April Fool (Patreon)

No, this isn't a prank. April Fool is the title of this surprise, bonus story. There are enough stressful/un-funny things going on today that I thought I'd just do something nice instead. I'll put it up on Tumblr later today, but here's Part One. There will be a part two, and it will be nsfw, and it'll probably just be for you folks... :)

This one features a reader who was stood up as an April Fool's, and a certain someone comes along and finds them. I won't spoil it, but it's sfw, fluffy, and features a gender neutral reader and a non-binary monster/non-human. 

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It was a cliche.  

And yet, here you were, standing outside a boarded up  bar that had apparently been closed down for quite some while, on the  phone to someone who was laughing, with four mates in the background, at  your expense. “You didn’t seriously think I’d show up for a date with  you, did you?” he roared. Clearly he had never found anything quite this funny.  

Your  stomach roiled and you fought off tears. “I did, but I guess I was  wrong. I’m glad I provided you and your friends with some entertainment  at least,” you said flatly, and then you hung up.  

Just to add insult to injury, someone, it seemed, had witnessed your humiliation.  

At first you took them to be a tiefling,  given the dark, slate grey skin, long blue-black hair, and curling,  ram’s horns. Their yellow eyes gleamed in the dusk and they tilted their  head slightly with a gentle kind of curiosity as they approached. They  had long, tapering ears and, like many tieflings’,  they were pierced with gold and silver rings, a tear-drop pearl  dangling from their left earlobe and brushing the collar of their jacket  as they moved.  

“I don’t meant to pry, but are you alright?” they asked in a husky, rich, warm tenor voice.  

It  was impossible to guess their gender from looking at them. With long  hair, a slim waist, long legs clad in dark, loose pants which were  cuffed tightly around the ankle, and a black leather jacket that had a  grey hoodie underneath, they were pretty nondescript. And yet  breathtakingly beautiful. Their cheekbones were high and sculpted, their  eyebrows sharp, their eyelashes long as a cow’s, and their lips were  soft and gentle as they offered you a smile and came to a halt at a  polite yet concerned distance.  

“Honestly?  No,” you choked, fighting back a flood of tears. And then, despite your  most valiant efforts, it all rushed over you; all the years of  relentless bullying at school, the loneliness at university, the  isolation that you felt as a young adult now, trying to find your place  in the world and carve out a career for yourself. All while painfully  alone. Ugly, gasping sobs suddenly overwhelmed you, and you broke down  in front of a complete stranger.  

Warm,  gentle hands reached for your upper arms, thumbs caressing gently.  “There, there,” they crooned softly. “Let it out. That’s it.” 

And  as their comforting scent caught your nostrils, you found yourself  resting your forehead on their chest and sobbing inconsolably. “I’m so  sorry,” you hiccupped. “I’m -” 

“It’s  quite alright, I assure you,” came their patient answer. They were  taller than you by about a foot, and there was a solid, ageless kind of  strength to them that you found yourself clinging to with a desperation  of which you hadn’t known you were capable.  

Eventually they pulled out a handkerchief, seemingly from nowhere, and handed it to you.  

“Thanks,” you snuffled, wiping your eyes and blowing your nose. “God, I feel so stupid.” 

“What happened?” 

“Oh,  just a harmless April Fool’s joke, you know? I apparently didn’t get  the memo that it’s also ‘stand your first date up for shits and giggles’  day…” 

A  soft growl reverberated from the stranger’s throat, and you glanced up  to see that their yellow eyes were glowing softly in the dark, and that  their pretty lips had pulled back to reveal elongated canines.  

“What?” you asked, voice sharp with bitterness. “Never heard of a good trick?” 

“I  am a trickster spirit,” they said darkly, and you felt a tingle of fear  in your gut. “I delight in japes and jokes, but this is just cruel.  There is no humour here. There is no lesson learned.” 

“Oh, I learned my lesson alright,” you said, taking a step back.  

Concern  furrowed the trickster’s brows and they fixed their glowing gaze on  your face. “Will you let me try to right the wrong that was done to  you?” 

“What?” you asked. “At first I thought you were a tiefling. You’re really a trickster spirit then? What do you plan on doing?” 

They  nodded. “You can call me Grey, though that is not my True Name. I am  frequently mistaken for a tiefling. I think it’s my lovely horns, or  perhaps my flawless skin,” they said, brushing the backs of their  fingers against their own, chiselled cheek and fluttering their long  eyelashes melodramatically.  

The ostentatious absurdity of the gesture made you smile, and when they saw it, their own face split into a kind grin.  

“That’s  better,” they said. “Come,” and they nodded across the street to an ice  cream parlour that was open late. “I have the cure for almost  anything.” 

Playfully,  they took your hand and you allowed them to lead you across the road.  Grey opened the door to the cheerful, pastel coloured ice cream parlour  and let you pass inside first. No harm in this, at least, surely? 

“Anything you want, it’s on me,” they said. “My treat.” 

“Why?” you asked, rooted to the spot just inside the door.  

“Because I like you, and I don’t like to see good souls hurting.” 

With  a watery smile of thanks, you turned your attention to the amazing  array of different sorbets, frozen yoghurts and ice creams before you.  You picked your three favourite, and waited while Grey chose four and  paid the satyr behind the counter with a friendly smile before joining  you at a table in the window.  

