#female monster

[tyanis]

Just another set of unrealistic beauty standards for women...

I'm sorry I can't be them.

#some women are just born lucky. And not all of us can afford to mutate. #the faculty #Marybeth Louis Hutchinson #aliens #alien queen #xenomorph #xenomorph queen #legend 1985 #meg mucklebones #resident evil #resident evil code veronica #resident evil: code veronica #alexia ashford #primal rage #Vertigo #Vertigo primal rage #godzilla vs biollante #biollante #female monster #female monsters #obviously this is a joke #I just wanted to show off cool female monsters

[ijwrite]

Female Orc x Female Reader - Part 1

You were woken by a large crash from outside your house, followed by a whinny and your chickens' distressed clucking. It only took you a moment to grab the large hunting knife you always kept at your bedside and peek out the door. The moon was full that night, bathing your fields in a pale light, yet it also illuminated what appeared to be a crashed cart. The whinnying continued, and you were quickly on your way to the crash site. As you got closer, you could see that the horse that had been pulling the cart, had stumbled into the ditch where you dug out your clay. The poor horse was obviously panicking, which was only made worse by the fact that it's legs were all in unnatural angles. You slowed down your pace, and approached the terrified animal. It got increasingly distressed as you got closer, trying and failing to stand on it's broken legs. You felt bad for the poor thing, and couldn't help but feel responsible that it crashed into a hole that you had dug.

There was something strange though. There were no roads that led to your house, nor was there a driver in sight. That was when you noticed the arrows sticking out of both the horse and the side of the cart, along with the blood splattered on the wood. There was forming a clear picture in your mind; The person/people that had been driving the cart had been attacked, possibly killed and the frightened horse had set off in sheer panic, only stopped when it had tripped into your clay pit. You made a somber realisation. The horse had not only sustained painful injuries, but it had also broken all of it's legs in a way that would not be mendable with any of your knowledge. With a heavy sigh, you put the animal out of its misery, as quickly and painless as you could. That, you did know how to do. With a final stroke of it's mane and a tear falling from your cheek, you closed it's eyes. In the silence that followed, you heard a small grunting and shuffling from the back of the cart. You hurried to it, finding a small moving bundle of cloth at the bottom of the cart. You hesitantly peeled back layers of the fabric, only to be greeted with small eyes that shone in the moonlight, staring back at you. You barely had time to notice the sharp ears and the green colouring, before the small thing burst into a heartbreaking wail. You flinched slightly before picking up the little one. It was clearly a baby, and judging by its appearance, it was either a troll or an orc. The little thing was clearly unhappy with the situation, bawling it's little eyes out. You knew that small creatures required three basic things to be comfortable: food, safety and being clean. You could do that. You ran back into your house and lit some candles, still clutching and rocking the baby. You laid them on the ground, searching for one of your blankets and a washcloth. As soon as you had found some that you deemed soft enough, you immediately went to work cleaning the child. The small thing was filthy, clearly having been neglected. As you cleaned them, you found them to be a small boy. When you finally had cleaned the little one up and tied a washcloth around his behind, you bundled him back up in a new blanket. Your ears had begun ringing from the continuous cries, so you hurried with your next task. You had to find food for him.

You peered into his open mouth, seeing the dents of small teeth trying to break out. This was good, it meant that the child was approximately at the age where he could start eating something other than his mother's milk. If he wasn't, you wouldn't have known what to do. You know enough about babies to be aware of the fact that just any milk wouldn't do. If you fed a newborn milk from your sheep, they would become very sick, or even die. So you thanked your lucky stars that you had boiled potatoes the evening before, taking one and mashing it into a bowl with one hand as you held the crying boy with your other. You sat down on a chair with the little child in your arms, scooping a dollop of mash onto your finger. It was easy to get it into the mouth of the boy, with how open it was. As soon as the food touched his tongue, he clamped down. Your heart broke at the realisation that he must have been incredibly hungry. You fed him the rest of the food, and he kept silent the whole time, too invested in filling his stomach. As the bowl began to empty, he started to slowly look around, as if searching for something. Or rather someone. You imagined that he was looking for his mother. It was after all around this time too, that a child would realise that their mom was a different person than themselves, leading to much separation anxiety. As the boy began to realise that the only person around was you, his lip started wobbling. You held him close to you chest and started humming, hoping the vibrations would soothe him. He started sniffling, but was not crying yet. You walked around your small house for some time, humming and smoothing a finger down from between his brows, to the tip of his nose, just as your mother had done when you were little and couldn't sleep. It eventually worked, and the little boy fell asleep. As slowly and quietly as you could, you blew out the candles and laid back into your bed, keeping the boy close. You kept him on the inside of the bed, against the wall, so there was no chance he would fall down. You would be damned if something happened to this little guy. Your last thought before you drifted off again, was what clothes you would have to make him.

The sun had barely risen above the treeline when the little guy woke you up. He was once again crying, though less desperately than the night before. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you started your day with changing the boy and feeding him again. He was content after, just curiously looking around your home. You knew that you would have to tend to your animals, yet you didn't want to leave a baby alone for longer than absolutely necessary.

Turns out that he rather likes being strapped to your back as you work.

You had taken a long scarf and tied it so he was sat securely on your back, and you had both your hands free. You could feel his little head resting on your shoulder, observing as you fed the chickens. They seemed to still be shaken up from the commotion the night before, puttering around your feet as soon as you crossed the fence. They nipped at your boots to let you know that they were distressed, and you laughed slightly at how disgruntled they looked. You gave them a bit extra seeds to quiet them down, and it seemed to work. Next was checking on the sheep. You only had a few, but they seemed content in their hut, only coming out to eat and drink during the day. Milking them was over quickly, so you just patted them for a good bit after. You had almost forgotten the little guy on your back, before a small hand reached out to the sheep in front of you. You crouched into the mud so he could feel the wool of the sheep. He seemed to like this, though the sheep looked a bit pressed when he tugged at it. You quickly unfurled his fingers from the wool and patted the sheep apologetically. She didn't seem to be too mad, as if she knew it was just a little baby. He didn't like that he could not feel the wool, so he instead started tugging at your ears.

That was when you made the decision to get him some sort of toy. The first thing was just a tuft of clean wool you had not yet spun. It seemed to do the trick and keep him occupied as you went to take a closer look at the crashed cart. In the daylight, it was much clearer how damaged it actually was. With the way the wheels almost was falling off, you were surprised that it had gotten this far. You sighed before grabbing a shovel, starting to fill up your former clay pit, that now was to become the grave of the poor horse. As you worked, you mulled over what you could use the planks from the cart for. Most were still in fair condition, and it would be a waste to use them as firewood. That was when you heard a soft snoring in your ear, the baby having fallen asleep. Maybe you could build a crib for the little one?

That was indeed what you did. It took a few days and was not the prettiest, but a sound and safe crib had been constructed from most of the useable planks you could salvage. It had been layered with a thick blanket over a base of dried moss, to make it soft. A small carving on the side date the day you had found him. You had also taken to knitting new blankets and clothes for the boy, as well as work on whittling some small figures for him to play with. And since you had no name to call him, you started to refer to him as Qarak. It was the name of an orc you once had met, and felt that it would be respectful to at least give him that part of his culture. So long as it didn't turn out he was a troll.

The first time you genuinely heard him laugh, was when you had made a bird flute from clay, and blew in it to entertain him. His entire face lit up and he broke out into a full belly laugh. You could only laugh with him. 

He had been around for about a month before he started to crawl, much to your surprise. You had sat him on the floor as you used the rest of the salvaged planks to make a chair he could sit comfortably in, when he suddenly was at your side, trying to put the hammer in his mouth. From then on, he was a little menace. You could only count on him staying in his crib, where he was to small to get up from, or when you strapped him to your back when you worked outside. 

He had started to communicate with you too, and you slowly started to understand what each little sound meant. You often talked to him as you worked, hoping that it would help him speak one day. 

You always referred to yourself as "mama" when you spoke to your chickens and sheep, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise when you suddenly heard a small 

"mam" come from the child. He had wanted your attention, and was pulling at your pant leg. You stiffened before looking down at him. He said it again, with a large smile now, having gotten the attention he wanted. You quickly lifted him up to pepper him in kisses, making him giggle wildly. 

You had by then contented yourself with the fact that you were going to take care of this kid, since there hasn't been anyone around to look for him. You had briefly considered dropping him off at the nearest village, but couldn't bring yourself to do it, seeing his gummy little smile, new tuft of blond hair and bright eyes look up at you. You figured that his relatives were dead, killed in the ambush. 

Which was why you were so surprised to hear a yell from behind your back, while you were feeding your chickens one summer morning. You quickly turned around, not used to other people, and not at all anyone around your house.

It was an orc woman, tall and broad. She had a long blonde braid going down one side of her head, the other shaven. Her tusks were filed down to a blunt point, and she had piercing green eyes. In her hand was a large woodsplitter axe and she had a sneer on her face as she stomped towards you. You stood very still as she approached, not wanting to give her a reason to pounce.

"Can I help you?" you tried softly asking, which only made her huff.

"Where did you get that child?" Her voice was deep and gravelly, as if she had used it to scream her whole life.

"I found him" This only made her scowl deepen.

"Bullshit. You bought him didn't you? Bought him so he could grow up to be a slave on your farm?" She raised both her voice and her axe, making you realise how much bigger and stronger she was than you. You held up your hands placatingly.

"It is true, i found him in a cart that had been ambushed. The horse had dragged it all the way to my homestead. I decided to take care of him" You tried to reason with her. She snarled, which made Qarak whimper on your back. You lifted your hand to his head and petted it softly, trying to soothe him. The woman's eyes followed your movements.

"I imagine that you are a relative?" You really tried to keep your voice steady, even if you were afraid. You tried to be strong for your boy. The woman scoffed again.

"I'm his mum. And if you hand him back right now, I won't kill ya" Your mouth went dry. This was his mother? They did have the same eyes and hair, but you wouldn't just hand him over.

"Hold on, how can I know you really are his mother? Why would he be alone in a cart, clearly neglected?" Once again, your words made her look even more angry, her grip on the axe tightening.

"Cause he was taken from me. I tracked down the sons of bitches that wanted to sell him as a slave, but they were already dead. Robbery gone wrong. I have been looking all over for him and my patience is starting to grow thin" She growled out. You sighed heavily.

"Okay. If you are his mother, then I suppose it would be very selfish of me to try and keep him" You slowly freed him from you back, holding him out to his mother. She sighed the moment she held him. He started fussing a bit, reaching back for you. "Let me just get his things" you choked out and motioned to your house. She looked to think for a second.

"Alright, but if you try to attack us, I will not hesitate to kill you" She nodded and followed you to your door. She had to duck when she entered, her eyes darting around to look for potential threats. Her gaze fell upon the crib and chair that you had built for him, before it landed on you again, as you took his favourite blanket to use to bundle his toys up with. You gathered the small things you had made him, the little bird flute, a carvings of a sheep and a chicken, a ball you had sewn and the clothes you lovingly knitted for him. As you turned back to the woman with the filled sack, she now looked more curious than angry.

"This is his things. Oh, and he prefer his potato mash without clumps. He also hates carrots. He sleeps best when you sing at least two lullabies. And please remember to massage his stomach every once in a while, or he gets a tummy ache" You told the baffled orc as you handed her the things.

"Bye little guy" You kissed him on his little head before quickly drying the tear that fell from your eye. He looked confused at seeing you distressed and reached back out for you.

"Mamma?" his mothers head whipped down to him as he uttered that little word. Then her confusion turned back into a snarl before she brought her axe to your throat in one quick move, not cutting, but keeping the threat of damage very real.

"You fucker! Why does he think you're his mum?!" She yelled, making Qaraks lip wobble.

"I- I took care of h- him. I didn't think he had any family aliv-" You breath hitched as she pressed the axe closer to your neck.

This made Qarak start full on sobbing. This distracted the woman enough for you to take a breath without fear of decapitation. She tried to bounce the baby, but she couldn't get him to calm down. Well aware that you were tempting fate, you reached out for him. The woman glared at you, but gave up when she saw how the boy was reaching for you. You gently rocked him, humming a familiar tune. The crying quickly subsided and he calmed down. The woman looked at you once again. You just ignored the glare.

"Where will you go?" You softly asked her, still rocking Qarak. She looked away for a moment.

"I don't know" She sighed. You bit your lip in contemplation.

"You could... stay here?" You looked at her surprised face. She was silent for a few more moments before she nodded.

"Alright. We'll stay. I'm Hakla"

"A pleasure to meet you Hakla" 

#Female monster x Female reader #female monsters #fem reader #female reader #female orc #orc x reader #monster fic #female monster

[love-and-monsters]

Lich Girlfriend

7,863 words, F Lich X GN reader

You have been searching the desert to find the city that may hold a powerful magician- and the cure to the curse that is plaguing you. But what you find there is different (and more wonderful) than you were expecting.

The world was quiet and still, baked under the unrelenting heat of the desert. You sweated under your clothes. They were light and breathable, but they covered every inch of your skin. The only exception was the thin strip of open area where your eyes peeked out, squinting against the desert sun.

It was stupid to travel during day in the desert. You knew this- you weren’t stupid, as much as your actions seemed to prove otherwise. No, you were desperate. You had less than a week. The stars drifted into alignment yesterday- they weren’t going to stay that way forever. Or for long. They would gradually shift away from each other again, and it would be hundreds of years before you could try again. Or, well, until someone else could try again. In hundreds of years, you will be dead.

Less than a week to comb the desert. Less than a week to find the tiny fragment that marks the entrance to the old Ancient Merrin tomb. If you couldn’t…

You shuddered. Better not to think about it.

You marched on, even as you got dizzier and more tired. Your rations were low- you knew your body just well enough to give yourself the food and water required to not pass out. Every time the dizziness threatened a little too much, you took a drink or a morsel of food. You slept as little as you can manage. Yes, you should have been taking care of yourself, since a weak explorer is a dead explorer, and a dead explorer is no use to anyone- but what was the point? Either you held out long enough to last the week or it didn’t matter.

The setting of the sun and the appearance of the stars and moon sent a thrill of terror through you. Once it was dark enough, you set up a makeshift camp and checked your map and star charts. Further out of alignment today, perhaps a bit faster than you would have liked, but within your estimations. Five days left. You grabbed a few hours of sleep before dragging yourself up and heading out again, lamp clenched in your hand.

Later, you would think about how grateful you were that you passed this area at night, that somehow your travel times lined up so it happened that way. It was only the flickering shadow cast by your lamp that revealed the irregular patterns in the sand. The entire effect was subtle. Barely there. But you could see that the sand had divots in it, lines like it was lying across something with lines carved in it.

You dropped to your knees and start to dig.

It was hard work- as soon as you pushed some sand out of the way, more slid in to take its place. You turned, bracing your back against the shifting slope to stop it, but the hole is unstable. You dug anyway, working with big sweeps of your arms. The pit got deeper, bit by bit, until your hands impact something hard. Emboldened, you clawed at it, trying to follow the edge. It was flat, like a table, though clearly much bigger. You struggled to dig and move at the same time, trying to follow it.

You followed it for only a few feet before it dropped away underneath you. You fumbled, suddenly skidding on pure sand. One of your hands scrambled for the edge and you found it- it dropped off suddenly, at a perfect right angle. Another few moments of digging revealed a wall, heading further down into the sand. You were on top of a building, and you’d just stepped off the roof.

Down, then. You followed the side of the wall down into the sand. It was both easier and harder digging down- the sliding sand of the surface grew more compact the further you went down. That meant the sand was no longer sliding into the hole so much, but it also meant it wasn’t so easy to brush aside. Your arms trembled from the effort, and the deeper you went, the greater the risk of the entire thing collapsing on you grew.

