An herb-woman moves into a little house, and finds it might not be as vacant as it had seemed. What’s it like to live with someone who has neither a form you can see nor a voice you can hear? f/?. 1854 words.
cw: mild non-sexual dubious consent (specifically for chaste touching that can’t be anticipated)
“Will you stay?” she asked to the darkened room, “I mean, will you come to bed?” She was being courageous, she thought, and she couldn’t mess this up. Not this. She adjusted the pillows again and budged over, just enough to make it clear where they could go, if they wanted. If they wanted as much as she wanted.
It had been only about half a year now since Jane had moved into the empty little house and had set about making it comfortable for herself. She’d fixed the drafty front door and replaced the crumbling kitchen sink right away, and then slowly brightened the place with paint on the walls and polish on the floors and flowers in the window boxes. There was a loft built in, almost certainly to be used as a bedroom, but she was never completely comfortable up there at the top of the sturdy ladder. That was fine. It was a small house, but there was enough room for her bed to stay on the ground with her writing desk and tiny kitchen table and big cushioned chair by the wood-burning stove.
A week into making her home here, Jane was out behind the house, clearing out what looked to be an old, makeshift garden bed. It was hard to tell what it had been used for, as it was so overgrown with weeds, so she decided to build a separate one for her herbs.
She was debating how many of the long weeds to dig up and how many to keep, because really the leaves and blossoms were quite pretty to look at, but she didn’t want them to creep too far and take over, as weeds are wont to do. She was just thinking she could put a few wildflowers in with the weeds, something the bees would like, when she felt it.
It felt like… curiosity? She knew very well the sensation of being watched. But it wasn’t coming from the path, or the trees, or down on the road below. Was it coming from the house? That couldn’t be right. Jane would know if a stranger was in her house, she’d made sure of that. But it was coming from the house, the feeling, the curious gaze.
The first time she found something on the kitchen table, one of the pretty weed blossoms, she frowned. But she tried to quickly shake it off, because she had been ever so tired when she came in at dusk the evening before, so worn out from her duties in town — maybe she had picked it on her way in? But… why would she go all the way around to the back of the house before coming in, and how did she forget doing it? She looked around to the front door, to her spring coat hanging on the hook and her muddy boots neatly placed underneath, to her chest of vials and jars, to the dishes she had washed and set to dry last night, to the book resting on the arm of her chair, everything where she’d left it. No sign of an intruder. There was nothing for it, so she shrugged and put the weed in some water and put it back on the table. The only thing tall enough she had was a glass bottle, and it looked nice enough, but she still made a note to look for something nicer in town.
Three days later, it was a small stone. It was lovely, a dark rust color and all jagged edges — perhaps from the garden? — so she set it in a tiny dish, a charming thing she’d gotten from the town potter.
It was a flower the third time, one from the window boxes. It was too short for her new vase, but it looked nice in a teacup. As she carried it over to her desk, where she’d be writing letters for most of the day, she mused aloud, “I haven’t left anything out for them, but maybe some nice brownies have come to stay?” She had only been joking, but there was a loud thud from the loft, like one of her small storage trunks had been pushed over, and she thought better of it. So. Probably not brownies, then.
Every few days or so, she’d find on her kitchen table a weed blossom or stone or leaf or fern frond or flower, something from outside, something from in the back garden, but not beyond. After the fourth time, she started saying a quiet thank you to the… the room. After the sixth time, she started blushing.
-
Sometime after the wildflowers started blooming in the old garden bed, and her herbs started thriving in the new one, she introduced herself to the air inside the house. “I don’t know if you know, if I’ve said, but I’m called Jane.” She felt a bit silly after she said it, but it seemed important.
She could feel the curious gaze on her from time to time, she could feel that she was being looked at by something or someone, and she felt it especially when she spoke aloud or hummed to herself as she worked. She didn’t know what to call it, but at some point she started thinking of it as the Presence, and thinking of the Presence as them.