“I  still don’t understand why you’re doing this,” you said. “If you’re a  trickster spirit, then why are you so upset at what they did? I mean, it  was a pretty good prank - lure someone to a bar that’s not even there,  and see if they’re stupid enough to turn up…” 

Again,  Grey growled, spoon tapping on the rim of their bowl of colourful  flavours. “There was a time when the whole purpose of a trickster spirit  was to teach bad people a lesson. It would begin with a few tricks to  get their attention - curdling the milk as it hit the pail, turning  their wine to vinegar, rotting the eggs in their store, that kind of  thing - and if they didn’t heed the warning and change their ways, then  we’d step it up. Hurting good people to get a laugh out of it is just  cruel.” Their eyes shone, glistening, and they took your hand suddenly  across the table and clasped their warm fingers around yours. “You did  not deserve that, and I want to make it right.” 

“You’re very sweet. Almost too good to be true, you know?” you said.  

Grey’s  slim shoulders sagged. “I understand. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you  what I am, but…” They shrugged. “You just looked so miserable. I wanted  to make the pain go away.” 

“How can I believe someone who says things like that?” you whispered, ice cream untouched before you.  

Grey  sighed, lips pressing into a hard, thin, dark line, shapely brows  furrowing as they stared at the table between you. They seemed to be  debating something. Finally, they broke the silence, and their voice was  different. Gone was the confidence and playfulness, and instead it was  soft, crackling, afraid. “I swear,” they began hesitantly, “I swear on  my True Name, Locke, that no harm will come to you from me, nor will I  allow others to hurt you.” 

“Locke,” you whispered. “That’s… That’s your…” 

“My True Name,” they said. “Only three others alive know it, and now you do.” 

“But you don’t know me!” you gasped.  

Locke shrugged and grinned. “I know a good soul when I see one. Trust me. I know I’m safe with you, as you’re safe with me.” 

“My very own guardian spirit,” you said rather wistfully. “I always used to dream of that as a child.” 

“Sorry I’m late then,” they grinned.  

Breathing  out all the tension from your chest, you shook your head slightly in  disbelief, raising your first spoonful of ice cream to your mouth. “This  is perfect,” you added with a smile.  

Locke  grinned back and reached for your hand across the table. When you did  not pull back, they squeezed your hand before letting go.  

You  ate the rest of your impromptu dessert in quiet conversation with  Locke. They asked about your life, and when you had very rapidly  exhausted anything of any interest, Locke allowed you to question them  about their life.  

“What… What pronouns do you use?” you asked nervously, which elicited a laugh.  

“I  don’t,” they grinned. “I mean, I tend to get called whatever by  whomever, and I don’t really mind. I can change my physical form to  whatever I like, so I don’t really feel attached to one gender or  another.” 

“Oh. So you don’t actually look like this.” 

They smiled. “Of course I do. I look like whatever I look like,” they grinned.  

“Riddles,” you snickered.  

“Maybe,” they fired back. “But you want to know a secret?” 

“What will it cost me?” you asked playfully.  

Locke’s answering smile made your stomach flip over. “Nothing at all,” they said.  

“Go on then.” 

“You  caught me on a day when I picked the form that’s truest to my heart.  This is probably the closest to what I actually look like.” 

The next words just tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “You’re very beautiful.” 

It  was almost as if they had short-circuited for just a moment, but it  happened so swiftly, and they recovered in a heartbeat, that you weren’t  sure you had even seen anything at all of note. They smiled, and  blinked a couple of times. “Thank you,” they said, voice a little croaky  again. “Honestly, I don’t normally let people see me at all -  especially if I’m causing mischief. I didn’t notice you until I felt  your pain hit me like a bloody freight train, and then I looked up and  there you were, shining like a beacon.” They sighed. “You’re a bit  better now though, aren’t you?” 

You nodded. “Thanks to you.” 

They eyed your empty bowl. “Would you like me to walk you home?” 

“Maybe  halfway?” you asked, not quite sure about letting a trickster spirit  know where you lived, even if they had been perfectly well behaved. Even  if they had gifted you with their True Name.  

If Locke’s smile was tinged with sadness, they tried to hide it from you.  

They  held out their hand and helped you to your feet, and then turned to  wave goodnight to the lonely satyr behind the counter, who grinned back  and wished you both a pleasant night. 

Locke  walked beside you, their dark-skinned hands tucked into their jacket  pockets, and their head down turned, staring at the pavement in front of  you. A late-night dog walker approached on the same side of the road as  you, and as the gentle Labrador snuffed the air and caught sight of  Locke, she began to growl and bark, yanking her leash, snarling and  baring her teeth.  

Locke  reeled backwards, stately composure evaporating, drawing their hands  out of their pockets. They pressed their lithe body up against the  garden wall on their left and let them pass, a hurt and slightly  frightened expression on their face while the dog’s owner tried to  apologise and drag the animal away. 

“Dogs  hate me,” they sighed when you were alone again. “All dogs do, and they  usually hate all of us. Cats don’t though. Cats love me,” they added  with a wry grin.  

You saw through the mask of loneliness then as if Locke had held up a mirror to your own.  

Overcome  with the desire to shelter them too, you reached out and took their  hand. Their fingers trembled beneath your touch. “Come back with me,”  you said.  

Locke’s tapering, expressive ears swivelled back slightly into the sweetest expression you’d ever seen on anyone. “You sure?”  

“I’m sure. Come on. Let’s not both be lonely on this shitty day…” 

 Hope you enjoyed this one! Don't forget to check out the Patreon Masterlist, in case you missed anything from before.