Finally, finally, the wall shifted in texture and shape- an arch. A doorway, set against the wall of the building. You clawed forward. Any doorway would work. You didn’t need it to be fully clear. Just enough to get in.

You scraped and scratched at the top of the arch. The building was as full of sand as the rest of the desert, and the more you dug, the more sand poured out. The sun was rising again, shimmering across the sky. You braced yourself and dug and dug and dug. Finally, finally, there was just enough space for you to push your body through the entranceway.

For about half of the entrance, you were squirming on top of a mass of sand. And then the sand vanished and you plunged to the ground, nearly destroying your nose in the process. You groaned, gingerly getting back up. You’d been expecting the drop, but it has still caught you off guard. You wiped a little bit of blood off your face and glanced around.

The building looked more like a tiny entranceway- it wasn’t much bigger than a few feet across, with an abandoned desk sitting against the wall. Across the room, there was a massive opening, sending the warm light of dawn across the stone floor of the otherwise-dim building.

You turned to look over your shoulder. The entrance you’d come through was dark and rippling, like there was black water beyond. You shuddered. You couldn’t go back through it, though if you were right, that wouldn’t matter. And you were certain you were right now.

The light, loose clothes you wore fluttered in the light breeze from the outside. You approached the opening. It was much cooler here than the desert, and beyond the entrance was a cobbled road, lined with grass and trees. The entire thing was verdant and lush, and there were people walking around, buying things from a market. It was certainly lively and bright, for a place that was under the desert sand.

You stepped forward, approaching one of the people. It was a man holding a child on his shoulders, presumably his daughter. You waved to him. “Hi! Listen, I’m new here- do you know where-”

He didn’t react at all. You tried a few more times, even waving your hand in front of his face. He stared right through you, without the tiniest hint of a reaction.

A nasty thought occurred. You reached out and tried to grab his arm. Sure enough, your hand went through him like he wasn’t even there. No response. He just continued toward the market, bouncing his daughter on his shoulders.

Okay. Hypothesis. Time to test it out. You marched over to one of the market stalls. “Hey!” Not a twitch from the merchant. “Hey! Can you hear me?” You waved your hand in front of her face. She continued speaking to her client, handing them a ripe orange. The client didn’t turn toward you, either. Final test: you reached out and grabbed the merchant’s wrist. Or, at least, you tried to. Because your fingers went right through it. Again, no reaction.

Hypothesis confirmed: these were not real people. They were, at best, ghosts. Imprints of the people who had once lived here, but had all died. The fact that there were several children around made you a little uncomfortable. At worst, they were illusions created by magic to fill the place and make it feel alive. Probably created by someone’s memories, and you were pretty sure you knew who it was. The issue was, how were you going to find them?

You took a look around. The outdoor market was surrounded on all sides by buildings, made out of some pale substance, maybe sandstone. Most of them were relatively tall, with great, hollowed ceilings. Possibly like some form of air conditioning, for when it got warm. It was somewhat warm, though not as hot as it had been in the desert.

But in the distance, you caught sight of what you were looking for. It was a building not too much taller than the ones around it, but certainly more ostentatious. There were even splashes of color across it, marks of tasteful red and white against the pale orange of the stone.

You headed across the market, ignoring the gentle murmur of the people, and ignoring how difficult it was to actually avoid people in a busy market. Your elbows were constantly going through other people, and while there was no sensation, it was weird to see your arm simply vanish into someone else’s chest.

The crowd diminished the closer you got to the building. In fact, no one seemed to be getting within a couple hundred feet of it. Your suspicions solidified into a prediction: what you wanted, you were going to find in this building.

Of course, the doors were tightly closed. You examined them for a moment- they were large, heavy, and bolted shut. Grimacing, you dug out your kit and started to work. Three minutes, more or less, to open it. Longer than you’d wanted, and there’d been a nasty snap of magical energy as well. Whoever was in the building knew you were here.

This building, like the one you had woken up in, was dark. You’d left your lamp outside, so you were left to stumble through the building with only the light of the doorway illuminating the path in front of you. Unfortunately, that became more difficult the further you went into the building. There were the occasional windows, which allowed a slice of light to flow in and create a marker for your progress, but they were well-spaced. There were metal holders on the wall, which certainly must have been used for lamps, but none sat on the walls now.

Despite that, the building wasn’t dusty. It seemed less abandoned, and more temporarily unoccupied. That made you nervous- sure, you had set out to find the owner of the building, but you weren’t interested in getting jumped by them. Every shift in the shadows or faint scratching of movement sent you jumping or spinning in an effort to catch whoever was there.

No one had actually snuck up on you within the fifteen minutes you’d spent exploring the building, but that had only served to make you more nervous. Squinting in the dark, you stumbled across what must have been the lead to the main tower of the building. An upward staircase, which led in a blocky spiral several feet up. You stepped onto it- there was a tingle of magic as you did so. All of the buildings were magic, of course- maybe they had been even before the sealing of the town, in order to reinforce them. Now, however, you were wondering if it would do the opposite- fail on purpose and send you tumbling down to the hard, stone floor as soon as you were high enough for it to be fatal.

You only hesitated for a moment. It didn’t matter. Death was the only option if you turned back. Might as well take the risk of moving forward.

The steps were angular, rather than a smooth spiral, with short lines of staircase interspersed with a larger, angular turning step. Somehow, that made it even more dizzying than your standard spiral. By the time you noticed the next floor in font of you, you felt rather nauseous.

You stepped forward onto the platform, forgetting to be cautious in your misery and it crumbled under your feet.

There was a split second where you were able to think ‘I should have expected this’ before you dropped. You fell for a total of two seconds before you stopped.

It was a strange stop- there were two ways to stop falling. One was by hitting the ground/coming to a sudden stop. Coming to a sudden stop while falling was just as deadly as impacting a solid surface, if you were going fast enough, and you wouldn’t have been able to register that you’d stopped through the haze of broken-bone pain. The other way was drifting gently to a stop, which would have saved you.

This was strange because you’d come to a stop suddenly, but with no pain or smashing. Not even the mild whiplash discomfort of being in a carriage that had stopped too suddenly. One second you’d been falling. And then you hadn’t been.

You lifted your eyes, as they were the only part of your body you could move, to focus on the platform above you. It was a bad angle. Part of the platform blocked your way. But you could see a gaunt, pale woman covered in a robe. Robes typically hang off one’s body, as that’s nearly their entire purpose, but these robes in particular seemed to be trying to swallow her.

It would have been polite to speak, but your mouth and throat were locked up by the spell holding you in place. So you couldn’t plead your case- you just needed to hang there, waiting for your judgement. Half of you expected to be dropped unceremoniously.

But it didn’t happen. For nearly a full minute. Which is a lot longer than it sounds like, when all you can do it look at the ground and think about how bad it would hurt if you started falling. If it hadn’t been for your inability to do so, you would have screamed when you started moving. Even if the way you were moving was up.

You were dumped on the floor in front of her. She was tall, and even with the robe covering her like a humanoid sack, you could tell that she was skinny. To a nearly skeletal extent.

(That would be your second clue. The first was the state of the city.)

“Why are you here?”

Her voice was almost normal, except for a weird rasp. It wasn’t a normal rasp. You would have described it as a buzzing like an insect’s wings- you later learned that thaumatic energy doesn’t vibrate the same way air does, and that can cause some unusual vocal qualities.

“I-” you choked out, because adrenaline also had terrible effects on vocal cords. “I was looking for… for the city of Sol.”

“I am aware,” she said, her voice roiling with impatience. “If you were not seeking, you would not have found. I. Am asking. Why.”             You got the sense she would throw you right back off the edge if you didn’t answer well. “Because it’s supposed to have preservation magic. Magic to stop decay.”

There was a pause. “The terminology is correct,” she says, and you felt a flicker of satisfaction. Unless you were very wrong, that was a note of appreciation in her voice. “Not immortality. Preservation.”

“Immortality won’t help,” you said.

“I assume you mean for reasons other than it not being real,” she said dryly. “You cannot evade death. Not eternally.”

“It won’t help because it won’t stop what’s happening. Do you know what happens to something when it dies?”

Her eyebrows went up and vanished under the hem of her robe. She had the air of someone expecting a trick question. “They… get buried?”

“Yes. Most of the time. Sometimes cremated. Sometimes something else. But that’s usually only with people or pets. But everything that dies, to some extent, rots.” You took hold of your loose clothes, still draped over your body, and tugged a large section aside. Across your stomach, in a patch no deeper than your skin, there was a patch of mold.

Her face showed no reaction. It was impressive. Usually the smell alone sent people reeling. It had taken over a week for your to get used to it enough to stop vomiting every time your shirt shifted.

“Quite impressive, for someone who’s still living,” she said. “Typically that would only happen to a fresh corpse.”

You dropped the fabric back in place. “It won’t die. Every fungicide, every poison and medicine I can get my hands on has failed. Immortality won’t help- that would just make me live on while it eats me. I don’t want to be conscious while it takes me over.”

The woman nodded. “You have some awareness of what it is, then?”

“Do you?”

“More or less. A very rare condition. Very rare. Vanishingly so.”

“Good,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’m glad I’m lucky enough to get one of the rare ones.”

She didn’t acknowledge you speaking. “It is a naturally occurring curse. I expect you stumbled into a natural pool of magic, maybe no more than a couple centimeters in size. It went off and triggered…” She gestured to your side. “That. An eternally-growing fungus, one that will grow faster as it gets bigger. I assume it will reach your internal organs eventually, once it breaks down your skin enough, which will likely kill you.”

“I can’t get it to die. Even if I found a way to live with it, it would eventually just consume me anyway, and I would have to live through the agony of it eating through my organs and getting into my brain. Nobody is able to undo natural curses- they don’t make sense. But if you have preservation magic- it stops the growth. It wouldn’t kill the fungus, but maybe it would stop it. Prevent it from taking root any further, just until I live out my natural lifespan.” You swallowed. “Please.”

She looked at you. Her gaze was icy, assessing. Her jaw shifted. She spoke. “My advice to you would be to find a particularly desolate area to die in, so it does not spread further once it consumes you. Alternately, you could set yourself on fire. Immolation would likely destroy it, though attempting to burn it out of you without complete destruction would probably be a fool’s errand.”

She was turning to leave by the time she finished speaking and, desperate, you called “Wait!”

The word was accompanied by a lunge forward. You weren’t thinking- you just wanted her to stop leaving, and that was usually best managed with a certain level of physical force. Your arm ended up clamped down on her wrist. It was the safest area to grab- none of the intimacy of hand holding, but also grabbing an extremity didn’t make her feel like you were trying to tackle her.

But as soon as your hand clamped down, you knew something was wrong.

It didn’t go through the robe. That was real enough, if also unbearably rough. If she’d had skin, it would have been horrible to wear. But she clearly didn’t have any, because your hand clamped down further than it should have until you were holding onto robe wrapped around something hard and brittle.

You’d never held a human bone before. But you’d held animal bones. And you’d looked at enough human anatomy sketches that you could be reasonably certain you were clinging to the bone of a human forearm.

There was a long, horrific moment. Then you forced your neck to move up, up, up. To look into the face still mostly shadows by hood.

The shadow wasn’t enough to hide that the skin of the face was now rippling and flickering, like an illusion spell when it was disrupted.

A tiny squeak passed through your lips. Fortunately, it was followed by words. “You’re a lich.”

“I’m glad you’re clever enough to figure that out,” she said. It was interesting to watch someone talk with a flickering tongue and lips. “Let go.”

You did so. You also kept talking. “But that’s even better- you preserved your body after death and bound your soul to it, that means you can-”

“It means nothing.” The illusion had settled once you’d stopped holding her, but now it dropped away in its entirety. You blinked. She was skeletal, of course, a mass of bones held together with glowing green tendons. Her eyes were two spots of light in her sockets, both of them focused on you. “I did not preserve my body. It rotted. What remains is protected by magic and repaired by magic, but not preserved. The city which you claimed was preserved? It is illusory. My magic can protect the buildings from the elements, but the people are, as I am sure you have seen, nothing more than smoke and light, filling out their tasks as I remember them. Nothing here is preserved.” The eye lights flickered, like she was closing them. “I can do nothing for you.”

Your side itched. You didn’t move to scratch at it anymore. You hadn’t since the first time, where the skin had come away in chunks. “You have magic. You’re powerful enough to create illusions over the entire city. You were powerful enough to make yourself a lich! There must- there must be something!”

Raw desperation cracked your voice and she seemed to draw in tight at that, though there was no way to read the facial expression of a skull.

“I cannot undo the curse.” Her voice was still raspy, but there was a softened touch of kindness to it now. “I will not turn you into a lich.”

“Not cannot,” you said, clawing for something. “Will not.”

“Will not, because my magical energies are going somewhere else. And I cannot teach you. It takes years to generate the magical might to even attempt the spell. Years you do not have.”

A year, is what you had. Maximum. Might be less, depending on if it kept you alive when it reached your brain- “I came all this way,” you said, the wave of terror that had been reaching over you finally cresting.

She didn’t draw in a long, slow breath, since liches didn’t do things like breathe. But the pause suggested she might have wanted to. “You can stay. I won’t turn you out. But there is no help. I suggest you get used to that.”

The lich headed further into the tower. After a moment, you followed. “What’s your name?”

She stopped. Turned her head back. The glamour was starting to flicker back into place. “Name?”

“If I’m going to be staying, I want to know your name,” you said.

There was enough of a glamour in place for you to see the upward twitch of her lips. “Amarys.”

The living accommodations of a lich are sparse, mostly owing to the fact that liches do not live, and therefore need little of the things humans use to maintain that state. She told you to take what you could find from the houses. All of it was quite dusty, and you stuck to taking the things that were in trunks or out of use. They may have been illusions, but it was just weird to take things from the people.

Making a pillow pile was more comfortable than sleeping in the rough, even if there was no mattress of proper bedframe. Technically there were bedframes in the other houses, but you wanted to stay in the same tower as the lich. As Amarys. It felt safer, even if she’d said she couldn’t do anything.

Liches didn’t need to sleep. You could hear her thumping around upstairs. It was sort of comforting, the sound of a real person doing things. Your side itched. You fell asleep comfortably anyway.

Amarys didn’t mind it when you followed her around. She simply accepted your presence with a nod when you showed up, and wasn’t upset when you wandered off without so much as a goodbye. It was a good setup for you. For hours at a time, you would wander through the magic library, examining tomes on natural curses and magic plants and animals. Unfortunately, it seemed like Amarys had been telling the truth when she’d said that she had no way of curing it. There was precious little information on the subject. Mentions of curses, yes, but the author usually only noted them long enough to also note that there was nothing interesting about something so irreversible.

(You would have thought that would make it more interesting, but apparently it was generally considered ‘not fun’ to beat your head against a wall for days straight. Perhaps when you were doing it, sheer panic had made the whole thing a bit more bearable.)

The lich allowed you to watch as she worked as well, though it was a bit like watching someone solve math problems repeatedly- rather impressive to watch, and it was clear she was doing a lot of things with a lot of thinking behind them. You just didn’t know what any of the thoughts were. Magic was a subject more interesting than math, but also one that was much more complicated and, well. Even the allure of summoning a fireball whenever you wanted wasn’t enough to get you to study. That’s why people had invented matches.

“What was the first spell you learned?” you asked on your third day there. You’d spent the better part of a couple of hours watching her. She didn’t ignore you, in that she told you to get out of the way before something exploded.

“Interesting question,” she replied, masterfully giving a complete non answer.

“In what way?” you prodded when no other words were forthcoming.

