Beneath our Disguises (Mature)

Enstoned Love (Gargoyle x Reader)- Part 1

(Gargoyle x Reader)

"You know, you are almost too easy to talk to." You smile, leaning into the embrace. "It's not like I can talk to anyone else around here. Mrs. Sharpe keeps hounding me for not cleaning up after myself, like that was ever my problem to begin with, Mr. Locke continuously gets mad that we aren't going fast enough, again, not my fault. And Spencer. . . he's not the brightest kid and despite being as sweet as he is, he just doesn't get it. The letters jumble in his mouth and the numbers just don't make sense. I've tried everything." You groan, resting your head on his shoulder as you watch the sun rest on pearly clouds.  "Do you have any ideas?"

Your eyes search his face, the handsome contours and chiseled jaw, the way his eyes just always looked sad and his shoulders slumped. The little persistent wrinkle between his eyebrows, you gently rest a hand on his arm, feeling the rough stone beneath your fingers as you stroke it lightly. He never answered your questions, but you didn't necessarily expect him to. You expected he was the strong and silent type all along. You smile to yourself a little at the thought, it was ridiculous to even think of him that way, but he was always there. Rock solid and slightly scowling with a pair of horns and bat-like wings arching from his bake like a shield from the weather. His ears were even pointed and the artist had thought fit to carve him with muscles that would make any man jealous but keep him modest with a low slung loincloth. Why it mattered on a stone statue you had no idea but despite his rough edges, he was kind. Kinder than anyone else in this place at least.

"Hmmm, maybe." You mutter, acting like he had made a suggestion when no stone had twitched beneath your finger tips.

The sound of wheels digging tracks into gravel force you off the pedestal by the grand wood doors, teetering for a moment on the stone steps in your heels as they find a crack on the work before steadying yourself with a hand on the gargoyle's wing. Rather unfortunately you had taken to calling him Gregory when the two of you were alone, but no one needed to know how attached the governess was to a stone sculpture guarding the entrance to their home.

"Where is Timothy? " It wasn't a question, it was an order. The man had leapt from the carriage before it was even fully stopped, a formal looking piece of paper held tightly in his white knuckles that look as though they haven't done a days work in his life. The sharply pointed beard and matching mustache just make his face look haunted with the tall hat propped comically on his narrow head. For someone presenting in such a nice suit, the hat didn't fit him in the slightest, it was sloppy in fact.

"Pardon me?" You were rather startled by this man and the abrupt way of speaking to you. It wasn't the rudeness, you were used to that, it was that his entire body seemed to twitch with irritation, like you were taking up his too precious of time.

"Timothy Locke, where is he?" He was marching now, taking deliberate and threatening steps towards you as you shrink into the protection of the house's stone guardian. "Come on girl, answer me! Or do I have to get someone that isn't so daft that they can't even answer a simple question?" His threat, though baseless, stung slightly. For all the house's strict rules and unnecessarily rude remarks, they had yet to imply your incompetence.

"Mr. Locke should be in his study at this time, but sir. ." He was gone before you could object to his entrance to the manor. You stare after his hideously wrinkled tail coat from sitting in a carriage for probably hours. You take a breath to steady yourself and take after the man. If Mr. Locke or heaven forbid Mrs. Sharpe were to discover you had allowed an unknown man into the house without permission and directed him to the study? You would certainly be in trouble. 

Leaving the stability of the gargoyle behind you rush for the door, heels clicking louder than his soft soles. "Sir! You can not just barge into Mr. Locke's study, it is inappropriate!" You try, but pants and lack of heels plus height makes his speed much greater than yours. Not to mention somehow he knows exactly where to go. Odd in itself given you certainly don't recognize him after the 8 months you had been living and working at the estate and the manor was by now means small. You hike your skirts trying to beat him to the closed door as you both march across the stone, it was too loud in such a silent hall. Everyone else was preparing for supper and it was not a good time to interrupt the master of the household.