Modern Monsters

Scratch the Beast

Female Reader x Male Monster

The Pitfall is one of those ingrained institutions, a place where dreams are made, careers are started, and tragic romances blossom. For you, it's simply a job. You started working at Pitfall directly out of school, hoping to get a job somewhere in management, and instead getting thrust into the glamorous lifestyle of bartending. For some reason they much prefer an edgy bartender to an educated manager. The current events coordinator is the owner's son, a dipshit of a human being who thinks ordering a martini with three olives is class and that EDM DJs are the only way to live.

Needless to say, attendance is down at Pitfall, and for the first time in a long while the bar closes early due to inactivity. You are grateful for the time off - not that you have anything against the music, it's just that it all starts to sound the same after the tenth DJ or so. You go outside into the back alley that leads to the employee parking lot. You sigh, staring up at the sky and seeing that the moon is full.

"Hi, excuse me?" A rumbling voice shakes you from your poetic thoughts.

You jump, staring straight ahead at a figure twice your size. You reach into your pocket for your keys, which are adorned with pepper spray and a little keychain that looks like a cat, but can be used for stabbing.

"Sorry. I luh-" he holds his hand up defensively. "I was supposed to have a meeting earlier with, uhm... I think his name was Fegane?"

Still holding your keys, you relax a little. "He left as soon as the doors opened."

"I knew it." The large shape huffs, and he kicks the wall. "I was hoping he was going to come out at some point, but apparently-" He kicks a trashcan, which rolls towards you. "Sorry, not your problem."

"Fegane is a dick." You cautiously step forward. "What were you meeting him about?"

In the moonlight you see that large shape has a wild mane of fluffy hair. "My band is wanting to play at Pitfall."

"Band?" you gasp excitedly. "Like an actual band? Like with drums and guitars and shit?"

"I mean, we have all of those things, but we just use them for props while we beat on pots and pans with our moms' wooden spoons." His voice is soft and flirty, a bit teasing.

"It's better than what we've been getting." You then huff. "That also means Fegane probably won't give a shit. He thinks that EDM is going to be the wave of the future in music forever."

"I've noticed," he chuckles. "I'm Scratch, by the way." He extends his huge hand out to you.

"Scratch," you chuckle. His hand feels leathery and rough on the palm, while the back has the texture of thick velvet. "Is that your real name, or a fake to protect your identity."

"Childhood nickname, and a bit of the former." Scratch chuckles. "What about you?"

You nod towards the building. "Bartender," you murmur. "Also plotting a violent coup to get Fegane's job."

"How violent?" Scratch chuckles.

You smile to yourself, barely able to see this behemoth of a man, but already feeling drawn him. "I'm thinking something Napoleon in approach."

"You can do better," Scratch chuckles. "Something more like Vlad Tepes. You're violent but the people still like you."

You let out a laugh that's more feminine than your usual guffaw. "I do like castles."

Scratch takes something from his jacket, and you get a whiff of spicy cologne. "Here," he offers a jewel case. "I know CDs are old-fashioned, but aside from giving you my only jump drive, this is all I've got to prove my band is real."