“Most of the time, I would expect ‘what are you doing?’” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and some weariness at people who clearly couldn’t understand genius when it was right in front of them.

“Because I probably wouldn’t understand it if you told me,” you said. She actually looked at you, then, with an expression of respect- if you were going to be an idiot, best to be aware of it.

“My first spell,” she said, “was a heat spell.”

“Really?” you said. First spells were usually light, sometimes sparks or fire. Something flashy and obvious. It helped kids feel like they were doing something cool. Heat was relatively unusual. It wasn’t obvious or showy- usually it was just practical. And then, hastily, because practical first spells weren’t always done under the best of circumstances, “You don’t actually have to talk about it if you don’t-”

“It’s all right.” She stopped working and braced herself against the table. “It was to keep myself warm, yes. Here.”

“Right here?”

She smiled a little. “Not in this exact spot. The building didn’t exist. It was actually closer to the point you would have entered the city from. I was freezing- midnight, you know, is unkind in a desert, and I was young. I created the heat spell, and slowly learned more from there. Not all on my own, of course. I studied in several other cities. But I came back here, eventually. I think I had a certain level of nostalgia for it- it was my magic that created the first building here.”

Your brain caught up with the implication. “You’re the founder of the city?”

She smiled, preening a little. “Yes.”

“That was… But the city was lost over a hundred years ago-”

“And I am a lich. Effectively immortal,” she said. “I wasn’t when I founded the city, of course, and I found other ways to extend my lifespan before taking this solution. But it was the best way to protect everyone.”

“Protect everyone? But then why is it-” You bit your tongue in the nick of time. Not a good question. Not to the person who was providing you with the last comfort you’d get before- well. Before.

Her body flickered a little, so you could see the glowing green of bone beneath her skin. “I lasted a long time. But nothing is forever.”

She turned and started back up with her experiments. You didn’t ask her anything after that.

The next morning, you approached her with something of a more urgent question. “I’m running low on supplies.”

She stared at you. “You didn’t bring enough?”

“I brought plenty. I just couldn’t bring them all in with me. I figured if I was going into a preserved city, they would have things to eat there. I didn’t expect the illusions.” You’d tried to take fruit from a cart, just as an experiment. Most of them had been illusions. One hadn’t. It just also hadn’t been fruit. Well, presumably it had been fruit at one point, before making the slow transformation to a pile of rotten sludge. “And I didn’t bring much more than I needed for a couple of weeks. I didn’t expect to be out here for much longer than that.” She considered for a moment. “I can help.” With great reluctance, she moved away from her table of magic devices. “Come with me.”

You followed her down and out of the tower and through the back part of the city. The back part of most cities was usually the back part, but this one seemed nice. Well-lit, with fewer buildings and more plants, and then the few buildings there were parted to reveal rows of fields. Or what had been fields at one point. They were a bit overgrown. An apple tree stood at the far end, hanging heavy with fruit. As you watched, you noticed that all of the field was in bloom, as overgrown as it was. The varieties were from all over the world, even exotic things like pumpkin and cacao. Wheat and onion and other assorted things.

“The cows and chickens and sheep died some time ago,” Amarys said. “But there might be some cheese in storage. Wine as well, and salt.” She gestured to the field. “Take and eat as you will.”

You dug in, grabbing a few apples and other ready-to-eat fruits to munch on as you examined the crops. Clearly they were magically maintained, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It took only one trip back to the library to get a hoard of cookbooks and the you were off.

You cooked in the tower kitchen, and you were happy to do so. Cooking hadn’t been something you’d done in a while, since you’d been traveling and surviving on dried food or grabbing something to eat at a street market on rare occasion. Getting to cook was almost novel, and using interesting new recipes only added to the experience.

It was only after you’d been cooking for nearly an hour that you noticed Amarys standing in the doorway. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “You- damn, I didn’t even notice- how long have you been-?”

Amarys smiled. Her disguise was still flickering, so you could see her teeth through her cheeks as well. “Some time, though I was hoping not to disturb you. Your carrots are about to burn.”

You took them off the stove. “I wasn’t bothering you or anything, was I?”

“No,” she said. “The opposite, in fact. I could smell what you were cooking and it drew me here.” She looked around the room. Maybe you were misinterpreting, but you could have sworn that she had a look of wistfulness on her face.

“I’d offer you some, but…” You trailed off. You were pretty sure liches couldn’t eat.

“Quite impossible for me,” she said, confirming your suspicions. “But it is nice to watch, sometimes. And the smell is delightful.” You gestured to the table. “Don’t feel obligated to stand on ceremony or anything. I’ll be done in a minute.”

She did so, gathering her robe around her as she settled down. You carried your dishes over to the table as they were completed and spread them out. Perhaps you’d been overambitious, considering that you wouldn’t eat all of it at once, but it wasn’t like you were going to get many more feasts.

Amarys leaned forward, sniffing. “It smells wonderful.” “Thanks! I mean, some credit has to go to the person who created the food, of course,” you said, gesturing to Amarys. She ducked her head in a slightly-bashful acknowledgement of your words.

“Perhaps we shall say it’s a team effort,” she decided. You dug in, blissfully savoring the flavors. It was good, though whether that was due to your cooking prowess, the quality of the food you’d been provided, or if you were just easily pleased after spending ages on the road.

It was a bit weird, eating with someone who wasn’t. She spent a little bit looking over the food, examining each dish with interest. Then she’d just started to watch you, which was a little strange. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen this,” she said. “A long time since the kitchen’s been used. Over a hundred years.”

“It’s well-maintained,” you said.

“Yes, physical preservation is not always so difficult. And I admit, most of the areas in this building have greater levels of care than some others in the city. I never thought they would be used, but…” A slightly pained look of happiness came over her face. “I am pleased they have been used.”

“I’m glad I was able to use them.” Your side prickled, as if to remind you that you weren’t going to be able to for much longer. It was getting bigger. You could feel it traveling deeper than your skin, every day. It didn’t hurt, exactly. Not most of the time. \

Amarys watched you eat for a little longer. She opened her mouth a couple times, but never said anything. She just watched you.

It was just as you were finishing and preparing to clean up when she spoke. “Allow me.” She lifted her hands and closed her eyes. You could still see the glowing points through her illusory eyelids. Green light flickered around the table. The plates and utensils floated away. One of the plates passed by your nose and you could see the surface gradually getting cleaned it did so. Everything slipped back into the drawers they had come from, cleaner than when you’d retrieved them. The food itself vanished and Amarys lowered her arms. She didn’t seem to be breathing heavily, but her illusion was flickering and faded, which seemed to be a better indication of exhaustion for her.

“Are you all right?” you asked.

She drew herself up and her illusion stabilized. Mostly- it was still faded enough that you could see bones through her skin. “Fine. The food is stored in the icebox, if you would like to reheat it. Doing practical magic like that simply winds me for a bit.” Her illusion strengthened again, leaving her perfectly solid. There was a bit of a pause, where Amarys looked at you. Was she waiting for you to say something or working up the nerve to say something to you?

“Thank you?” you tried. Amarys sighed, quiet and gusty.

“I am grateful for your thanks, but I do not require it,” she said. “I… am actually attempting to thank you. Poorly, I should think, but I am.”             You started a little. That was… not what you were expecting. “Why are you trying to thank me?”

Amarys lowered her head a little. “Time works differently for the undead. I am not affected by it the same as others. A human, kept in isolation for even a single year, would go mad. I am not quite human, and I do not experience the same things. I have been alone for a very long time. It did not drive me mad, because I don’t think I can be driven mad in the same way. Or, at least, not on the same time frame. I didn’t even realize I was lonely. I worked and worked so much and then… Well. I never looked up to realize that there was no one there.

“Until you arrived. And… I suppose you can get used to anything, given long enough, and I’ve had quite a lot of time. But it only takes one little change to make the bearable… not. And it took your arrival to make me realize that I had been terribly lonely.”

You’d been listening in silence, but this felt important to respond to. “I- I’m so sorry-”

She held up a hand. “No. I am not asking for an apology. Just listen.” She lowered her hand and took a beep breath. She didn’t need to, you knew, but perhaps it was steadying nonetheless. “Do you know why this city is called what it is?”

“The City of Sol?” You thought for a moment. “Because of the desert sun, right?”

She smiled. “Not quite. I think I heard too many mysterious adventure stories when I was young, because I was a bit too clever in naming the city. I named it this way because, well… It’s not Sol. It’s Ssol.” She carefully pronounced the extra S. “Backward, that’s the City of Loss.” Her posture drooped a little. “The destruction of my city was magical in nature. Not my own magic, but something I should have seen coming. A magic burst from inside the Earth. Rapid, and devastating.”

You winced- magical bursts were rare, natural phenomenon. Usually, they made people sick for a few days while their natural magic reasserted itself from the disturbance- for one to literally wipe out an entire town… That was a once in a thousand years level of power.

“As it was, the burst nearly unwound me. I was catatonic for a bit over a decade. And when I awoke, everything I had built over centuries was gone. The city stood, but the people did not. I was in pain, lost and alone. And so I created spells. Spells that would maintain the buildings, empty as they were, maintain the land, hide the city from most people, and would create… shadows. I could not create a spell that would replace the people, but at least now, when I looked out my windows, I did not seem to be alone.”

She lowered her head. “But I was alone. Always. And no matter how much energy I dedicated to the spells, there was nothing that could bring them back.”

You put your hand on her shoulder, sympathetic as you could be. She closed her eyes for a moment, pain flickering over her expression. “I said earlier, I could not make you a lich, as I did not have the energy to do so. That was… correct. I am using a lot of my own magical power to maintain this place. The experiments, the things I am trying to create in order to bring everything back to the way it was, can be even more draining. But having you here, even for the brief time, has made me realize…”

She paused and closed her eyes again. You thought about telling her not to bother, that you could leave, not make her think about this anymore. But you recognized that this was important to her. And no matter how uncomfortable seeing her in pain made you, you would stay and let her say her piece.

“I am dead. I spend my time with ghosts. And as much as I have convinced myself I can bring them back, I cannot. I must not linger in the past anymore. I must… move on. And I will move on. With you, if you will allow it.”

She looked at you. Her eyes were brown. You could see the green light glowing in the center of her pupils.

“I am going to make you a lich.”

The preparations for lich-hood were extensive. She examined the fungus in your side, eventually excising whole chunks. “A lich doesn’t need to have their original body,” she explained. “The magic is an aspect of the soul, you understand- it only needs a place to be housed. It prefers the body it knows, of course, but if the fungus clings to you even after death and reconfiguration, you’ll need to hop somewhere else.”

“Do I get to pick?” you asked.

“Yes, to an extent. I’ll want to prep a couple extras anyway. I had some extras.” She smiled. “I had a bird.”

“A bird?” you repeated as she cleaned your side.

“I thought it might be interesting to fly,” she explained. “Liches can fly regardless, but like a bird… I thought it would be particularly cool.” She laughed. Mirthless. “I suppose it’s ironic. I picked an animal that could fly only to chain myself here.”

“Because you loved everyone here. Not a chain. An anchor. Ships need them, so they don’t drift. Maybe it was important to have them. You’re not chained here and breaking away. You’re just… raising anchor.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

The analysis of the fungus took a while. You stayed near her as she worked. She spoke on occasion, and sometimes it wasn’t even to ask for something.

“If we can work quickly,” she finally determined, “you have the option of keeping your body. In some ways, the positioning is fortunate. If it was on a bonier area, like an arm, it may have simply adhered there. Though I suppose that could merely have been cut off and the curse may not have spread. Or you would be a lich with one arm.” She shook her head a little, to refocus. “But it is only tied to your physical form. Deeply, too deeply to be carved out, but it hasn’t touched bone and that will be all that’s left once you become…” She paused, then turned her head and gave you a faint smile. “You’ll be able to change your appearance, you know. When you become a lich. It’s all an illusion.” She paused. A cool, boney hand touched your face. “But I do… I rather hope you’ll keep this one.”

And then she pulled away, doing another experiment, another thing to save you, and you felt like you were burning and overjoyed all in the same moment.

The preparations took time, a long time. But they were, eventually complete.

“It will be easier, since I am doing it for you,” Amarys said. “But it will still hurt.” She’d mentioned this before, but it wasn’t a terrible idea to mention it again. “And it will feel different than hurting. I suggest you find your own anchor, something to tether yourself to.”

You nodded. “I have one.”

Amarys didn’t ask. She kept going. “It will take a long time to wake up. The magic will destroy the body quicker than usual, but it will take over a month for everything to settle and for you to wake up.”

“And then I’ll be nothing but bones,” you said. You tried to make your voice humorous, but you couldn’t hide the undercurrent of terror.

“You’ll be magic holding some bones together,” Amarys said. “You’ll be wonderful.” She took your hand, squeezed. “I will be there for you the whole time.”

“Thank you.” Her magic buzzed against your skin. You closed your eyes to feel it better. Soon, you would be like that. “How do we start?”

There was a complicated hexagonal figure drawn across the floor. It was designed to keep the summoned magic contained, as well as instruct the magic on what to do. Even when inert, you could feel the power of it lifting the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck.

“Step into the circle,” Amarys said. You did so, moving to the center. There were a couple of things lined up outside the circle, potential bodies if yours didn’t work out. A dog, a mannequin, and a book. She had told you stories of liches who’d found their souls housed in books. There as hope for a transfer later, but it was better to wait until you were stable in one form, and if you initially ended up being stable in a book, then you would be there for a little while.

You really hoped you didn’t get attached to the book.

“Breathe easy,” Amarys said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” She smiled. You could see her bones faintly through her skin. It was oddly reassuring.

The magic swelled around you. It pressed against your skin, attempted to bulge away from the fungus on your side. Amary’s brows drew together in concentration just before her body flickered away. The city groaned. The little noises of people had faded the moment the spell started. It would collapse in the wake of the spell, Amarys fleeing with the last scrap of energy and your body. She would get you out of there, and hunker down while you recovered.

Just as the magic swelled to an overwhelming crescendo, you saw a glimpse of Amarya again. She was in her skeletal form, with magic swirling over her, forming the indistinct shape of a human over them, glowing green and ethereal.

Beautiful.

That was your last thought before the magic closed over you.

It was warm. Pleasantly warm, like a summer’s day. And dark. You were pretty sure your eyes were open, since your eyelids didn’t seem to exist, but it was still pitch black. There was a feeling like floating. Or being rocked. And maybe someone was humming? You wanted to close your eyes to focus more on the sound, but you had no eyelids. The sound was drawing closer and it was beautiful, humming right into your soul…

Something creaked and a thin beam of light appeared. The beam widened until you were surrounded in light, and then your eyes began to adjust.

You were in a building, the walls made of clay. It was modestly decorated, with a cluster of magical artifacts scattered across the floor. But you only looked around for a moment before focusing on the person above you.

Amarys was leaning over you. Her illusion was still faint, giving you a clear sight of her skeleton through her skin. But you could still see that she was smiling.

“There you are.” She eased a hand into the box (the coffin, presumably) and helped you up. Your body had been wrapped in deep purple cloth, but your arms and hands had been exposed. You could see your skeleton, wreathed in the pale, sunshine-yellow of your magic.

“I’m alive,” you said- or tried to say. You weren’t experienced enough to speak properly without lips.

“Take it easy,” Amarys said. “We’ll work on that later.” She rested her hands on your face. You could still feel them, though it wasn’t the same as feeling skin on skin contact. There was something deeper- the contact of her magic against yours. Like your souls were brushing together. Sharp tingles rolled along your body.

“Oh,” Amarys said as she drank in your face. Her eyes gleamed with magic and emotion. “You’re beautiful.”