Occasionally, a spoon would clatter in the drying rack, or the papers on her desk would shuffle just slightly, or a couple of glass vials would clink against each other, or a candle flame would gutter and blink and then grow tall and then gutter again. Once (but only once), an herb bundle she had hung to dry came untied, and the stems scattered on the floor. It was always something small, a slight push of something physical. She didn’t know what that was about, if they were testing the objects they could move, or if they were trying to get her attention. Either way, she gave it. “Good morning,” she’d say to what she hoped was their general direction, or, “I’m going to town tomorrow and won’t be back till late,” or, “Hmm, have you seen my shears? I put them right here,” and eventually, “Hello, dear.” She hoped it wasn’t too forward.
The soft touches came on so gradually that Jane wasn’t sure what she was feeling at first. More often than not, the touch was to one of her arms. The back of her hand or her shoulder would tingle with a soft warmth, an effervescent heat that would make her skin flush and her breath shudder. One time it was the top of her knee while she read in her chair, another time it was the side of her face while she pulled on her boots.
She wasn’t entirely sure what the Presence was, a poltergeist? a spirit? a ghost? She tried not to think too much about it. Instead, she said thank you for the gifts she found, and she grew her herbs and made her mixtures, and she kept the house and garden in good shape, and she sighed and blushed and tried not to want too much when she could feel them near her.
-
And now, six months on, a half a year since she made this little house into a home for herself, she gathered her courage. It had been a strange day.
This morning she had awoken to the wonderful tingling warmth on a spot on her temple and spanning across her ribs, like she was being embraced and chastely kissed. She’d choked out a sob, a little panicked and very unsure, and ran out of the house in only her boots and coat over her nightclothes. She’d fled around the house to the back path, and the whole time she could feel them at her elbow, then her hand, her jaw, her shoulder, and then not at all as she tripped through the back gate. She’d tried to say something through her tears, so they would understand that she wasn’t frightened of them, she was just surprised, that she needed a moment to get her head back on, but all that had come out of her mouth was something like, “I, I, oh please, I—” But it hadn’t felt like they were near her anymore, it felt like they were gone, and she wept wretchedly as she took the wooded path.
So she’d walked and cried and cried and walked. And she’d found herself at a place where she knew the main path forked off into a kind of loop, so she’d turned to go the long way home. Along the way, she’d found a few stones, some pretty fallen leaves, and some last bits of late summer color boldly showing off before the cold really set in. She had picked some and stuffed them in her pockets, careful to leave plenty besides.
She’d taken her time walking, and it was afternoon when she had trudged back through the gate, face dry and achy, pockets filled with small treasures.
It had felt silent and cold in the house, empty in a way it hadn’t been in so long. But Jane had talked aloud anyway, hoping they’d listen. “I brought you some things from the woods, things you can’t find around the house, see?” She’d placed all the stones in a row, and the leaves in a dish, and anything with a tall stem into the vase. She’d taken a deep breath, then braced herself. “I’m sorry about this morning. Would you please come back? I just get overwhelmed, and I feel… I’m not sure what you feel. But you’ve been very kind to me, I think, and I like when you bring things in for me, and when you touch me, and—”
There had been a creaky sound in the loft, like someone trying to be quiet but not quite able to pull it off, and Jane had let her mouth curl up with relief. “Will you come down?” she’d asked gently. “I promise we’re okay.”
And now, at the end of this day out in the woods, after she stoked the fire and made something hot to eat, after she bathed and bundled herself up in soft blankets, after she read a chapter or two, and had watched a flower in the vase turn and a leaf rustle in the dish, she got into bed.
Jane moved the pillows, shifted herself to one side, and valiantly asked the Presence if they would join her. It would be okay if they didn’t, it would really be fine. But she wanted them to, so much, because it felt significant if they would accept her clear invitation.
They didn’t. Or, at least, not right away.
But when Jane woke in the morning, she felt sparks of warmth all the way down her side, and all the way across her ribs. She smiled and hummed, and she stretched out her arms and legs. They both lay there for a minute in the drowsy half-light. Voice gravelly with sleep, Jane said, “Good morning, dear.”
~~~
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lol this is so late! It’s the first one I started working on when I began thinking about participating in Monstrous May a little over month ago, and it’s seen several drafts since then. I knew what I wanted to do, and I’m not certain I got all the way there, and I like it very much anyway, but good lord did it ever take TIME.
