You’ve always adored animals, especially the misunderstood ones. Recently, you had needed to take an injured bat home from the recovery centre with you, as it seemed to need more in depth care than the others, though its nothing new for you to have to occasionally take an animal home when another volunteer can’t.
One evening, whilst caring for the bats wounds, you accidentally nick your hand with a knife you left on the table. Hissing, you hold the bat to your chest, trying not to get any blood on it, or get any germs in your wound, while you head to the kitchen to get a bandage.
You’ve barely walked a few steps, when there’s a sudden heavy weight on your chest, darkness obscuring your vision. With a squeak, you fall back heavily, your head saved from hitting the hard floor at the last second, by a large hand carefully cupping the back of it.
Sitting astride your body, pressed flush against you, is a tall, intimidating, and attractive stranger, eyes pitch black and your blood still smeared on their face. They quirk a grin at you, baring sharp prominent fangs, their visible wounds starting to heal rapidly before your eyes.
I sit alone in a diner. I bring the coffee cup to my lips as the jukebox switches to “Don’t Fear The Reaper.”
A fluorescent light near me starts flickering. I slowly, but calmly look out to the window, something catching my attention between the thick blanket of rain.
The teen watched as the cloaked figure entered the 50s style diner and casually took a seat a few barstools down- close enough that he would hear them if they spoke, but far enough that it almost seemed like they didn’t notice him.
The waitress slid some kind of pastry in front of the figure even though no words were spoken. A hand with fingertips of silver emerged from the cloak and made a motion the boy didn’t understand, earning a nod from the waitress, who put another pasty in front of the boy with a sympathetic smile.
He stared at the- admittedly delicious looking- pastry suspiciously, even though his stomach was growling after only having coffee for nearly twelve hours. “What’s this?”
“Pasticciotti,”
Even though he had asked a question, he hadn’t expected the figure to respond.
He stared as the figure brought the pastry up- presumably to their mouth, but their hood prevented him from seeing- and set it back down with a hum after they took a bite. “Not as good as home-made, of course, but still delicious.” He couldn’t tell from their voice if they were a boy or girl- well, he could, but his brain seemed to be malfunctioning at the moment. “You should eat.” Their tone said that they knew how long it had been since he’d had a proper meal and he couldn’t find it in himself to question how as he took a bite of his pastry.
He gave a pleased hum as custard flooded into his mouth, the treat warming his whole body. He quickly finished the whole pasticciotti and found himself feeling full even though it was no bigger than his palm. “You should go home.” He snapped his head up at the figure’s words.
“I’m never going back! That place was never home anyways…”
There was a distant voice in his head that questioned why he was revealing his plans to this stranger, but he found himself incapable to listen to it.
“I didn’t tell you to go back, darling. I said to go home.” He stared at them in confusion. They turned to him, revealing a skull mask made of black metal and accented with rubies, but he couldn’t fear them. They reached out to cup his cheek with a hand tipped in silver (armor? weapons? he couldn’t tell) and he let them. “You should never go back to that house- back to those people.” She- this motherly touch could only come from a woman- sighed, sounding disappointed. “Life is very cruel, darling. She asks a price for everything and even then may not give anything in return.” He hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes until he felt her trace his cheekbone. “She may be beautiful, but she is only a lie. I know it’s a lot, darling, but won’t you please come home with me? I promise you will be treated much better than she treats you.”
He didn’t need to think twice before he had his answer. In however long she had been there (a minute? an hour? he had no idea) she had already treated him better than anyone else ever had. After he nodded he heard the rustle of a mask being moved.
“Keep your eyes closed, darling. I promise it will feel better soon,”
As a thank you for reaching 1000 followers, I opened up ten free slots for requests. The progress through that list can be found here. *Specific story requests are now closed again.*
I decided that since Ascal’s reader’s gender isn’t mentioned, that I’d leave it this way, and that I’d go out and find you a new naga from the wilds of my High Fantasy universe. I really hope you like him!!
You’d known it was a stupid idea to leave the house in
weather like this. You knew it, but you
had to see him again. You’d been away on an errand and it had been well over a
month since you’d seen him.
Thunder shook heaven and earth, and lightning ripped the sky
in half, but you ran through the lashing rain, down the sandy path from the village
towards the coast, your heart in your mouth. The longships danced and bobbed in
the seething water, their crews safely ashore and drinking themselves to
oblivion now that the summer raiding parties were over.
A massive bolt of lightning split the sky in two and struck
the horizon way out to sea.
“Shit,” you cursed, spitting rain water from your mouth as
it poured down your face.
The tide was out, but the breakers still rolled up the sand
and spray blossomed and foamed wildly. The selkies would all be sheltering deep
in the caves beneath their rocky, island sanctuaries just offshore, and all the
other merfolk would be well beneath the waves while the ocean seethed and
boiled in the storm. And yet here you were, daft as a goose in spring, running
down from the village towards the sea.