Your magic swirled in eddies of delight. Amarys leaned in and the contact of magic against magic sharpened to something bright and overwhelming and wonderful. There wasn’t a kiss- there were no lips to have one with. But the magic that flowed and combined was more intense and intimate than any kiss you’d ever had.

#exophilia #monster lover #female monster #female lich #lich #monster romance #original writing #fantasy romance #lich girlfriend

[babayanska]

unrestrained fun

#art #monsters #yanska art #digital art #artists on tumblr #female artist #queer artist #monster art #female monster #folk art #folk creature #fae #wolf #arctic wolf #vulture #turkey vulture #wild #winter #winter art #winter landscape #snow #blood #horror #horror art #bestial #creature #procreate

[flowersandbigteeth]

#visual novel #va #female monster #monster boyfriend #monster romance #yandere fluff #monster fluff #monster x reader #monster bf #monster fucker #monster husband #monster lover #monster oc #monster smut #monster x human

[urfrndlynbhdemigirl]

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ ꕥ 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝑅𝐼𝒟𝐸𝒮 ꕥ ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

#the bride #the bride 1985 #jennifer beals #frankenhooker #patty mullen #corpse bride #the corpse bride #bride of frankenstein #the bride of frankenstein #blue aesthetic #spooky aesthetic #halloween aesthetic #halloween #female monsters #female monster

[monstertwix-art]

💜💜💜

#monster #exophilia #terato #monster art #monster lover #my art #original art #digital art #digital illustration #demon #female demon #monstertwix #art #female monster

[briefbestiary]

Monstrous, equal in fame to most of her siblings, though in comparison her individuality as a monster appears to have been all but lost in the modern day.

#BriefBestiary #bestiary #digital art #fantasy #folklore #legend #myth #mythology #chimaera #chimera #greek mythology #greek myth #monster #bellerophon #bane of lycia #female monster #amisodarus #fire-breathing monster

[miser-of-miscellaneous]

I apologize for making a Gif of Falin *jumping on it*

#gif #anime #anime gif #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #falin touden #falin #falin dungeon meshi #this ones for all the tiddy lovers im sorry #the fucking shirt scene is iconic forever #im so happy seeing people simp for her #jiggling titts #jiggle physics #monster girl #monster romance #female monster #monster love #anime girl

[hah-studios]

Second Valentines Piece: This one with OCs!

Cullen and Beastie will soon be brought to you in my short story Beauty and the Beastie!

Stay tuned!

#batb #beauty and the beast #genderbent #oc #valentines day #female monster #beauty and the beastie #cullen #beastie

[ijwrite]

Female orc x Female reader Part 2

Living with Hakla had been... Let's say an adjustment. You are counting yourself lucky, simply by having survived the first few days of her presence. Even after you had welcomed her into your home, she kept her guard up around you, especially when you were holding Qarak. But you couldn't really blame her. Though she did like the name you gave him. "A name of an old orc hero. Good name. He is Qarak" As she put it. The first morning she awoke in your house, was to Qarak screaming his lungs out. She sprung out of her travelling bedroll, axe ready (which you had the suspicion that she slept with). So now your morning consisted of you trying to calm not just one, but two orcs. You picked up Qarak under Haklas piercing gaze. "Whatsa matter? Why's he cryin?" She growled, ready to blame you. "Hey is just morning grumpy and wants cuddles and attention. Will you hold him for a minute?" She nodded and held out her arms. "It might be a good idea to put the axe down first?" "Ah. Right" She put down the axe and took Qarak from your arms. He slowly stopped sniffling, looking up at Hakla curiously. You turned to make some breakfast. It only took a little while, and soon there were three bowls of stewed fruits steaming on the table. You motioned for Hakla to sit, which she did. She did not put Qarak into his chair, but instead held onto him. You push a large and small bowl over to them, nodding before starting to eat yourself. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Hakla sniffing the bowls of stew suspiciously, before carefully picking up and licking the spoon you had put in. She deemed it safe and began trying to feed Qarak.

He did not agree with this, and instead decided to avoid the spoon at all costs. You could hear Hakla mumbling in orcish, trying and failing to get him to eat. You put down your own spoon. "Try acting like you're eating it yourself. Then he will know it is safe" You softly told her, receiving a glare in turn. Yet after a few more attempts at feeding him failed, she did indeed almost put the spoon into her mouth, before putting it to his lips again. This time he opened his mouth and started to eat happily. Only after he emptied his bowl did Hakla begin eating. It was all gone before you could blink twice. You handed her a handkerchief before taking the empty bowls to wash them at your indoor pump basin.

Hakla followed you around everywhere the first couple of days, adjusting to your routine of keeping animals and your fields. She was carrying Qarak, which he didn't seem to mind much. You showed her your fields and your animals. She simply followed you around, eyeing everything with suspicion. She paid attention to everything though, and the next morning you had help to take care of your animals.

You never asked Hakla about anything regarding her life before, nor how Qarak ended up here.

You found it wasn't your place. But you did wonder. Hakla seemed very insecure when taking care of Qarak, always having to rely on your advice, though she did it reluctantly. She obviously loved him, but she seemed like a fish out of water whenever she had to take care of him. It didn't bug you though, you just went about your day, content and even happy with the company. It did seem to bother Hakla though. "Why are you so good with 'im?" She asked one evening, as you were sitting on the floor, playing with Qarak. "Hm. Well, you just have to make sure that he is comfortable. He is a little person, so he needs what other people will need, just with a bit more assistance I guess" You shrugged as you tickled his stomach, eliciting a gleeful screech. Hakla sighed deeply, and you felt the little interaction was over. She still did not trust you enough to get too vulnerable around you, but you didn't mind. Things take their time, after all. One day though, you had been caught in a sudden downpour, but couldn't run for shelter immediately, since you had to make sure none of the animals or iron tools had been left out. You came back inside absolutely soaked to the bone, and it had apparently been enough to get you sick. You woke up the day after with a hammering headache, chills, and a stuffed nose. You damned the weather for a few moments, before sitting up to get out of bed. You regretted this, since your world immediately went spinning. Then, without a warning, you sneezed. And it was loud. Both Qarak and Hakla jumped awake, looking over at you. At least the axe was not out yet. "Sorry, did gnot mean to wake nyou" you sniffled and stood up. You felt Haklas eyes scrutinising you from behind before she decided to say something. "Yer sick. Go sleep again" "Cang't. Got to check the angimals, the fields angd the bees" You sounded and felt horrible, but you could not just neglect your duties. Hakla snorted. "I'll do it. Sleep" You spun around, looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

"You sure?"

"Ye" You really would like to just sleep this sickness away, and if Hakla believed she could take over for a day, then you had to trust her. Trust is mutual, after all. So you nodded and staggered back to your bed, sighing in bliss as you lay your sore head onto your pillow. It did not take long for you to fall asleep. When you woke up again, it was to Qarak booping your nose. In your delirious state, you couldn't even tell what time it was. As you lifted your head, you felt something slide from your forehead onto your pillow. A green blur filled your vision, picking up a smaller blob and carrying it away before picking up whatever fell from you face and put it back again. "Lay still. Your fever is worse" A deep voice told you, and you obeyed. The thing they put on your head felt nice and cool, staving of the headache if just for a little bit. You lifted your arm to feel what it was, but accidently smacked it against the arm of what you by now had finally realised was Hakla. You immediately became alert as you heard a small grunt of pain from her. "You're hurt?" You asked and sat slightly up. "The bees do not like me" Came the short answer. You should have known. "Qarak?" You felt for the small bumps of beestings, feeling not many, but large ones. "Didn't bring him close to the damn things" This made you smile. "See? You are a good mother. Now lemme just..." You sat up, not seeing Hakla's conflicted, yet happy expression. Staggering over to your pantry, you pulled out a clove of garlic.

"What... Are you doing?" She asked as you opened the garlic and pulled out a small knife. "Hushhhh" You said, still woozy from the sickness. Under Hakla's watchful eyes, you cut open a piece of the garlic and started pressing it against some of the beestings. When that was done, you pressed a little kiss to her arm and laid down again before catching glimpse of her bewilderment. In your sleep, you felt the cool rag be put back onto your face.

Yes, living with Hakla was an adjustment. But it might be an adjustment to something better.

#fem reader #female monster #female monster x female reader #monster fic #orc x reader #female orc

[love-and-monsters]

MerMay: Mermaid Girlfriend

F mermaid X GN reader, 11,800 words

IT’S STILL MAY I GOT IT IN ON TIME. In all seriousness, this was way longer than I wanted it to be. I gotta learn to be more concise. Apologies if the ending’s a bit rushed and there are mistakes- I was kind of speeding to get it out in time. hopefully you still like it!

Content Warning: Mentioned/discussed non-consensual human experimentation, description of injury

You had been returning to the seaside every full moon for a year just to see her. It was only an hour by train from your shitty little apartment, and the summer meant you had plenty of time to get home and change into something beach-appropriate before it got dark.

The beach didn’t close until ten, and you were there just as the sun set, so there was enough time to wander around. The boardwalk was nice, if a bit crowded. Loops of fairy lights hung along the edge of the boardwalk, adding some illumination between the larger spotlights of streetlamps and vendors. You purchased a churro and settled down on a bench to watch the shore.

The sea was dark, but light reflected off the crests of the waves so you could track the undulation of its surface. The foamy surf that surged up the beach was pale enough to be readily visible, and you watched its ebb and flow as it crawled further and further inland. Sometimes its back and forth was disturbed by a person walking through it, but the night was growing chilly without the sun and people stopped venturing into the ocean as it got later.

The moon rose, hanging heavy and low over the ocean. Its glow created a spot of reflection in the ocean, one paler and more consistent than that of the twinkling boardwalk lights. And, as it got later, the boardwalk lights switched off one by one, leaving less competition for the moon’s glow. The streetlights were still on, but the gaps between them were now more starkly shadowed, the fairy lights unplugged for the night. You stayed in the shadows as you crept to the edge of the boardwalk, the portion that was slightly elevated above the beach, and hopped down.

It was distinctly cool, with the breeze rolling in off the sea all around you and in the shadows of the boardwalk. You retreated to a particularly gloomy spot and waited.

Security staff did sweep the public beach areas, but they were never thorough or seemed to care if they actually found someone or not. A couple of people in uniform wandered onto the beach, swung their lights around to spot stragglers, then left. The beach wasn’t what they were usually concerned about, anyway- if rowdy teens were hanging around, they would be more interested in the boardwalk itself, and the security guards patrolled accordingly. They would do a couple more checks throughout the night, but they were mostly just making sure people didn’t sneak onto the beach, get drunk, and leave a bunch of trash everywhere. They could be easily avoided.

Once the security guards were gone and you were certain there were no other people trying to use the beach after dark (it had happened before, forcing you to stay hidden for more than an hour before you gave up and went home), you crept out from your hiding spot and toward the edge of the sea. It was cold enough that you didn’t stick your toes in the surf. You just approached the very border of the sea and waited.

It wasn’t hard to wait. You had been doing it for a very long time.

You had only seen her once. It had been around the same time the year prior- early summer, when the sea had just started to consistently get warm. Your visiting the beach had been sheer coincidence- it was a good day trip and you’d been cagey after a winter spent almost entirely alone. Walking around the boardwalk had been just the pick-me-up you needed to get your mind back in gear.

It had been such a good pick-me-up, in fact, that you had been reluctant to return home. Even once the sun had completely set and the beach had been closed to guests, you remained. You just needed one more minute free of your apartment, one more minute to be free of your work, one more minute of peace.

And then she had broken the surf.

At first, you thought you were just looking at another human tourist. The head and shoulders that emerged from the waves had been, from a distance, in the perfect silhouette of a human. You watched, a bit concerned. Yes, you’d snuck onto the beach after hours, but you weren’t stupid enough to go swimming in the ocean without a lifeguard present. And wasn’t it cold? The water hadn’t warmed up that much.

And then she had broken the waves and you’d seen that, from waist down, she had a tail.

It was a dolphin tail, at least in shape. Sleek enough to smoothly reflect the moonlight from above, it had only been visible for a moment before she’d slipped back beneath the waves.

Naturally, you had immediately sprinted for the beach as fast as you could, skirting the very edges of the foam to stare out into the ocean. Your brain was seized by the utterly fantastic, utterly crazy notion that you had just seen a real-life mermaid.

Of course, within the few minutes it took for your heart rate to slow, you realized how utterly stupid that idea was. It was, in all likelihood, a person wearing one of those fake mermaid tails that you sometimes saw online. They were often skillfully crafted, good enough to be mistaken for the real thing in the light of day, never mind the dim half-light provided by the moon.

Still, you waited by the shore, scanning the coastline. She may not have actually been a mermaid, but she was still a person, and it wasn’t safe to be swimming at night. Even less safe to be swimming in a tail like that, which could get caught on something or restrict movement if she got caught in a rip current. The least you could do was wait for her to poke her head back up again and see if you could convince her to get out of the water.

You waited. And waited. Your concern grew heavier, like a weight on your chest the longer you stayed. She was gone.

For a few moments, you scanned the beach up and down, squinting at the waterline. Maybe she’d let the current sweep her further down the beach and surfaced there. But there was no sign of her in the ocean or on the beach. You fidgeted anxiously. Where was she? The longer you waited, the more likely it became that she was trapped under the water.

What were you supposed to do? Run for help was the most likely answer. But you were reluctant to leave, and what were the odds you’d be able to make it back with help before she drowned? The only other option was to wade in yourself.

The water was an ice cold shock against your skin- it was still early in the summer, so the sea hadn’t had a chance to warm up yet, and the chill of the night air didn’t help. It wasn’t severe enough to lock your muscles up, but it was enough to make your feet and hand go numb. The sand slipped under your feet and it was hard to find your balance again. Still, you shoved yourself forward, wading into the water until it was up to your waist, then your chest. Then your feet slipped away from the sand completely.

Waves bobbed and splashed at your face, and you sputtered out mouthfuls of salty water. Still, you spun valiantly around in the water, swinging your limbs in the hopes of hitting something. This, you were pretty sure, was where she had gone down, and the current wasn’t particularly strong. The sea floor was also only a few inches from your feet- if you strained, you could brush your toes against it without going underwater- so it was unlikely that she had sunk beneath you.

The longer you stayed in the water, the colder everything became. It was stretching up from your numb hands and feet into your legs and chest. You dove under the water for a moment, searching frantically with your hands. There was no sign of her. Even continuing in the direction you’d seen her moving, you couldn’t find her body.

It was at that point that the complete stupidity of your decision sank in. This was why people said not to jump in and try to save people. Because now you were out in the water, half frozen, and probably not able to even drag her body back to the shore if you did find it. If she was still alive.

A wave splashed over your head and you sputtered. You twisted, trying to head back to shore, but your numb hands and arms made it hard to move. You could barely feel anything below your calves. The shore looked much further away than it once had, or maybe it was just that you were moving toward it so slowly. It felt like you were fighting the water itself, like it was trying to grab you and drag you back toward the open sea. The waves wrapped around you, pressing against your limbs with inexorable force.

And then you were yanked forward by a sudden and powerful force. You gasped, then regretted it when a flood of salty water entered your mouth. Choking and coughing, you tried to kick against whatever was dragging you- some kind of current? Then you registered that the force was not the full-body tug of a current, but a pull that was centered at your waist. Like someone had grabbed you and was pulling you with them as they swam.

One of your wildly kicking legs struck the seafloor. The force at your waist vanished, and you managed to scramble to your feet, choking up water and swiping sand and salt from your eyes.

Something brushed against your leg and, with the instinctive terror of anyone whose leg had just been touched underwater, you scrambled away. Your eyes flew open, still stinging, but clear enough to see, and you froze.