A note on the mild dub-con cw:
Even though the one being touched welcomes the touch, and imo the one doing the touching is as soft and benevolent as they know how to be, it’s that the consent is still not entirely informed. It’s very tricky, I think, because Jane really likes what’s happening, and she feels a bit like she’s being courted — the attention, the humble gifts, the odd attempts at communication, the touches unlike anything she’s felt before — and she does develop some kind of feelings for the Presence, but the fact remains that she’s missing SO MUCH information.
Aaaaaanyway. I hope you enjoyed! Please do let me know what you think, if you are so inclined <3
A werebear comes out of hibernation, the townsfolk welcome her back. Some clumsy flirting, and a little bit of soft manhandling (bearhandling?). wlw. 1428 words, somehow.
She always came down from the mountain just before mid-spring, after taking a few weeks or so to shake her winter sleep off her bones and bulk back up a little. You couldn’t miss her as she strode through town, she was tall and broad, brawny and thick as hell, friendly with literally everyone she passed, and her laugh could be heard from a block away.
Her name was Rebecca, or maybe it was Rhiannon, something with an R — but all anyone ever called her was Bear. An unoriginal nickname for a werebear, sure, but fitting. Everything about Bear seemed big; her voice, her appetite, her arms, oh god, her arms, and she took up SPACE wherever she went. She was the only one of her kind in this part of the country, and the humans of the small town she called home for most of the year were grateful for it. It wasn’t that they didn’t like her, she was very well loved and respected in the community. It’s that werebears could be a bit territorial, or so it was generally believed.
Madeline couldn’t wait to see her. This spring, she would make her move. She would! She was definitely going to do it. Whatever ‘it’ was. Ugh. How is anyone good at this? Alright. It’s cool, be cool. She would come up with something clever to say, and Bear would laugh, and then she would ask Bear to… hang out or something? Yeah. Probably. Super good plan.
The unanimously favored queer club/tavern/bar was an absolute dive, nearly all of the bars downtown were, but it was the one everyone flocked to once winter had thawed because it had a big, comfortable patio space out back. It was also the one Bear frequented the most.
Madeline got a beer at the bar, and then made her way through the cool, dark, dingy, arcade-like interior, and through the back door to the shaded patio. Bear was on the deep bench built into the long back fence, and she was surrounded by a cluster of friends and neighbors, all chatting and laughing. It looked almost like she was holding court, if court was a group of townsfolk and a wooden table littered with half-full drinks, bar snacks, greeting cards, and small gifts — this was typical for the time of year, because everyone treated the first week of Bear’s return like it was her birthday.
“MADDIE!” a few would-be courtiers shouted out cheerfully, and someone conjured one of the well-used plastic chairs with battered metal legs for her to join them. She’d dressed carefully, it looked like everyone had, and it was so good to see them all showing off a little in the filtered afternoon sunlight.
After getting settled and saying hellos, Madeline dug her little gift out of her bag and set it on the table. “Hey, Bear,” she said, getting the woman’s attention, “I brought you something.” It was a jar of dark, rich, wildflower honey from her neighbor’s fall harvest. He always set aside a few jars for her, and this batch had been too good to keep to herself. She turned on her best wide-eyed, exaggeratedly innocent expression and aimed it at the werebear. “Bears do like honey, right?”
Thankfully, Bear laughed big and wonderful, and it sent blooming warmth from Madeline’s chest to her toes. “Well, this one does,” Bear said good-naturedly. She picked up the jar, tipped it, and watched the air bubble move down the side. She smiled at it and said, “Thanks, Maddie. Very kind of you, looks real good.” She looked back up at Madeline, and her smile softened into something really sweet. They just sat there for a moment, smiling and blinking softly at each other like a couple of goofballs. So, this was going well.
These springtime afternoons were always the nicest time to catch up with everyone. It was late enough in the day to get some good gossip, and too early for anyone to be out on the lash. The day slipped into golden early evening, Madeline switched to water, and the group filtered down to just a few friends. It got warm enough that she took off her leather jacket, and at some point Bear had rolled her sleeves up to the elbow. Those forearms. Madeline had to keep reminding herself not to sneak too many looks over at Bear, while she despaired over how to work up her courage to… what, ask her out? Seriously, why did it have to be so excruciating? But the thing was, as much as Bear caught her looking, she caught Bear looking back.
