Male minotaur x female reader (sfw) *commission* (Patreon)

Hello! Here's the second of the commissions from this round (they're still open if anyone else wants a story). 

This time I was just asked for a big male monster who'd be good for cuddling (so I chose a big mino boy), and a female reader with PTSD, with the particular characteristics of hyper-vigilance and aversion to sudden, loud noises. So, this features those, briefly, and a big floffy mino boy too. It's sfw, and other than the short episode in a public place near the start, the rest of it is pure fluff. 

It'll go up on Tumblr in a few days. Hope you enjoy it! Oh, and it also features (briefly) my centaur boy Iskandar (Skandi) and his sweetheart cervitaur boyfriend Mikken. 

“Oh, it’s going to be one of those days,” you hissed as you sat up in bed, sunlight streaming through the curtains, birdsong filling the air from the garden outside, and that lung-clogging anxiety promptly settling into every muscle in your body for no discernible reason whatsoever. Some days were just like this, and as you swallowed down the bile and tried to calm your racing heart, you swung your feet out of bed and sat there with your eyes closed, trying to steady the world and your pounding heartbeat at the same time. 

To make matters worse, you knee full well that there was no food in the pantry. Perhaps some dried meat, and possibly a sack of flour, but other than that, it was bare. It had been a few days since you’d even been out of the house other than for work, but unless you wanted to starve, you were going to have to beat this thing today, and venture into the bustling marketplace. 

After three rounds of procrastination and one very thorough clean of the whole house, you finally stepped outside, and inhaled deeply. In fact, the weather wasn’t so bad, and the scent of jasmine filled the crisp autumnal air from a garden nearby as you stood on the doorstep, basket over your arm, breathing somewhat more rapidly than was perhaps ideal. 

The rumble of the marketplace seeped out into the narrow side streets, their looming houses seeming to close in overhead as you made your way there, grinding your teeth and flinching at even the slightest sounds. A housewife opened her shutters and shook out a cloth into the street and you jumped, turning with eyes wide before you managed to get a hold of yourself.

“Stop it,” you growled under your breath. “Just… stop it. You’re safe now. All that is past you. Just focus on getting food.” Truly, you felt awful. The events that had left you like this were years in the past now, but still you limped on, mind so ragged some days you could barely remember your own name. Of course, there were other days when you were absolutely fine. 

Moving from the cool shadows of the three-storey, brick-built merchants’ houses that lined the wide market square, each one with colourful window boxes and red-tiled roofs, you made your way into the heart of the market. You made it to two stalls, picking up a box of eggs, and two loaves of bread, before any hint of your earlier episode showed itself. Your creeping hyper-vigilance had you looking about until you must have looked more than suspicious, but you forced yourself on until you had bought almost everything on your list. You had just congratulated yourself on surviving what was ordinarily a huge challenge, when you heard the rattle of a cart up ahead. Your chin snapped up instinctively, seeking out the source of the noise, but you relaxed marginally when you saw what it was. 

Someone was laughing not far away from you at a stall selling fresh pastries and cakes. You glanced over your shoulder and saw a truly massive minotaur leaning on a tall walking staff, chatting to the owner of the stall. He had a thick black coat with little grey tufts at the ends of his large ears, huge horns that curved forwards a little before tilting up to the blue sky above, and his modesty was just about covered by a simple, loose tunic of dark greenish grey cotton. His hooves and fetlocks were caked in drying mud, and you assumed he’d come in from outside the city for the market, and wondered if perhaps he’d brought produce with him to sell. He carried no bags or baskets, just a belt pouch around his waist, and the stout walking stick. 

A second later, the crash and clatter of crates hitting the cobbles sent a spike of adrenaline and blind terror through you. You half turned around, knowing it was just the cart of empty boxes that had been upended somehow, but the shaking and the ringing in your ears descended on you a moment later and you forgot everything, even how to breathe. Time stopped and stretched on forever in front of you in an endless corridor as you stood there, hardly seeing the stones of the market square before your wide eyes. It had been like this for years now; any sudden, loud noises, and you were gone. 

A colossal shadow slid across you, draining the warmth of the sun and setting your clammy skin prickling. “Hey,” a kind, deep voice rumbled. The figure made no move to touch you, but when he knelt in front of you, you began to be able to focus a little better on the words he was saying. “Hey, you’re alright. Can you hear me?” 

You focused on the glittering nose ring, suddenly unable to look away. He smiled then, and you nodded in answer to his question. 

“Great, you’re doing great. Listen, I’d like you to do something for me. Catch…?” he said, standing up again and shielding you from the chaos of the clear up behind him with the sheer width and height of his body. He held out a bright green apple and tossed it gently at you.