What had touched your leg was her. The woman you’d seen in the water. Her features weren’t all that clear, thanks to the darkness, but the moonlight was enough for you to see that she was still wearing the mermaid tail.

Except. That now you were up close to her. She was bobbing in the water, most of her back clearly visible, and there was no seam line. No mark to show where the tail ended and skin began.

It was a trick of the light, of course. It had to be. Except. When she shifted in the water, lifting her head and shoulders out, you could see her neck. And the gills that were striped on either side of it.

As you stared, the gills flexed. The little flaps that partially covered the slits moved. It was just a tiny little motion. But it made the world turn beneath you.

She was real. A mermaid. Merperson. There was no way to fake those gills. If this had been a video, you would have assumed it was CGI- very good CGI, to be clear, but you never would have actually believed it. But this was not a video. She was right in front of you. She was touching you. And those gills were intimately real.

You lifted your hand up, acting automatically, and touched the gill slits. You weren’t really thinking about it- you were just fascinated. For one amazing moment, you could feel how real they were under your fingertips, slightly warm and damp. And then she made a strange, high pitched keening noise and slid away from you.

“Wait!” You scrambled to your feet as she pushed away from you, gliding into the sea. Fuck, of course poking at her gills would make her leave. Her tail brushed against your legs one more time and you felt the strength in it as she pushed against the water and sailed out to sea. You stood, waist-deep in water, watching her vanish into the darkness. Her tail broke the surface once final time, several feet away, and then she was gone.

Weak from nearly drowning and shaken by seeing something you had previously thought to be a myth, you crawled out of the water and sat on the beach. Being soaked through made the night almost intolerably cold, but you sat out on the beach anyway, watching the moon cross the sky.

By the time the sun and sea were turning pinkish-red with morning, you had made a decision: you would see her again.

Your plan was, admittedly, neither complicated nor good. In your defense, you didn’t have a lot of information- all you knew was that she’d come to the beach once. Maybe she would come again.

Going to the beach every single night wasn’t possible for you, so you narrowed the time frame. Once per month was doable. And the first night you’d seen her, it had been a full moon. Maybe she’d been close to the beach on the full moon for a reason. Not to mention that it was just easier to see the ocean when there was more light in the sky. So, every full moon, you returned to the beach and waited for hours, hoping for a glimpse of her again.

After almost a year, you’d seen neither hide nor hair of her. You kept going to the beach, though- perhaps she hadn’t been active during the winter, perhaps she was just being cautious and staying away for not. But there was a worry that you had disturbed her, that she was never going to come back, and that you were never going to be able to really get to meet a mermaid.

You wanted to thank her. She’d dragged you out of the water and you’d done nothing but stare and prod at her. Even if you never got to see her clearly again, you wanted to get the opportunity to thank her.

And so, you were sitting on the beach. Waiting. Hoping. Trying to catch just one more glimpse of her. But the knot sitting in your stomach said that you were possibly wasting your time.

You sit for hours, watching and waiting. Your eyes try to drift shut and you pry them back open. The moon reaches its peak and starts to dip back down. The water starts to pull back down the beach. You check your phone. It’s getting quite late. If you don’t get ready to leave soon, there will be no more trains back to your apartment, and you’ll either have to walk or wait. You watch for a few more moments, watching the currents of the ocean.

Just as you’re turning your gaze away, something changes.

You freeze, staring intently at the spot of motion. It looked like something moved, breaking the even pattern of the waves. But it was only for a moment. You wait. Please. Let it be her.

And then you see it. The slim, glistening form of a large tail breaking the waves, just barely illuminated by the moon.

You scramble toward the ocean, stopping once you’re close enough for the waves to break over your feet. Her head breaks above the waves for a moment, a barely-visible motion that you certainly wouldn’t have seen if you weren’t looking for her.

Now what? You’ve been searching for so long that the actual finding has left you paralyzed. You don’t want to splash into the water unprepared again- nearly drowning once was enough for you. Sure, you could yell for her, but that has the likely side effect of drawing other humans to you, and that would probably drive her away. Instead, you fumble for your phone. Careful not to let it drop into the waves, you unlock it and switch on the flashlight app.

It takes a moment for you to locate the mermaid again- her tail breaks quite a few feet to the left of where you last saw her. She keeps moving. That’s going to make this more difficult. But you’re determined to try regardless.

You lift your phone above your head and point it toward the mermaid. It’s not all that strong, but you have a small mirror. You lift that up and tilt the mirror until the light intensifies. Perfect. Over and over in a steady motion, you shift the mirror. The light dances over the sea in a pattern. One, two, three, stop. One, two, three, stop. One, two, three, stop.

Animals from the sea sometimes use reflections of light from the shore to direct them toward the beach. You’re hoping that your mermaid will have a similar instinct. At the very least, maybe she’ll get curious and come closer.

The mermaid’s head breaks the surface again. She doesn’t appear to be moving anymore. Just looking around. You raise the mirror again to start your pattern. One, two, three, stop. One, two, three, stop.

Her head vanishes back under the water. You freeze. Is she leaving? Coming closer? It’s impossible to track her. You just keep scanning the sea, your heart sinking more and more the longer she stays underneath.

And then her head resurfaces. This time, she’s closer to the beach. Much closer.

Your breath stutters. Fingers shaking, you lift the phone and mirror again. One, two, three, stop. One, two, three, stop. Her head vanishes. You hold your breath. She’s coming closer. Just a little further.

Her head breaks the surface once more and your breath catches even more sharply. She’s close. Close enough that you can see her in detail. And she can see you as well, because her gaze locks onto you. She pauses, still half-submerged, and stares.

You stare back. Does she recognize you? Does she remember you? You remember her because she’s the only mermaid you’ve ever seen, but she might drag humans out of the ocean every other day. She isn’t showing any recognition. She’s just watching cautiously.

“H-hi,” you say. Your voice wobbles a little. “Can I come closer?”

She doesn’t move. You take a single step down the beach. She doesn’t react. You try a couple more steps. Her eyes shift at that, following your motion. There’s tension in the set of her shoulders, but she still doesn’t flee. Once you’re about a foot and a half from her, you stop walking and drop to your knees.

You’re close enough that you can actually make out details. Her hair is lank and wet around her face, but quite long. Her hands, when the waves pull back enough for you to see them, are webbed. She’s slender, but it’s the sort of slender that shows off the ribs and spine in a disconcerting way. The kind of slender that speaks to rarely getting enough to eat. Her eyes are as black as a shark’s eyes and when they catch the moonlight, they turn nearly pure white with the reflection. Her tail reminds you of a dolphin’s tail, with what seems to be rubbery skin rather than scales, though the fins at the end are larger and bulkier than any dolphin’s you’ve seen. Not that you’ve seen many dolphins.

“Can you talk?” you ask, because mermaids in stories can often talk. Then again, if she was born and raised under the sea, where would she have learned to speak? Heck, even if she does know a human language, who’s to say it’s English?

She replies by opening her mouth, which shows off rows of sharp teeth, and all that comes out is a grating hiss. There’s a sound there that might be words, but it’s sort of lost in the rest of the noise, which sounds a little like a snake combined with a steam pipe. Her mouth clicks shut again. It’s hard to read her face (apparently she doesn’t emote much) but her tail comes down on the water with a heavy ‘splat!’ and you can only interpret that as irritation.

Before you can try to comfort her or tell her it’s okay, she’s dragging herself up onto the beach. You scramble back, startled, but she continues doggedly forward. At first, it’s easy going, since she can just half-float or coast on the waves. Then her tail starts dragging on the sand and she abandons the smooth glide to half-hop, half-drag herself onto the beach, seal style.

Once she’s mostly out of the water, she sags onto the sand. She’s making a weird sort of wheezing noise and her gills keep flexing at her neck. Is she drowning? Or, well, the opposite of drowning. Suffocating? You’re just about to haul her back into the water when the wheezing fades. She picks her head back up and looks at you, alert and focused.

She lifts one of her webbed hands and used the tip of her pointer finger to scratch something into the sand. You’re convinced it’s going to be mermaid language for a moment before you recognize the lines she’s putting together.

“You’re writing ‘hello,’” you realize. “You can write in English.” She nods vigorously. “How did you even learn how to write?”

She hesitates for only a moment before scrubbing out her previous word and writing again. Learned as a child.

“Mermaids learn to write in English?” you wonder out loud. How did that work? How do they even get enough material to learn English underwater? Books would dissolve.

She frowns and makes another unhappy hissing noise. Her tail flexes, slapping against the sand. No. Not mermaid.

You pause, flicking your gaze to her tail. Her soft hissing grows sharper. It sounds like it’s coming from somewhere deep in her throat and chest, a more constant sound than a human could create. Her gills flare. The hissing reaches a peak, then she seems to run out of energy. She collapses fully on the sand.

“Do you need to go back in the water?” you ask. She’s far enough up the beach that it would take considerable energy to shove herself back into the waves. But it wouldn’t be too hard for you to drag her back, if she needs it.

She shakes her head rapidly, dragging her chin back and forth through the sand. She remains collapsed for a few moments longer, gills flaring as she pants, then she stretches out a hard to write again.

Outside water tiring but fine. Is hard. No humans for long time.

“You’ve had contact with other humans?” you ask. She nods once before writing again.

Was human. She draws back after finishing the sentence, looking at you to assess your reaction. Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before words come.

“You were a human?” She nods. “But then… how? What happened?”

That seems to give her pause. She swings her tail back and forth. Eventually, she starts writing. She keeps having to scrub it out to make more room, writing through the same area over and over.

Yes. Was human. Lived nearby. But was poor and homeless. Needed help. Enrolled in medical trial. Got safe lodging. Food. Safety. Was good. Then trial went bad. Pain. Sickness. Was asleep for a long time. Was like this after that. Others were there. I left. Do not know about them. Tried to hide long time. Hard to be awake during day. Hard to talk to people. Scared. Lonely.

She stops writing after that, sagging on the beach once more. You sit in silence, processing it. “I’m- I’m sorry.” The words don’t feel helpful at all, but you’re not sure what else you can say. She snorts and makes another hissing sound. “You, uh. You can write, but you can’t talk, I guess?”

No. Throat not work right. Does not make sounds right.

“Have you spoken to anyone else since you… left?” She shakes her head and starts writing again.

No. Scared. Uncertain. Do not want to be captured. Do not want to be studied. Scary here, but free. Her tail swings back and forth, kicking up clumps of wet sand.

“Okay, okay,” you say. “I’m not going to tell anyone, I promise.” She nods and slumps on the ground, panting once more. Her breath seems to be getting more labored the longer she stays on land. “Do you need to go back in the water? How long can you stay on land?”

Not know limits. Cannot stay on land too long though. Breathe easier in water. Chest gets heavy if on land too much. She pants for a little longer before heaving herself mostly upright again. You are first human to see me since I’ve been here. I have been more careless. Lonely.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “That sounds awful.” You fall into silence for a moment. The mermaid slumps onto the beach, eyes closed. She makes a wailing noise in her throat, a sound that it almost too high for me to hear. But I can tell what it is. She’s crying. There are no tears from her eyes, but the wail goes on and on with no pauses for breath. It’s a long, mourning wail.

When she quiets, you reach out a hand and place a hand on her shoulder. She’s cool to the touch and quite slick- you’ve never felt a dolphin before, but you have felt the rays in an aquarium touch tank. It feels quite a lot like that, the same slightly slimy but also quite smooth and pleasant texture.

When she recovers herself a little, she sits up and begins writing again. Thank you for speaking with me. It has been long time. I like seeing people again.

“Do you need to go now?” you ask.

Tired. Want to rest.

“Then can I see you again?” you ask. She looks startled, eyes going wide and tail flapping against the surf. “Please? I- you saved my life last year and I don’t want to leave you alone out here.”

She thinks, eyes darting around. Then, hesitant, she nods. Will return tomorrow when moon is high. Come then.

With that, she pushes herself backwards. It takes a couple awkward, flopping movements, but then she’s most of the way in the waves. One catches her, lifting her off the sand, and she turns her body in a sinuous motion. There’s a second where you can still see her swimming amongst the surf, and then she’s gone beneath the waves once more.

You stand on the beach for a while. Once she’s gone, meeting her feels like a dream. You’re half expecting the memory to get hazy, like dreams do when you wake up. But even as the moon sinks lower, the memories don’t go away.

You turn and hurry off the beach. There’s only another thirty minutes until the final train departs for the night, and you want plenty of time to rest.

After all, you’re coming back tomorrow.

When you reach your apartment, you collapse into bed and sleep. It’s past midday and you’re both groggy and starving when you wake. Grabbing a bowl of cold cereal, you plop yourself down in front of your laptop and start searching.

You search loosely for mermaid sightings, but quickly find that it isn’t leading anywhere. Most of the sightings that pop up are from popular areas, and more than half the articles are about debunking mermaid sightings. Even narrowing the search to look for mermaid sightings specifically in your area doesn’t help- it brings up a bunch of posts with the word ‘mermaid’ in them, but nothing about seeing a mermaid. If anyone else has seen your mermaid, they haven’t posted it online. Or, at least, the post wasn’t popular enough to get into the first few pages of a google search.

Since this search is getting you nowhere, you change topics. She’d said she’d been captured for some kind of medical trial. Again, that’s too broad of a topic to just go searching for willy nilly, but she’d said she’d been local, which narrowed the scope. You’re not sure how long ago she was captured, so you search for any local medical trials in the past ten years.

You don’t find any specific medical trials, but what you do find is the name ‘Wellterra.’ It’s a medical company, one that specializes in research and development of medications. They treat everything from cancer to genetic conditions and chronic illnesses, and the local branch is only one of a few hundred locations all over the world. And the location nearest to you is specifically located right on the ocean, and has research and development facilities with a focus on aquatic creatures.

It’s enough to get your suspicions going.

You hit up the library, print off several sheets of information, and head back to the beach.

You wait impatiently for the moon to rise high into the sky. It’s slightly less than full now, but there’s still plenty of light for you to see your mermaid drifting in toward the shore.

She crawls up onto the beach and drop to your knees in front of her, swinging the backpack off your shoulders. “I’ve been doing some research,” you say. “Take a look at these.”

You tug out the cheap laminated binder you purchased to protect the pages and shove it toward her. She barely looks at it before scratching words out in the sand. Cannot read it. Eyes not work well above water. Print too small.

“Oh,” you say, a little embarrassed that you didn’t think of that. Your mermaid looks uncomfortable as well, perhaps hurt by the reminder of how much she’s lost. “That’s fine, I can read out the important stuff anyway.”

You pick out the bits of the document you highlighted and read them out loud to her. She crawls closer, fin-like ears twitching every now and then. By the time you’re done, she’s practically leaning against you and hanging off your every word.

Yes, she writes as soon as you’re done. I remember that name. Not know about any other experiments. Kept in pen in the ocean. Separate from everything else. Few people saw us. Only remember four individuals.

“But this is good!” you say. “We know they’re the ones who did this to you, and we know there are others. We just need to get some people in law enforcement to see you and hear from you and then we can-”

She’s already shaking her head. No.

“I know you’re afraid of other people, but maybe we can work out some kind of deal and I can advocate for you-”

She’s shaking her head again, even more aggressively this time. NO. She taps the word several times for emphasis. When I stay silent, she continues writing. Will not work. Police brought them people.

Sharp chills shake their way down your spine. “Th- what?”

She taps that sentence again. Police brought them people. Your stomach turns. “You’re sure?”

Yes. Police suggested study to me. Heard scientists talking about police bringing in criminals. Gave them a good pool of people. She lowers her hand, frowning at the sentence.

“So, what,” you say, trying not to sound as frightened as you feel, “there’s just a conspiracy to hand over people to a business that does experiments on them to turn them into merpeople?”