Okay, you know what? It was getting actually late now, and Madeline was starting to think maybe another day would be better. Bear had just gotten back, after all. They ran into each other all the time, no big deal. She’d just ask her all casual like, without all this build-up, yeah, that would be better, less pressure, good idea, okay, time to—
“Hey, Maddie,” Bear interrupted her spiral, thank fuck. “Help a gal out. It’s been months since I had a good look at you.” She leaned down, then grabbed one of Madeline’s chair legs and yanked, dragging it across the concrete a few feet. Suddenly they were very close, Madeline’s right knee and calf flush with Bear’s left. Bear inhaled deeply. “There, that’s better.”
“Whoa, haha,” Madeline uttered shakily. Had she just said ‘haha’ aloud? What the fuck. She blushed hard and tried harder to regain her composure. “Wait— did you just smell me?”
Bear laughed low and warm, and snuck an arm around Madeline’s shoulders. “Yeah, is that okay?” she asked, and then more seriously, “Is this okay?”
“Yeah. This is okay.” She meant it, obviously. This was amazing. Madeline was tall in her own right, or at least taller than most women she knew, but she felt tiny next to Bear. This was the closest they’d ever been to each other, and holy hell was it awesome.
“You smell nice, by the way,” Bear said, amused but sincere.
“Well, thanks? Must be my shampoo.”
Bear leaned in to get another sniff and pitched her voice down. “Mmm. Must be,” she rumbled directly into Madeline’s ear.
Because she was really going for it now, and because a hot butch woman was talking low into her ear, for fuck’s sake, Madeline shivered. But they were careening towards a cliche back and forth, and Madeline didn’t want to play. “So, this is the part where you say ‘You cold, baby? You’re trembling. How about you sit next to me here on the bench, and I’ll keep you warm.’ And I say ‘Oh thank you, Bear, you’re so big and strong’ for some reason and then I blink at you all coquettishly. Let’s skip it. Scoot over.”
There was literally no reason for Bear to scoot anywhere, as there was plenty of room next to her, but she did it anyway. “You don’t think I’m big and strong? You wound me, Maddie.”
Madeline snickered as she pressed her side into Bear’s, getting comfortable. “Of course I do, but you don’t need anyone to tell you.” Bear’s hand settled on her waist. It felt so good to be this close to her, to snuggle in her arms — well, one of her arms, rather.
“You know— oh, dammit,” Maddie faltered and looked down at her hands to gather herself. It’s cool, this is fine. It is. Time to be brave. She looked back up at Bear. “You know. You gotta know that I like you, right? Because I do.”
Bear was looking at her softly, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy. “You do, huh?” Her hand slipped down to Madeline’s hip and she started to knead the sensitive flesh there. “That’s lucky, because I like you too. Have for a long while.”
“But I’m not fast,” Madeline blurted. Bear’s hand froze on her hip. “I don’t know if I can jump in with both feet right away, Bear. You gotta give me a little time.” She took a beat to slow herself down. She could do this. “But, um. Can I take you to dinner?” She prayed to whatever deity that she had this right, that this is how people fucking talk to each other.
Bear grinned delightedly as she slid her hand back to Madeline’s waist, and squeezed her in a reassuring half-hug. “That sounds good to me, honey,” she said. “Just tell me when.”
~~~
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HOW LONG IS A LONG WHILE, BEAR. TELL US.
Whew, this one fought me! And then it kept getting longer! Why!!! I just wanted to write a big ol’ butch wlw werebear and write another wlw who wants to snuggle with her 😭
Do you ever feel like you know where a story starts and where it ends, but the rest of it has to be fuckin’ wrestled out of your brain? I’m pretty sure I know what was going on, which is good, like, at least in the long run. Ah well, the important thing is that it’s done and I can release it to the wild. Right? Haha right, guys?
Anyway. The two challenge days I’ve done so far have been heavy on the anxious, obvious long-time crush, so, I reckon something different for the next few. ANYWAY. <3
A vampire commissions an outfit from a dressmaker. One is definitely an idiot, the other is less so. Some pining, some fluff, a film reference, a meme. cis male/nonbinary pairing. 835 words.