You caught it on instinct and stared at it. 

“Good,” he chuckled. “Now, toss it back.” 

You did, and he kept throwing it back to you, asking you after a few more throws to count them aloud. 

He watched you sliding gently out of your shock, and he held onto it after thirty or so catches. “You doing better now?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Thank you,” you croaked, feeling shaky. “How…?”

He smiled again, such a warm and open gesture that lit up his dark, glimmering eyes and he leaned once again on his staff. “You want the apple?” You shook your head, and he bit into it. “I used to be in the army,” he said simply. “I have ‘bad days’ and ‘oh shit’ moments too, and doing something mundane like that helps to refocus my mind sometimes. I figured I’d give it a go with you too, not that I claim to know what works best for you, of course.”

You had to smile. “Thank you,” you said, trying to draw in a steady breath. “What’s your name?”

“Axel,” he grinned. “You want to get out of here?”

“Please,” you nodded. Normally you’d never have gone with a complete stranger, but perhaps it was your lingering shock or the trembling in your fingers that craved the safety of his kind face and a broad back. 

“Fancy a drink? There’s a great place down by the river, and I’m parched. They do the most amazing fresh lemonade you’ve ever tasted, I promise.”

You accepted, and he led you away through the marketplace to the south towards the wide, glimmering river that flowed through the trading town with its stone walls and high castle at the far end. It was a beautiful city, and since coming here you’d had fewer episodes, despite the bustling streets and noise. Though, on reflection, it was probably because of the life and vibrancy of the place that you were doing better. The stillness and silence was all very well for sporadic moments of calm, but it could quickly overwhelm you and leave you crushed and panicky. 

You discovered that Axel made an excellent shield, vigilant enough of approaching figures to step easily between you and them and create a clear path for you, but not so on edge that you felt nervous. His massive presence was a steadying support as well; he was just so calm and friendly. He spoke a little about the weather, and you asked him if he’d come from far that day. 

He glanced down at you, eyebrow raised. “How’d you know I’m not a city slicker like you?” he chortled. 

You smiled back up at him, cricking your neck slightly to get a good look at his strong-boned face. His ears waggled playfully and you had to laugh. “You’re all spattered with mud,” you said, flicking your gaze down to his huge hooves. 

His tail swished and he laughed his deep, rich laugh again. “No fooling you. Yes, I live just outside the city walls. It rained pretty heavily last night, and the roads were a mess this morning.”

“What do you do for a living?” you asked. “I’m assuming you’re out now,” you added, referring to his military service. 

He nodded. “Yup. I’m a woodcutter these days, working with a few of the others over on Jenson’s farm.” He stretched and rolled his muscular shoulders, the fabric of his sleeveless tunic shifting slightly to indicate a toned chest beneath, and he added, “It’s hard work, but it’s nice, you know? To be doing something physical…”

You hummed in soft agreement, and he nodded at a cafe sign just up ahead. 

“That’s it,” he said. “Willa’s a good friend of mine,” he added as he held the door open. 

The interior was bathed in late autumn sunlight, streaming through huge windows at the back of the building, and beyond you could see a terrace that overlooked the river. It was stunning. A tiefling sat sipping elegantly from a delicate china teacup, and a gnoll was lounging in a far corner on a very comfortable looking sofa, a book under his nose, and some adorable glasses sliding down his muzzle towards his nose. 

Behind the bar was a waif-like faun, chatting quietly with a human and dwarf, all of whom wore the dark green aprons emblazoned with the logo of the cafe. When the faun saw Axel, her pretty, freckled face lit up, and her large ears swivelled forwards as she scampered around the side of the bar and barrelled straight at him. She barely came up to his waist, but she threw her skinny arms around him and hugged him tight. 

Something cold lanced through your chest at the sight of their closeness. Perhaps you’d been foolish to hope that he wouldn’t have anyone in his life, but there was no mistaking the affection between these two. And then he pulled back and ruffled her hair in a way that would have irritated at least any partner you could imagine. “Hey there,” he laughed. “How are you?”

“It’s been ages!” she practically squeaked. “Gods, Ax, you are even bigger than you were last time, I swear it!” Then her hazel eyes landed on you and widened in surprise. “Oh,” she added. “Hi…”

“Hi,” you murmured, trying to conjure up a smile.

He introduced you by name and added, “This is Willa. I served with her brother.”

“Oh.” Oh. 

“Saved Rudi’s life too,” she smiled. “Anyway, what can I get you both?”

“I was told the lemonade is good here,” you said, trying to lighten your mood and succeeding now that you knew they weren’t together. It felt stupid and selfish. You’d only just met him for goodness’ sake. 