A light flickered in the black cliffs along the cove, and you
began to sprint. It was like a beacon to you and you focused only on that point
of light.
Chest heaving, lungs burning, you darted into the mouth of
the cave and bent double, trying to catch your breath. Shadows shifted at the
back of the short tunnel, and then he was
there.
“What the hell are you doing here in thisss weather?” he demanded,
slithering towards you, his face a picture of concern. His movements were slow,
probably because it was night time and cold.
“Wyorhin,” you sighed, starting to shiver. “I missed you
too.”
“Come insssside,” he slurred, his voice a groggy, sweet
tenor. “Warm up…”
He retreated up the passageway, pale body gleaming in the shadows.
The sparse patches of colour on his thick, muscular tail seemed to shift in the
darkness, and his long red hair fell down his back like tongues of dark fire.
Can’t promise, but maybe it’s a good way to start…?
Also my hand slipped again.
(Sfw, and no genders etc. mentioned)
___________________________
You lay there, the air warm and stuffy despite the open window, and sighed. You had always been different. As a child, your friends had feared and loathed the things under their beds, but you had always wished to meet yours. You wished and wished with all your heart, sometimes even swinging down off the bed and crouching down to peer into the darkness, but there was never anything there, only the odd shoe box and spider.
Now you were older, and you’d almost given up hope of ever finding the ‘monster’ under the bed.
You let out yet another sigh and kicked the sheets off. “I wish you were really there,” you murmured to the empty room. “I wish you were there, and I wish I could meet you. Why should everyone else have got a shadow under the bed and not me? What did I do wrong? Why don’t you like me?”
You’d had the longest day, and you just wanted to be held, loved, caressed. The idea of shadowy limbs wrapping you up in their embrace had always been a comfort, but tonight you ached for it with a new sense of longing until you felt your chest might burst.
You choked back a sob and rolled over, curling up into a ball. “What did I do wrong?”
And then something happened.
The darkness coalesced at the foot of your bed, billowing and shifting like ink in water. “Don’t cry,” a voice like broken glass said. “Please, I can’t bear it when you cry.”
This is a commission for @thekingsrock who asked for a super fluffy story with a female reader and an equally fluffy monster. I asked if they were ok with a mothman, and we went from there! I hope you enjoy!
You rolled your head, trying to ease some of the stiffness
from your neck as you stood in line, waiting to order the smoothie you’d been
craving for the last four hours at work. You needed something refreshing,
delicious, and as packed full of neat antioxidants as you could get.
The folk in front of you were umm-ing and ahh-ing at the
counter, the barista was getting super impatient but trying his hardest not to
show it, and had been a hundred million degrees outside that day, only now
beginning to cool off. You drew in a deep breath, trying to calm brain that was
going a little ragged at the edges, and make the most of the cafe’s wonderful
air-conditioning after a day in an office with AC units so ancient they might
have been prototypes designed by Hephaestus himself…
As you stood there, closing your eyes for a moment, you became
aware of the couple behind you talking about the ‘monsters’ who had recently
begun integrating more into human society.
“I mean,” the woman said, sounding scandalised. “In my day,
of course we knew about them, but you
didn’t have some dirty great bat living next door! It just didn’t happen! They
had the decency to take themselves off to the woods or wherever they belong,
and they stayed there.”
Probably too late but maybe some sort of shadow monster/something that can wrap around the human at least. Something good for cuddles, really…can be sfw or not your choice. Just need to be held
I hope you like it, and that you remember even sending it in!
It was about a month after moving into the apartment that you realised something was there with you. You never felt threatened or afraid, but lost things would turn up in unexpected places just when you needed them, and things you needed readily came readily to hand.
You noticed too how the atmosphere changed in subtle ways, according to your mood. If you came home from work and the lights were a shade too bright and hurt your eyes, they would seem to dim just a little. If you were stressed and fretting, only a few moments after coming home, something calming yet intangible would wrap itself around you and your heartrate would slow and your breath would return to you more easily.
Some days you would talk to this entity, hoping you weren’t boring it to death or scaring it off, but the energy in the room would pulse reassuringly as you told them of your problems, and when you were happy, it seemed to crescendo too.
You smiled, washing the dishes one night after supper, staring at the bubbles and listening to the faint clicking and popping as they burst on the surface of the plates.
“I don’t know if I’m going nuts or not,” you chuckled aloud, “But I’m glad I’m not alone. I’m glad you’re here.”
A feeling more than a sound came back to you, but there was a quality to it like the lowest frequency noise a human could possibly have heard. It made your eardrums sing and your skin tingle, and you glanced over your shoulder. Your gaze was drawn to the darkest corner of the room and you squinted, curious.
My supporters on Patreon had exclusive early-access to this a few days ago – as they do with any monster story that’s not a paid commission – but it’s time put it up here now! If you want early access to all free tumblr stories, exclusive Patreon-only monster stories, blog posts, photos about my metalworking etc. my tiers on Patreon start from just $1.