She considers this for a moment. Yes. Police probably do not know about mermaids. Probably just think medical experimentation. But they are probably paid to bring in people and less homeless means police look better. It works for both groups.

“God, that’s…” you trail off. There aren’t words that you can use to describe what you’re feeling. Hopeless is maybe the best way to say it. If you can’t contact the police, then what are you supposed to do? Break in yourself?

You actually entertain the idea for a few seconds before realizing how asinine that is. Maybe in a movie an untrained nobody could sneak into a massive medical facility and release the trapped mermaids they were keeping secret and reveal their shady dealings with the police, but somehow, you figure that’s only going to end in disaster. You’re just some goddamn office worker. You can’t even do five push ups without being winded, never mind sneaking into a secure facility.

“Have you ever tried to break back in?” you ask. Maybe you can’t get in, but if she got out somehow, there must be a way. She grimaces and shakes her head.

Yes. I got out because of temporary power outage combined with technology fault. I was being tested in ocean pool and the electrical lock keeping me inside failed. There was a storm- I assume power outage and generator fault created a window of opportunity. Only went back once, and was nearly recaptured. They don’t seem interested in hunting me down as long as I don’t go there. But I can’t get close enough to do anything. Her tail slaps the sand hard, sending a combination of grit and water spraying at you. She looks chagrined instantly, and tries to wipe you down. Her hand is actually less slick than you thought it would be. It’s still wet, obviously, because she’s been in the ocean, but her palms are actually kind of grippy. It’s a fascinating texture. Before you really think about what you’re doing, you take her hand in both of hers. Not really doing anything with it, just holding and kind of massaging it with your thumbs.

You’ve hardly held her for more than a second when she makes a noise akin to a squeak. You jerk your head up to look at her and she’s staring back at you with eyes the size of saucers.

You drop the hand. “I should have asked before touching, I’m so sorry-”

No! She goes to the trouble of writing the exclamation point and hits the ground a few times to emphasize her point. When she’s sure you’re listening, she writes more. Liked it. No human contact in long time. Was nice.

Oh. Yes, of course. She’s been at sea and you’re the first person she’s talked to, much less had physical contact with. And even before that… you’re not sure how long she was held captive, but surely the scientists there weren’t handing out hugs and kisses with their experimentation.

As she gazes up at you with her sea-deep, dark eyes, your chest tightens. She must be so lonely. How has she survived out here all this time? Humans need to be with other people, you know that much. Isolation is torture. But she’s been out here all this time, with no one to talk to or even just hold her hand to comfort her.

It’s a bit awkward to hug someone who’s mostly lying down in the sand, but you’re determined and she’s not that heavy. It ends with her half-slung over your shoulder with your arms holding her firmly in place.

“It’s okay,” you say. Your tone isn’t quite steady enough to be reassuring, but you hope the emotion in it conveys how important this is to you. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

Her arms wrap around your shoulder. They’re clumsy, like she can’t quite remember how to hug anymore, but she gets it after a few moments. She clings to you as fiercely as you’re clinging to her.

The visits come as often as you can manage, after that. If you had it your way, they would probably be every day, but you need to work and you just don’t function very well without sleep. You do manage a forty-eight hour stretch once, but practically falling asleep at the beach can be dangerous, and your mermaid gives you a vicious tirade that only gets worse when you pass out again while she’s still writing it.

So. As often as you can. More or less, that’s about three times a week. Most nights you spend chatting, talking about your lives. She was a custodian at a department store, until a bought of illness left her unable to work and ate up her savings. By the time she had mostly recovered, she was homeless and still struggling to do her old job. She’d been recommended to the medical trial by police who had found her sleeping on the street, and had thought it was a wonderful opportunity. And the first week had been good, with her getting regular meals and staying in a room attached to the lab so she could be in a ‘controlled environment.’ There were other people there, too, and she’d spent most of her time making friends.

And then they had finally been ready to administer the first drug. They had told her it would make her sleepy. And it had. She had fallen asleep, more deeply asleep than she’d ever been in her life. Sometimes, she would become conscious again, if only dimly. The only thing she could remember from those periods was a pain so intense that she had fought to fall back into sleep.

Her memory from that period was foggy, she told you. But she knew, even on the few occasions she woke up confused from pain and drugs, that there was something wrong with her body. It wasn’t until she was finally set free of the drugs and the pain had faded to an ache that she realized exactly what had happened. Trapped in a tank only just big enough for her to stretch out in, with a mask over her face to force air through her system, she realized she had been changed into something not human. A mermaid.

Three people died. Or, she assumed they did. She’d met twenty-nine people before the drugs had been given, and only twenty-six merpeople. The experimentation hadn’t stopped after that- they constantly prodded and poked at the merpeople, but it was never as awful as it had been in the beginning.

Six months. That was how long she was trapped. Or, close to it, anyway- she didn’t have a calendar. Her escaping had been a fluke- one quick moment of chance that she took advantage of.

It is better, she said, to be out here. Scary. But better.

They had never hunted her down or tried to recapture her, beyond the new security measures at the lab. Neither of you were sure why. Maybe they thought it would draw more attention to her, or maybe they fully expected her to be unable to survive on her own and were just waiting for someone to find her corpse. Regardless, she was relieved. It meant she was able to stick around the area. Even if she couldn’t actually visit her home anymore, she was loathe to leave.

After learning the whole story, you do as much digging as you can manage, which isn’t much. No amount of searching brings up anything specific enough to be of much help. There are hundreds of mermaid sightings all over the world, and only three of them are local enough to possibly be her. Looking at Wellterra is no more useful- just pages and pages of bland corporate speak about the medicine they’re developing. The most suspicious thing you can find is a page on their website claiming they ‘desire for humans to live in harmony with the planet, and strive to create medicines that work with nature,’ which could honestly also just be corporate posturing. No pages of conspiracy theories. No secretive posts on old forums from disgraced ex-employees. Nothing.

It’s possible there’s more information you can find off the usual search engines, but you’re not sure how to access it. Technology has never been your strong suit. It’s frustrating that you can’t find anything more, though your mermaid comforts you when you apologize to her.

Is fine. Good that you are here. It helps. She pats your arm, leaning forward so she’s almost in your lap. She’s been getting cozier with you, not that you mind. You pat her head, running your fingers through her hair. When you catch a knot, you pause and delicately untangle it. She makes a low humming noise in her throat, eyes closing in relaxation.

“I’m glad I can do something,” you say, trying not to sound bitter. You nudge the container of chicken wings toward her. You’ve been bringing food for her through the past few visits.

Early on in your visits, you asked her what she ate. She shrugged. Anything. Have to catch it. Tastes better than I thought it would. After that, you started picking up food for the two of you to eat together. She has a strong preference for seafood, but she’ll sometimes ask you to being food she remembers from her human life. You oblige as often as you can. You’re still trying to save up to get her a proper steak, though.

Your mermaid drags the container of chicken wings toward her. She picks one up and bits down on it, severing cleanly through the bone. You wince a little at the crunching noise. After a few moments of chewing, she picks up the top of the container, which is soaked in sauce, and licks it once before ripping out a chunk of it with her teeth.

That was the weirdest thing about her. The bones thing is weird, but understandable. But the fact that she eats Styrofoam is quite a bit stranger. In fact, the limit on what she will eat seems to be nonexistent.

Can eat anything, she tells you when you ask about it. Fed us many things in lab. Plastic. Styrofoam. One got sick from it, had to get it cut out. But rest of us could eat it fine. Does not taste as good as other things. But easier to find. Do not know how it works.

It’s certainly strange, but you suppose it saves a little money on food, since she’s just as willing to eat the packaging. She’s even enthusiastic about it, noting that the flavor from fresh food packaging is much better than the stuff in the ocean. The only things she wont eat are glass and metal, but plastic, wax, and paper are fair game.

“I wish there was a better signal here,” you say as she chews through another chunk of Styrofoam. “I could show you some of my favorite shows.”

I would like that. She stretches out on the beach. Little to do in ocean.

“Swimming around has to get old eventually,” you say.

Yes. Is beautiful. But can become tedious. She leans against you, practically falling into your lap. You stroke her head. It’s getting toward the end of summer and the nights are a little cooler now. She seems to appreciate the touch more when it gets cold. She’s not quite cool to the touch, but she’s a bit colder than a human would be. You don’t mind, not when she seems so completely delighted by your presence.

You shift your legs under her and she makes a strange noise, like a choked-off whimper. You freeze. “What’s the matter?”

She shakes her head, but when you move again, you feel something against her skin. A little change in texture, one that makes her groan when you touch it. “Let me see,” you insist, slipping out from under her and trying to flip her over. She squirms away from you, too strong for you to move her without her help, but a smear in the sand tells you what you need to know- she’s got a cut and it’s bleeding.

“I can tell that you’re injured,” you say insistently. She makes a move like she’s going to try and slip back into the waves, so you grab her arm. If she really wanted to, she could probably break free. But she allows you to hold on. After a moment of halfhearted struggling, she goes limp, then flops over onto her back.

The wound isn’t as bad as you initially worried. In fact, most of it looks rather old. The two ends of the wound are already healed over with scar tissue, but the middle part of the wound is still covered in half-formed scabs. It’s hard to tell how deep it is, but it doesn’t exactly look shallow. There’s blood leaking from the middle part of the wound in a steady trickle, but it looks more like some of the scabs got ripped off than like she’s bleeding profusely.

“You should have said something,” you fuss. You poke the wound and she snaps her teeth at you nonthreateningly. “Don’t be like that. I should have thought to bring bandages or a first aid kit or something here, god I’m so stupid.”

She shakes her head furiously, wet hair slapping back and forth. After a moment of struggle, she twists her arm around enough to write. Not fault. Would not help. Bandage not stay on in water.

“I could still have gotten you some antibiotics or something,” you say, anxious. “How did you even get that?”

She shrugs. Ocean dangerous. Not many predators. But strong currents. Sharp objects. Can get injured.

“Fuck,” you mutter. All you can think about are the myriad of diseases someone can get from a cut like this. She’s almost certainly not up to date on her tetanus shot. “How long ago?”

She shrugs. 1 week. Healed quickly.

You grimace. It does look pretty well-healed for only a week, and there don’t seem to be any signs of infection. But that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous. “I’ll come back tomorrow with a first-aid kit. I want to at least try to patch some parts of it up.”

Your mermaid seems unconcerned, but she doesn’t protest. Once she polishes off both the chicken wings and the container, you take your leave. She turns and vanishes back into the water, and you watch until her tail slips beneath the waves and doesn’t come back up.

The train ride home is quiet, and usually, you’re half-asleep for it. This time, thought, you can’t get your mind to settle down. You’ve just been taking it for granted that she would come back to you every day, like you’re meeting a friend for coffee. But the ocean is dangerous, and she can get hurt. There’s always a possibility that one day, you’ll come back to the ocean and she won’t appear again.

You leave work early to put together the best, most waterproof first-aid kit you can. At least if she can stash it somewhere in the water, she’ll have something she can use to help herself even if you’re not there.

You end up at the beach earlier than usual, and pace the sand for a while. That nervous energy in your body makes the time drag on and on, like the sun is deliberately crawling through the sky.

Finally, the beach closes and it gets dark. The moon, a sliver of a crescent, rises into the sky. You wait by the shore, sitting so that the waves just barely roll in over your toes. And wait. And wait.

The moon reaches three-quarters of the way across the sky before you really start to panic. Was she sick? Did the reopening of the wound trigger some sort of infection? Or was she caught in a current again, the wound on her side making her too weak to fight against it?

You don’t know. You can’t know. And that yawning chasm of knowledge fills your stomach with a deep and terrible pit.

Panic is starting to choke you when there’s a splash, a tail appearing above the water. Your chest releases and you half run to the water to meet her as she comes into shore.

As soon as she’s above the water enough for your to see her, you realize why she’s been late. She’s covered in netting. It’s tangled around her right arm and the fin of her tail, pulling both into an awkward position. She can move forward, but it’s clearly a strain to do so, and she collapses on the beach as soon as she’s up on the sand.

“What the fu-” You cut yourself off to suck in a gulp of air and bolt toward her. She reaches for you as soon as you’re close and you haul her a short ways up the beach before taking a look at the rope wrapped around her.

It’s definitely some kind of netting, though you’re not sure if it’s the sort used to block human swimmers from entering dangerous areas, the sort used to catch fish, or something else entirely. But it’s wrapped around her tail fin and her arm enough to restrict movement, and even tight enough to almost cut off circulation at her wrist. You fumble for your first aid kit and tear through it- there’s a small set of scissors there to cut bandages. It’s only just big enough to get around the rope, so you start sawing away.

The rope is made of some kind of plastic fibers, and after a few minutes of sawing, it just feels like you’re destroying your scissors. Cutting each of the individual fibers instead of going after the whole thing at once works better, but it’s still slow. Eventually, you manage to whittle the rope connecting her arm and her tail down to only a few fibers. She flexes and the remaining fibers snap. Immediately, she lifts her wrist to her mouth and uses her teeth to saw through the rest of the ropes. There’s a purple-red mark where the rope was.

You and her work together to saw the rest of the ropes off her body. With her movements much less restricted, she’s able to stretch around and chew off some of the rope while you tug away areas that are less reachable. Finally, the beach is littered with pieces of shredded rope and she is free.

“Are you okay?” you ask, poking and prodding to check her for injuries. She makes a short, affectionate noise and nudges you away so she can write.

Yes. Ran into net caught in current. Tangled. Struggling made it tighter. Could not escape. Came here. She nuzzles close to you. Saved me.

You pet her head. “If that rope had been any tighter, you could have lost your hand. You could barely move!” Panic is making it hard for you to breathe. You practically clutch her against your chest. She snuggles close to you. “What if that happens again and you can’t get out? I’ll never know what happened to you!”

She shrugs, twisting in your grip to write again. Ocean dangerous.

“No shit it’s dangerous!” you say. “The ocean’s a goddamn hellhole.”            She makes a wheezing-screeching noise that you’ve come to realize is her natural laugh. Ha ha ha. Her expression grows somber. Nowhere else to go. Must stay here.

She’s right, of course. She can do nothing else but stay in the ocean and wait until something kills her. The thought makes your stomach ache.

“There has to be something,” you say. “I can’t let you stay here.”

She gives another shrug, even more halfhearted this time. You pat her head absently as you think. There has to be something you can do.

Eventually, something comes to mind. It’s not a good idea, necessarily, but it’s something. You nudge her, because she’s falling asleep against your shoulder. “Hey. How salty does the water you’re in need to be?”

Thank god, salinity level was something the scientists tested. It’s not comfortable for her to go from one salinity to the other, but it is possible, and it’s easier for her to go from high salinity to low salinity than the other way around. Her body is apparently able to adjust after a little bit. That’s a relief. It means your option is at least tenable.

She seems hesitant when you tell her about it. Concerned. Have not left sea.

“I know it’s an adjustment, but you’ll be safer. No one ever comes by and it’s not the cleanest area ever, but I can help you clean it up. Getting there is going to take some doing, but it’s not going to be impossible.” She hesitates. “Think about it. I’ll give you a couple days. I need to figure out the logistics anyway.” She nods and you help her back into the water. She swims away slowly, and a knot ties itself into your stomach as she vanishes.

You have to work the next day, but you spend every spare minute you have looking for something to make the whole plan work. The biggest issue with the whole thing is the concern about transportation- she’s bigger than you are, because her tail is longer than human legs, and there aren’t a lot of good options for hauling around someone who can’t walk. You toy with the idea of a wheelchair- you can rent one and it’s relatively inexpensive, but you’re not sure how well it’ll actually work. She doesn’t have hips the same way humans do, so she can’t sit up, and her tailfin would probably dangle off the end and get caught in the wheels. You also consider a wheelbarrow, which would actually be easier to get, but there’s still the problem of her fitting in it. It’s not going to be a comfortable fit by any stretch of the imagination.

