deeper. You had never felt so helpless, so completely vulnerable. No matter how much Esmeralda assured you the wards would hold, you couldn’t shake the image of the thing slinking across the grass, the way Olivier had thrown himself into the fight without hesitation.

You turned onto your other side, then onto your back, and then your stomach, unable to find a position that would still your restless mind. Hours passed like this, exhaustion pulling at your body while your thoughts refused to quiet.

Finally, at some point in the night, you drifted into a shallow, uneasy sleep.

***

The creak of your balcony door startled you awake hours later. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you shot upright, your pulse hammering in your ears. The room was dark, lit only by the faint silver glow of the moon, but the silhouette in the doorway was unmistakable.

“Olivier?”

He stepped forward, his massive frame filling the space. Even in the dim light, you could see the damage to his stone-like skin, mottled with dark streaks like the withered grass where the shadow had touched. His wings drooped, and his movements were slow, but his amber eyes glowed softly as he offered you a small, tired smile.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I just... I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Your breath caught, relief crashing over you like a tidal wave. Before you could stop yourself, you were out of bed, crossing the room in an instant. You flung your arms around him, burying your face against his chest, uncaring of the rough texture of his skin.

“Olivier—” His name was all you managed before you tilted your face up, and without thinking, you kissed him.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t careful—it was desperate, a release of everything you’d been holding in. His lips were warm, softer than you expected, though you could feel the roughness of his cracked skin. His wings shifted behind him, and his claws brushed lightly against your back as he steadied you.

The kiss deepened before you realised it, your body pressed against Olivier’s as though he was the only solid thing in the world.

His claws hovered at your back, hesitant at first, before resting lightly on your waist, their sharpness dulled by the gentleness of his touch. When he tilted his head slightly, his lips parted, and the warmth of his breath sent a shiver cascading down your spine.

You felt the edge of one fang graze your bottom lip, the faintest scrape that left you trembling and breathless.

You pulled back suddenly, your chest heaving, your lips tingling from the kiss. “I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice breaking. “I don’t know what came over me.”

His amber eyes burned into yours, glowing brighter now, as though your kiss had stoked something deep within him. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached up, one massive hand cupping your face with a gentleness that sent your heart pounding harder.

Then he kissed you again.

This time, it was rougher, hungrier. There was no hesitation now, his claws pressing just enough to hold you firmly as his lips moved against yours with purpose. His fangs scraped lightly over your mouth, and the weight of his wings brushing against your arms made your knees weak. His other hand settled at the curve of your hip, pulling you closer, and you felt the full breadth of his powerful chest rise and fall against you.

Heat surged through you, overwhelming and consuming, as though the kiss was pouring all of the tension and fear of the day into something raw and tangible.

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest, and it sent a spark of need curling through your stomach.

When he finally pulled away, his breath came rough and shallow, his forehead pressing against yours as his claws rested at your hips. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—his presence filled the room, grounding you and making you weightless all at once.

“Don’t ever be sorry,” he rumbled, his voice low and thick with something that made your pulse stutter. His amber eyes locked on yours, the intensity in them leaving no room for doubt. “Laurent found his purpose. Protecting someone he cares about.” His voice dipped even lower, almost reverent.

“I think I’ve found my purpose. In you.”

#exophilia fiction #exophilia romance #exophilia #monster fucker #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #tag: mxf #tag: gargoyle #tag: female reader #tag: male monster #tag: sfw

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