“Fear me, I am the night,” he hissed as he flashed his teeth at his reflection. Damn, he looked good in this get-up. All this silk and velvet made him look terribly elegant, graceful, refined. He loved it, of course he did, but he almost never dressed this way. Look, it was easier and safer to blend in, okay? Anything finer than a buttoned shirt and trousers set off his porcelain skin too nicely, made his eyes too bright, made his nature too visible. But he wanted something special for the party, something humorous, obviously, but also beautiful. So here he stood, a vampire in all his glory, dressed in a vampire costume.
“What’s that, darling? Did you say something?” Harry’s voice was muffled under layers of supple fabrics, and they carefully poked their head out to look up at Val. “Did one of my pins get you?”
Val shook his head and smiled. He knew his smile was sharper now, impossibly so, pointy and sly and cutting and dangerous. He was still adjusting to it even after nearly ten years on, so he tried to soften its edges for Harry. For Harry, he tried, and he would keep trying. Val was nothing less than a complete idiot around them. He was doubly an idiot for having asked Harry, master dressmaker extraordinaire, to make this costume for him. Of course he liked seeing Harry, how could he not, he always liked seeing Harry, but this? The seemingly endless hours of fittings, alone with them, this gorgeous person— and good lord, was Harry ever gorgeous. Even more so with their soft, dark red curls in disarray from being up under Val’s skirts. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck, or he would have if he were still able to blush, and he realized that he was staring at Harry with a horrible little smile fixed on his face. Fucking embarrassing.
“Oh, no. Nothing of consequence. Just making fun of myself,” he finally replied.
“Mmhmm,” Harry hummed, clearly unconvinced. Blessedly, they ducked back under the voluminous fabrics, but not before giving an exaggerated roll of their eyes. “Another minute, almost done.”
Val tried not to think about Harry’s deft fingers and warm hands, their half-smile and feigned exasperation, their ability to make everything look so beautiful, their freckles and light brown skin and the way they tailored their trousers to— Jesus, Val, snap out of it. Honestly.
He took a deep breath, though he didn’t really need it. Is it a psychosomatic thing? Is that why it helps? Whatever. He took another breath for good measure and looked at himself in his elegant vampire costume again. May as well go with it. Really lean in. With deliberate slowness, he curled his mouth into his best Bela Lugosi grin, lifted one edge of his rich velvet cape and whispered to the mirror, “I bid you welcome…”
“Val, you really must try to stay still, or I can’t tell if the fit is correct,” Harry chided as they finally crawled out and stood up. They set their pincushion and scissors down on a little table and ran a hand through their lovely hair.
Sheepishly, Val dropped the edge of the cape and muttered an apology. He watched as Harry circled him, looked him up and down and up and down, touched his clothes here, then here, then here. Making sure the bodice of the dress fit just so, the cape fell over his shoulders just the right way, every detail perfect. It was thrilling, to be scrutinized so closely— no, to let someone scrutinize him so closely. No. No, that wasn’t it either.
“Well? How do I look?” Val asked.
Harry huffed a little laugh and smiled their charming half-smile. “You know very well how you look,” they said as they stepped close and adjusted the front of the cape. “What did you say earlier, when I was under your skirts?”
“Ah.” Val tried very hard to concentrate, as Harry smoothed the edges of the cape down his chest. Had they gotten closer, somehow? “Um. It’s, it’s a bat meme?”
Harry paused and looked up to meet Val’s gaze, clearly delighted. “A what?”
“A bat meme,” Val was mortified to realize that his voice had risen a few octaves. Oh god, this eye contact, very intense, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Um, there’s this cute bat, and it says, ‘Fear me, I— mmh!!’”
He’s being kissed?! Harry was kissing him??? Holy shit, he’s kissing Harry. Hell yes. How? Doesn’t matter. More. Slide a hand into those auburn curls. Yes. Trail kisses up their jaw. Did Harry mind his teeth? Oh, well, apparently fucking not.
“Harry?” Val asked between kisses.
“Mmm. Yes, Valerio?” they sounded breathless. They sounded breathless saying his name.
“Do you always make out with your clients?”
Harry pulled back to look fondly at him. “Cute bat,” they mused, and punctuated with sweet little kisses, “No, darling. Not if I can help it.”
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:D Y’all, the Monstrous May Challenge is so fun! A million thanks to Johannes T. Evans for creating it and setting it all up! Want to come join? You can find the full prompt list here, and the FAQ here.