The solution you settle upon is more expensive than you’d like, but probably the safest and most workable. You can rent one of the smaller u-haul trucks and set up a rented kiddie pool in it. You’ll be able to drive her a good chunk of the distance, even if you won’t be able to get all the way there. Then, hopefully, you can use a wheelbarrow to get her the rest of the way.

It’s not an easy solution (in fact, you’re already feeling sore just thinking about it) but it seems the safest and likeliest to work. The next day, you travel back down to the seashore to tell her your plan.

She is less than enthusiastic, but willing enough. You rent the truck, a small swimming pool, and spend the next couple of days sorting everything out. Luckily, you don’t call out sick all that often, so your faked illness doesn’t get a lot of scrutiny. Once it’s reasonably dark on the second day, you set up the pool in the truck, fill it halfway with water, and get in the driver’s seat.

Driving to the beach is faster than taking the train, so you end up there earlier than you anticipated. You buy an extra-large serving of fried cod and head down to the beach to wait. There are only a few people around, and none of them pay much attention to you. If you squint down the shoreline, you can see, off in the distance, a building set into the coast. It glints under the moonlight. It looks tiny, but menacing. You shrug off a shudder. If they haven’t come for her before, they won’t now. Everything is fine.

Finally, the last few people clear off the beach. As soon as you’re certain they’re gone, you head down to the edge of the water. Your mermaid emerges only moments later, tail swinging through the surf. She heaves herself up onto shore.

“The truck’s that way,” you say, pointing off beyond the boardwalk. It’s the closest available parking lot, but you still can’t see it from the beach. She grimaces. “We just need to make it there, and then you can rest. We’ll take breaks if we need to.” You show her the fried cod. “And I have your favorite for when we’re done.”            Her grimace softens and she makes a noise of agreement. Slowly, bit by bit, you start to make your way up the beach.

The way she moves on land looks like a combination between a seal and someone doing the worm very enthusiastically. She braces herself with her hands on the ground, tenses, then uses the powerful muscles of her tail against the ground to heave herself forward. Sometimes, she tries to pull herself forward with just her arms, but that seems to be a more exhausting endeavor. Not to mention, it pulls her across the sand, which can’t feel comfortable on her bare skin.

You make it almost to the edge of the boardwalk before she stops moving outright and collapses in the sand. Her gills and sides heave with her desperate gasps for air. You crouch next to her. “Just a little further, okay? We can take a break. Do you need water?” You offer her the enormous water bottle you have, one of two. She sips from it, then splashes water over her face and gills. It doesn’t help her breathe, apparently, but her gills can easily get irritated from being in open air too long.

“We can just sit here until-” A flashlight beam swings through the air, roving across the beach. It misses you by inches. We freeze. “Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap.”

She makes a high-pitched, frantic squeal before remembering you’re supposed to be stealthy and shuts up. Her tail flops against the sand as she struggles forward, but she’s tired enough that it’s not much motion. You grimace. The light is coming closer, and it’s between you and the sea and you really don’t want to get caught. Security guards will turn you over to the police and if the police are in on it, you don’t want to alert them.

Okay. Plan B. You drop into a crouch in front of her. “Get on!” you hiss. She claws her way up onto your back, nails digging into your shoulders. It hurts, but you don’t have time to get her into a better position. Instead, you reach back to grab ahold of her tail, make sure she’s not at risk of falling off, and push yourself to your feet.

Your knees protest and tremble as you get up, and the sliding sand doesn’t make things any easier. Maybe mermaids are lighter than humans, because she’s well over six feet long and you’re pretty sure you couldn’t lift a human her size. But maybe it’s also the adrenaline running through your veins that gives you the boost. You haul her, on your back, to the boardwalk, clear the steps, and full-on sprint to your truck.

It feels like you’re going to collapse before you get there, but you make it. You crouch in front of the truck while the mermaid unlocks the back door (your hands are still occupied holding her) and once it’s unlatched, you swing her inside. You don’t stop to see if she makes it in the pool. You just slam the door shut, relatch it, and throw yourself in the driver’s seat.

Really, you’re not actually sure you’re being followed. You might not be. The security guards don’t tend to chase people who have left the beach- it’s not their job. But you’re adrenaline-high and panicked, so you just tear ass through the streets until your racing heart has slowed enough that you feel safe stopping.

You pull over and hurry around to check the back of the truck. Your mermaid is sprawled across the back of the truck, only halfway into the pool, and looking disgruntled and carsick. Water is splashed all over the back of the truck, leaving a relatively small amount in the pool. “S-sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I, uh. Didn’t mean for that to happen.”

She waves a hand nonchalantly at you. “You good to keep going?” you ask. She grimaces, but nods. “You’re sure?” She gives you a look you’re pretty sure translates as ‘let’s just get this over with.’

You lock up the doors and head out on the road again. This time, you’re gentler on the brake and the turns, and there isn’t a lot of thumping or complaining from the back, which seems like a good sign.

It’s about an hour and a half of driving before you arrive at the end of the road. You’re not at your destination, you’re just as far as you can get in a car. You unlock the back of the truck and peek inside.

“How are you doing?” you ask. She’s fully inside the pool now, though a lot of the water has sloshed out. She shrugs, grimacing. “We’re almost there. Just a bit further, okay?”

She grunts, heaves herself out of the pool, and crawls her way over to you. “Give me a sec,” you say, and instead of helping her out, you crawl in next to her. With some fumbling, you tug at the straps securing a heavy wheelbarrow to the wall.

“I know it’s a tight fit,” you say as you push the wheelbarrow out. It lands on the edge of the road with a heavy thunk. “But it’s the easiest way to transport you.”

She looks annoyed, but she is able to at least mostly squeeze herself into it. The positioning requires her to pull her tail fin up to her chest, but she seems… well, not comfortable, but able to hold the position.

You heft up the wheelbarrow and start walking. It���s easier than just straight up carrying her, but the journey is mostly uphill, so it’s not exactly comfortable. There’s also not a path, so shoving the wheelbarrow over the uneven ground is not easy. The walk’s fifteen minutes on your own, but dragging along the wheelbarrow extends it to over a half an hour. But finally, you make it to the expansive lake.

The lake is large, several miles wide at least, and twice as deep as she is long in the deepest areas. People swim here in the midst of summer, but no one is supposed to, and they only ever stick toward the outermost edges. But the part that reassures you the most is that the area is strictly forbidden for boats, and fishing, and it’s a relatively peaceful area. At the very least, it’s far away from the dangers of the ocean.

“What do you think?” you ask. She perks up, gazing out over the lake. Her posture is completely still. Then she twists her body in one huge motion and launches herself over the edge of the wheelbarrow and into the lake. Water splashes over you and you shriek.

There’s a ripple in the water and she’s gone. For a moment, there’s no sign of her. Then her head emerges several feet away. She swims back to you and perches on the shore, shaking water out of her hair.

“What do you think?” you ask. She glances around, but there’s no sand here to write in. “Oh, right!” You fumble around and finally grab your final gift for her. “Here. I thought this might be a problem. So, uh. Housewarming gift?”

She rips into the packaging with her teeth and reveals an erasable whiteboard with a small container of markers. Her expression brightens and she hurries to uncap one of the markers and write. Thank you.

“Sure, sure!” You crouch next to her. “So, uh. How is it? You think you’re going to be okay here?”

She glances around for a bit, taking it in. Water colder. Slimier also. Garbage in some areas.

“Oh,” you say, shoulders drooping. “Sorry, I thought-”

She waves a hand in front of your face to cut you off and keeps writing. But is calmer than ocean. Peaceful. Appreciate. Not need to hide so much. Currents easier. She ducks underwater for a moment and surfaces with a smile. Like it.

You relax. You hadn’t even realized how tense you were about her potentially not liking this place. “Good.” You offer her the box of fried fish and she rips into it eagerly. “I’ll come up here over the next few days, to make sure you’re settled in and get you things, but I’m not going to be able to be here as often after that. It takes a lot longer to get here.”

Her face falls so quickly it’s heartbreaking. She doesn’t even bother to write anything. She makes a frantic wailing noise in her throat and snatches at your shirt. “Woah, hey, hey!” You slip from the unexpected grabbing, and she releases you before you can tumble into the water. She whines apologetically, but she’s still giving you the fishy equivalent of puppy dog eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I wish I could visit more often too. But I can’t miss more work and it takes a long time to get here unless I’m renting a car, and I can’t afford to do that every week.” She ducks partially under the water, sulking. “I’m sorry. Really.” She stares at you. “I’ll try to visit every weekend. As often as I can. I’m not going to abandon you, I promise-”

She surges out of the water, grabs the front of your shirt, and before you can really process what she’s doing, she’s pressed her mouth to yours.

She feels cooler than a human kiss, and wetter as well. Her mouth is salty and you can feel her sharp teeth behind her lips. Her nose brushes against yours as she tilts her head sideways and tingles shoot down your spine.

Mermaids must not need as much air as humans, because when you break the kiss, you’re practically seeing spots from oxygen deprivation. She clings to you anyway, still making sad whining noises. You hook your arms around her and squeeze her to your chest.

“I- I know. It sucks. I don’t like it either,” you say. “I’ll figure something out. So that we don’t have to be apart for too long. I promise.”

She clings to you tighter. You press a kiss to her forehead and give her one final squeeze. When she slips slowly into the water again, her hand stays in yours, fingertips touching, for as long as she can possibly manage.

It takes some fussing, but you come up with a short-term solution- cell phones. There’s reception near the lake, though it’s sometimes spotty, and simpler cell phones are pretty cheap. You get the best rated waterproof version and present it to her the next time you’re up there. Her excited shrilling is music to your ears.

You text back and forth every day. She sends you videos of her swimming around, of interesting creatures that come by during the day. You send her videos back of mundane things, like your breakfast or your trip to work. You’ve spent a small fortune on power banks, so she can keep her phone charged at all times, but it’s worth it when you can get on a call with her and listen to a podcast together.

Every week, you head up to the lake to visit her. Even in the winter, when it was chilly and a thin sheet of ice formed over the top of the pond, you visited. She was more sluggish then, rather sleepy, but she would still force herself awake every time you visited, slotting her body against yours and humming happily at your warmth.

When spring rolls around again, she perks back up. The lake is more beautiful than you ever remember it being- maybe it’s because she ate a good deal of the trash off the banks during the winter, but the water looks clear and beautiful, and the animals are more plentiful than ever. Sometimes you get a creeping sensation on the way up to the lake, like you’re being watched. But nothing ever happens, so you chalk it up to paranoia. You’ve seen neither hide nor hair from the Wellterra people, and no one ever comes investigating about the beach incident. After a year of waiting, you’re finally ready to accept that the immediate danger is over.

It takes another couple of years of saving and scrimping and visits to the lake before you’re ready to take the next step. It would have taken longer if not for your mermaid. Apparently, you can find all kinds of strange things in the lakebed, and some of them are old pieces of jewelry that can be sold for decent prices. She presses them into your hands with glee, eager to help you.

After so long of waiting, you rent a house only a couple miles from the lake. It’s sort of dilapidated, but you’ve got some experience trying to fix stuff in your apartment, and it’s got more space and, most importantly, it’s close to her. You can walk to her with relatively little difficulty.

The day of your moving in, you head to the lake. “Aliyah!” you call, dropping down next to the lake’s edge. She emerges from the water, laughing in delight. “Hi, hon,” you say as she pulls herself onto the shore and into your lap. She’s dripping wet, but you’ve gotten used to it by now. She kisses at your lips impatiently. “Hi, yes, I’m happy to see you! I know it’s been a while.” Prepping for the move had conked you out for a while, but you were thrilled to be back. Apparently, she was too, because she was swaying her tail back and forth in the water, sending little splashes onto shore. “I have something for you,” you say, reaching back to get something out of your bag. She stills, attention focused on your hands.

You lift the box from your bag and hesitate. Nerves crawl through the pit of your stomach. “Uh. Close your eyes.” It’ll be easier to do it if she’s not looking at you. She huffs, but obliges. “Okay. Um.” You carefully shuffle so you’re in a kneeling position and flip the lid of the box up. “You can open.”            She blinks her eyes open and freezes. Resting in the box is a long, silver chain. And attached to the chain is a simple diamond ring.

“I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to keep a ring on underwater,” you say, “so I attached it to a necklace. But it still means the same thing.” You lift the necklace from the box and hold it out for her inspection. “I know we can’t really get married, but… I thought maybe the ring could mean something anyway. I’ve got one too, so other people will know that I have someone and that I’m committed to you.”

You are knocked over by her enthusiastic surge out of the water. She soaks you as she tackles you to the ground, kisses spilling all over your face with enthusiasm. You giggle helplessly, overwhelmed and adored.

It’s a strange relationship. But it’s the one you want. It’s the one you love.

#exophilia #monster girlfriend #mermaid girlfriend #mermay #mermaid #monster romance #female monster #monster x reader

[flowersandbigteeth]

You make a deal with your demon Madame

General Plot: You try to give yourself to a brothel but the Madame has something else in mind

This is just half a fever dream I had about Lethia

Demon (Lethia) x virgin female reader

Word count: 1.5K

W: a bit of gore and heavier horror elements, minor character death, sfw nakedness, sfw monster fluff, yandere vibe

“All right, pop off the top, lemme see the tits,” the madame said, leaning against her desk, her long magenta legs, wrapped in skin tight leather pants, stretched out in front of her, ending with black Louboutin stilettos. She was a massive demon, looking down at you even leaning with gold eyes.

Her black horns stretched back over cropped purple hair and full black lips twisted with annoyance as she examined a long nail, bored. She hadn’t even looked at you properly when her secretary had led you in, just telling you to strip. 

You trembled in front of her slowly unbuttoning one button at a time, tears on the edge of your lashes. 

“Jesus Christ…where do they get these girls?” she snapped, standing suddenly and fluttering her leathery black wings in annoyance. She crossed the room and loomed over you, tipping your chin up with her finger and searching your face. 

“Who sent you here, doll? Was it your daddy? Uncle?” she asked. 

“Uncle,” you sputtered, wondering how she’d guessed which family member was waiting in the lobby to see that you didn’t try and run. 

She smiled at you, revealing her large fangs, turning your face to examine you. 

“You’re a pretty one, I’ll give him that,” she said, her smile dropping to a grimace, “but I don’t take unwilling girls. The clients like enthusiastic servers, not sobbing virgins. Tell ‘im I said we’re full.”

You shook your head vigorously. Your uncle would do bad things to you if you went back. When you’d refused his advances he’d dragged you into this brothel and told you if you didn’t want him to touch you, you could earn your living with the common men as a whore.  

“Please don’t make me go back,” you pleaded, grabbing her hand suddenly, “I don’t have anywhere else to go and he’ll make it…hurt if I go back…I’ll do it. Whatever you want. Just please…” 

Tears leaking down your cheeks, you quickly fumbled with the buttons to open your shirt. Her warm hands stopped you. 

“What’s your name, doll,” she asked, her eyes drifting over your shoulders as she gingerly unbuttoned and slipped the shirt off of you. 

“(Y/N),” you murmured, trembling.

She picked you up by the waist and set you on her desk, her gaze roaming over your body as she slipped you out of your shoes, socks, and pants, frowning at the plain, ratty underwear you were wearing. 

“Stay here,” she ordered, leaving you on her desk, your legs dangling over the edge. 