Damp air hit your nose and lungs the moment you stepped out
onto the rain-soaked street. Neon lights reflected off wide, shallow puddles,
creating a mirror on the world and refracting light back into the atmosphere. The
city at this time of night had a wondrous kind of peace to it.
It had only just stopped raining. White steam from a vent in
a building near the bar’s entrance billowed lazily up through the night air,
coiling itself lazily around the cold metal of a fire escape.
You drew another deep breath, revelling in the quiet hum of
the city in the background after the ear-pounding ruckus of the bar. The
hulking bouncer in the doorway of the bar nodded at you as you passed, but
offered no conversation. The huge orc had his dark hair tied back into a
ponytail, and tattoos all up one side of his face and down his neck. As much as
you liked more slender figures, you had to admire the way this guy looked in a
suit, just for a moment.
The dull pounding at your temple eased as you leaned against
the wall on the other side of the door, and you let out another cavernous sigh.
You loved your friend dearly, but this was not really your kind of place. She
was a regular here though.
The fae waitress who’d been assigned to your table for the
night must have left another round of birthday shots, and the cheer from your
friends washed out through the door as another patron left the bar behind you.
You stayed where you were, tapping one foot idly against the wet ground. The
soft slap of your soles in the puddle made a reassuringly quiet counterpart to
the distant noises of the city after the racket of the bar.
After a good five minutes of staring blankly at the brick building
opposite, just breathing quietly in and out, your reverie was shattered by the
arrival of a sleek, black bike, engine growling, seeming to make the heavy air
itself vibrate and judder. You groaned as the peace of the moment was stolen
away.
Alright folks, it’s been up on exclusive early release on my Patreon, along with a couple of patreon-only drabbles featuring a plus size reader and a female monster, so if you’re able to support me over there, you can get all of this and more on the Pixies and Goblins tier!
Anyway, here’s a cerberus-type story for you. Very brief mentions of the unwanted attentions of a drunk on a train near the start, but it’s very quick. Other than that, no warnings.
You stepped onto the Underground train as it squeaked and
rumbled to a halt, and stifled a yawn with the back of your hand. It was late,
even by your standards, and this was probably one of the last trains still
running at this hour. The carriage that stopped in front of you seemed as
deserted as the platform, but the moment you stepped onto the stuffy train, you
realised you were not alone.
The creature sharing the carriage with you was one of the
rarest of non-humans – rare to the point of almost mythical – and you couldn’t
help the way your breath caught in your throat when you saw the three heads of
the fluffy, white-furred cerberus sitting near the doors at the other end of
the carriage.
They were colloquially known as ‘cerberus’ or ‘cerberi’, but canis polycephalous happened to be
their proper name. Whatever they went by, they were very, very rare.
One of the heads looked up curiously as you stepped into the
carriage and sank down into a seat, trying really hard not to stare openly. They
were wearing a red and black plaid shirt, and scruffy looking jeans with one
ankle resting on the opposite knee. Their hind paws were bare and they had
leathery looking pads and sharp claws. As you stole another surreptitious
glance along the train, you could see that one of the heads was wearing glasses
and was dozing quietly against the glass panel by the door, while the middle
head was staring at a mobile phone, and the third was looking at you. Their
hands reminded you of paws, though they had fingers which ended in short, white,
hard-looking talons, like polished marble.
You smiled reflexively when you met their eye, and then
tried to look away, cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment. The left eye in
that head was a bright, crystal blue, the right a warm, coffee brown like the
others. God, they were really beautiful.
Three years ago, you found an injured werewolf on the edge of your wards. You took them in, helped them regain their strength, and allowed them to stay for a while in return for some work around the place. They had been incredibly grateful, and mentioned how much of a relief it was to find a safe place for a “monster” such as themselves, when so many would deny them care or outright kill them. The comment stuck with you, and even after they left, you couldn’t make it leave your mind.
Over time, you changed and strengthened your wards turning them into something meant to guide, protect, and offer safety. It didn’t take long for the welcoming magic to draw in a few others as they strayed through your forest, your house now a beacon for those in need, rather than a shielded little bubble of solitude, as it had been for years.
Now, your home is always alive with warmth peace and laughter, the wards and rather blunt rule board above the door and fireplace, ensuring that those who take refuge, know not to start trouble. The few that have tried, are either violently ejected from the premises, thanks to your ever strengthening wards, or removed by other patrons themselves.
Not only is your home a safe space, but it is now also a functioning bar, with food and drink, and even rooms available for those who need to hide and nurse their wounds a while. Supernatural or human, all are welcome to seek refuge. Its strange watching so many walks of life shed their worries at the door and bond with others within the once lonely walls.
Whilst your slowly growing little sanctuary is not very well known yet, the rumours of a safe space are now spreading to others in need. Now, one of the biggest and baddest names in the supernatural world has caught wind of your sanctuary, and decides to see if this is nothing more than another trap, made to prey on those who dwell in the dark, or truly a sanctuary, however unlikely that may be.
Toad's Cave 