As if he sensed your shift in mood, he cocked his head to one side. “Ok?” he asked softly while Willa poured two big glasses of lemonade for you. 

You nodded. “Where d’you want to sit?”

“I don’t mind being outside, but it might be a bit chilly for you,” he shrugged a shoulder, his shaggy coat rippling. “I’ll get these,” he added, laying a small handful of coppers down on the counter with a smile at Willa.

“Let’s see how cold it is?” you asked, and you moved through the tables until you reached the double doors at the back of the cafe. He held one open for you and you drank in the freshness of the river air, the breeze that swept down from the Red Mountains upstream, and sighed most of the lingering tension away. “Yeah, outside is good,” you said. 

You set the drinks down and he pulled out a chair, squeezing himself into his own with only a little difficulty. He caught you looking and barked laugh. “I’ve got stuck in chairs before, you know?” he said. “And it really isn’t funny…” Such light danced in his eyes that you suddenly couldn't stop the wave of giggles that bubbled up from your chest. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, still grinning. 

He only smiled back at you and sipped his lemonade. “If it makes you laugh like that, I don’t mind.” 

You chatted for ages while the river rushed by below the stone wall, and it was only as it started to get cold that you realised how long you’d been there. He’d told you almost everything, from adventures with his brothers as a young calf to the sights he’d seen in the army - he was very open about his experiences, though he didn’t dwell on anything difficult or unpleasant - and all the while you sat there with your hands clasped lightly, leaning your weight on your elbows on the table, drinking in his deep baritone and glittering, playful eyes. 

As you shivered, however, he scowled and raised his eyes to the sky, his ears darting back in surprise. “Gods,” he swore. “Look how late it’s getting! You must be freezing!” and he reached his hands instinctively to cover your own with his. His palms were smooth and warm and leathery, and as they landed over yours, engulfing them, a thrill shot through your whole body. Ordinarily, a stranger’s touch would have felt nine kinds of nasty, but there was nothing but gentle kindness in his eyes, and you began to ache for the closeness you had come to miss. You turned your hands over and held his fingers in yours. 

“I am cold,” you admitted, “But I’ve had the best time today.”

“Me too,” he grinned, nose ring flashing in the sinking sunlight. “Let me walk you home though before I have to find a fire drake to come and thaw you out.”

With another laugh, you rose, and he ushered you politely ahead of him. His large shadow loomed behind you, but again it felt like a shield not a menace, and you basked in the safety of his strength. 

You agreed to meet up in a few days’ time at the clearing where he worked, and when you parted at the door of your house, he asked if he could give you a hug. You nodded, and he drew you briefly close to him. You inhaled the scent of him, warm, musky, and comforting, and sighed. 

“Thanks for today,” you said as you pulled back afterwards. “I really needed that, and… not just in the market place.”

“Me too,” he said again. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone I can just… feel this easy around, you know?”

“Yeah,” you rasped. 

“Well, I’ll see you in a few days then,” he grinned, walking away and waving over his shoulder. “Be sure to wear your warm boots - the roads are muddy, you know?” 

You snorted, gaze dropping to his colossal hooves, and nodded. 

“And dress warmly too…” he said, glancing at the sky. “Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Don’t worry,” you smiled, and he shook his head. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you, alright?”

And as he disappeared round the corner, you sensed a deep calm settling into you, beginning in your chest and radiating out through every vein and artery. You’d not felt the like in years.

Three days later, and it was another glorious autumn day. You’d finished work early and headed back to change, and were on the road out of the town well before the sun began to set. Over one arm you carried your basket, but this time it was full of goodies for a picnic supper, and the fizzing in your gut was nothing to do with that nebulous fear that always seemed to be hovering in the background, waiting. This time it was true, undiluted excitement that had your heart skipping along in a merry rhythm. 

The steady chorus of axes hitting trees reached your ears as you climbed up the slope towards the copse perhaps a mile or so out of town. A huge piebald centaur with long black and white hair was chatting and laughing with a cervitaur at the edge of the camp, and they looked up as you approached. Your fear of talking to strangers suddenly rushed in to replace the fluttering excitement, and you felt like shrinking back into yourself and running, but the weight of the basket on your arm reminded you why you were here. You could do this. 

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m… I’m looking for Axel?”

“Oh,” the cervitaur smiled. “Sure. You want me to get him for you? He’s just over there…” The toffee-coloured coat of his cervine hind quarters was dusted with specks of wood dust and shavings, and as he pranced away, his little white tail bobbed merrily. The centaur smiled down at you, but didn't offer any conversation, which was fine by you. 