When she returned she was holding some scraps of fabric. 

“I’ll agree to take you on, but you have to be completely obedient and totally loyal to me,” she said, tipping your face up so you were looking in her eyes, “a deal with a demon is forever. Are you sure you can agree to that? You’ll belong to me, completely. Maybe I’m worse than your uncle.” 

“Please,” you said, “I said I would do anything.” 

Maybe you weren’t really considering the weight of her words, but you were desperate to escape your uncle. The idea of his disgusting hands all over you was intolerable. She hummed at you and nodded, wrapping her hand around your neck. You almost immediately worried if you’d made a mistake when her hand tightened for just a moment and pain strangled you. You coughed at the sudden sensation, but almost as soon as it had begun it was over. 

“Look,” she said, carrying the mirror she had in the corner over to you so you could see. What looked like maybe a scar, two or three shades lighter than your natural skin tone had formed a pretty arabesque pattern around your neck. 

“That means you belong to me body and soul. I’ll always be able to find you,” she said, “my name is Lethia, but you address me as ma’am.” 

She waited for you to respond. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you said shakily. 

Satisfied, she turned her attention to what was left of your clothes, tearing the threadbare fabric with a flick of her long fingers. 

“You’ll wear what I tell you to from now on,” she said, helping you into the bit of cloth she’d been holding. 

It wasn’t much, just a one piece pink teddy that dipped almost to your belly button in the front and was decorated with white lace. She smiled as she pulled delicate white knee high stockings up your legs. You felt the brush of her fingertips on your inner knees in your core and shuddered.

Taking her time, she cleaned up your cheeks from all of your crying and dusted iridescent glitter on your them before putting your hair up in a high ponytail with a bow. 

Your heart fluttered as she worked on you. She was so incredibly pretty, like no one you'd ever met before. Her almond shaped eyes were a lovely ultraviolet and when she focused she stuck her pink tongue out just a bit.

Elegantly arched eyebrows were furrowed while she brushed frosted pink eyeliner over your eyes and drew a tiny heart underneath each one. Her fingers were long and strong, tipped with pointed black nails. When she was done she dusted your nose with blush and you both giggled when you sneezed.

You tried to keep your eyes on her face and not let them drift down to the cleavage pressed neatly together by the shiny black corset top she was wearing. Instead, you kept them trained on the tattoos featuring famous female monsters on her bare arms and shoulders. There was a sphynx, a siren, and a harpy, beautifully depicted in ink, amongst others.

“Perfect,” she said when she was happy you were properly dolled up, taking one hand in her larger one and kissing it. You blinked and turned scarlet.  

That didn't distract you for long. Now that you were dressed, you felt the weight of your words. You’d promised to do anything she said under a brothel roof. Soon you’d have to start earning your keep. 

“Come on, doll,” she said, placing you on the floor, “you stay behind me.” 

You felt naked, because you practically were, padding into the waiting room of her office where your uncle was seated. 

He grinned like a wolf when he saw you. 

“She good for ya?” he asked, his eyes eating you up in your skimpy outfit. 

You huddled behind Lethia, trying to hide yourself. 

“(Y/N) is perfect for me,” she said, evenly, “she’s as delicate and sweet as a butterfly and I wouldn’t have her any other way.” 

Your cheeks flooded with color at the compliments, even though you didn’t really know why she was saying those things. 

“I’m curious why you are still here. It’s my understanding you dropped her off here because you didn’t want to feed her anymore,” she said, cocking her head to the side a bit. 

Your uncle nodded. 

“She’s an adult now. The girl has to start earning her way. You understand,” he said, “wanted to make sure her financial interests are being seen to. I know how these kinds of places work and I’ll be taking her checks to make sure her money is handled properly.” 

Lethia chuckled, which lit up her beautiful face. 

“Why don’t I set you up with a special girl for bringing (Y/N) to me? A pretty, virgin prize like her deserves a reward and my girl Nessa loves men like you. She’ll show you a good time,” she said. 

Lethia led your uncle down a hallway then a long flight of stairs with you trailing nervously behind. You didn’t want to be in your uncle’s presence any longer than necessary and you were worried about your first performance. Would you cry? Would the man be nice to you? Would it hurt? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. You glanced back up at your uncle and shuddered. 

She weirdly led you to a room with a large one way window in it. It wasn’t immediately obvious that’s what it was, but it only took you a moment to figure it out. Your uncle, however, was much too interested in the woman in the room to notice the space itself or even when Lethia shut the door behind him and led you to the viewing area down another hall. 

The woman sitting on the bed in the lovely room looked like an angel made flesh. She had long blonde hair, flowing over her flawless, creamy skin. Her body was the ideal of antiquity, soft and carefully crafted into voluptuous curves. She lounged on the bed like a goddess from a Renaissance painting. 

You didn’t particularly want to watch your uncle have sex, but there was something about the woman that was so hard to turn away from. You watched in some sort of sick trance as he eagerly undressed and made his way to her. She gave him a small smile and took him in her arms. 

At first, the embrace seemed gentle and reverent. She caressed his bald head and examined him as if he were the sweetest child. It was horrifying. Something was wrong about her. You couldn’t place it. She was lovely and soft, beautiful, but…then the screaming started. At first nothing seemed different but your uncle’s blood was pooling on the floor.

Finally you saw what was causing him pain. Her hair was…eating him. It wound around his naked body, writhing like a snake, the fibers slicing little pieces off and absorbing them into the greater mass all while she had this placid smile on her face, looking at him reverently. Blood poured from his body as it was slowly being fileted. 

You couldn’t watch anymore, grabbing Lethia’s leg and burying your face in it and whimpering. 

She chuckled. 

“Oh I’m sorry, doll,” she cooed, “I should have known you’d be sensitive to things like this, but you’re going to have to get used to it. This is how we deal with problems here, understand?” 

You nodded into her leg, understanding completely. She sighed picking you up, shielding your face from the gore. 

“But I won’t make you watch,” she assured you, carrying you away from your uncle’s sobbing screams, “let’s get on with it. We’ve got work to do.” 

You sniffled in her arms, your tears making sparkly streaks down your cheeks, overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong, babe?” she asked, turning your head to catch your gaze, “you’re really that upset over that slime?” 

You shook your head, unsuccessfully trying to control your tears. You were aware you were probably ruining all the make up Lethia had worked so hard on, but she didn't seem to care in the least. She pulled a lacey black handkerchief from between her breasts and wiped the pink make up and glitter away.

“Then what is it?” she asked. 

“I’m scared,” you admitted, “f-for my first time with a man...I’ve never done it before.” 

She laughed in your face, which made your stomach drop like a cold stone. Of course, you were being precious and silly. For some reason disappointing her made you even more ashamed then the embarrassment at admitting you were a virgin. Continuing to wipe your tears away she smothered her giggles. 

“Honey, no man is ever going to lay a finger on you,” she said, “you belong to me. If anyone, man, woman, or nb, ever touches you other than myself, tell me and we feed them to Nessa, okay?” 

You nodded, the darkness clearing from your face. If only Lethia was going to touch you...well, that didn't seem so bad. If Lethia was going to take your virginity...the idea kind of made your skin warm and sparkle.

“Say yes ma’am,” she prompted you, drawing you from your thoughts. 

“Yes ma’am!” you agreed enthusiastically, without thinking to be more demure. 

She grinned. 

“You are so good and obedient,” she praised, making you preen, “you and I are going to get along just fine, doll.”

#monster romance #monster girlfriend #monster x girl #demon x reader #female monster #female demon #female yandere #yandere x reader #monster fluff #yandere fluff

[moonshine-nightlight]

Selfish - Part Three

Eisha felt bad complaining to her friend Mariella, since she was always putting other people’s problems above her own. She felt worse that, no matter how much she appreciated Mariella listening, she’d rather be living out some of the naughty fantasies about her instead. If she wanted to stay Mariella’s friend, and get some of her delicious cookies, she needed to keep those thoughts to herself.

But can she?

Urban fantasy; friends to lovers, Naga, FxF, SFW, (3/4)

[Part One] [Part Two] Part Three [Part 4 - NSFW]

For once, Eisha didn’t let her mind tell her that she was imagining the mild tremble to Mariella’s voice as she said, “Just being here with me is more than enough.”

Eisha had wanted to tease Mariella about the cookies, wanted to see how much she could push to get her to accept her compliment. And then as she ate the genuinely delicious cookie, something even more appetizing wafted her way. 

The scent of Mariella’s arousal. 

Eisha had scented hints of that aroma before, but never so strongly and never when they were alone. There was no writing off what it meant or who it could be for. Eisha felt reckless and greedy enough to decide to do something about it because if Mariella actually did want her, well, perhaps the risk she always assumed her feelings were to their friendship was less than she thought. Just the idea that Mariella wanted her back, that Eisha could have her, was enough to warm Eisha up on long nights.

Scenting the evidence was nearly enough to break her control on its own. The strange itch beneath her skin had only gotten so much worse as the night wore on. Eisha knew she had made the correct decision coming to Mariella after her bad day and now… Perhaps she could get more than just their usual night. 

Eisha found herself fighting the instinct to wrap her tail about Mariella’s legs, to slide up and around her, pulling her as close as she could. Wrap her arms around the slighter woman and then tilt her head back for a kiss.

The impulse was so strong Eisha’s hands shook.

The pulse that normally captivated her when she went dancing beat through her. And she wanted. She wanted Mariella spread out underneath her, caught in her grasp, more than she ever had before. More than when the thoughts flit through her mind when they hang out together before she shoved them away, more than the thoughts that she steeped herself in privately at night in her bed, more than she thought possible. 

Apparently all that was needed to break her control was that first real taste of Mariella’s arousal, of her desire for Eisha. 

After that, for better or worse, Eisha wasn’t leaving tonight without at least knowing what Mariella’s kiss tasted like too.

Eyes fixed on Mariella like the prey she now was with Eisha’s decision, she watched as Mariella carefully wiped down her counter with a single minded determination that did not appear to be helping her get herself under control anymore than Eisha was able to. 

Perfect.

A glance at the oven confirmed it was off, so Eisha slunk back to bridge the space Mariella had created. “So sweet,” Eisha said, pitching her voice into a purposely tempting mix of low and enticing. “But while you might fool the others, you can’t fool me.” One of Eisha’s hands landed on the freshly cleaned counter to Mariella’s left. “You have needs too. Wants at the very least.” 

Eisha’s seduced people before—she only never tried it with Mariella because she didn’t think it would work. With her other hand, she curled a bit of Mariella’s wavy brown hair around her finger. Brushing her hair to the side, Eisha leaned in close to rhetorically ask, “Don’t you?”

Oh, yes. Eisha’s tongue flicked out to taste the fresh wave of arousal that emanated from Mariella. She tracked the shiver that went down Mariella’s spin, the goosebumps that erupted on her skin. Mariella was definitely more than receptive.

“Ei—” Mariella started to say, her voice almost breaking before she seemed to marshal herself. Her attempt at nonchalant was a good effort as she said, “Of course I do.” She slid to the right, out of Eisha’s proximity once more and helpfully towards the living room, away from the kitchen. 

Mariella was wringing the slightly damp dishcloth when she finally turned around, her back to the counter now. Her pupils were blown wide and they widened when they took Eisha in. Eisha didn’t know how she looked, but she did know how she felt: hungry. “I—There are always little things, sure, but I’m good, really. I’m happy with my life right now and I don’t need anything more.”

Eisha scoffed as she moved closer. “I didn’t just say need. I said want. Sure, everything is fine,” Eisha practically spit that last word, evidently she wasn’t as calm as she was pretending she was to herself. She just wanted Mariella to admit she was as desperate as Eisha was.

Closing back in on Mariella, this time she put her left hand down and brought her tail up on the right. The fingers of her right hand ghosted along Mariella’s cheek. “Don’t you want more than just fine? I’m happy to help,” Eisha said with a smirk, leaning in closer, delighting in the way Mariella couldn’t look away, the way her breathing deepened and her scent stayed just as strong, if not stronger. “Come on, Mariella. Be a little selfish.”

Mariella’s arousal was so thick in the air that when her tongue slipped out to lick her lips Eisha couldn’t help herself anymore. She tilted Mariella’s face up with a hand on her chin and dipped down to sample her directly. 

Eisha hummed into the kiss. Mariella must have sampled some of the icing too because she tasted sweet with a hint of nutmeg. Mariella gasped into the kiss, dropping the dishcloth and grasping onto Eisha’s waist, fisting her clothing to keep her right there. Eisha’s fangs drop, but they don’t stop her from pressing her advantage, not with Mariella holding her against her, opening up for her.

Mariella’s mouth was searing and she whined, needy, as she moved into Eisha’s heated kiss as best she could. The only spare thought Eisha had that wasn’t about how delightful Mariella felt against her like this was cursing herself for waiting so long. 

Her hand moved the counter to tangle in the dark, loose curls of Mariella’s hair, holding her steady so she could intensify the kiss. Mariella seemed intent on melting in her arms, so Eisha turned them enough that her tail could support Mariella’s lower back more effectively than the counter.

Eisha pulled back enough to get a gratifying glimpse at Mariella’s flushed face, open mouth panting, before she grazed her fangs along Mariella’s neck searching for the best spot to mark while Mariella caught her breath. It didn’t take her long to find a spot where Mariella’s neck met her shoulders that caused Mariella to moan, shuddering closer to Eisha in response.

Eisha felt satisfaction flow through her as she carefully sucked, needing to see the physical proof of what Mariella’s allowing her, needing to know it will still be there later for Mariella and herself to see. Mariella moaned, clutching her closer in response.

Slowly, once Eisha had the spare thought, she began herding them out of the kitchen and into the living room. The only brief interruption was when Mariella unclenched a hand from Eisha’s silk top to cup the back of her head, urging Eisha to come up for another kiss.

Losing herself in Mariella’s kiss, Eisha set to work making sure that Mariella never wanted another to do so. Paying careful attention to how Mariella responded to a nibble on her lower lip, a light suck on her upper one, the slide of Eisha’s forked tongue in her human hot mouth that Eisha never wanted to leave.

The next time Mariella needed to breathe, Eisha didn’t give her much space, dotting kisses on her cheeks, worrying the shell of her ear, drawn back to her lips like a magnet even if Mariella was still drawing in air too quickly. Not that Mariella seemed to mind. The half lidded look on her face was all Eisha needed to feel supremely satisfied with herself, to know she was more than convinced.

It was enough to make Eisha remember herself when her tail hit the wide leather couch she’d forgotten she was aiming for.  Between her hand and the end of her tail, Eisha picked Mariella up, who helpfully wrapped her legs around Eisha’s waist without a second thought. Mariella let out a small whimper, her hips stuttering against Eisha’s torso in a move that drove Eisha wild with its unselfconscious need. Guiding them to the couch, Eisha didn’t even pause as she focused back on plundered the smaller woman’s mouth.

A dizzyingly delightful amount of time later, Eisha drew back enough to ask, her own voice pitched even lower and silkier than before, “You sure there’s nothing you want?”

“Smug jerk,” Mariella gasped, not sounding truly annoyed, her voice rough with desire. Eisha wanted to do whatever she could to keep Mariella sounding like that. “Yes, I want whatever you’ll give me. Please.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#my writing #story: selfish #selfish #story part #naga #female monster #female naga #third person #wlw #osha compliant #monster gf #monster romance #this is where u get off if you're not here for osha violations #your tasteful fade to black if u prefer #if u dont #please stay tuned for part 4 which is basically exclusively spicy spicy #while this continues to be my least popular story #i'm determined to finish it soon #because i like it :) #let me know what you thought!

[midaaap]

#lovers #girlboss #girlblogging #girlhood #dark #female monster