About a minute later, the cervitaur reappeared, and behind him was the familiar bulk of the dark-coated minotaur. He looked tired, but the moment he saw you, he grinned and tossed his head, tail swishing. He wore no shirt, only a leather covering from waist to mid-thigh, and he looked magnificent. His chest was a pale, silvery grey, and he exuded the kind of physical strength that made you want to lie down beside him and burrow up against him while he held you in his big arms. 

“Thanks, Mikken,” he murmured gently to the cervitaur as you offered your own thanks to him as well. He turned back to you and said, “I would hug you, but I’m all sweaty and gross. Hey -” he added, snuffing the air and staring at the basket. “You brought food?”

“Thought you might be thirsty and hungry after work…” you mumbled shyly. 

“She’s a keeper, Ax,” Mikken tossed over his shoulder as he took the centaur’s hand and the pair of them headed off down the hill towards the neighbouring farm. 

Axel scratched the back of his head and you watched as his ears flattened themselves in shyness. “Huh,” he huffed self-consciously. “Sorry about that. I may have been talking about you quite a lot today. I was… excited to see you again…I guess. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” you laughed. “I’m flattered, I guess.”

“You want to eat here?” he asked. “Or you could come back to mine? I only live in a little cottage just over the hill that way…” he said. “It’s not much, but it might be warmer than sitting on the ground here…”

You swallowed. There had been so much change lately, but this felt good and right, even if it was a little intimidating. 

He must have seen the thought processes on your face because he added swiftly, “No pressure, of course…”

Taking a deep breath, you smiled up at him and looped your arm through his. “I’d love to,” you said, and he puffed a relieved sigh and laughed. 

“Give me that,” he said, taking the basket from your other hand and leading you back down the hill towards his house. 

It wasn’t far, and on the way he pointed out the various farm buildings visible in the distance. “Mikken and Skandi live over there,” he said as you neared a burbling brook that trickled down a gully in the hillside and into a wooded valley below. “They grow wheat and apples there mostly, but they’ve got some geese and sheep too. I helped them put in a new paddock last spring for the lambs. It’s turned into a bit of a centaur sanctuary too lately. They’ve got two more just moved in.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm,” he said, “They were kept as little more than carriage horses in the capital,” he said darkly. “But Skandi took them under his wing - so to speak. They’re nice lads. And there’s a bunch of half-feral orcs who work there, but they’re a great bunch really.”

“Sounds like it’s a nice community,” you commented, taking his hand as he simply waded through the freezing water of the stream and helped you balance as you walked over the rickety little plank that stretched across it. He steadied you as you hopped down off the end of it, and you squeezed his knuckly fingers in fleeting thanks.

Up ahead, the cedar tiles of a wooden cabin came into view, with a metal chimney poking out of one side, and a number of window boxes displaying late autumn flowers. A bench sat outside the front of the house, sheltered under the large eaves, and at the back a few chickens scratched determinedly in the dust of a little wicker pen. 

A dog began to bark, but when Axel bellowed a welcoming call to it, you saw the appropriately huge dog hurtling around the corner of the house, paws scrabbling on the loose surface of the yard, and it made its way at break-neck speed towards the pair of you, big triangle ears flapping wildly, tongue lolling. 

“Hey buddy!” he laughed, getting down on one knee to fuss the dog. “How was your day? Who’s a good boy?” The dog leapt and whined, trying to lick Axel’s muzzle and wagging his tail so hard you thought he might just wiggle it right off. “Now, I need you on your best behaviour,” he said to the dog. It was the size of a small pony, and had any number of breeds mixed into its heritage. Black fur, white tummy, little tan dots above its eyes, and one white sock on its hind paw were the most distinctive features, and as Axel asked him to sit, he sank onto his haunches, his tail still trying to wag. “Meet Scrap,” Axel smiled up at you.

“Scrap?” you asked, snorting a laugh as you extended your hand and the dog licked it, whining again in excitement. “He’s hardly what you’d call a scrap… He’s huge!”

“He was just a tiny little scrap when I found him,” he chuckled, levering himself back upright with a grunt. “Come on, let’s get inside.” He picked up a stick from the side of the path and hurled it a good hundred yards, sending the dog flying away in a cloud of dust and yips of excitement. 

“You have a habit of picking up strays then, I take it?” you asked him pointedly as you approached the beautiful little cottage. 

He glanced down at you and smiled. “No, only the really special ones.”

 I hope you enjoyed reading this one as much as I did writing it! If you want a commission of your own, you can find the info you need either here in this announcement post, or on my commissions page on Tumblr (it says they're closed, but they're not closed for you folks). Come and talk to me - here in messages or on Tumblr - and we can work something out for you!